The Aim Of A Lady

by Laura Matthews

  When Diana arrived at the park she did not see Alma, but Vallert was riding near the gates and came to join her. He did not think to ask her if he might join her, so she did not bother to tell him that she was to meet Alma. Besides, Alma was nowhere to be seen, and Diana assumed that he had thought better of rising so early after a late night.

  When they had ridden some distance from the entrance Vallert asked Diana if she would mind if he sent her groom back to the entrance to advise his friend Considine which direction he had taken. Although Diana agreed readily enough, the maneuver put her on her guard. Vallert in a stroke of unknowing genius offered to show her the reservoir, which piqued her curiosity.

  They rode through the symmetrical rows of trees and dismounted at the reservoir, where Diana started plying him with questions of water distribution in London. Since Vallert had not the faintest notion how water was distributed in the metropolis and could not believe that any young woman would have the slightest interest in such a matter, he considered this a delaying tactic on her part, due to shyness no doubt. He therefore put his arms around her and began to kiss and fondle her in spite of her protests, which she accompanied by battering against his chest with her small fists. Since he refused to break his hold on her, she brought her knee forcefully up to his groin and he went white with pain.

  When Alma arrived at the gates of the park he solicited Diana’s direction from her groom, chiding him for a fool for leaving his mistress with the likes of Vallert. The groom had not been able to keep pace with Alma on Crusader and so did not witness Diana’s exhibition; Alma did, and he was livid. Diana, unaware of his arrival on the scene, turned and mounted her mare, as she spoke to the helpless Vallert. “I have no wish to be in your company ever again, Lord Vallert. Please do not forget that.”

  She swung her mare about and saw Alma. “I thought you had overslept, Alma.” With a mischievous glance behind her she added, “Lord Vallert has kindly kept me company.”

  “Don’t be absurd, Diana. I saw what happened,” he rasped. Jumping down from Crusader he strode over to Vallert, who was bent over in agony. “I warned you that it was dangerous to annoy Miss Savile, Vallert. It is no less so to annoy me, and I should take it amiss if you continued in London during Miss Savile’s stay here. In fact...”

  “That’s enough, Alma,” Diana cried. “Lord Vallert will not bother me again.”

  Alma glanced at her determined countenance, and then merely said to Vallert, “I hope you understand me.”

  Vallert made no reply but nodded and Alma mounted Crusader, his face grimly set. When they were out of earshot he turned to Diana and growled, “What were you about—sending your groom from you? Were you trying to encourage Vallert’s advances?”

  “No more than I tried to encourage yours, Alma,” she snapped at him.

  His face flushed and he murmured, “I should never have forced myself on you.”

  “No, there was no need, was there?” she whispered, stricken.

  “You know I didn’t mean that, Diana,” he said softly. “I was alarmed at having hurt you, and you were shaken. Please do not dwell on it.”

  “Of course not,” she replied stoutly. “Vallert asked if I would send my groom to tell his friend which direction we had taken.”

  “You might have known he had no friend coming,” he said exasperatedly.

  “The thought did occur to me, Alma, but I had rather have faith in a man’s honorable behavior than view everyone with suspicion. I will be more distrustful in future.”

  “London is not like the country where you know everyone, Diana. You could get yourself in serious trouble by being too trusting.”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  “I don’t mean to scold you. I am only concerned for your welfare.”

  “That is kind of you.”

  “You need not be pert with me, miss. What would your brother say to such an episode?”

  “What did he say to you?”

  “We’re not discussing me!” Alma roared.

  “I do not want you to tell George,” she said softly.

  “He must be told, Diana. What if I had not come along when I did?”

  She gazed at him incredulously. “You cannot be serious. What did you have to do with it? I was perfectly capable of handling the situation, as you saw for yourself.”

  Alma had the grace to flush, but said stubbornly, “Yes, I admit that you managed to extract yourself this time, Diana, but you should not allow yourself to think that it would always be so.”

  “Yes, I know,” she replied sadly. “George taught me what to do, but I do not suppose it would always work.”

  “Well, it would always work,” Alma admitted dryly, “if you had the opportunity. You might well not.”

  Diana did not reply for a moment. “I think I shall go home.”

  “Yes, I am taking you there.”

  “No, I mean to the Park. London is not so amusing after all.”

  “You must not let one incident upset you, Diana.”

  “I am not upset.”

  “Then why should you go back to the Park? George will not want to leave London yet.”

  “I can go alone. I have a lot to do before George is married.”

  “Such as?”

  “The Dower House is in need of refurbishing before I move there. I had only begun when we left.”

  Alma’s startled glance rested on her. “You are moving into the Dower House? Surely George and Miss Sanfield would not want you to do so.”

  “No, they do not like the idea much, but I am determined to leave them in peace. Would you want your sister around if you were newly married?”

  “I don’t have a sister.”

  “I know that, Alma. The question was hypothetical.”

  “Yes, well, if you were my sister I am sure I would not mind having you around, Diana.” Somehow he felt awkward saying this and he kept his eyes straight ahead.

  Diana sighed. “It is not as though I will not be there frequently; but I have been mistress there, Alma, and Alonna should have a chance to take over the position without any interference from me.”

  Alma considered this for a moment. Undoubtedly that was why George had made an effort to marry off Diana before he himself settled down. Not that he wanted the house free for a new mistress, but because he knew that his sister would not feel able to stay on there when he married. “Will you have a companion at the Dower House?”

  “Heavens, no. It is but a five minute walk from the main house, Alma. I shall see George and Alonna every day.”

  “They will live in London a good part of the year, I suppose.”

  “Yes, I imagine they will, but then George has done so for years and it has been no problem for me.”

  They rode on in silence and when they reached George’s house, Alma dismounted and handed her down. When he followed her up the steps she turned to him anxiously. “Please don’t tell George, Alma.”

  “I must, unless you will promise me that you will.”

  Diana did not reply. When the door was opened she went directly to the breakfast room, and he sought out her brother, who was still in his bedchamber. “There is something I should tell you, George,” he began.

  “Not trying to seduce Diana again, surely,” George protested mildly.

  “I wish you would not treat her so casually, George,” Alma objected. “I was to have ridden with her this morning in the park and I found her fighting off Vallert.”

  “Presumably you were not on time for your ride, Ellis.”

  “For God’s sake, will you take the matter seriously?”

  “Does Diana?”

  “No. Yes. I’m not sure.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “I gather Vallert was waiting for her when she arrived, and, yes, I was late. He asked her to leave her groom to inform a nonexistent friend in which direction they had ridden. I know her groom, of course, and he told me. When I found them he was trying to ... caress her and she kneed him.”


  “I hope you did not call him out, Ellis.”

  “I had a mind to, but I didn’t think Diana would like it.”

  “I would not have either.”

  “I told him to leave town for a while, and your sister had already informed him that she did not wish to be in his company again.”

  George offered Alma a cup of chocolate which was refused. “Diana does not appear to be very lucky in the men who court her,” he observed. “I do not really believe that she’s careless or encouraging, do you, Ellis?”

  Alma met his eyes with some hostility. “Not encouraging, George, but not altogether careful. She should not have sent the groom away.”

  “She should have been able to rely on Vallert’s gentlemanly conduct.”

  “I should like to know why, when she is as aware as you are what he did to Miss Sanfield.”

  “True. Still, they were in a public park. Very well, Ellis, I will speak with her.”

  “I have already spoken to her, George,” Alma said exasperatedly. “I simply thought you should know, and I did not think she would tell you. She says she is going home to the Park.”

  “Perhaps that would be best,” George replied blandly.

  “But she will be alone there.”

  “She is often alone there, Ellis, but she is seldom lonely.”

  “Could you not convince her to forget about moving into the Dower House?”

  “No, we have tried, but she is determined upon it.”

  “I should hate to accuse you of neglecting your sister, George, but perhaps your own affairs are occupying you to her disadvantage,” Alma suggested coldly.

  “When you think you could do better, Ellis, you let me know,” George replied gently. “Don’t let me detain you. I dare say you are impatient to be with Fanny.”

  Alma bowed stiffly and departed.

  Chapter Seventeen

  When Alma left Grosvenor Square he was in rather a temper. Of course he should not have rebuked George for his care of his sister, and certainly Diana would consider that she had nothing of which to complain; but Alma did not like the thought of her leaving London. In the country she would no doubt find numerous interests to stimulate her natural curiosity, but all her friends were in town. It did not seem fair that the disagreeable behavior of a man such as Vallert should drive her from the bustle that was London during the season. Perhaps he would call on her later to see if he could change her mind.

  Since Fanny was expecting him this morning he went straight to her house. He was shown directly to her bedchamber, where he found her still in bed, a tray with tea and toast on her knees. “Will you join me, Ellis?”

  “You haven’t enough to feed a bird there,” he retorted, aware that he was indeed exceedingly hungry.

  “I was not speaking of my meal,” she replied, with a roguish grin.

  He lifted the tray from her lap and set it on a table. “Yes, but I shall expect you to feed me later,” he grumbled.

  “If you would rather have breakfast,” she said with lifted brows, “I will ring for something.”

  Alma seated himself on the edge of the bed and began taking off his boots. “Yes, do that, please,” he said absently.

  Fanny was startled but did as she was bid while Alma proceeded to remove his clothes and don the dressing gown which was laid out for him. He took a turn about the room before climbing into bed beside her, where he pensively tied and untied the belt of the dressing gown.

  A maid entered and Fanny instructed her to have breakfast sent up for Lord Alma. Then she turned to her companion and said aggrievedly, “You are not yourself this morning, Ellis. Have you a problem?”

  “‘No,” he replied shortly. “Has anyone ever taught you how to disarm a man if he makes improper advances?”

  “I have never wanted to,” she replied mockingly.

  “I am serious, Fanny. I saw a young lady do it this morning.”

  “Most improper education for a genteel young woman. I hope this is not the explanation for your lack of interest, Ellis,” she admonished.

  “I do not lack interest,” he muttered, stung. “I am very hungry, is all.”

  “Well, I will just go write a letter while you...”

  “No, you don’t.” He put his arm about her shoulders when she moved to leave the bed. “It will be some time before my meal arrives. Stay with me and I will pleasure you. I don’t do it often enough for you.”

  “You are become thoughtful in your dotage, Ellis,” she scoffed, but her eyes became softly luminous as his hands gently explored her body. He was one of the few men she entertained who made an effort to please her, and lately he had been more concerned with his own appetite, which was apparently insatiable. Now he urged her to tell him exactly what she wished him to do, and he did it with exquisite results for her. He made no demands of his own, but held her gently when she was satisfied.

  His meal was brought shortly afterwards and he attacked it with relish as Fanny studied him pensively. She had known him for several years, off and on. He usually came to London for the season and stayed several months. During the rest of the year he made occasional trips there of shorter duration. She knew he enjoyed her company, and her body; knew just as surely that he did not love her, but she did not expect him to. It was hardly necessary, or even desirable in her chosen life, but he was a favorite of hers and she would miss him when he no longer came. She feared that time was approaching, for his equanimity had been shaken, and she had no doubt it was a woman. The archer? Fanny sighed.

  Alma smiled down at her and offered her a bite of beef, but she wrinkled her nose distastefully. He cheerfully proceeded to eat it himself, and to remark that her cook understood well what a man needed for breakfast.

  “He has considerable experience,” she reminded him playfully.

  “So I should suppose. Fanny, do you think a properly brought up young woman experiences desire?”

  “Some of them do, but most are so carefully guarded in what they read, how they live, and what they are told that they would not understand it if they did experience it.”

  “Would it seem likely to you that a young woman who had spent several weeks frequently in a man’s company under very loose chaperonage would respond to his advances even if she did not like him?”

  Fanny laughed. “Who knows, Ellis? I am not a properly brought up young woman.”

  “You are a woman. Can you respond to someone you don’t like?”

  “No, and thank heaven I no longer have to. But even proper ladies are fascinated sometimes by a man’s obvious desire.”

  “Yes, I can see that, but if the young woman had several passionate suitors and rejected them, only to allow this man some privileges, what then?”

  “Then it could he that she liked the man, or that the situation was especially provocative.”

  “Oh,” Alma replied, disappointed. The situation had been provocative for him, certainly, but he had not fully considered that it might have been for Diana. Frightening her, wounding her where he had, yes, it might have emotionally charged the situation for her. Alma climbed out of bed and began to dress.

  Fanny regarded him with astonishment. “Are you leaving, Ellis?” she asked incredulously.

  “Yes,” he said, preoccupied. “I have a call to make this afternoon.”

  She glanced at the ormolu clock on the mantelshelf. “But it is only eleven, Ellis.”

  “Is it? No matter, I have some errands to run as well.”

  Casting her eyes heavenward, Fanny asked lightly, “Will I see you later?”

  He smiled at her then and said, “Of course, if you are willing.”

  “Come when you wish, Ellis,” she replied resignedly. Under her breath she murmured, “But I hope you will be here the next time.”

  Alma blew her a kiss and strolled out. He stopped at a tobacconist’s for snuff, at a goldsmith’s for a locket for a cousin’s birthday, at a printseller’s to survey the latest cartoons, and at White’s to see w
ho was there. He then went round to Grosvenor Square and diffidently asked if Miss Savile was at home.

  Diana received hint in the yellow drawing room where she was alone and playing the song she had taught him. “Now you have made me receive a scold from George, Alma,” she teased him as she offered her hand.

  He shook it and retorted, “He did not seem the least bit interested. I wonder he bothered.”

  Her face creased with concern. “Are you angry with George?”

  “No, of course not. He must protect you as he sees fit.”

  “George is a perfect brother,” she championed him hotly. “He does not interfere in my life except when necessary, and he treats me just as I would wish.”

  “He leaves you alone at the Park a great deal of the time.”

  “I don’t care! He has offered me a companion and I will not have one!”

  “Let us not argue about it, Diana. If you are satisfied, there is no more to be said.”

  “Very well,” she allowed, the anger dying gradually.

  “I trust you are no worse for this morning’s adventure?”

  A gleam appeared in her eyes. “I have written a new verse, Alma. Would you like to read it?”

  “Certainly.”

  Diana went to the delicate mahogany sheveret and pulled open a drawer. She extracted a sheet of paper, grinned at it in amusement and returned to him. “I call it London Ways.” Her eyes were dancing.

  Alma took it from her suspiciously and glanced at the neat copperplate:

  Is Virtue here

  A single tear

  When reputations soil?

  A chaperone;

  No hour alone

  Will save her from this coil.

  Throughout the day

  She cannot stray

  From guardians fierce and loyal.

  But every night

  A horrid plight

  Persistent swains to foil.

  “That’s the worst poetry I ever read!” he exclaimed.

  “Well, you have not yet finished it, Alma. You must turn it over for the completion.” She was laughing now.