The Aim Of A Lady

by Laura Matthews

  Diana nodded gravely to Alma as she followed her brother from the room. In the library George waved her to a seat. “Who is your guest, and where is she, or he, as the case may be?”

  “She is in her room, George, and she is Alonna Sanfield.” Diana hurried on at her brother’s profoundly shocked expression. “I did not originally intend to bring her back with me, you understand, just to find out what I could about the engagement. Vallert inserted the announcement against her express wishes, and he and her father have both refused to renounce it. She intends to do so herself if Vallert does not take care of the matter soon. She never agreed to marry him, and she does not wish to marry him.” Diana fell quiet when her brother raised a silencing hand.

  “You must be learning bad habits from Ellis, Diana. I am surprised that you would involve yourself in my affairs,” he said sternly.

  Diana bit her lip to keep from crying. It was very seldom that her brother censured her. “I know, George,” she whispered. “I promise you I told her nothing except that you had mentioned her to me and that she was close by. I used Alma as an excuse for inviting her here. I did tell her sister a bit more,” she admitted sadly, “for I wanted her to understand the situation. Lord Trafford sent you his regards. Alonna is aware that you did not know I was going to her.”

  For some time after his sister finished speaking, George studied his hands. “Very well, Diana,” he said without looking up. “Bring her down to tea.”

  Diana escaped from the room as quickly as she could, but in the hall she paused to compose herself. It was many years since she had incurred George’s displeasure to such a degree and she felt thoroughly shaken. Whatever had possessed her to carry out such a scheme! She might have known, she in fact had known, that George would not like it. If George had been willing to see the outcome in his own time, she should have accepted his decision. Her heart heavy, she climbed the stairs to her new friend’s room.

  When they entered the small parlor Diana saw Alma’s eyes widen with astonishment. George took Alonna’s hand and smiled gravely. “I am so glad Diana has brought you to the Park, Alonna. I believe you know Lord Alma, and this is Mrs. Lewis, our neighbor in Linton.”

  Alonna acknowledged the introduction and accepted a cup of tea from Mrs. Lewis. George seated himself beside her on the sofa and asked, “Is your sister well? I understand she is recently delivered of twins.”

  “Oh, Margaret is thriving, and they are the most adorable babies. My nephew is the tiniest bit jealous, I fear, but my brother-in-law is keeping him busy.”

  “And your father is well?” George persisted.

  “Yes, when last I saw him.”

  “I understand the announcement of your engagement was erroneous and that it is to be retracted,” George said gently, but implacably. Diana could have kicked him for bringing up the subject at all.

  But Alonna seemed quite capable of handling the situation. Without a blink she replied, “Yes, very unfortunate. I fear Lord Vallert allowed his imagination to run away with him.” She smiled sweetly at George as though mocking him for his exercise.

  George grinned then and would have bestowed a kiss on her if there had not been others present. “Well done,” he murmured appreciatively.

  Diana, who had spent the morning and the afternoon’s drive with a young woman who appeared all amiability but slightly shy, was surprised and pleased at the poise with which she accepted George’s interrogation, one which she would no doubt undergo dozens of times when she returned to London. It also relieved Diana’s mind somewhat of the burden of George’s censure; he was pleased with Miss Sanfield and therefore more likely to forgive his sister her blunder.

  With a wicked grin indicating that it served them both right, George offered to show Alonna around the house and grounds, and he left his sister and his friend to fend for themselves. Mrs. Lewis had begun to nod in her chair and Diana wished to allow her a catnap in peace, so she gestured to Alma to follow her, and left the room. They stood awkwardly together in the hall and eventually he stiffly asked her if she would care for a game of billiards, and Diana acquiesced.

  While they were playing Alma commented blandly, “I was not aware that you knew Miss Sanfield.”

  After Diana completed an accurate cushion shot, she returned just as blandly, “I met her only today.”

  “How fortuitous,” he remarked, his voice laden with sarcasm.

  “It is no concern of yours, Lord Alma.” Diana chalked her cue and did not meet his gaze.

  “I imagine George did not like it,” he prodded.

  “No, it was foolish of me,” she admitted readily, as she missed her shot and stood up. “He said I was picking up bad habits from you.”

  Alma’s eyes flashed for a moment, and then the humor of the situation was borne in on him and he laughed. “So we are both in his black books, are we? Well, he is pleased to have Miss Sanfield here all the same, so you need not worry. Were you curious as to the outcome, Diana?” There was no sarcasm this time, merely amusement.

  With a hesitant smile she accepted his peace offering. “I suppose that was it in part, but I was also concerned for her. It seemed she might be in trouble, to have left town so abruptly and with her father refusing to acknowledge the engagement.”

  They had stopped playing their game now and stood facing each other. “How did the announcement get printed?” he asked.

  “Alonna had refused Vallert, and he placed it in spite of her. Her father would not refute it, hoping that she would feel it necessary to marry Vallert. A very uncomfortable situation, I fear. She has given Vallert a week to have it repudiated; if he does not, she will do so herself.”

  “So it would all have been taken care of without you,” he remarked gently.

  “Yes, of course,” she replied over a lump in her throat. “But you know, Alma, I could not be sure that her sister would support her. I was not acquainted with Lady Trafford, and women who have just borne children are not always ... perfectly rational.”

  “You have known a lot of women after they have borne children?” he asked skeptically.

  “You forget that I assist Mr. Thatcher,” she retorted. “Sometimes women are very low for several months, or so wrapped up in the new baby that they do not pay much attention to anything else. Lady Trafford was not like that—she was very chipper and interested in her sister’s problems.”

  Alma leaned over the table to make a shot. “A nice woman. I always liked her.”

  “Yes, she and Alonna both seemed surprised by my description of you.”

  He looked up startled. “Whatever did you say to them, wretched girl?”

  “Well, I had to have some reason to invite Alonna home with me, so I told her I needed company to keep me away from George’s obstreperous guest.”

  Alma cast his eyes heavenward. “You are intent on destroying me, are you not, Diana? Not satisfied with wounding my body, you are determined to ruin my reputation as well.”

  “I am sure,” she retorted pertly, “that if you behave yourself while Alonna is here your reputation will be saved.”

  “Thank God,” he murmured soulfully. “Your shot.”

  Chapter Twelve

  When George and Alonna had completed the tour of the house, they traversed the balustraded terraces. There was no lack of dialogue between them; they were as at ease together as they had been on each of their previous encounters. It was a wonder to both of them, but when they were together they accepted it. Alonna had been as pleased as Diana that she had been able to cope with George’s interrogation over tea, but she had found on former occasions that merely being with him gave her courage. Now she spoke cheerfully of being at the birth of the twins, not in the least worried that he would be shocked.

  “Diana has spoken of the confinements she has attended with a sort of wonder,” George mused. “I imagine it must seem rather miraculous.”

  “It does. I felt so proud for Margaret, and when Philip came in he was all concern for her and did not e
ven glance at the babies until she urged him to.”

  “A very proper sentiment,” George replied with a grin. “I am sure I shall feel the same when I marry and my wife produces a child.”

  For the first time in his company Alonna felt slightly nervous and turned her head to study the yew hedges. George gazed down on her tenderly and reached out a hand to touch her arm and draw her attention to him. She offered him a tremulous smile but met his eyes unwaveringly.

  “Alonna, I should, of course, approach your father first, but I have been running about the countryside to no purpose for several days, and your father is not making himself available. Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

  “Yes, George,” she said softly.

  “Then I will forgive Diana for her interference.” He laughed as he drew Alonna into his arms and kissed her. “I have wanted to do that for a very long time,” he confessed.

  “And I have wanted you to,” she replied shyly. “Is it acceptable for me to tell you so?”

  “You are to tell me exactly what you wish to at any time, my love. I have told you that I love you, have I not?”

  “No, George, I do not believe that you have.”

  He kissed her again, this time until she was breathless. “Well, I do, you know. I was come to town to offer for you when I read of your engagement. When I learned that you had left town I assumed that you had gone to Lymington and I went there.” He wryly acknowledged her surprised expression. “I do not know exactly what I intended to say to you. Your butler there told me that you might have gone to Colchester, so I went back to London, where a friend of mine said your father had refused to acknowledge your engagement when he spoke of it.”

  “That is something to Papa’s credit, I suppose,” she remarked dryly.

  “Yes, he does not show in the best light in this muddle. Will he have any objection to me as your husband?”

  “I should think not. He only wishes to marry me off as soon as possible,” she replied sadly.

  “Poor love.”

  “I do not mind so much now, George. Why did you not come to Colchester?”

  “I thought better of it. If the engagement was a hoax, I thought it wiser to wait until a retraction was printed before approaching you. And if it was real, well, then there was no possibility of approaching you at all.”

  “I see. So you were angry with Diana for bringing me here?” She raised doubtful eyes to his.

  “Alonna, you must understand that I did not wish to cause you any distress. In the first agony of reading of your engagement I felt I must speak with you to be sure it was something you wanted, that you were not being forced into it. When I knew you were with your sister, whom I have met and hold in high esteem, and that your father did not acknowledge the engagement, I thought it would be more proper for me to await events.”

  “It was not that you had thought better of marrying me? I know I am very young and inexperienced compared with you, George. I should not like to think that Diana forced your hand.” She dropped her eyes to her hands which were plucking nervously at her gown.

  George lifted her chin gently with his finger. “Alonna, that is precisely why I was angry with Diana. Because you might think she had forced me into a position I did not wish to be in.” George hugged her to him for a moment and then set her aside to say, “I have not been able to be in town to see you as much as I wanted. It was necessary for me to join a friend on a trip to Paris and then later to attend his wedding. But what with one thing and another, I had not had the opportunity to assure you of my intentions. I did not like your not knowing,” he said simply.

  Alonna’s eyes sparkled with tears. “It was awful not knowing, George.”

  “Forgive me, my love. It will not happen again. I could not be sure that you would have me, that I was the right man for you.”

  “I love you, George.”

  “Now that is something I find highly acceptable for you to tell me,” he said with a grin. “Come, love, it is time we changed for dinner. I should not leave Diana and Alma in each other’s company too long.”

  “Why not?” she asked as they began to walk back toward the house.

  “There is a great deal of friction between them. Last night Diana sent him a message that he would eat his meal in the dining parlor or not at all,” he informed her seriously, but his eyes danced.

  “How delightful! I cannot think he would like such an ultimatum.”

  “No more did he. But they will have to rub along together for a few more days because I have no intention of sharing you with either of them now that I have you here.”

  George found, however, when the whole house party was gathered for dinner, that his sister and friend had apparently declared a truce. He shrugged helplessly at Alonna when she cast him a look of query. Throughout the evening Diana and Alma continued on the easiest of terms, and exhibited every intent of allowing George as much time with Alonna as he could wish.

  Delighted by the successful conclusion to her day’s activities, Diana felicitated Alonna on her engagement. When George was alone with his sister before she went to bed he said, “I did not mean to be so hard on you earlier, Diana, but this was very important to me and I did not wish to see anything go awry.”

  “It was my fault, George, and I should not have done it. But I’m glad I didn’t,” she added with an impish grin.

  “So am I.” He saluted her cheek and hugged her to him. “I know you were concerned for me, love, but I beg you will not do such a thing again.”

  “I won’t,” she promised. “Good night, George. I am very happy for you.”

  * * * *

  As the memory of Diana’s appearance in evening dress dimmed for Alma, he was able to accept her again on the footing they had gained before that disastrous evening. George and Alonna were able to spend the next several days getting to know each other better as Diana and Alma took up the pastimes they had pursued during George’s absence. Chariot racing, archery and walks about the estate kept them harmlessly occupied while George and Alonna rode and talked. Mrs. Lewis moved out into the garden on the warmer days to work her needle in the sun, happily surveying the young people about their activities. Alma now attempted short drives in the phaeton and found that he was mending rapidly.

  One morning when Alma and Diana were driving together a child darted out into the lane and waved them to a halt. The boy, his face stained with tears and dirt, turned to Diana and begged, “Oh, please, Miss Savile, my Daddy is hurt bad and we cannot find Mr. Thatcher. Would you come to him?”

  “Of course, Peter.” She reached down her hand to him and drew him up onto her lap, at the same time directing Alma to a farm off to the left down a narrow, rutted lane. The boy clung to her and she patted his shoulders gently while she assured him that she would do what she could, and Alma regarded them with concern. When they arrived at the neat stone farmhouse with its tidy rows of spring flowers, he leaped out and handed down first the child and then Diana.

  “Should I come with you?” he asked.

  “Yes, if you will. You may be of assistance.”

  Peter led them into the house, calling for his mother in an anxious voice. A harassed woman in her thirties hurried out into the hall. Her dress was covered with blood and she was white-faced but when she saw Diana the anxiety in her eyes was replaced by a measure of relief. “Oh, thank God, he has found you, Miss Savile. Will you come to Mr. Green? He was ploughing when the accident occurred. There is a sharp stone still sticking in him and I cannot remove it.”

  Diana nodded and followed Mrs. Green into the bedroom where her husband lay on the bed writhing in agony. Diana pulled back the blanket to examine the wound, which was on his side just below the waist. The stone indeed was still lodged there, but blood continued to ooze out around it. The man was naked.

  Fascinated, Alma watched as Diana flung her bonnet on a chair and drew up another to seat herself at the man’s side and feel about the stone with careful fingers. Then she be
gan to give calm, low-voiced instructions to Mrs. Green to bring more cloths and hot water, in addition to a clean knife and some astringent. When these had been assembled she instructed Alma to hold the man’s hands firmly while she worked to dislodge the stone with the knife. The stone was several inches long and deeply embedded in the man’s flesh. Perspiration broke out on her forehead as she gently, carefully worked the stone toward her; Mrs. Green dried her brow anxiously during the process, and Mr. Green fainted after a few minutes. Alma felt relieved that the man did not feel more of the pain caused by the removal.

  When Diana had the stone out she looked around at Mrs. Green and said, “I cannot be sure if it pierced anything important, Mrs. Green. I don’t think so, but you will have to have Mr. Thatcher look at it. In the meantime I will bind it so that the bleeding will stop.” She continued to work efficiently as she spoke, drops of blood falling on the gray muslin dress she wore. They did not seem to concern her, and eventually she stood up and washed her hands in a basin set nearby. “That is all I can do myself. Your husband will be in pain and Mr. Thatcher may wish to prescribe something for him. Peter said you could not find the apothecary.”

  “No, ma’am. My eldest is still out trying, but it seems there was a difficult confinement and an accident as well, and he might be at either.”

  “When he comes, tell him what I have done and he should send for me if he has any questions.” Diana reached down to pick up her bonnet and tuck her hair under it.

  “Do you ... think Mr. Green will be all right?” the woman asked in a frightened voice.

  “Yes, I think so. You must watch for fever, though, and change the binding carefully and keep the wound clean.” Diana squeezed the woman’s hand encouragingly and headed for the bedroom door.

  Alma followed Diana, who gently accepted the woman’s thanks. When they were in the phaeton again he immediately set the horses in motion, but drew them in again when they were a short way down the lane, for Diana had put her head down in her lap and was taking great mouthfuls of air.