The Aim Of A Lady

by Laura Matthews

When the men rejoined the ladies there was a general move toward the card tables for the older people and the ballroom for the younger ones. Diana was besieged with requests from Walter, Frank and Carson, as well as a number of the other young men from the area. Lord Alma did not approach her until later in the evening, after he had danced with Allison and Jenette and Carol Edwards.

  “Have you the next dance free, Miss Savile?” he asked stiffly.

  “Not this one, Lord Alma, but the succeeding one,” she replied.

  “I hope you will save it for me.”

  “I shall.”

  When he led her into the country dance he studied her carefully, as he had frequently during the evening. Her self-possession and fragility were at complete variance with the young woman, the “younger brother,” he had been associating with for the better part of a week. There was no flirtatiousness in her even now, he thought grudgingly. The men buzzed about her like bees around a flower, their admiration continually proclaimed, and she accepted their acclamation with a distant politeness. Alma had watched her draw out the shyest of the young men and keep at arm’s length the most ardent, Frank Edwards.

  “Have you told Walter of your chariot, Lord Alma?” Diana asked.

  “Yes. He has offered to race me tomorrow.”

  “That should be a good match. His bays are excellent and he drives well.”

  When he did not reply, she looked at him quizzingly and said, “And he will not fly out of his phaeton should you bump him.”

  Unable to respond to the levity of this sally, Alma continued to regard her with an impassive face and a disconcerted mind. The movement of the dance separated them and when they were rejoined Diana remarked lightly, “It will be all right tomorrow. Well, perhaps the next day, really.” Again there was no response from him and she told him, when they were together, of the other people about them.

  Diana was relieved when the dance ended and he left her abruptly at the side of the dance floor to be immediately claimed by Carson Barsett. Alma did not approach her again during the evening and was silent in the carriage as they returned to the Park, but Mrs. Lewis more than made up for his silence with her cheerful comments on the evening.

  Chapter Ten

  George Savile slept late the morning after he returned to London. When he had dressed, to the accompaniment of Stephen’s aspersions on the condition of the clothes he returned with, he went once again to Lord Franston’s town house. He was advised by the butler that Miss Sanfield had not returned to town and that her father was not at home.

  “Do you know where I might find Lord Franston?”

  “No, sir, I do not,” the butler replied coldly.

  “I understand Miss Sanfield is with her sister near Colchester,” George ventured.

  “I would not be at liberty to say, sir.”

  George sighed and left Berkeley Square no wiser. It was time he sought out Cranmer to see if his friend had any information on the situation. He should have done so before he left for Lymington, he thought ruefully, for his friend was perhaps one of the most well-informed men in London.

  Cranmer, still in his dressing gown, obligingly invited George to join him at his breakfast. “Just arrive in town?” he asked as he devoured a morsel of sirloin.

  “For the second time,” George remarked with self-mockery.

  Cranmer eyed him with amusement. “How so, George?”

  “The first time I arrived I read of Miss Sanfield’s engagement. I left town for several days after that. What do you know of it, Cranmer?”

  “There is something strange about it,” his friend mused. “Vallert is at great pains to explain her absence at such a time—went to her sister who was about to be confined. Franston says nothing, literally nothing. I ran into him last night, made some comment on it and he snubbed me.” Cranmer laughed reminiscently. “Odd, I call that. I’ve heard it said that they’ve had a lover’s quarrel, Miss Sanfield and Vallert. Very romantic, but I cannot believe it for a minute. Either her father is pressing her to marry him or ... Well, I really don’t know, George. Think you should talk to the girl.”

  “I have been trying to,” George admitted with a crooked grin. “Unfortunately, I assumed she had gone home when she left town, since no one seemed to know.”

  “You went to Lymington?” his friend asked incredulously.

  George nodded. “Wet trip, too, Cranmer. I’m too old for all this nonsense.”

  “Her sister lives near Colchester.”

  “So I understand,” George drawled.

  “Married Trafford some years ago. Pretty girl.”

  “I agree.”

  “It’s only four hours to Colchester.”

  “It will probably rain.”

  “I hear she just had twins.”

  “Indeed.”

  “Probably a good thing her sister went to her.”

  “No doubt.”

  “I imagine Miss Sanfield will not soon return to London.”

  “Oh, give over, Cranmer. I think I will return to the Park. I left Ellis there wounded.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, my sister accidentally shot him with an arrow.”

  Cranmer’s eyes widened unbelievingly. “You’re joking.”

  “Swear to God,” George replied pleasantly.

  “I cannot imagine Ellis liked that.”

  George rose to leave. “No, he was rather annoyed. Ask him to tell you about it one day.”

  “I will.”

  * * * *

  Diana also rose late that morning. She sat before the mirror and vigorously brushed out the curls and ringlets as best she could, catching her long hair at the nape of her neck with a green ribbon. Her finery of the evening before had all disappeared from sight, the jewels back to the butler’s safekeeping and the gown stowed away by her maid. Only the ivory fan and reticule lay on the dressing table, to be whisked into a drawer by their owner. She donned the same gray dress she had worn two days previously and contemplated the tedious day she had in store for her. After such an event as the previous evening there was always a stream of young men calling to pay their compliments.

  Dining alone in the breakfast parlor, she was informed that Mrs. Lewis had preceded her by an hour and that Lord Alma had taken his meal in his room. When she had nearly completed her breakfast she heard the sound of hoofbeats and glanced out the window to see Frank Edwards approaching the house. She sighed and rose to instruct the butler that Mr. Edwards was to be denied.

  Mrs. Lewis welcomed her to the small parlor where she was already at work on a new seat cover. “Such an evening as we had. Did you enjoy yourself, Miss Diana?”

  “Yes, it was very pleasant,” Diana replied. She tried to share in her companion’s enthusiasm for a half hour before the butler came to inform her that the Dodges and their cousins had arrived. “You may show them in, Jackson. And please send word to Lord Alma that they have arrived.” As the butler was about to withdraw, Diana called after him, “Jackson, you had best tell Cook that there will likely be a number of extra people for luncheon.”

  The small parlor was soon crowded with the new arrivals, followed shortly by more. Lord Alma put in an appearance and pursed his mouth at the congregation. Approaching him hesitantly, Diana asked, “Would you mind if we used your race with Walter to clear everyone out of the house and down to the stables?”

  “An excellent idea, Miss Savile,” he replied tartly. “Does this happen every time you spend an evening out?”

  Diana ignored the sarcasm in his voice and said evenly, “Yes, Lord Alma, it does.” She turned then to the rest of her guests to announce that Walter and Lord Alma were about to conduct a race and everyone was welcome to view the spectacle. Although she stayed behind a moment to urge Mrs. Lewis to join them, the old woman had had enough excitement for a while and confessed that she would be happier sitting in the parlor with her embroidery.

  “I cannot say I blame you, ma’am,” Diana admitted as she left to join the others.
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br />   The chariot received a variety of comments and had to be tested by each of the young men before the race was begun. There were a number of wagers made before the signal was given; the race was conducted over the same course as the previous day. This time Alma did not lag at the start but swung ahead of Walter immediately. Walter’s bays quickly regained some of the distance and the vehicles went around the south field twice, practically neck and neck. In the final stretch, however, Alma’s lighter carriage told and he drew ahead to win the race. He was flushed and in good spirits afterwards and offered the other men a chance to try the chariot. Diana ordered luncheon to be served at the edge of the wood near the stables.

  Walter tried his own horses in the chariot, and then challenged Carson to a race with Carson driving Walter’s phaeton. Again wagers were made, and again the chariot won. After the Barsetts left, the afternoon was spent matching horses and chariot and phaeton. The young women drifted off to the archery range for a while but returned to see the concluding race, where Alma in the chariot again won his race against Walter in his phaeton. The rest of the visitors began to leave then, and soon Diana and Alma were left alone at the stables to walk back to the house.

  “A very pleasant afternoon, don’t you agree?” she asked her companion cheerfully.

  “Yes.”

  “Did the chariot win all of the races?”

  “No, some young twig botched it once.”

  “That must have been when we were on the archery range.”

  “It was.”

  “Perhaps it would be more fair, then, to race the chariot with one horse against a phaeton with a pair,” she suggested.

  “Perhaps.” Alma shoved his hands into his pockets.

  Diana stopped walking and he hesitated. “We were friends yesterday,” she said accusingly.

  He made an impatient gesture with one hand. “The books came from Stillings this morning, Miss Savile.”

  “Did they? I am so glad you remembered,” she replied wistfully.

  He started to walk again and she reluctantly accompanied him. “Are you still interested. in studying the period?” he asked.

  “Oh, yes. There are several churches in the area that have tombs like Nick’s, and it pleases me to think of people in those times living right here where we do now.”

  Alma made no further comment. They reached the house and he bowed formally to Diana and went to his room. She joined Mrs. Lewis in the parlor but after a while went to speak with the cook. Diana had finally had enough of Alma’s moods and tempers. When he did not present himself for dinner, she sent a message with his man that he would eat in the dining parlor with her and Mrs. Lewis, or not at all.

  His lordship received this message with astonishment. He had rested after the exercise of the afternoon and had expected a tray to be sent to his room when he requested it. The little chit was treating him like a recalcitrant school boy, he stormed (though there was no one to hear him, since his valet had left to take his own meal in the housekeeper’s room). Well, he wouldn’t eat then, he thought sulkily. His stomach rumbled reprovingly. Eventually he presented himself in the dining parlor and made pleasant conversation with Mrs. Lewis. Diana be ignored completely. When the women withdrew he sat in solitary state and determined to drink George’s cellars dry.

  When George arrived his friend was still seated in the dining parlor, now well inebriated and aching abominably for having sat so long. George was advised of his friend’s whereabouts and peered around the door but did not disturb him. He went instead to greet his sister and her companion. After a few minutes Mrs. Lewis discreetly excused herself, and Diana burst out immediately, “Oh, George, we have read of Miss Sanfield’s engagement. I am so sorry.”

  “We will discuss that later, Diana. Right now I want to know why Ellis is sitting drunk in the dining parlor.”

  “Is he? I have not seen him since dinner,” she replied crossly.

  “I cannot believe that you have managed to stay at outs with him for a week, Diana,” he said mildly.

  “Well, and I have not, George. I have done everything in my power to entertain your friend. And after the first few days we were getting along splendidly ... until last night.”

  “What happened last night?”

  “Mrs. Dodge entertained the Countess,” Diana offered by way of explanation.

  “I see. You dressed for the occasion?”

  “Yes, she especially asked that I should, George, and ever since Alma has not spoken to me above what is absolutely necessary.”

  “I cannot see that he should be drinking himself into oblivion if that is all.”

  “Well, you see, George, I grew tired of his ups and downs, his black moods and then lightheartedness. I refused to have a tray sent up to him for dinner.”

  George surveyed her exasperatedly. “That is not like you, Diana.”

  She lifted her chin and there was a suspicion of a tear in her eye. “I don’t care, George. I find it intolerable to be treated one day as a friend and the next with odious formality. I have racked my brain for ways to entertain him. I have spent nearly a week catering to his starts and stops. I had had enough. You may look after him now; I wash my hands of him.”

  “All right, I will speak with him. Go to bed, love,” he said gently.

  She nodded and left the room. George watched her retreating form uneasily, then he went to the dining parlor. He took a seat beside Alma, who gazed at him owlishly and asked, “When did you get here, George?”

  “A few minutes ago, Ellis. Why are you sitting here? You cannot be comfortable.”

  “No,” Alma admitted, surprised. “Not at all comfortable. Damned awkward, this wound,” he growled malevolently.

  “No doubt,” George replied dampeningly. “I will see you to your room, Ellis.”

  Alma made no protest but refused any assistance. He rose unsteadily and walked stiffly from the room, his friend at his side. When he reached his room he bade George good night, but George entered the room with him. Alma stood there bemused for a moment.

  “Lie down, Ellis.”

  With profound relief after the hours of sitting, Alma did as he was bid. He showed a decided tendency to drift off to sleep, but George nudged him with a boot from the chair he was lounging in.

  “My sister is very annoyed with you, Ellis,” he offered by way of an introduction to their conversation.

  “Well, I am very annoyed with her, too. Do you know what she did, George? She sent a message that I should dine with her in the dining parlor or not at all. Very inhospitable, George.”

  “Diana assures me that she resorted to such a measure only because of your disagreeable behavior,” George said lazily.

  “Wasn’t disagreeable. Didn’t feel like talking, was all.”

  “What has been going on here in my absence, Ellis?”

  His friend regarded him with blurry eyes, and shook his head to clear it. “Haven’t been making up to your sister, if that’s what you think,” he growled. “Treated her just as you do, you can be sure.”

  “Diana does not seem to think so. She accused you of black moods and assured me she has catered to your starts and stops for nearly a week.”

  “You have no idea how wretched it is not to be able to sit down,” his friend grumbled. “I apologized to her, several times, for my ill humor.”

  “Which merely means that you have shown it several times, I presume.”

  “Damnit, George, I could not ride a horse or drive a carriage! The day I sat that black of yours I reopened the wound. Fine animal, that. Want to sell him?”

  “No, Ellis, I do not. My sister is a very tolerant woman, Ellis, but her concluding words to me were that she washes her hands of you.”

  “Well, I am glad of it,” Alma replied bitterly. “She has taken me on walks to the village and the deer park, in addition to the stud farm. She has had me on the archery range. She has brought in infatuated suitors to entertain me at fencing and billiards. She has had me singing with her
in the music room. She has taken me fishing. She has had a chariot built for me. She has dragged me to an insipid country affair with a dragon countess. It is high time she left me alone!”

  “I see. I must compliment her on her perseverance. I have never known you to be churlish, Ellis. Surely you can see that she only wished to keep you from being bored and dwelling on your injury.”

  “Of course I can see that!” Alma roared. “I should be grateful to her! I am grateful to her! Now I want her to leave me alone!” Alma’s face set in grim lines, and George sighed.

  “Very well, Ellis. We will talk more in the morning. I will send your man to you. Good night.”

  “George...”

  “Yes?”

  “I ... No, let us talk tomorrow. My head hurts.”

  “I’m not surprised,” George said unfeelingly.

  A moment later he tapped on his sister’s door and called softly to her. She invited him in and hastily wiped away the last of the tears she had shed.

  “I hope you have not been crying because you thought I scolded you,” he remarked as he took a seat beside her bed.

  “I know you will always look at both sides before you place blame, George. I know I am not entirely faultless, but I was grievously provoked.”

  “I can understand that now. I have heard from Ellis’s own lips how you have endeavored to entertain him.” He stared at the wardrobe for a moment before continuing. “He is grateful to you, Diana, but seems to be suffering from a very real irritation of the nerves.”

  “I worked so hard to get him out of the sullens, George. I have had no time to myself at all, what with Alma and Mrs. Lewis. She did not deserve to be left entirely to her own devices, even though she is perfectly happy to embroider all day. Yesterday Alma was finally at peace with me it seemed, since he could drive the chariot. Then last night and today he was all stuffy again.”

  “You have both mentioned a chariot. You had one made? A Roman-style chariot?” George asked, a smile spreading across his face.

  “Yes,” Diana responded with a grin. “It is marvelous, George. The young men were racing it all day today. It almost always wins because it’s so light.”