by Gayle Buck
“Oh, in that case!” Lady O’Connell managed a laugh. “I had not immediately perceived that your lists were so flexible, Mrs. Hadcombe. Naturally I shall be only too glad to accommodate your wishes.” Despite her ladyship’s attempt at complaisance, however, she could not quite disguise her reluctance to fall in with the suggestion advanced and it was visible to everyone.
Lady Bishop raised her brows. A smile quirked at the corner of her mouth. There was nothing she enjoyed more than encouraging a stir, and certainly there was something curious about Lady O’Connell’s reaction to an advantageous invitation for her daughter. It would be most interesting to observe what might develop. “I, too, should like to put in my own invitation before the rush. You must both come to a small soiree that I am giving this Friday evening. Lady O’Connell is attending and I assure you of the same warm welcome.”
“Thank you, my lady. And you, Mrs. Hadcombe. I shall be delighted to accompany my mother and attend both evenings,”said Megan. She slanted a glance brimful of mischief at her companion. “Gwyneth?”
“Oh, yes, it sounds quite delightful,” said Mrs. Tyler with a smile.
“Then it is settled! I shall expect you next week,” said Mrs. Hadcombe, rising. She held out her hand to her hostess. “I did not anticipate to be so wonderfully entertained during a simple call, my lady.”
“Nor I,” said Lady Bishop, also preparing to take her leave. She said good-bye to her hostess. Then she nodded graciously to Miss O’Connell and Mrs. Tyler, offering her hand to each of them. “We shall leave you now, for I know that you will have much to talk over with your delightful daughter.”
“Of course,” said Lady O’Connell helplessly. “Thank you for corning. It was wonderful to see you both, as always.”
Lady O’Connell showed out her callers. When the door had safely closed behind them, she turned back to her daughter. All of her bewilderment and consternation showed on her face. “Megan, whatever are you doing here? I had no notion that you were not still in Russia. It was such a shock when you suddenly just appeared in my sitting room.”
“I have not simply appeared, Mother. The journey was actually quite long and tedious,” said Megan. She rose from the settee. “In point of fact, I am rather fatigued. Since I know that you will dine out, I shall go lie down for an hour so that I will be ready to accompany you this evening. Gwyneth, do you go with us?”
“I think not this evening,” said Mrs. Tyler quietly, glancing at Lady O’Connell’s astounded expression. She knew that it was rather cowardly of her, but she didn’t relish the notion of bearing with Lady O’Connell’s inquiries and complaints the first evening that they arrived in London. “I would prefer taking supper in my room before retiring, I think.”
Megan hugged her companion. Her eyes twinkled in complete understanding. “Poor Gwyneth! I am frightfully selfish to have dragged you all over the Continent and then expected you to dine out on your first evening home! I will allow you to bow out tonight, but I shall insist upon your company later this week, so be warned.”
“That will not be a burden, Megan. I suspect that I shall enjoy a little of our English society,” said Mrs. Tyler, smiling. She left the drawing room.
Lady O’Connell barely absorbed the meaning of their exchange, being more nearly concerned with her own immediate interests. “Megan, you cannot possibly go with me tonight,” said Lady O’Connell. “It is a dress function, a soiree, in fact. You have not the wardrobe for it and have not been invited besides.”
Megan smiled at her mother. “But I do have a few gowns that I am certain must be suitable, Mother. I brought back a very extensive wardrobe from St. Petersburg. Princess Kirov was kind enough to enlarge upon my own collection since I was expected to attend every function that she deemed appropriate. I have even a court dress. It is quite mouthwatering, I assure you. You will be quite in alt at sight of it when I am presented to the queen. As for an invitation, I am certain that your credit must be high enough to carry off an addition to your party.”
“Of course it is,” said Lady O’Connell with automatic vanity. Then realizing what she had said, she added hastily, “But that is quite beside the point, Megan! You will not know a single soul, except Sophronia, of course, and I do not wish to be forever introducing—”
“Sophronia! Is she in London, too?” asked Megan, surprised.
Lady O’Connell frowned slightly, at once sidetracked. “Yes, and has been this last month. Really, I do not know what has gotten into her lately. I assure you, Megan, you would not recognize your sister-in-law. Why, I wrote to Lionel about her just this week. The Season has scarcely begun and already Sophronia is to be seen everywhere. She has put off her shawls and her die-away airs. I do not mind that so much, but everyone is forever pointing her out as though she has become a society belle.”
“And has she?” asked Megan, fascinated.
“It is most annoying,” said Lady O’Connell, scarcely heeding. “I have been on the town for any number of Seasons. I have always enjoyed a well-deserved recognition. It is the outside of enough when I am suddenly introduced as Sophronia O’Connell’s mother-in-law! Such impudence!”
Megan burst out laughing. At her mother’s affronted expression, she swiftly sobered. “I do apologize. Mother, but it just seems so fantastic. Almost unbelievable, in fact!”
“Yes, and so I think, too,” said Lady O’Connell, mollified.
“Is Sophronia abovestairs? I should like to visit with her,” said Megan, already moving toward the door.
“Here?! Of course not! Why, do you think that I should allow Sophronia to behave so shockingly were she to reside under my roof? She has acquired her own house, if you please!” said Lady O’Connell on a fresh note of disgruntlement.
“I am positively unmanned,” said Megan. She looked at her mother with a teasing light in her eyes. “Can a female properly be said to be unmanned, Mother?”
“What? Whatever are you talking about?” asked Lady O’Connell, confused.
“Never mind, Mother. It was a rhetorical question, at best. Certainly I must see Sophronia’s wondrous transformation for myself,” said Megan. “Wild horses could not keep me from accompanying you this evening, dear ma’am. Has she given up the pugs, too?”
“Yes, nasty creatures! At least, they do not accompany her everywhere as they were wont to do. Very well, Megan, you may accompany me. You always seemed to be on a more friendly footing with Sophronia than anyone else. Perhaps you may talk some sense into her and persuade her to return home to Lionel. She will not pay the least heed to me!” said Lady O’Connell.
“Will she not?” asked Megan, greatly appreciative. “I begin to wonder just what I wrought when I chose to go off to Russia.”
“Whatever do you mean? What a nonsensical thing to say! As though you have done anything to the purpose!” said Lady O’Connell. “Sophronia has merely taken the bit in her mouth. There! I am so overwrought that I am using disgusting horsey phrases just like your father. If only Lionel had managed Sophronia differently! But stupidity seems to run in the males of our house. All they think about are those silly horses.”
“Is it so surprising, Mother? And not without cause, perhaps. None of us would be able to dress or live in the style to which we are accustomed without the income from the horses,” said Megan coolly. She discovered that she had no patience for such deluded talk. “It is a pity that I must write my father and tell him that I failed in my commission. The Russians do not let go of their breeding stock, except to give them to those with family connections. Believe me, I discovered that there are quite a number of personages in this world who are just as fiercely possessive of their horses as my father ever was. And certain members of their families are just as inordinately obsessed with what they can provide for us as are we.”
Lady O’Connell stared at her daughter, quite taken aback. “What extremely odd things to say, Megan. You have never spoken to me in that tone before. Yes, alm
ost as though you were delivering a lecture!” Her bruised emotions caught up with her. She glared at her daughter, affronted. “And I do not think that I care for it at all, miss!”
Megan smiled at her mother. “Forgive me, ma’am. I spoke out of my private thoughts. I shall go upstairs at once and make ready to accompany you.” She whisked herself out of the sitting room before her mother could formulate either a reply or an objection.
* * *
Chapter 10
A few hours later Megan and Lady O’Connell were ushered into the elegant ballroom. Her ladyship was greeted at once by various acquaintances. When one or two openly asked Lady O’Connell the identity of her youthful companion, Lady O’Connell introduced Megan with grudging civility, calculated to deflate any pretensions that her daughter might have.
Megan merely smiled. She was all too aware of her mother’s disgruntlement at having her hand forced that evening. She had listened to such strictures and complaints on the drive over that it was all that she could do to hold her tongue between her teeth. However, it was no plan of hers to come into direct conflict with Lady O’Connell, at least not just yet, and so she had preserved silence. Now she politely replied to all statements directed to her, neither putting herself forward nor shrinking back. Eventually her presence was accepted without further curiosity and she was at last free to take stock of her surroundings.
After a few minutes of observing the crowded company, Megan caught sight of her sister-in-law. She glanced at her mother. Lady O’Connell was deep in conversation. Megan doubted that her mother would notice whether she remained at her side or not.
Megan murmured a low excuse and detached herself from the circle. There were a few glances thrown her way, even a polite smile, but no one decried her desertion.
Megan crossed over to greet her sister-in-law. “Sophronia, how are you?”
Mrs. O’Connell turned quickly. “Megan!” She looked at Megan with astonishment.
“Yes, it is indeed I,” said Megan with a laugh, aware that her unexpected appearance must be startling.
Mrs. O’Connell caught Megan’s hands. “What a start you gave me! But how glad I am to see you!”
Megan was astonished by her sister-in-law’s friendly reception. “Why, thank you, Sophronia.”
Mrs. O’Connell had been conversing with several other ladies and introduced Megan to them, before saying, “Come, let us go over to that alcove where we may be private.” She excused herself lightly to her friends and separated herself and Megan from the crowd. Megan allowed herself to be led away, curious about what her sister-in-law might say to her.
Their progress was impeded several times by acquaintances who wished to address her sister-in-law. Mrs. O’Connell’s light rejoinders and her obvious popularity were not lost on Megan. Gone was the sulky, petulant expression, the shawls, the languid movements, and complaining discourse.
When they had entered the alcove and seated themselves on the small settee, Megan felt compelled to make comment of her sister-in-law’s transformation. “I scarcely know you, Sophronia.”
Mrs. O’Connell laughed. A faint tinge of color came into her cheeks. There was a quicksilver quality to her animated glance and sparkling eyes. “I am different, am I not? And I owe it all to you, Megan.”
“To me! Why, I did nothing but advise you to seek a healthier climate,” said Megan, shaking her head.
“No, Megan. You made me see what a total disaster I was making of my life,” said Mrs. O’Connell. “After you left, I could not put out of my mind what you said to me at the grand dress ball. And I realized that you were quite right. I should leave Lionel. So I did.”
“But that is not what I said at all,” said Megan, appalled. “I meant leave Ireland to enjoy a few weeks of shopping and theater-gazing and forming new friendships. I never meant that you should leave Lionel!”
“Leave Ireland or leave Lionel, they are one and the same really,” said Mrs. O’Connell with a shrug. “Lionel does not exist separately from the lands.” Her eyes suddenly hardened. “Has Lady O’Connell asked you to attempt to persuade me to go back? Ah, I can see from your face that she has! Let me save us from a bothersome argument, Megan. My mind is quite made up. I shan’t return to Ireland. There is little in the way of happiness for me there.”
“I am sorry,” said Megan quietly. “I wish very much that the circumstances had been different. But surely Lionel objected to your decision?”
A flicker of a melancholy smile crossed Mrs. O’Connell’s face. “Lionel was not the least bit distressed when I informed him that I wished to remove to London. He quite willingly bought a town house for me and gave me adequate funds to do whatever I wished. It seems that I had made myself so abhorrent to him that he was glad to foot any bills which I might incur.”
Megan heard the undercurrent of pain in her sister-in-law’s self-mocking voice. Impulsively she reached out and squeezed the other woman’s fingers. “I am sorry for you and, yes, Lionel, too. I know that he would think differently if he were to see you now.”
“You are kind, Megan. Far kinder than I deserve, for I was a poor sister to you,” said Mrs. O’Connell.
“You must not say such things,” said Megan.
“But it is true, Megan. I could have made a push to see that you were brought out last Season. I could even have chaperoned you. But I did not because I was so wretched myself that I could not see beyond my own nose,” said Mrs. O’Connell. She shook her head. “It is strange. Once I came to London, I could see things ever so much more clearly. After I lost the baby and Lionel turned from me, it was as though I existed in a deep well. And the more I tried to claw my way out, the worse matters became. It did not matter what I did to reclaim Lionel’s attention. He did not want me. All he wanted was to breed horses.”
“Sophronia, I do not know what to say,” said Megan hesitantly. She had never been the recipient of such a personal confidence from her sister-in-law. It felt extremely awkward. “I never understood, or otherwise I might have been kinder, more obliging toward you.”
Mrs. O’Connell gave a watery chuckle. “How could you understand, my dear, when I did not myself?” Suddenly she reached out and clutched Megan’s fingers. Her expression intent, she said, “Pray say that you can forgive me, Megan. I am so exceedingly sorry! I had the power to help you, but I did not.”
“Of course I do, Sophronia,” said Megan, embarrassed. She was not embittered by her sister-in-law’s lack of interest. She had simply assumed that Sophronia had been like everyone else—totally consumed by her own desires to the exclusion of all else. It was eye-opening, indeed, to be the recipient of a repentant outpouring. “You had more pressing concerns than to be thinking of a young girl’s come-out.”
“Thank you, Megan,” said Mrs. O’Connell quietly, releasing Megan’s hand. “That means more to me than I can say.”
“But, Sophronia, what will you do now? You cannot stay in London forever. At some point you must talk to Lionel about how you feel.” Megan hesitated, then said, “You do still have some feelings for him, do you not?”
Mrs. O’Connell gave a hiccupping laugh. She turned her head away to hide her expression. “You see far too much, my dear. Oh yes, I still harbor feelings for Lionel. I always shall. But it is not likely that he will ever know it, and nor would he care.”
“My mother seems to believe that Lionel will care at least to a small extent. She told me that she wrote to him last week about you,” said Megan.
Mrs. O’Connell’s eyes rose to Megan’s, then slid away. She carefully pleated her skirt. “An unprecedented action, certainly.”
“What if Lionel should come to London after you?” asked Megan, curious.
“I should lead him a fine dance,” said Mrs. O’Connell promptly. She straightened, lifting her chin to a proud angle.
“But why?” asked Megan.
“Oh, so that Lionel would understand that he must prove his devotion to me. For I wi
ll never follow him about begging for his attentions again,” said Mrs. O’Connell. Then she laughed, the somber mood falling away from her. “But enough of this! I wish to hear about you. I was quite under the impression that you were settled in Princess Kirov’s household indefinitely.”
“No doubt that is what my mother hoped,” said Megan with a quick smile. She was perfectly willing to follow her sister-in-law’s lead. Such confidences were uncomfortable when they had never really been close. “But I managed to upset the apple cart quite unintentionally. Her highness sent me home in disgrace for abusing her hospitality.”
“Nonsense! You would never do so!” said Mrs. O’Connell roundly. As she looked at Megan’s pensive countenance, she became concerned. “Megan, you are jesting! Are you not? I cannot believe that— Megan, whatever did you do?”
Megan’s smoke-gray eyes danced, but her expression was perfectly sober as she replied. “It was what I did not do! You see, I was totally insensible to my duty. I turned down eleven suits for my hand.”
Mrs. O’Connell’s eyes widened. “Eleven?!”
At her sister-in-law’s awed expression, Megan began laughing. “It was not actually as impressive as it sounds, Sophronia. I suspect that the gentlemen were suffering from moon madness or otherwise why this strange attraction to me? I am quite an ordinary female, after all.”
“I am all agog, my dear Megan. You must tell me all that happened,” said Mrs. O’Connell.
“And so I shall, some rainy day when neither of us has anything better to do,” said Megan, shaking her head.
“Unfair, my dear. I shall badger you unmercifully until you satisfy my curiosity.” Mrs. O’Connell’s amused expression altered suddenly. “Megan, does Lady O’Connell know of this?”
“Not yet. There has not been an opportunity to talk. I have but just arrived in London and when I heard that you were here, I insisted upon accompanying her tonight so that I might visit with you,” said Megan. “I was delighted to learn that you, too, were in London. Though now I wish, just a little, that I had not said anything at all to you.”