by Joan Smith
Lady Sara's music was already laid out on the pianoforte in preparation for her performance. She had not wasted a moment of her afternoon. The audience took seats; Lady Sara arranged a candelabrum beside her. Candlelight flickered alluringly on her white arms, and cast her gown into shining hillocks with dark shadows. She gracefully arched her wrists, and Schubert's gold cords filled the room. She played with great skill, never hitting a wrong note. At the end of each piece, there was a scatter of applause. When it died down, she would announce her next selection. No one could make heads or tails of the German words, but they were very impressed.
Monty and Griffin nodded and exchanged smiles. The ladies sat morosely, knowing they had been eclipsed entirely. When Lady Sara had performed three selections, she had reached the end of her repertoire. Griffin applauded loudly and asked for more. Instead, she demurely said she did not wish to hog the instrument, and Alice must chord for them now.
Alice went with a very poor grace and began to chord the simpler country tunes. The other younger people stood around the piano and sang, while Mrs. Sutton and Lady Griffin slipped away for a chat. After half an hour, Alice was still playing away, with no sign of fatigue. When they were all tired and happy, they went back to the morning parlor for a late-night snack.
Lady Sara enlightened them as to the latest modes in music—romantic music was the new thing. She spoke authoritatively of harmony and modulation, of melodic stimulus and marvelously graphic images, until everyone was thoroughly confused, and tired, and ready for bed. Monty left, and Griffin accompanied the ladies to the staircase.
When the others began their ascent, Lady Sara turned to Griffin and said, “I believe I left my fan at the piano. Would you come with me, Griffin? I fear the servants will have extinguished the lights, and I am afraid of the dark. Silly of me, but there you are. I want a man to lean on."
Griffin agreed immediately, and they walked off together. Alice looked down over her shoulder. The last thing she saw was Griffin and Sara, heading down the dark hall together.
“I wager he will kiss her,” Sukey said angrily.
“It won't be for lack of her trying if he don't,” her mama snipped.
“I shouldn't be at all surprised,” Alice agreed blandly. She was accustomed to hiding her hurt, but her heart ached badly at the image Sukey's words called up.
Chapter Fifteen
Sukey Sutton tapped at Alice's door the next morning at eight o'clock. She was happy to find her friend already up and dressed in her riding habit. “Is it too early to go belowstairs?” Sukey asked uncertainly. “I have never stayed at an abbey before."
“We may be the first ones down, but breakfast will be ready,” Alice assured her.
The young ladies made a pretty picture as they entered the breakfast parlor: Alice with her dark hair and plum-colored riding habit, Sukey with her red hair and green outfit, both with eager smiles. Unfortunately, there was no one to admire them except a footman.
“Are we the first ones up?” Alice asked him.
“No, Miss Newbold. His lordship and Lady Sara were up an hour ago, and have gone for a ride.” Alice and Sukey exchanged an angry look. “His lordship left a note for you.” The footman pointed to the table, where a folded sheet of paper sat beside one of the places.
Alice picked it up and glanced at a carelessly scrawled two lines. ‘Sal, Sara and I have ridden to Headcorn. Your mama's mount is in my stable for Miss Sutton's use. Mama will provide a groom to accompany you. Until later, G.’ She showed the note to Sukey.
“She must have got up at the crack of dawn,” Sukey scolded.
“And gone to Headcorn. I daresay that means she will take Griffin somewhere else this afternoon, while we are driven to the village."
They heaped their plates and enjoyed a good grumble over breakfast. Lady Sara's overbearing ways, her gowns, and her looks were subjected to vivid dissection while they ate.
“At least he remembered to send for Mama's mount,” Alice said, as they drank their coffee. “Would you like to go for a ride?"
“I suppose so. Where shall we go?"
“Let us ride over to Newbold Hall. You have never seen where I live. Or we can tour the gardens here. They are famous. I expect Lady Griffin will arrange a guided tour of them some time or other."
It was agreed that they would ride to Newbold Hall and be back for lunch. Mrs. Sutton and Lady Griffin came down before they left, and approved their outing, so long as they were accompanied by a groom. The little trip gave the pleasure of an intimate coze, but it was not the sort of morning the girls had anticipated.
Over lunch, Lady Sara complimented Lady Griffin on the many excellencies of Headcorn. “I asked Griffin to take me to call on the vicar, who is a connection of Mama's. But you know that, Lady Griffin. It was your kind intercession that got him the living. He gave us a tour of that wonderful old Norman church. What a history lesson is carved there in stone. Odd to think those pagan barbarian Normans were eventually civilized enough to accept Christianity, and build those marvelous structures. It makes one feel so—Griffin calls it saudades. A sort of nostalgia. As we were finished early, we had a stroll around town. There was not a sign of those sleepyheads,” she said, smiling indulgently at Alice and Sukey.
“I thought it was agreed we would go to Headcorn this afternoon,” Mrs. Sutton reminded her.
“You will not be deprived of your outing,” Lady Sara smiled. “You can chaperon the girls, Mrs. Sutton. I simply must have my ride. My mount gets very fidgety if she is not exercised regularly. I am afraid I spoil myself, where my mount is concerned. I will ride only the best. Griffin tells me Minerva is a man's mount, but I like a strong goer."
Lady Griffin did not care very much where they all went, so long as they left her in peace. “Leave tomorrow morning open for a tour of the garden” was all she said.
The afternoon was as frustrating as the morning. Once again, Lady Sara had finessed them. Griffin rode with her, while the others made the compulsory trip to see the church, the Beult River, and the shops. As the sights were so few, Alice took the Suttons to meet her friend, Miss Warwick, who served them a glass of wine and the latest gossip.
“Who was the lady Griffin brought to Headcorn this morning? She is beautiful. Everyone says they are engaged, for she was holding on to his arm and laughing and looking at him in the most meaningful way."
“That is Lady Sara Winsley, Lord Calmet's daughter,” Alice replied, “and they are not engaged."
“I wager they soon will be. Do you know, Sal, she asked him to help her select a pair of silk stockings at the drapery shop? She bought a bronze color, saying it would match Griffin's complexion. We all thought it was pretty fast, but, of course, she is a lady. I went over to buy pins when I saw them go in. Everyone was staring at them. What a handsome couple they make. I got my invitation to the rout party at Mersham this evening,” she said. “I can hardly wait to see Lady Sara dance with Griffin."
By the time the carriage returned to Mersham, the ladies had achieved such a pitch of annoyance that Mrs. Sutton was speaking of writing herself a letter calling herself back to London on urgent business. Alice added that she would go with her, as her mama had told her to ride to town with the Suttons.
Lady Griffin had some tea served as soon as they returned. Lady Sara and Griffin were once again absent. The ladies bristled in vexation and tried to smile.
“Where is Lady Sara, ma'am?” Alice asked.
“She is in the garden, haranguing my gardener into giving her some cuttings. Griffin will be joining us. He is in his conservatory. You know how he dotes on his plants."
He arrived a moment later, so full of compliments and merriment that the Suttons forgave him all. He told them about giving Snow White to the prince, and showed them the letter and snuffbox. He inquired with seeming interest for Miss Sutton's success in riding Mrs. Newbold's mount, and reminded her she must save him a dance at the evening's rout.
As soon as tea was over, he excu
sed himself and left. Alice followed him, to make sure he was not slipping out to the garden to meet Lady Sara. She caught him just as he was about to enter his conservatory. “May I have a word with you, Griffin?” she asked.
“Of course. What is it, Sal?” He opened the door, and she preceded him into the greenhouse.
She waited until the door was closed, then put her hands on her hips and lit into him. “What do you think you are doing?” she demanded fiercely.
“I was about to check my bananas. They must be kept moist."
“I am not talking about your demmed bananas. You have been ignoring all of your guests except one."
It was not necessary for him to inquire which one. “I just had tea with the Suttons,” he pointed out.
“Half an hour of sipping tea does not make up for twenty-four hours of neglect. Plans were made for us to ride this morning, and go to Headcorn this afternoon. You ought to have been part of the group, and not Lady Sara's particular escort. If it was only her you wanted to see, you ought not to have invited the others."
A telltale flush around his neck revealed his lack of ease at his recent behavior. “Where were you this morning? We waited half an hour."
“We were down by eight. No one ever stirs before that at a house party. You must have left at the crack of dawn."
“The day was so fine, we decided to go on without you. Lady Sara was particularly eager to have a visit with the vicar."
“The buzz in the village is not about visiting the vicar, but about her hanging on your arm while you helped her select silk stockings, to match your complexion."
“I thought you were above listening to common gossip, Alice,” he said, trying for a note of hauteur.
“No one is above listening to gossip, and don't deny the story, for I had it of—of a girl who actually saw you, making a cake of yourself."
“Sara tore her stockings on the step of my curricle. Naturally I had to replace them. Were it not for that, we would have been home sooner. It is not as though Miss Sutton was left alone. She had you."
“She did not come here to see me," she said angrily.
“You are the one who suggested I invite her,” he said, his voice rising. He was thoroughly ashamed of himself; he knew perfectly well he had been negligent of his guests, and tried to cover his shame with a bluster of anger.
“If I had known you had already settled on Lady Sara, I would not have suggested it. You are the one who wanted to become friendly with more than one lady. Well, you have not done it. You have spent ninety-nine percent of your time chasing after Lady Sara, in the most vulgar and common way, and insulted my particular friend into the bargain."
“There is nothing vulgar or common about Sara."
“I did not say there was, though, in fact, she is goading you on, and she is plenty old enough to know better. Having a gentleman select her stockings may or may not be vulgar; it is certainly fast. If she were a real lady, she would not try to monopolize your time at the expense of your other guests."
“This is something new,” he said, with a snide grin. “A Newbold giving lessons in propriety. Now that I have recovered the use of my wits, I realize Myra's display was the height of vulgarity. I did not hear you castigate her."
“No, for doing it in public would be vulgar as well. You may be sure I rang many a peel over her when we were in private. Don't try to saddle me with Myra's behavior, Griffin. And furthermore,” she said, working herself into a fine rant, “I fail to see how you could not get a letter to her in five years. She waited longer than you deserved. The only pity is that she had not married the duke before you came home."
“Or failing that, that she could not make up her mind without dragging the duke and myself about London like the conquests of a Roman emperor."
“A grown man cannot be dragged by a lady against his will. Myra behaved badly; you and the duke abetted her. You cannot blame this present show of bad manners on her. It is your own doing. I expect you to stand up with Miss Sutton this evening, Griffin, and Miss Warwick, from Headcorn, and any other neighbors you have invited here to watch you and Lady Sara perform."
Griffin had mentally admitted his guilt, and taken the decision to be a better host, but he was not the sort to publicly admit to a fault. With his decision made, he was able to put that at the back of his mind and concentrate on other things. He noticed the sparkle in Alice's eyes, and how pink her cheeks were. He was still half accustomed to think of her as a child, but that peel she had just rung over him held the air of authority. She had grown into a beautiful and decisive woman.
“You forgot yourself, Alice. Am I not ordered to stand up with you as well?” he said, in a joking spirit.
“I am a little particular about my partners,” she replied, and flounced from the conservatory.
“So there!” he called after her.
She ran up to her room and closed the door, in case Sukey should come and see her in tears. She had really burned her bridges behind her this time. Why had she been so savage with him? It was not on Sukey's account that she resented his ill manners, but on her own. He had chosen Lady Sara. He might as well have said it in so many words.
In the conservatory; Griffin carefully watered his plants, but his mind was elsewhere. It was ridiculous to call Sara vulgar. She was an accomplished lady—those marvelous Schubert songs ... If she was a little freer in her behavior than Sal, well, she was not a deb. She had made her debut before he left England. Sara must be five and twenty at least, but in an excellent state of preservation. And fond of travel. She had mentioned half a dozen times how she would have loved to see Brazil. That was the sort of lady to suit him. Not a missish, backward, clinging provincial like Myra. They were as different as day and night.
He heard a sound at the door and turned, thinking Sal had returned to apologize. He saw Sara, and was aware of a stab of disappointment.
“Am I intruding?” she asked, with a confident smile that assumed she was always welcome. She did not wait to be assured, but came in, looking around at his specimens. “So these are your specimens from South America. Tell me all about them, Griffin. I am appallingly ignorant, but eager to learn. What is this little one?"
“These are all bananas,” he said, and told her a little about them.
“Let us have your gardener tend to this watering, Griffin. We have time for a stroll before dinner, just the two of us. The others have gone up to change."
“I don't allow my gardener to tend these specimens. Is it time to change for dinner?” he asked, drawing out his watch. “You're right. I had not realized it was so late. We must go."
“They won't start dinner without us,” she laughed. “Do come into the rose garden. It is so romantic,” she sighed. “The perfume fills the air at twilight, and the birds are singing.” She looked at him archly, from the corner of her eyes. “And it is so very private,” she said daringly.
Griffin knew it was his cue to kiss her. Strangely, he felt no overwhelming desire to do so. He liked to do his own courting. Sara had quite obviously come here to seduce him. He half admired her daring, but he was also a little shocked. Had things changed that much while he was away? Perhaps they had; he had been shocked by the waltz, too, but it was considered unexceptionable. He began to suspect that Alice was right. Beneath Sara's fine silk gown, there lurked the heart of a common hussy. Griffin did not consider this a deterrent. In fact, it excited him.
What he did object to was Sara's selfishness. She did not care if the rest of the table was kept waiting on her. She had enjoyed shocking the villagers in the drapery shop that morning. He had thought she was the antithesis of Myra—a mature, independent lady, but they had that selfishness and love of attention in common. Of course a lady reared to every sort of privilege would be selfish. How could she be otherwise? As to attention, he had no real aversion to it himself.
She smiled an invitation at him. He drew her into his arms and kissed her. Sara was no shrinking violet. She pressed herself against him
quite wantonly, until he nearly forgot she was a lady. Then she drew back with a smile that was trying to look shy, but was, in fact, smug. “Shall we go to the garden now?” she said.
“I don't trust myself alone with you,” he said. His voice was husky.
“Don't worry, I shan't let you get out of line, sir! I was not born yesterday."
“I have just had a scold for ignoring my guests. I think we had best not keep them waiting this time."
“Mothers can be such bores. But Lady Griffin is a darling. I quite dote on her."
Griffin did not correct her as to the deliverer of the scold. He went to the door and held it open. Lady Sara smiled on relentlessly. “Oh, by the by, Griffin, I have written a note to my Uncle Avery, who lives just ten miles beyond Headcorn. I thought we might take a spin over there in the morning, as we two are early birds. Avery is dying to hear of your travels. He will give us lunch, I expect."
“You forget, Mama is giving the guests a tour of the gardens tomorrow, Sara."
“But I have already had a tour, and you must be more than familiar with them."
“Actually I have not made a complete tour since returning. There have been many changes. I look forward to it."
“Ah, then I shall skip Uncle Avery's visit. Those gardens are worth careful study."
They mounted the stairs to their rooms together. Griffin wore a concentrated expression when he left her. She was a beautiful, desirable lady. But just a little encroaching, perhaps? He would assess her more carefully before coming to any conclusion.
Chapter Sixteen
Alice kept a close eye on Griffin that evening, and had to admit that he behaved with perfect propriety. As Lady Sara was a distinguished guest, she received a generous but not inordinate share of his attention. Naturally he had to stand up with her first, since she was the only titled lady present, barring his own mama. He did not have to look quite so happy about it, but it was a party after all, and he made a point to stand up with Sukey next. He stared pointedly at Alice as he approached Sukey, as if to say, I am being a good boy. She refused to smile at him, but she nodded her approval.