Mr. Martin was her partner for the supper dance, Lord Everingham having been required to take his mother in. The shy young man was pathetically grateful for the favor. Chloe, not wanting to be alone with his puppylike devotion, suggested that they join her sister and Lady Mary at their table.
It was a gay group. Reginald Farwell had engaged Lady Mary for the supper dance and Phaedra's escort was Lord Wainright, a chubby, happy-go-lucky young man. The conversation was anything but serious, and the group drew the attention of the adjoining tables with their hilarity. Lady Mary and Phaedra convulsed the group with their story of the proposed additions to the ballroom decorations.
Lord Wainright was particularly taken with the idea of the ants. "I say, they could have been placed in the shrubbery around the musician's balcony, don't y'know. Then we could have had a gay old time when they started crawling up the fiddler's legs. None of this slow music, but a jolly good romp." He chuckled at the image this evoked.
"A frog in the punchbowl would have been a good addition," Mr. Farwell contributed, sounding half asleep.
"Oh, yes," Phaedra agreed. "And he could have been trained to croak whenever someone took his third glass of punch. A sure cure for greed."
Several other suggestions were made, each more silly than the other. Chloe was less amused than the others, for she was still fulminating at how unfairly she had been treated. First those wicked old women at Almack's refusing to grant her permission to waltz, and then her own mama lacking all sympathy for her disappointment. Even her sister was against her.
Lord Wainwright's suggestion of goldfish in the champagne was quite disgusting, but she did not say so. Still, the others' laughter was contagious, so she enjoyed herself somewhat.
The last waltz was also the final dance of the evening. Mama had consented to dance it with Papa, leaving Chloe alone on a sofa with instructions to remain there with Cousin Louisa. Lord Wilderlake came to claim Phaedra. She watched them swing into the waltz and told herself that she didn't care. Not one little bit.
But she did. The unfairness of it all seemed to swell inside her, becoming a hot ball of resentment. She chewed a fingernail, and tried to ignore the whirling rainbow of color as everyone else enjoyed themselves.
"Miss Hazelbourne, there is an empty hallway just outside."
She looked up at man who had spoken so softly. "Lord Everingham. How good of you to come to keep me company."
"Actually," he said, with a sly smile, "I had something more interesting in mind. As I said, there is an empty corridor just outside that door." He pointed to her left. "The music is quite audible there. Would you care to accompany me?"
She glanced at the door, at Cousin Louisa, who was turned away, speaking to a woman on her other side, and then back at him. "My lord, I am afraid I do not understand--"
"Come dance with me, Miss Hazelbourne. As long as no one sees you, what difference can it make?"
She had already danced with him twice. Chloe remembered her mother warning her that to dance with any gentleman more than two times was tantamount to announcing their betrothal.
Lord Everingham, for all his wealth, was not the man of her dreams.
But it is the last waltz. And this is my ball, my come out.
She held out her hand and allowed him to raise her to her feet. A few steps and they were in the corridor. He pulled the door closed behind them. The music was, indeed, quite loud enough to dance to.
He might look like a sheep, but he was a superb dancer. She closed her eyes and let the music take her.
* * * *
After they had waltzed in silence for a few moments, Lord Wilderlake smiled down at Phaedra and said, "Are you the sister who kindly came to my aid as I lay senseless along the road?"
"I am, my lord. I hope you have no lingering pain from your injury."
"None at all. I thought it was you, although the first time I saw your sister, I wondered. Are you twins?"
"No. Chloe is almost two years older than I, and far more outgoing. I am the family bluestocking, and tend to reclusiveness, I fear." As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she wondered why she had said them. "Chloe is lively, and thrives on company and conversation and gaiety. She is not exactly frivolous, you must understand. It is just that, compared to her, I am quite dull."
"So you claim to be sober and gloomy?"
"No, not gloomy. But my interests lie less with people and more with plants and art and literature."
"And music?" he asked in a hopeful tone.
She laughed. "I have no talent for music. Chloe does, and takes it very seriously indeed. I cannot carry a tune, although I do enjoy listening."
As Lord Wilderlake swept her in to a gliding turn, Phaedra spied Chloe and Lord Everingham slipping through a door. She stumbled. "Excuse me, my lord," she said as she recovered. "I fear I am tiring. It has been a long evening and I have never danced so much before."
The music went on and on. Desperate to discover what new calamity loomed, Phaedra began to wonder if she was doomed to waltz forever. At last the last notes dies away and the dancers spun to a halt. The ball was over. Wilderlake escorted Phaedra back to her parents. Chloe magically reappeared before Mama and Papa returned, slipping into a chair beside Cousin Louisa, who was deep in a conversation. Phaedra wondered where her sister had been.
Had anyone else noticed that she had been alone in Lord Everingham's company again? All the way home Phaedra fretted, unsure whether to tell her parents what she had seen. Chloe would surely view such an action as a betrayal of sisterly allegiance.
Chapter Eight
How much did she owe her sister? If Chloe had been seen waltzing with Lord Everingham, if tomorrow's most delicious on dit was how the wayward Hazelbourne girl had compromised herself at her own come out Ball... Should she wait and see, or warn Mama and Papa of the brewing storm? Phaedra chewed her lip and did her best to ignore the churning of her stomach.
What could their parents do to save Chloe from the price of her willfulness? Would they take the whole family back to Gifford Court? Phaedra found herself hoping they would not, for she was enjoying her Season much more than she had anticipated. But if they did not return home, how could they keep Chloe sequestered within the house in London? And even more to the point, how would they all explain doing so?
Lady Gifford bade her daughters a quiet good night as soon as they had arrived at home. "It is very late and we are all tired You will each go to your own room and retire. I do not wish to hear that you have disobeyed me."
"Mama..." Chloe began.
"You heard your mother, pet. Now get you both to bed. We will talk in the morning," Lord Gifford said firmly. The sisters went quietly up the stairs.
Lord and Lady Gifford went into the parlor and shut the door. "Would you like some brandy my love? You look as if you could use it?"
"Yes, George, I think I would. Heaven knows, I need something to calm me." She sank onto the sofa and kicked off her slippers. "How could Chloe be so foolish, after all my warnings?" She accepted the glass and sipped at its content.
"Are you certain she was seen, love? Might it not be possible that no one spied her with Lord Everingham.."
"I wish it were so, but I know it is not. That wretched Hermione Petersham was standing right beside Cousin Louisa when they came back in from the corridor. She knows they were out there unchaperoned. And you know what a busy tongue she has."
Her husband frowned into his glass, but said nothing.
"I fear Chloe's Season is at an end. Lady Mary might be able to spurn the dictates of Society and get away with it, for her rank and connections are high enough. We are neither so exalted nor so well connected. It is possible Her Grace might be able to convince Sally Jersey not to rescind the girls' vouchers, but she could never persuade any of the other patronesses. And without them, we will have wasted the Season." She heard her voice quaver on the last words. With a deep breath, she fought against the need to bury her head on her husband's comforting sh
oulder and weep her heart out. "I had such hopes," she whispered. "Such hopes."
"Nonsense! We'll come about. Society knows us for respectable folks. They'll know we'd never raise any but a lady."
"Even a lady may ruin herself. If Chloe has not, she has skirted very close to it. Since our daughters' portions are not large, their manners and social standing must be above reproach. A man might marry Chloe for her good name and her social worth and never mind that her portion is small. He would think twice if she shows that she thinks herself above Society's conventions."
"The more fool he. I wish I had never agreed to this Season." He scrubbed a hand across his chin. "I knew postponing Chloe's Season would cause trouble. Damned inconvenient, your mother and grandfather dying when they did." He clamped his mouth shut on the last word. An instant later, her said, "Damme, love, I didn't mean--"
"I know you did not. It was inconvenient." She let her sigh speak volumes. "Perhaps we should have taken them to Bath instead of bringing them to London. It might have been a more appropriate venue, for we both have many friends there who would assist in stemming gossip. Here in London we are, unfortunately, not so widely acquainted."
"I should have come up to Town with you. I could have managed Chloe. You and she do set each other's backs up, don't you?"
Lady Gifford sighed. "I am afraid we do. Even so I was certain she would heed my advice and behave herself. She is determined to marry well." She gave into temptation, and leaned against him. His arm pulled her close, secure and safe. "Oh, George, I am so tired of constantly fearing what she will do next."
"Well, if you want my advice, we'll just behave as if nothing has happened. The gossip will pass. Mrs. Petersham is well know never to have a good word for anyone."
"I am not so optimistic. Even if Sally Jersey were to ignore Chloe's behavior, Lady Everingham will not. When the word gets out that her son was the man with Chloe, she will add fuel to the fire. She has not approved of Chloe since that day at her Venetian breakfast. Lord Everingham has pulled himself from under her thumb and she does not like it one bit."
"Well then, just forbid her to see him," Lord Gifford suggested.
"That would not do, for then the odious woman would feel his consequence had been slighted. No, I am afraid she will not rest until she has completely ruined Chloe's reputation. We must do something that will not seem as if we are attempting to separate them."
"Too bad she can't come down with the grippe or influenza or something. That'd keep her out of circulation for a sennight or two. Maybe give this whole thing time to die down."
"George, what a perfectly marvelous notion. She can come down with influenza. Or seem to. That way I can keep her confined to the house, a punishment she rightly deserves, and without causing any gossip that would be detrimental to her reputation. Will you assist me in convincing her just how irresponsible her behavior has been?"
"Anything, my love. When I've had a little talk with her, she'll mend her manners, you can be sure. It's a pity she'll have to be confined to her bedchamber, though. She's such a high spirited little thing. It goes hard with me to be so unkind to her."
"She has earned a little unkindness. We cannot let her go unpunished, can we?"
Lord Gifford shook his head slowly. "No. I just hope this influenza notion will do the trick."
"So do I" Lady Gifford said, knowing she was wasting her words. She had a dreadful premonition that the next days would be difficult.
* * * *
At breakfast late the next morning, her mama informed Chloe that she was sickening for influenza.
"I certainly am not. I am perfectly healthy."
"On the contrary, you will pretend to be ill for the next fortnight. It will give the talk about your scandalous behavior time to die away."
"But Mama," she wailed, "Lord Everingham was to take me driving in the park today, and Mr. Martin said he would call and..."
"You will do nothing but remain in your chamber feigning illness. Furthermore you will continue to do so for at least a fortnight, or until I can be sure that you have learned to obey me," Mama said, in her do-not-defy-me voice. "Louisa, I must ask that you assist us in this deception. One of us will need to remain at home at all times, ostensibly to nurse poor Chloe, but in reality to make sure that she does remain in her bedchamber."
"Of course, Isabella," Cousin Louisa replied. She stirred her tea, a thoughtful expression on her face. After a moment she said, "May I suggest that the Duchess be told the truth. She may be of some assistance."
"Of course. I will call upon Her Grace this afternoon and beg her advice and assistance."
Chloe had listened to the exchange with growing disbelief and anger. "I am not ill! And I won't stay in my room for two weeks!" She burst into tears. "I will not be a prisoner in my own home. Oh, Papa, do not let her do this horrible thing to me!" She flung herself around his neck and sobbed into his cravat.
"Hush, pet. Two weeks won't seem so long. We'll get you all manner of books to read. Hush, now." Wearing a helpless expression, he patted her heaving shoulders.
"I cannot bear to be locked up and miss everything, Papa. Why tonight is Mrs. Stanfield's musicale, and she has asked me to play. Oh, please, Papa."
She felt his chest heave under her before he set her aside. "No, pet, you will obey your mother in this. You've been rather a naughty puss, and you must play least in sight until the talk dies down. But there, I'll come and visit you often. Teach you to play piquet, or something. Dry your tears now, do. Your pretty eyes are getting all red."
Chloe almost felt sorry for her papa, for she knew he was excessively softhearted where she was concerned. In a last bid for sympathy, she let her tears flow unchecked down her cheeks and managed a small quiver of her chin.
Papa only shook his head sorrowfully.
"Very well, I will consent to be incarcerated like a common criminal," she said in a broken, tragic voice. She stood and laid the back of her hand against her brow. "I shall now go to my cell and await my next meal of bread and water." She walked slowly out of the room, shoulders drooping. Just outside the door, she gave one last pathetic sniffle.
As soon as she knew those in the breakfast parlor could no longer see her, she stopped and stood quietly, straining her ears to hear what was said.
"Well, Isabella, that was more than enough," Papa said. "I still think you are being too hard on the chit, but you're her mama, so I suppose you know best. Think I'll go to my club. No hysterics there." His chair scraped across the floor as he rose.
Chloe dashed down the hall and up the stairs to her bedchamber. Once there, she made sure that the sound of her door closing was loud enough to be heard in the breakfast parlor. She didn't exactly slam it.
Phaedra almost could pity her sister as she left the breakfast room, dejection in every line of her body. Some of it was genuine, she was sure, but she rather suspected that Chloe was over-dramatizing the situation for her own benefit.
"Phaedra, would you mind receiving our callers this afternoon?" Mama said, after Papa had departed. "I do not think I can maintain my composure before what promises to be an excess of concern over my poor, sick child today."
"Of course, Mama," she replied. "Cousin Louisa and I will handle all the callers. Why do you not have a short nap before you go to enlist the Duchess's aid?"
"I believe I shall. I did not sleep well last night." She pushed her half full plate away and rose." Oh yes, please do not visit your sister. I cannot forbid her father to visit her, but his sympathy is all she will receive, if I have my say."
"I will cooperate in her incarceration, Mama." She left unsaid her relief at being freed from Chloe's emotional outbursts for a while. At the same time, she knew she would miss Chloe. They had been inseparable for so long.
Mama squeezed her shoulder in passing. "I do realize, you know, what you have to put up with from your sister. But if you will not prevent it, Phaedra, how can I? You should not let her abuse your good nature so, my dear."
"Mama, I have been witness to so many of Chloe's tantrums that I hardly notice them. And my audience prevents you and Papa from having them inflicted upon you. I do not mind, truly. At least not usually." She is older than I; why can she not act her age? Resolutely Phaedra banished the unworthy thought.
She and Cousin Louisa settled themselves comfortably in the sewing room after breakfast. "Do you believe Chloe's actions last night will have serious repercussions?" Phaedra wondered aloud.
"I wish I knew. Her behavior will reflect negatively upon you."
"Mama has always been strict with her, but Papa was lenient and so indulgent. She could always get him to give her what she wished. I used to be dreadfully jealous." She laid her embroidery in her lap and stared sightlessly into the fire. "Now I am happy I was not so indulged. My expectations are far more realistic than my sister's."
"I do not remember her so willful as a child."
Phaedra hesitated before replying. "I do not think she was, not really. When we were small, she was always pleasing to be with. She was generous to a fault. Oh, she always wanted her own way, but I could usually cozen her into giving in when something was important to me. It has only been the last year or two that she has become so determined to do just as she pleases. She was dreadfully disappointed when her Season was postponed twice."
"I'll warrant the change in her behavior first came about when the young men in your neighborhood noticed she was no longer a child. You did say she was the local belle, I believe. She must have been the recipient of an abundance of flattery."
Phaedra nodded. "The experience must have given her such a sense of her own importance that she now believes the world must revolve around her,"
"If that is the case, then there is hope she will come to her senses," Cousin Louisa said encouragingly. "Or she will not, and she will continue to outrage Society and ruin her chances for a good marriage." She paused, then went on, her tone less optimistic. "Perhaps this enforced solitude will cause her to reconsider."
A Sisterly Regard Page 11