by Joan Smith
“I daresay most ladies dress before coming down to breakfast.”
Clara clutched at her slipping gown.
“You’ll choke yourself, Clara, if you pull that any tighter about your neck.” She gave him a conscious, startled look, at hearing him address her so familiarly. Allingcote didn’t explain or apologize his use of her first name, but continued speaking calmly.
“I promise you I haven’t seen a thing, despite the most strenuous looking. No, I was joking! Do relax. You are not your usual calm self this morning. I intercepted her at the bottom of the stairs. She hasn’t had time to do anything. I assume, by the way, that you managed to get a few winks of sleep? I am happy for it.”
“I was awake at seven. She was sound asleep. I didn’t mean to doze off again...”
“Don’t apologize. I am responsible for Nel.”
“But why did she do it? Is she trying to run away?”
“No, not yet.”
Before more could be said, Nel was back. “How did you think to bring your reticule in all your rush?” she asked Clara.
“I have my money in it. I couldn’t leave it behind.”
“You only have a guinea and a few shillings.”
“Seven, unless you’ve helped yourself to a couple,” Allingcote said. “Nice of you to check and see they were safe, Nel,” he said with a sardonic smile. “Better count them,” he added aside to Clara, who steeled herself not to do just that.
Nel sat down, unoffended, and sipped her coffee. Clara rose and went behind the curtain to view what a disgraceful sight she had presented to Lord Allingcote. She was ready to strangle Nel Muldoon—and to think that bold creature had gone rifling through her reticule, counting her money.
She got her buttons done up with no great difficulty and wore a face worthy of a Methodist spinster when she returned to the table. She was determined to bring some semblance of decorum to this meal that had begun so badly.
“Now that looks more like my Miss Christopher,” Ben said, regarding her. Clara foresaw considerable difficulty in her task, if this was the way he meant to carry on.
“Why do you call her your Miss Christopher?” Nel demanded at once. “You hardly know her.”
“We are old friends,” he replied.
“Miss Christopher told me you are hardly even acquaintances,” Nel said, with a suspicious glance at Clara.
“Ah, well one never contradicts a lady, but for the merest of acquaintances, we are fast becoming good friends. Sharing a mutual problem—you, Nel—will often have that effect.”
“You still should not call her your Miss Christopher, Benjie. It sounds so very odd, as though you are sweet on her or something,” Nel persisted, seeing that she was upsetting Clara.
“I stand corrected,” Ben said, with a bow of the head toward Miss Muldoon. “We are fortunate to have such a pillar of propriety to instruct us, Miss Christopher, are we not?”
“I am very sharp about some things,” Nel rattled on. “Especially about romance. You should not be making up to Miss Christopher. Quite apart from the fact that you might inadvertently raise expectations in someone like her, you are supposed to be escorting me.”
Clara sat, speechless, but Ben, after one angry glare, decided to ignore it. “Escorting you is certainly a full-time job,” he said through thin lips. The servant appeared with their food, and he added, “Might I suggest you limit your sharp wits to eating your breakfast as quickly as possible.”
Nel entered into a monologue on the ransom of the imaginary lost kitten till the servant left. Then she turned her attention to her food and the meal passed without further unpleasantness.
Clara was to return to Branelea immediately after breakfast. She risked letting Nel go abovestairs alone to her room while she gently hinted that Lady Lucker hoped Allingcote would keep Nel busy, preferably away from the house. She was surprised to see that he was actually angry at her hint. He tried to hide it, but the fact was he was hurt and angry that Miss Muldoon should be treated like the interfering, bad-natured, uninvited guest she was.
“Very well, I’ll keep her away,” he said stiffly. “Take her out for a drive in the nice December frost. She’ll likely catch pneumonia, which will please you all no end. It seems to me Nel is not the only one who is a little spoiled. Prissie could do with a good shaking as well.”
“It is Prissie’s home, and Prissie’s wedding. Surely at this time she deserves some consideration. Miss Muldoon was not invited, after all.”
“Nel receives very few invitations anywhere there is another female to be jealous of her, and they all are.”
His sense of injury on Nel’s behalf did nothing to soften Clara’s feelings toward the girl. “It is your partiality that makes you see jealousy as the only reason she is unwelcome. It is her general lack of manners rather that causes disgust.”
“I don’t apologize for her. She is not well behaved, but there is a reason for it. Nel was orphaned two years ago. She has not had a real home since she was fifteen.”
“I was orphaned when I was twelve, and have not had a real home since that time. I did not consider it an excuse for boorish behavior. But then I was never either a beauty or an heiress. No doubt such advantages allow one to behave as ill as she pleases, and still be called a lady.”
Allingcote looked startled at her snappish reply. “My excuse was poorly chosen,” he said at once. “Certainly she has neither your amiable temperament nor your firmness of character.”
Clara frowned, wondering if he was being satirical. He rushed on in an attempt to lighten the atmosphere with a joke. “Shall we blame it all on their— Nel’s and Prissie’s—youth, Miss Christopher? What is this younger generation coming to? I seem to recall Papa saying much the same thing to me fifteen years ago when I bought my first flowered waistcoat.”
Nel came back, complaining that her hair was a mess, and she couldn’t do a thing without her abigail, Tolkein.
“Why is your abigail not with you?” Clara inquired, for this matter had been puzzling her.
“She’s got the measles. Imagine, at her age, getting the measles like a baby.”
“How old is she?”
“She’s ancient. Thirty or forty—maybe fifty.”
“Somewhere in there between thirty and a hundred,” Ben smiled, in an effort to hide Nel’s petulance.
“It serves her right,” Nel continued. “I’m glad she got them. If she hadn’t, I never could have—” She came to a stop and looked at Ben with a guilty start.
“Shall we go?” he asked quickly. As it was clear Clara was not to be let in on the secret, she was determined to show no curiosity. She went upstairs for her pelisse, bonnet, and bandbox, and went with them to the carriage.
When they reached Branelea, Ben seemed quite determined to get not only himself but Nel as well into the house, and there was no way of preventing him. Once inside, his reason for entering was revealed as being relatively harmless. He wanted to discover from the occupants where he might take Nel to amuse her. Nel dashed upstairs to borrow Prissie’s abigail to do her hair more fashionably. Lady Lucker, who was in the morning parlor with her husband, racked her brain to think of a destination several miles distant she might suggest to her nephew.
“There’s a dandy museum at Aldershott,” Sir James mentioned, as he got out his coin collection.
“What kind of museum?” Allingcote asked.
“Old Roman artifacts,” Sir James said, his smile suggesting this was a rare treat.
“Oh.”
“You’ll like it,” Sir James insisted, and taking up his box of bent pieces of metal, he went along into his study.
Lady Lucker tallied up the hour it would take to go to Aldershott, the hour spent there, the hour to return, and seconded the plan vigorously. “The very thing. I shall just dash up and see if Miss Muldoon has got what she needs.” She left to try to conceal from Prissie the fact that Nel was in the house at all.
Ben, alone now with Clara, turned a hopef
ul eye to her. “I wonder if Sir James would like to take Nel to the museum.”
“I shouldn’t think so. He doesn’t go out much in this weather.”
“Why should he escape Nel entirely?”
“Why shouldn’t he? She’s not his problem.”
“In these times of natural disaster, every man should be willing to do his duty. Nel is a one-woman disaster, wouldn’t you say?”
“I would, but she’s not his woman. She’s yours.”
“Only in a very restricted sense is she mine. She is my responsibility for the time being. And it seems I am stuck with her, to bear the burden alone. What will you do while we’re gone?”
“I have plenty to keep me busy.”
“Auntie will see to that. Well, work hard and get your jobs done. I shall take up my burden and leave, but I give you fair warning, when I get back, I expect your company to help me explore that island of ours.” He bowed gracefully and left.
While he awaited Nel in the hall, Clara stood a moment in perplexity. After sticking up for Nel and trying to excuse her behavior, Allingcote turned around and admitted she was a disaster. He tried to avoid taking her out and seemed bent on continuing his interrupted flirtation with herself. He would find little opportunity to do it, she feared. She had a million things to do, and she set about doing them without wasting more time thinking about Lord Allingcote.
The hours till luncheon passed busily, even hectically, for Clara and Lady Lucker, working on the housing, feeding, and entertainment of the guests.
More arrivals came from afar, including Mr. Herbert Ormond, a cousin of Clara’s, at whose family home she had once lived for four months. There had initially been a little constraint between them. When two young people of the opposite sex and marrying age are thrown together, they dare not be too friendly in case one or the other begins to form ideas. But as soon as it was discovered that Herbert must marry money and Miss Christopher had none, they could relax their formality and become friends. With no fear or hope of romance to inhibit the friendship, they had been meeting irregularly at various family reunions, always with pleasure on both sides.
Herbert and others had to be shown to their rooms. Wine and biscuits were served, newly arrived gifts were scrutinized and placed on display, and the guests were taken to admire them. Clara found much pleasure in all the busyness of the day, and also in the company of Lady Marguerite, who was becoming a friend as best she could at this eventful time. The young ladies would no sooner begin a conversation than they would be interrupted, but the frequent return of Maggie to her side made Clara realize that a definite effort was being made at friendship.
Clara still had the large task of arranging the seating of the wedding party at three tables, but not a moment to see to it. Before it seemed possible, luncheon was upon them, and Allingcote and Nel returned at the last possible moment before it was served. Again their places were at the far end of the table from Prissie and Oglethorpe.
On this occasion the precaution proved unnecessary. Nel discovered a more interesting flirt in Herbert Ormond. He was a tall, fairly handsome gentleman with easy manners. Clara wished she had foreseen this possibility and placed him at Nel’s side. He sat directly across from her, however, which was perhaps even better. It gave them an unimpeded view of each other. Herbert was clearly knocked off his pins at her beauty and hid it so little that Nel spent her time smiling at him, and hadn’t a moment to pester Prissie.
Clara was happy for this new development, till she noticed that Lord Allingcote was watching the duo with a wary eye. It was the eye of a man who had more than a duty toward Nel. In fact, it was very like the eye of a lover.
Chapter Nine
After luncheon, the party assembled in the gold saloon. Herbert Ormond went immediately to Clara’s side and began talking with her about the old times. Nel and Allingcote were seated not far from them.
“Have you seen old Sydenham lately?” Ormond asked, laughing at some private joke.
“He was at my aunt’s wedding; forgetful as ever, and very nearly shoved me into the wedding carriage.”
“I wager you put him up to it! A ship leaving for Greece would be a wicked temptation to one of your proclivities. Marven would not have minded,” he said, naming the groom. “I daresay your aunt was not amused. I wanted to attend the wedding, but was away on business. I was especially sorry to miss the chance of seeing you, Clara. How did it go?”
“It was a small do, but very haut ton. And I missed seeing you at Cousin Caroline’s coming-out ball, for I was gone to Devon and could not go all the way to London only for a ball.”
“Some evil genie has been keeping us apart, Clara, but at least we both managed to make it to this one. We must not lose touch again. It wouldn’t hurt you to drop me a line occasionally. You get about and see everyone; you should keep me posted.”
“Any letter of mine would not be worth the frank,” she said dismissingly.
“Don’t let that be your excuse! I would gladly pay to hear from you.” Ormond noticed that Allingcote was inclining an ear in their direction and lowered his voice to ask what he might get Prissie for a gift.
Discreet inquiries as to what price they were discussing settled in her mind that the crystal compote dish on the list, and not yet received, was the very thing. She was able to tell him not only the shop, but also the shelf, from having often had it pointed out by Lady Lucker as a cherished item. Its cost was beyond Clara’s means. She had to settle for wineglasses. When the gift business was settled, they sat back and Ormond said in his normal voice, “Why don’t you come to the village with me, Clara? You are the very one to help me out.”
“I cannot get away this afternoon,” she said, shaking her head.
“It won’t take more than an hour. You can give me an hour, surely. You did not used to be so stingy with your time.”
“Really I don’t think I can, much as I should like to. But I promise you an uninterrupted hour before you leave, Herbert.”
Nel could not like to see a beau being attentive to another lady and bounced over to them. “Where is it you want to go, Mr. Ormond?”
“I must go to the village to get Prissie a gift.”
“I’ll go with you,” she offered at once. “I love shopping. I haven’t been in a single shop in the village, just driven past them a few times.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Miss Muldoon,” Clara said, with a questioning look at Allingcote. There had been some talk of Anglin’s not liking Nel to visit the shops, but more than this, it posed a danger of escape, while Nel was with an escort who was unaware of her intentions.
Allingcote’s reply surprised her. “I see no harm in it. It will amuse Nel. Mind you, Mr. Ormond, when you escort such an Incomparable as Miss Muldoon, every precaution must be taken to protect her from the bucks. You will find a raft of them tagging at your heels.”
Nel smiled in perfect contentment, but even more glory was in store for her. “The custom is to hold her very firmly by the arm at all times, and give a heavy set-down to any gent who becomes bothersome.”
“I trust I am not about to become involved in a duel?” Ormond asked jokingly.
“With Miss Muldoon, there is no saying.”
When the pair went for their coats, Clara asked Allingcote whether it was wise to let Nel go. “She would enjoy it, and I don’t see what could happen in broad daylight,” he replied. “If you wish to give Ormond a more direct hint, by all means, do so.”
“It would come better from you.”
“I thought as you are on such intimate terms with the gentleman...” His voice had thinned to sarcasm.
Clara felt a needle of irritation at his tone. A gentleman whose behavior was so irregular as Allingcote’s had no right to sarcasm about another man, but from habit she damped down her irritation and said blandly, “Perhaps you’re right. After her stunt this morning, it won’t do to take any chances. If you hadn’t met her downstairs, there is no saying what she might
have done.”
Ormond was ready before Nel, and Clara took the opportunity to warn him. She invented a tale that Nel had recently run away from school, and they feared she might bolt again. Really it was necessary to take a little extra precaution.
“I can’t think of a more delightful way of spending an afternoon, unless it would be to hold on to you as well, Clara,” he replied gallantly.
Allingcote’s eyes narrowed a fraction as he looked from one to the other in a close way. Nel returned, and the shoppers left, with a nod over Ormond’s shoulder as he took hold of Nel’s arm, apparently bent on following his instructions quite literally.
“Have I done something gauche?” Allingcote asked, when the door closed behind them.
“I don’t know about gauche, but I hope you haven’t done something foolish.”
“What I am asking you, in no clear way I fear, is whether Mr. Ormond is your beau? Is that why you did not wish Nel to go with him?”
“Mr. Ormond is my cousin and good friend. If he were a beau, I should not look in Miss Muldoon’s direction for competition I promise you,” Clara snipped. “Mr. Ormond is particularly sensible. And now I have an impertinent question for you, my lord. I think it is time you told me the whole truth about Miss Muldoon. What spree, exactly, did her abigail’s bout of measles allow her to indulge in?”
“I’m sorry if my question sounded impertinent to you. I consider it particularly pertinent myself. But about Nel, there is no point trying to keep it from you. The fact is, you guessed it yourself. She did run away, not from school, but from Anglin’s house, when Miss Tolkein so thoughtlessly came down with measles. It was Nel’s intention to go to London and go on the stage.”
This struck Clara as entirely plausible. Indeed, Allingcote had even called her Mrs. Siddons, and the girl had a definite leaning toward playacting. “At least we shall know where to look for her if she slips the rein. It will be either Drury Lane or Covent Garden. She’ll aim for the top and would probably make a good success of it, too. I shall treat this with confidence, as I know you don’t wish it known. I must go now. Duty calls.” Even while she made her remarks, Clara was thinking, why was the question pertinent?