by Joan Smith
“But I am not at all accustomed to—to dealing with many people, so retired a life as Mama and I lead here.”
“They will be only simple people you have to deal with. Dame Durden’s daughter must have many qualities, good qualities, she would be willing to share with the less fortunate.”
Edith had had a Christian upbringing. Dorion was right; she should settle down and accomplish something with her life. Yet she was so far from wanting to accomplish what he outlined that she still prevaricated. “I must have time to think about it,” she said.
This was not the reply he wanted or expected; but this was the girl he had chosen, and he was patient. “Certainly you must. Marriage is too serious a matter to fly into without consideration. I think when you have slept on it, you will see I am right. You must not fear you cannot handle the work, Edith. It is always better to take on a job in which there is room to grow, to let your talents expand and reach that fulfillment that is within you. You know well enough that I was for some few years studying the law; but after weighty consideration, I saw that a man’s greatest achievement was not to be gained in such a paltry line of work. The greatest work a man can do, or a woman, either, is God’s work and so I switched my studies to the church. I have never regretted it, and neither will you, if you will join me. Together we will bring God’s word to that small corner of England where we are stationed. Our abilities, such as they are, will be put at His disposal. Can anyone ask more?”
With this ardent and unromantic speech he sought to win her. Not a word of love or affection. He spoke of marriage as a job, a piece of work to be done. She could not like it, yet she could admire it. It was always so with her. And after all his efforts, when she went to bed, she wondered if Helver knew Dorion was at the Court and if he was jealous. Really, she was not a worthy wife for Doctor Thorne, she thought, when she realized what she was doing.
It was while Doctor Thorne was visiting the Court that the spring assembly in Tisbury occurred, and Edith and the Dame were to be escorted to it by him. Doctor Thorne was not so single-mindedly religious that he failed to take in any party that offered. The Dame had a new peacock blue gown welded together, made up of the stiffest brocade ever seen anywhere. It fairly creaked and rattled when she walked, sounding like a loose tin roof in a violent storm. Edith was given a white crepe gown with green trim. She would have preferred pink or blue trim, but white and green were the Tudor colours, and there were many white and green features in the Durden residence—curtains, table covers, bed throws. Her sole adornment was a small enamelled brooch on which the Durden coat of arms was cast. Edith had not seen Helver for a week and he had seen no lady in a romantic way except Lady De Courcy. He considered that affair to be over; but still she was casting out lures, and the fish, she thought, had not yet absolutely got away.
There were elaborate preparations for the assembly in all the homes surrounding Tisbury. In the little residence across from the apothecary shop, the red door was frequently opened to admit a delivery boy, for the important decision had been taken that Milady and her chaperone should honour the local assembly with their presence. This would be a first, for such lowly pleasures, while they would have been greatly enjoyed, were disdained by the Peeress. She had heard rumours that the Duke of Saymore would attend, however, and so she was to go. Her last few meetings with him had been in the nature of wrestling matches, interrupted by Abbott before any points were scored. She wished to give him an opportunity to see and admire her without fear of being molested. She would be charming and flirtatious, and, if the Duchess attended, dignified into the bargain. All her histrionic abilities would be sorely tried, but she was not out of practice.
She laboured long over a suitable costume for the night’s performance—something provocative enough to appeal to Helver, but not so outrée as to outrage his mother; and that it must turn all the ladies green with envy was a matter of course. She picked through the wardrobe she had been accumulating for the coming Season (which might or might not be attended in London) and selected a dashing emerald green gown to be set off by a necklace of diamonds that still held quite a few of the original stones, every second one having been prized out and sold to finance her Seasons in the City. With her titian hair dressed into an elaborate coiffure, she was off to wound the hearts of the people of Tisbury.
At the Hall, the Duchess had heard of the assembly but had no notion of attending it. When it was pointed out by Travers that Lady Anne might enjoy it, and Helver would certainly be going, pressure was brought to bear on Lady Sara and Egbert to accompany them.
“For he’ll dump Lady Anne at the door and be chasing after all the girls, you know,” the Duchess explained to her sister. “It would look bad if word got back to Carlton that Lady Anne was treated so.” Such word was not likely to get back to the Earl by Lady Anne’s own lips, but still, better not to take the chance.
When the crucial evening arrived, Helver stunned them all by announcing he had no thought of attending the dance. He had, indeed, the desire to do so; but, as he had observed no period of mourning for his deceased father at the proper time, he felt he ought to be doing it now.
“We’ve told Lady Anne you mean to take her,” Sara told him. “See, she is all dressed for it.”
Lady Anne sat on the sofa, looking very pretty in a white gown with blue ribbons while she rolled a blond curl around a finger in a mindless fashion. As the truth percolated through to her that she was to miss the dance, two large tears oozed out of her eyes and down her cheeks.
“Lady Anne is young to be going to dances,” Helver objected. “Why, she’s only a child, and I wager she can’t dance, either.”
The question was put to her by the Duchess, but she didn’t answer.
“You don’t dance, do you, Annie?” Helver asked, going over to sit by her side and speak to her in a gentle tone.
“Yes,” she said, looking at him with those injured, wet eyes.
“Do you want to go to this assembly?”
“Yes,” she said again.
“What should I do, Travers?” Helver asked.
“I see no harm in going. We’ve given up mourning long ago.’’
“Very well, I’ll take you,” he said to Lady Anne, and she smiled a beatific smile at him.
“Mind you stand up with her, too,” Sara cautioned. “And if that De Courcy creature is there, Helver, don’t go making a cake of yourself by dancing at her petticoats all night.”
“She doesn’t go to the local dances,” Travers said. There was such a thing as pushing Helver too far. That he must spend half the night looking after the little moonling was bad enough without telling him he must not dance with the most dashing lady in the room if she happened to be there. “Oh, Helver, if Edith Durden is there you might ask her to tell the Dame I found a very interesting book in the library about the Tudors. I’ll send it over to her.” This was done only to ensure that Helver seek out Edith. She felt he would do so, but if Milady attended, as she half feared she would, there was no counting on it. “It’s a very good book. Be sure you tell her.”
“I’ll tell her,” he said.
There were many points to ponder in the matter of strategy for the assembly. Lady De Courcy, having condescended to attend, was desirous of standing up for the opening minuet with the Duke. Her title led her to believe she would do so, but there was Lord Carlton’s daughter visiting at the Hall. There were no secrets in the village. Lady Anne’s presence at the Hall, the reason for it and its chances of failure had been talked over a dozen times. Might he not stand up with Lady Anne first? To be his second partner was not what Blanche wanted; and, to avoid this possibility, she would make a late entry. She was very fond of late entries in any case, the more dramatic the better. Let him have his duty dance with the moonling and he would be more than ready for a more worldly partner. The villagers could not then say he had neglected to stand up with her first.
Tisbury looked forward to this assembly with
an eagerness unequalled since Helver had been dangling after the Widow Malone. It was but a dull affair last year, with him who should have been the chief source of interest not attending. That he would think of missing an assembly only because his father had died eighteen months ago was a streak of propriety not even considered.
Oh, Helver Trebourne would be there all right; and, if the wise knew anything, Milady would come down off her high horse and be there, too. It was a disappointment that she did not appear before the first minuet. Some fears that she had changed her mind flared up, despite her having had Minnie Sproule in to do her hair and bought new silk stockings at the drapery shop. They had all been looking forward to smirking at her when Helver stood up first with Lord Carlton’s daughter and were full of curiosity to see if she would honour Mr. Hartman, the millionaire merchant. It was to be discovered, too, if she would unbend enough to stand up with anyone else but the two of them. Otherwise she would have a pretty flat night of it, for, if she thought to keep Helver to herself, she was out. He’d dance with every farmer’s daughter and merchant’s daughter that had a dimple or a trim waist.
They were kept pretty busy, however, seeing that their own sons and daughters were matched to their advantage and observing that that knock-in-the-cradle of a Lady Anne never opened her mouth and that Helver talked to her without interruption. Now would you have believed it, the little ninny could dance like a fairy. What the old Duchess had in her head to think to make a match there was beyond imagining but certainly not beyond prolonged gossip. It did not go undetected that Dame Durden had Doctor Thorne visiting, and it was considered an honour for this unemployed cleric to come amongst them. It was beginning to be talked up that he would get the Tisbury living and Dame Durden’s daughter get the minister. This match had the wholehearted approval of the village. It was considered little short of inevitable that these two Saxons merge their blood, and it was not so grand a match for Edith that they were incited to jealousy.
Milady was a director and innovator as well as an actress. It was to be determined by having a footboy peeking in the windows of the assembly hall when the minuet was nearly over, at which time he was to dash back to Milady’s residence and alert her to set out for the dance. She had decided to walk, not because the hall was less than a full block away, but so that she could drive home with the Duke of Saymore if all went according to plans. The closing bows of the minuet were regarded through the window, the footboy ran to deliver the news and Lady De Courcy and Abbott were soon entering the hall, their sharp eyes darting about to discover in which direction they should proceed.
Luck was with Lady De Courcy. Sir Egbert and Lady Sara sat at the edge of the floor waiting to receive Lady Anne back into their guardianship, and, as Milady strolled towards him, Egbert arose to scrape a leg. Sara would give him the very devil for it, but he never passed her in the village without a five-minutes flirtation, and he had no thought of eliminating this main pleasure from his existence because of Sara’s crabbing. It was then necessary for Sara to shake two of Milady’s fingers and say how do you do, in a pinched tone. All this happy welcome encouraged Milady to present Aunt Abbott to the nobility, and by then Helver was coming up to them with Lady Anne mute but smiling at his side. She danced so well Helver had even decided to stand up with her again for a country dance.
Blanche had the exquisite pleasure of being asked for the first dance it was physically possible for her to have with Helver; and though it was not a waltz, which would have capped her pleasure in getting him all to herself, it was a triumph nevertheless. She glanced to neither left nor right to gloat at Tisbury, but her heart was full, and the citizens were bilious to see her so elevated and clever.
“You haven’t been to call on me for some time, Helver,” she pouted with her infamous lips. “I am getting lonely.”
“It seems to me you never lacked for company, Blanche. Quite the contrary.”
“Oh, Auntie Abbott! She is no company.”
“She accounts for the lack of it.”
“Is the dear Duchess not here?” she asked, to steer the course back to calm waters.
“No, the dear Duchess doesn’t care for assemblies. I had heard you didn’t, either. It is an unlooked-for pleasure to find you here.”
“Then it wasn’t to stand up with me that you came?” she teased, laughing. “Dear me, what a leveller. Little Lady Anne is a treasure, is she not?” she asked next. She was too shrewd to say a word against a sister peeress.
“Very pretty.”
“A cut above the others here, the common people, I mean. We ought really not to associate with them—the Bixbys, the Mallens, the Durdens and so on.”
The last name brought a sneer to Helver’s lips. “The Durdens are likely the oldest and best-bred people in the room.”
“So one hears. The Dame is a regular old quiz, is she not? How I laugh to see her stride through the village in those creaking old gowns and with that metal bag on her hair, as though she were doing Tisbury an honour.”
“She is a bit of an eccentric,” he admitted, having no particular fondness for the Dame.
“And her daughter setting up to be another. Only look at the odd gown she is wearing, cut to her neck and not a bit of jewelry but that funny looking old brooch with not a gem in it, and they letting on to have some money.”
“It is not every woman who appears to advantage in dashing gowns and diamonds, Blanche. They suit you very well, but not a young girl.”
“Well, I am not quite old yet, Helver. But Miss Durden is to be a minister’s wife, of course, and such modesty becomes her in that circumstance.”
“Who says she is to be Thorne’s wife?” he asked sharply.
“Everyone. It is no secret the Dame asked him to the Court to bring him up to scratch.”
“I hadn’t heard he was visiting at Durden Court.”
“Oh, lud, he’s been there all week. I am sure he is there as much to pester you for the Tisbury living as anything else. The two of them are always jauntering through the village together. It is as well as settled. It’s only the lack of a living that is preventing it. And you are to remove that stumbling block. It is time you appointed a vicar for the parish church.”
"I won’t be appointing that popinjay!”
“Noblesse oblige, Your Grace,” she laughed. “It is expected you will. Why, the good doctor as well as told me that now you are home the appointment will be made. He used to dangle after me, you know, when first I came here, but I showed him the door fast enough when I saw what he was up to. Not a sou to his name; and, as to his fine old blood, he may keep it, or let it mingle with the Durdens’. There is not a title in his whole family either, or even a knight or a baronet. He would like well enough to give himself a leg up the ecclesiastical ladder by marrying a title, but he shan’t marry mine.”
“I am quite sure you do yourself an injustice, Blanche. I can’t think it was just the title he was after but very likely the flesh and blood, as well.”
“He liked the flesh well enough, whatever about the blood,” she replied with a meaningful, taunting smile. “He isn’t quite as full of starch as he lets on. Well, I hope he is happy with his starchy little Tudor. I wish him joy of her.”
Helver took her boast with a grain of salt. He didn’t believe for a minute that Thorne had ever looked twice at this hussy with any other view than disgust, or possibly redeeming her soul.
The flirtation proceeded poorly; and even a hint that Abbott was always fagged to death after an assembly, whereas Lady De Courcy had the greatest trouble in the world getting to sleep, brought no offer to join her in her sleepless vigil. Helver was seriously alarmed to hear Eddie was on the verge of becoming engaged. She had mentioned Thorne to him as her most ardent suitor, but he had seen no real evidence of her caring for him. Looking at the pair of them now, he saw that Thorne was looking at her with the jealous eyes of a lover, and he felt angry. This, then, was why Eddie had not been to meet him, as
she had half promised to do. Lady De Courcy had mocked Eddie’s gown, but, to Helver, used to her quaint way of dressing, she looked very pretty. She had a well-shaped head, and the manner in which she wore her hair in a bun at the back lent her a touch of maturity, even elegance.
Thorne bent down to say something to her, and she looked up at him and smiled. What he said, in fact, was that the Duke of Saymore was looking at them, and, if he came that way, she might just mention that he was staying with them. Thorne was rather worried that his visit was reaching an end, with neither a position nor a wife having yet come into his hands.
* * *
Chapter 9
With Helver not coming to the Court and the meetings in the meadow cancelled, Edith was very eager for a sight of him. She knew the assembly would afford the opportunity and would afford, as well, her only possible chance of making Helver jealous with her suitor. But when the assembly finally came, the jealousy, she feared, was all allotted to herself. Of Lady Anne she could not be jealous, but to see Helver stand up with Milady did cause her a sharp sting and to see Milady in converse with Lady Sara and Egbert gave the whole affair a respectable colouring that she sadly mistrusted. Mama was wrong, and he planned to marry Lady De Courcy.
Edith saw no flaw in her rival’s ensemble, nor did she think Helver would do so. Her beautiful red hair looked so very elegant, all done in swirls, and the diamonds and bare shoulders had just the look of glamour and sophistication that must appeal to Helver after his tours to Spain and Italy. Dorion may mutter “vulgar” and “gaudy” as often as he liked, in common with other ladies in the room, but Edith secretly thought Milady the most fascinating lady ever to have come to Tisbury.
Edith had no hopes of getting the second dance with Helver after the redheaded siren entered the room, but she was still hoping to be the third one he stood up with and was keeping a sharp eye on him. She was happy when she saw him come straight from Lady De Courcy towards herself. Thorne, of course, was at her side, and to him Helver said, “Good evening, Doctor. Nice to see you again. May I borrow Eddie for the next dance?”