by Michelle Cox
“But Alcott’s years from retiring, surely?” Lord Linley argued.
“Perhaps,” Clive answered. “But it’s high time I looked to my responsibilities, wouldn’t you say?” he asked, as he took a drink of his wine.
“Well said, my boy, I’ll give you that,” Lord Linley harrumphed, flashing a severe look at Wallace.
Ignoring it, Wallace spoke to Clive. “So you’re giving up being a police captain to be a captain of industry,” he drawled condescendingly. “Is that it?”
“Something like that, yes,” Clive said shortly.
“How very clever you are, Clive. We should all take a lesson from your book,” Wallace said, an insincere smile creeping up his face.
“And how about you, Wallace? What have you been up to these days?” Clive asked, a bristle in his voice now.
“Oh, you know, a little of this and a little of that,” he said, leaning back in his chair. Henrietta thought he was putting on a good show of disinterested nonchalance, but she thought his eyes looked sad, or perhaps worried.
“Would that it was more,” Lord Linley harrumphed again. “Perhaps you should drive over to the Burrows with Clive tomorrow. Get his opinion on the matter. I daresay a fresh set of eyes might help.”
Wallace shot Clive a glance to gauge his interest.
“I’d be happy to,” Clive said, setting his napkin on the table, the servants clearing the dessert dishes now. “It’s been a while since I’ve been down to the lower estates, but it would make a nice change. I didn’t realize you could still drive, Wallace,” Clive said directly.
“Oh, I manage most things,” Wallace said bitterly. “You’d be surprised.”
“Really! Must we talk of the estate’s affairs!” bemoaned Lady Linley suddenly from the other end of the table. “Surely business can wait until after the reception and all of the guests have gone!” she implored. “They’ll soon be descending upon us. No one is staying longer than a week, however, except of course the Earl and Countess of Ashforth. They always stay on and on; it’s a terrible bore, really, but what’s to be done? It wouldn’t be so bad, but with the east wing closed off now, and most of the west, it makes it a bit of a squeeze, doesn’t it, Montague? Then with all the extra servants running around …
“Margaret!” Lord Linley interrupted.
Wallace chuckled. “Really, mother. Clive, here, will be thinking you’re referring to him.”
“Don’t be absurd! Of course, I don’t mean them. Clive’s my nephew, and Henrietta’s a lovely thing, aren’t you, dear? Oh!” she said, suddenly despairing. “You have no idea what the house used to be!” Lady Linley sighed, looking at Henrietta, who decided to nod sympathetically. “We had such lovely parties! The prince himself once stayed with us. It’s been so very long since we’ve had a party, a proper party, that is, and I’m quite looking forward to it!”
“I’m sure it will be lovely,” Henrietta said appropriately, though she was a bit unsettled at the prospect of having to meet several more members of the aristocracy.
“It’s the war’s fault,” Lady Linley said sadly, “that we’ve been reduced to this.”
“No, it’s not, Mother,” Wallace put in, moving his crystal wine glass in slow circles on the thick white tablecloth so that the last of his wine swirled lazily. “It was changing before that. There’s no place in the world anymore for monstrosities such as this. The old order has cracked apart, and well it should. It isn’t right for certain families to have everything while the common man labors in vain until he falls into his grave, utterly spent and broken. And for what? So that we can throw ever more elaborate parties?”
Henrietta looked at him in surprise, as it was the most he had said all evening.
“Wallace!” Lord Linley boomed. “We have a duty!”
“A duty?” Wallace scoffed. “To what? To whom?”
“You must forgive my son’s socialist tendencies,” Lord Linley said to Clive.
“And what if I am a socialist, Father?” Wallace said wearily. “We have to be realistic. We can’t keep clinging to the old ways no matter how much we might want to.” Suddenly he let out a little laugh. “We have only to look to our dear king for an example of walking away from his duty. I rest my case there. Surely you can’t expect more of me than the king himself?” he said with a sly grin.
“Wallace! For shame!” Lady Linley twittered. “How dare you speak of the king in that manner!”
Wallace remained unruffled by this scolding and finished off his wine.
“I must admit, Wallace, I have to agree with you on a number of scores,” Clive said, looking at him with what seemed to be a new appreciation.
“You Americans have the advantage,” Wallace said, addressing him alone now. “You’re not entrenched in this bloody feudal hierarchy; you’re able to start afresh. At least the common man has a chance to better himself there.”
“On the surface, yes,” Clive agreed. “But there is a hierarchy that exists, a rather brutal one, I might add. It’s not as steeped in history, but it’s every bit as unforgiving, maybe even more so because of its self-conscious youth. It yearns for the prestige of its parent,” he said, inclining his head, “and so it follows the example laid out very carefully.”
“But surely those days are numbered, Clive; you’ve said so yourself.”
“Perhaps,” Clive said thoughtfully. “In time, it may look differently; I’ll grant you that. But meanwhile,” he said, looking around the room appreciatively, “beautiful old estates such as this still exist, and something must be done.”
“By Jove, yes!” interrupted Lord Linley. “Just what I’ve been saying to Wallace. Something must be done …”
“Yes, something must be done with this old hulk, Father, but restoring it to its former glory is not it. It should be made into something useful!”
“But it was a hospital during the war! Ghastly, that was, my dear,” Lady Linley said to Henrietta. “Isn’t that good enough?” she asked Wallace now. “Castle Linley did its duty.”
“No, Mother,” he sighed, “it is most assuredly not ‘good enough.’”
“Well!” Lady Linley sniffed. “This is quite enough of political talk. It’s become really rather tedious!” she said abruptly.
“Forgive us,” Lord Linley said gruffly, though Wallace remained noticeably silent.
Lady Linley ignored the apology but for a slight inclination of her head. “Come, my dear,” she said to Henrietta. “It seems we’re quite in the way, so we’ll leave the men to their port now, shall we?” She stood up, and the men attentively stood as well, including Wallace, who hobbled up rather nimbly on his crippled leg.
“We will withdraw,” Lady Linley continued saying to Henrietta, “and you can entertain me with all of the wedding details! And don’t leave a single thing out!”
Henrietta obediently followed Lady Linley, though she very much would rather have listened to the men’s conversation than recount what all of the ladies at the wedding had worn and who had come with whom. As she passed Clive, however, he surprised her by defying not only English propriety but his own usual reticence at displaying his emotion publically and caught her hand, giving it a quick kiss before he released it, and her, to be swallowed up by Lady Linley.
Chapter 11
Elsie sat anxiously in the Chippendale armchair across from Aunt Agatha, trying to sit properly but not quite sure what to do with her legs. She tried sitting perfectly straight with her knees pressed tightly together, but it was a difficult position to maintain. She could feel perspiration gathering under her arms, not only from her strained effort but also because they sat very near the fire, Aunt Agatha apparently subject to frequent chills.
As that venerable lady now poured out the tea, Elsie stole a few glances at her and could not help but think how much Aunt Agatha reminded her of a large chipmunk, or maybe a rabbit, with her round, fleshy cheeks and her two front teeth that had an unfortunate tendency to jut out just a little too much despite what
was an obvious effort on Agatha’s part to hide them by smiling as little as possible. Elsie watched her carefully, trying to observe and take note for future reference, but she felt sure she would never remember all of these little rules and niceties. She wasn’t as clever as Henrietta in this department, whom she still marveled at in her ability to adapt and change. How she had the courage to someday take on the running of Highbury was nothing short of amazing to Elsie, as well as terribly frightening. As Elsie took the teacup and saucer offered to her now, she tried to calm herself by contemplating that Aunt Agatha seemed by far the nicer of her two new aunts, Aunt Dorothy barely condescending to speak to her, but even so, Elsie couldn’t help but feel that she had been asked here for a more specific reason than a friendly chat.
Ma had been invited as well, but, of course, she had declined. Elsie wasn’t sure which was preferable, sitting here alone to face whatever Aunt Agatha meant to say to her or having to fret over whatever disparaging comments Ma would surely make if she were present. After careful consideration, Elsie thought she preferred to be here alone and had tried all the way up to Kenilworth to guess what the topic might be about.
They had begun with the usual exchange of pleasantries regarding the weather, the drive up, the wedding, and Ma’s health before they had rather quickly come to the end of them. Looking solicitously at the tea service, Aunt Agatha now offered Elsie a scone, which Elsie politely declined, which apparently left Agatha no choice but to finally broach the subject she had been instructed to initiate.
“I must say, my dear,” Aunt Agatha began, uneasily. “Father Exley,” she said, making her grandfather sound, to Elsie’s ears, anyway, jarringly like a priest, “was rather disappointed when Mrs. Hutchings left her position.”
Elsie shifted uncomfortably. So that was it. It was to be about the companion. “Yes, I’m sorry about that,” Elsie said apologetically.
“Well, that leaves us in a rather precarious state, does it not?” Agatha said, taking a sip of her tea. “I mean, what are we to do with you?”
“Must you do anything with me, Aunt Agatha?” Elsie asked tentatively, following her aunt’s lead by also taking a sip of her tea.
“Of course we must do something, my girl! You must make a good match; Father Exley is rather set upon it. As I understand it,” Aunt Agatha went on, “he plans to put a very large dowry upon you.” Aunt Agatha drew herself up here and gave her a look that seemed intended to impart how impressed she was of said proposed arrangement. “Therefore you must somehow be brought out into society. You’re too old to be sent away to school or to come under the instruction of a governess,” she said briskly. “A lady’s companion such as Mrs. Hutchings seemed to be the perfect solution, but we see now that having an additional person in the house while your mother is … not herself, was also ill-conceived,” she said with a small cough.
For a moment, Elsie allowed herself to think with amusement of the scene in Pride and Prejudice where Lady Catherine De Bourgh questions Elizabeth Bennet about the wisdom of all of her sisters being out in society at one time. If only that were simply her problem! Elsie thought forlornly. The concept of “making a match” terrified her, and she tried to think of a way to introduce Stanley into the conversation. She was pretty sure the Exleys would not approve of him, but she knew she would have to speak up sooner or later.
“But I’m not in need of coming out, Aunt Agatha … to find a husband, that is,” she began hesitantly. “As it happens, I’m … I’m nearly engaged already. So, you see, there’s really no need for all this fuss.” Timorously she looked up into Aunt Agatha’s wrinkled face, and, despite the startled expression she was met with, she felt a certain sense of relief and accomplishment at finally having revealed her secret.
“Engaged!” Aunt Agatha sputtered. “To whom, my dear? Surely not to Barnes-Smith?”
“Lieutenant Barnes-Smith?” Elsie asked, confused. “No … I … his name is Stanley Dubowski,” she stammered, quite taken aback by the mention of … Harrison.
“Who?” Aunt Agatha seemed genuinely perplexed.
Elsie was surprised that her deep feelings of love—and her beloved, for that matter—were not more obvious to the greater world. “I … the man that I came to the engagement party with,” she offered. “And my date at the wedding … though I didn’t see much of him …” Elsie trailed off, hoping this would be enough to jog a memory.
By the pinched expression on Aunt Agatha’s face, Elsie knew she was trying hard to place him, making Elsie feel all the worse that Stanley had obviously made so little an impression.
“Him?” Aunt Agatha asked eventually, seeming to finally put a face to the name. “I thought he was the Hennessey’s son. He’s your … your intended?” Agatha asked, looking mystified.
“Well, yes …”
“What does he do?” she said, peering down at her sternly, her buck teeth only partially showing.
“He … he works at Sulzer’s Electrics. On the line,” she added quietly.
“No, no, no, my dear!” Agatha clucked. “You can’t really be serious! Father Exley would never approve—much less Gerard, I daresay.” She shivered.
“But, Aunt Agatha … I … I love Stanley,” Elsie said, blushing. “I always have! He’d be crushed if I throw him over. First Henrietta did, and I couldn’t go and do that to him as well. I don’t want to do that to him, as a matter of fact! He’d never survive it, and I’m afraid I wouldn’t either.”
“Nonsense! Has he declared himself?”
“Not exactly,” Elsie said, her mind drifting against her will to his long absences, the current one since the wedding still stretching on and on.
“Just as I thought. He’s no doubt seen the disparity in your positions. It is a schoolboy’s fickleness, nothing else!”
Elsie looked sadly down into her teacup. “But he’s not a schoolboy,” she muttered.
“And what of the Lieutenant?” Aunt Agatha continued, ignoring her.
Elsie’s head rose slowly. “What do you mean, what of him?” She began to feel apprehensive again. Did she somehow know he had come on several occasions now to visit her?
“He was rather attentive throughout the wedding,” Aunt Agatha sniffed. “Several people, myself included, noticed—and commented. You must be careful there, my dear.”
“What do you mean? I … he’s nothing to me! Just a … just a friend.”
“Well, I’m very gratified to hear it,” Aunt Agatha sighed.
Her curiosity piqued now, however, Elsie dared to continue. “But he … he seems very much a gentleman. Very proper.” It was all she could think to say as she accidentally put one too many cubes of sugar in her tea.
“Oh, I daresay he presents himself as proper,” Aunt Agatha said stiffly. “But he’s thoroughly unsuitable just the same,” she continued sternly, “should the question ever happen to arise in your mind.”
Elsie was beginning to feel slightly offended now. Was she to be warned off every man who took the slightest interest in her, as if she had no ability to discern for herself? “I …”
“He’s a terrible flirt, you know. He’s been engaged several times already,” Aunt Agatha said now, discreetly wiping a bit of jam from the corner of her mouth with her thick linen napkin.
“He has?” Elsie asked incredulously and felt slightly sick, though she knew not why. What did it matter to her?
“Oh, yes, indeed!” Aunt Agatha added with a bit too much enthusiasm, suggesting to Elsie that in her weaker moments, Aunt Agatha might be one who was frequently tempted by and perhaps more than occasionally gave in to the sin of gossiping. Her austere, proper exterior relaxed for just a moment. “He’s a scoundrel through and through!” she hissed conspiratorially as she leaned forward slightly to impart this particular bit of news. “I was surprised, actually, that Clive Howard enlisted the major to be his best man, but I suppose the uncle should not be tarred by the same brush as the nephew!” Aunt Agatha conceded reluctantly and reached for a strawber
ry. “Why the major had to drag him along at all, however, I’ll never understand! Antonia swears she didn’t invite him, but that the major brought him as his guest. Thoroughly unsuitable. The major ought to know better after the Alice Stewart scandal, but one can never account for certain others’ actions, can one?”
Elsie desperately wanted to ask what the Alice Stewart scandal was all about, but she refrained. She couldn’t help thinking about how Henrietta had told her that the lieutenant was a “ladies’ man,” and how Elsie had misunderstood her meaning entirely. But that was typical, wasn’t it? she thought disparagingly of herself. She was always getting these types of things wrong. She looked up at Aunt Agatha now, fearful that her sharp chipmunk eyes might be able to see through her, that she would somehow know that in fact the Lieutenant had called on her several times already since the wedding and had even on the last visit induced her to walk out with him in the park. But he hadn’t seemed a scoundrel at all; rather, he was very charming and funny. So different from Stanley’s serious intensity. It had been a welcome break in the loneliness she had begun to feel more and more. She missed Henrietta more than she could say. While it was true that Henrietta had not been at home very often these last months, anyway, just knowing that she could quickly write or even ring Henrietta in Winnetka if she really needed her had made all the difference.
“Tut, tut!” Aunt Agatha was saying now. “Never mind, my dear! No need to be downtrodden! You will meet many eligible men. Which is the whole reason for this little conversation, actually. Since a companion cannot come to you, you must come to us, that is, your Uncle John and I,” she added. “We will see that you meet the proper people,” she condescended, surveying the tea tray now for any other bits she might nibble on.
Elsie felt a sense of panic welling up in her. “Oh, no, Aunt Agatha!” she blurted out. “I … I mean, thank you for the offer, but I really couldn’t leave Ma … Mother …” (She had endlessly been instructed to refer to her as such now, but she kept forgetting.)