Despite the constriction in her throat, Glenna protested firmly, “Well, of course it is. Pontley doesn't have the address Kilbane does, however, and I fear the girl's head has been turned as much by Kilbane's easygoing nature as by his graces. I thought perhaps Pontley was attempting to duplicate that last night when he was so very casual in the face of their flirtation."
A puzzled frown wrinkled Phoebe's brow. “Do you think so? Certainly I have never seen him more at ease. I suppose he had no desire to cause a scene, as you said, and if he had glowered at her all the evening we might have had a display of temper from her such as we were shown this morning."
“I feel sure he knows her very well, Phoebe, and treats her as he thinks best. Has she not complained of his strictness with her? And yet we have also seen him indulge her in her whims, so he is attempting to keep some balance for her high spirits. I think he can be trusted to do what is right and necessary to hold her affection.” Glenna suddenly wished very much to end the discussion and be alone for a while. “I think I should practice for a while, love, if you will excuse me."
* * * *
Kilbane had lost precious minutes going to the livery stables for one of his horses, and Jennifer had not proceeded at a leisurely pace, so it was half an hour before he overtook her. She was almost to Lockwood by this time and at first would not heed his pleas to stop and hear him out, but shook her head mutely, the color still high in her cheeks.
“Please, Jennifer, you must understand how it is. I did not wish to be so formal with you; the vicar insisted on it."
She was startled into looking at him. “The vicar?"
“Yes, he rang a peal over me for my ... behavior at dinner and said he would have to cancel the play if I did not act with more propriety.” His eyes begged her to understand his dilemma. “I could not ruin all our work, could not bear to think of not seeing you each day."
Jennifer drew in the mare and cast a quick glance at the groom following them at a sufficient distance as not to overhear their conversation. Her eyes filled with tears which overflowed down her cheeks. “Oh, Kilbane, forgive me for slapping you. I thought— I thought you ... were mocking me for my forwardness. I have never been one to hide my emotions very well."
“Don't cry!” he exclaimed, hastily bringing forth a handkerchief to hand to her. But she was not looking at him and he could not hand it to her, so he leaned over and dabbed at her wet cheeks, wrenched to the heart by her distress. “Don't ask my forgiveness, I beg you. It was my own clumsiness which caused you such pain. I should never have been so particular in my attentions to you, but ... I could not help myself,” he confessed sadly.
“You have been very kind to me and cheered me immeasurably,” she protested, raising her eyes to his. “Philip treats me like a child, you know, and he will prose on about how I should behave. He's so old and stuffy."
Kilbane was shocked by her attitude toward her fiancé. “But, Jennifer, you are to marry him! Surely you are not being forced into this match."
Tears once again formed in her eyes. “He was so much nicer when first I met him. Then he did not seem so old and strict. Oh, Kilbane, it is so wretched not knowing what to do.” The tears overflowed once more and she allowed him to dab at them, but she was aware that the groom could not possibly avoid seeing such an intimacy. Well, if Philip was not around to console her when she was in distress, it was his own fault.
In an attempt to be fair to Pontley, Kilbane said judiciously, “I should not think he is so very old, Jennifer. Assuredly not thirty. And navy men are given to a certain discipline which will no doubt soften in time. I cannot think anyone would have the heart to deny you the least addition to your happiness."
Jennifer smiled tremulously at him. “You are kind to think so, Kilbane, but I cannot expect Philip to be so tenderhearted. He is often cross with me when I interrupt his work or suggest an improvement in his household. Why, I should think he would be grateful to me!"
“He should be delighted with every moment he can be with you,” Kilbane asserted, leaving unspoken, but not unimplied, that he certainly would be. Hesitantly, he added, “You must not rush into this marriage, Jennifer. I don't doubt that your aunt and your parents are pleased with it for its worldly merits, but it may be ... that your disposition is not well-suited to Lord Pontley's."
“No, I am afraid it is not,” she said sadly. “But there is little I can do, you see. The banns have been published and my parents will come here sometime soon. There is not to be even a large wedding with bridesmaids and guests. No one was concerned with my wishes on such an important occasion.” A heartfelt sigh escaped her.
“You must not marry him unless you are sure it is what you wish,” Kilbane said fiercely. “Yours should be a life of joy and not of drudgery. Jennifer, promise me you will not marry him until you are sure of your mind!"
“I—I cannot make such a promise, Kilbane.” She raised her head proudly and smiled wistfully at him. “You must not be concerned for me. I shall manage."
“Manage!” He choked the word out as though it were poison, but he did not say more, as they were now being approached by two riders from the direction of Lockwood. One of them was Pontley; Kilbane was not familiar with the other.
Pontley was startled to find Jennifer headed back to Lockwood so early, and in the company of Lord Kilbane, but he gave no indication of this. “We were just riding to the vicarage and had thought to see you there, Jennifer. ‘Morning, Lord Kilbane. May I introduce Captain Andrews to you both?"
The name meant nothing to either of them, but Jennifer smiled demurely and Kilbane shook hands with the captain, at the same time intent on explaining his presence to Pontley. “Miss Stafford was not feeling up to rehearsing this morning and I rode after her to see that she made it to her aunt's all right."
Since Jennifer enjoyed excellent health, Pontley did not have to stretch his imagination to picture that she had had one of her outbursts of temper. He had never had much hope that she would make it through all the rehearsals and the performance without one, but he sighed inwardly for the reaction of the others in the group. “Are you feeling more the thing, my dear?” He noticed, with something of a shock, that she had been crying.
“Yes, Philip, I am perfectly recovered now,” she responded softly, her head bowed.
“Good. Shall we ride with you to your aunt's before we go to the vicarage?"
“Why would you go to the vicarage now that I am returned?” she asked crossly.
Pontley could not repress the amusement she caused him in thinking that she was the only object of attention at any and all times, but she did not observe the twitch of his lips as he said solemnly, “Captain Andrews is acquainted with Miss Thomas and Miss Forbes and has desired that I accompany him on his call."
“You could go another time."
“No, my dear, Captain Andrews cannot be here long and it is necessary that he visit the vicarage as soon as possible. Shall we ride with you first?"
Jennifer was infuriated by his obstinacy, by his lack of concern for her alleged indisposition and by his cheerfulness. With a toss of her head she declared haughtily, “Lord Kilbane will see me to my aunt's. There is no need for you to inconvenience yourself."
“As you wish, my dear. I will look in later, of course."
“Don't put yourself to the trouble,” she snapped, and kicked the mare into a trot without bidding the captain farewell.
Kilbane took his leave of them with some embarrassment and followed in her wake, only to be greeted by her stormy eyes and angry comments. “You see how it is with him! What does he care if I have not been well? Would he postpone a jaunt with his friend to see to my comfort? No, never! He does precisely what he wishes, and has not the least thought to me. I might be dying for all he knows.
“But you told him you were perfectly recovered, Jennifer,” Kilbane protested, “and he offered to ride with you to your aunt's."
“He did not suggest that I ride with them to the vicara
ge!"
“I shouldn't think you would want to."
“Well, I don't, but what has that to say to anything? What if I had wished to go?” And then, just as suddenly as her storm had risen, it dispersed, but it did not leave her to her frequently sunny outlook on life. Instead, she looked desolated and lost, a child bewildered by forces it could not comprehend. “He tries to be good to me,” she whispered, “but he doesn't understand. No one understands. Ride after them, Kilbane. The groom will see me to my aunt's."
A minute earlier he would have been more than happy to do so; her behavior had been a disconcerting revelation, and one which he would have spared himself had he been able. It would have been so much simpler to return to Cambridge with the dream untarnished, her gaiety an exquisite memory for him to cherish, tinged with the despair of hopelessness. It was the romantic ideal and just barely suitable to his ebullient personality. He could not, in all conscience, leave her here alone, and what was more, he did not wish to. The chord she had struck in him was not a superficial one after all.
“What is it no one understands, Jennifer?” he asked gently.
Her body shook with silent sobs and she made a gesture of despair. “I could not explain, and it would not matter if I could. You see, even if I try to be different, I cannot. There is a ... fire always burning in me. I should care, I suppose, because Mama and Papa and my sister have always urged me to control myself. And now my aunt does the same. Poor Philip! He wanted no more than to help me, and see where it has got him. I can't change, Kilbane, and I have never cared before. But it doesn't matter that I care now, that it hurts to see you disgusted by me. I suppose it is because you are young and full of spirits, too. Never mind. It is better that you know."
“Do you ... get in rages often?"
“Only when I cannot have my way,” she said with an attempt at lightness.
“What sorts of things do you want to do that other people deny you?” he asked curiously.
“I like to dress as a page and ride about that way. Philip lets me when he accompanies me. He was even rather nice when I imitated the Young Roscius in Hyde Park, but he brought me back here when my aunt insisted. I cannot stand to be constrained! When I am at a party I want to do something that will shock them all—climb over the sofas or dance on the chairs.” When Kilbane laughed she shook her head sadly. “No, they are not all so simple. Philip saw me strike my groom once, and I lied about it, too."
They had reached the stables and he handed her down without speaking. “Do you think they will still allow me to be in the play?” she asked hesitantly.
“Of course they will.” Kilbane stood by her, trying to think of what to say, but she knew there was nothing he could say, so she touched his sleeve fondly and fled off across the lawn. Slowly he remounted his horse and set off for the vicarage.
* * * *
When Jennifer had departed so abruptly from her fiancé and his friend, the captain watched Kilbane ride after her and turned thoughtfully to Pontley. “An attractive girl, Philip, but she seems a bit put out with you."
“She often is,” Pontley returned ruefully. “It's nothing personal, you understand. I promise you I fare much better than her aunt."
“Bit of a handful? I was surprised you chose from the schoolroom. Frankly, Miss Forbes seemed much more to your taste; but then, you were merely a navy man when last we met. Viscounts choose from a headier crop, I gather."
Pontley had no desire to respond to this jibe, so he turned the conversation to the vicarage and the play the young people were rehearsing. Without any notice, Captain Andrews had arrived at Lockwood that morning to renew their acquaintance and ask that Pontley take him round to the vicarage. The captain did not wish to have a message sent ahead, as he was anxious to see Miss Thomas's reaction in person.
In accordance with this wish, Pontley gave only his own name and asked for Miss Thomas and Miss Forbes, who were found in the drawing room over their needlework. Before the advent of the visitors they had a few moments to discuss what they would say to Pontley on his fiancée's behavior if the subject proved to be the reason for his call, but every thought of such an insignificant occurrence dropped from Phoebe's mind when she saw their second visitor. She rose from her chair with a wondering expression on her face and automatically extended both her hands to him, which he took in a firm clasp. “I—how—we had no idea...” Phoebe stammered.
“Unfair of me, I know,” Captain Andrews responded with a grin, “but I could not resist the temptation. When I found you had deserted Manner Hall without a word to me..."
Phoebe's cheeks colored rosily, though she appeared unaware that he still held her hands. “But I could hardly presume you would be interested."
When the captain turned to Pontley with a ‘for God's sake, lose yourself’ look, Glenna hurriedly expressed a desire to show him the garden. In the hall she firmly closed the door on her friend and asked to be excused for a moment, while she sought a wrap. She also took the opportunity to advise Mrs. Thomas that she had left her daughter with a most respectable man and that their conversation was of a private nature which it would be a pity to interrupt. A tender expression appeared on the older woman's face and she queried, “A Captain Andrews, I hope?"
“Yes, ma'am. I'm sure you will be introduced to him shortly.” Glenna pressed her hand and smiled. “I am to take Lord Pontley walking in the garden."
“By all means, my dear. I will see that the vicar does not intrude inadvertently."
When they were outside, Pontley and Glenna once again explored the empty flower beds with their neat paths and arbors. He studied her softly glowing countenance and asked, “You knew of this?"
“It was April and May every time they met. I could not believe he would let her disappear."
“And you approve?"
She glanced up at him. “Why, certainly. I think him a fine man, and we became acquainted with him on your recommendation. Are you not pleased?"
“Yes, I like them both. Does Miss Thomas share in your desire for a husband who is away from home frequently?"
“No, of course not!” she retorted, stung. “She worries every time she knows he is at sea, and it will be hard on her to have him gone so much of the time."
“A very natural attitude, I dare say."
“For a woman who is attached to her husband!"
“Ah, yes, I can see that would make the difference.” He handed her over the stile into the adjoining fields, but she would not meet his quizzical expression. Abruptly he changed the direction of their conversation. “It would seem Miss Stafford was ... upset at your rehearsal this morning."
Glenna could detect no emotion in the statement, nor on his face, which was blandly good-natured. “You have seen her since she left?"
“Yes, briefly. Lord Kilbane was seeing her to her aunt's."
“He was concerned about her."
Pontley placed a restraining hand on her elbow. “What did she do?"
“Her nerves were a bit on edge this morning."
“What did she do?"
Glenna could think of no satisfactory answer and began to walk again, but Pontley refused to be shunted from his purpose. He strode beside her and offered some possibilities. “Did she rip the manuscript to shreds?” Glenna shook her head. “Did she stamp her feet and rail at you all?” Again a negative. “Did she destroy your props?"
By now Glenna had stopped walking and was regarding him with astonishment. “Does she do that sort of thing?” she asked curiously.
“Oh, yes, but I presume she took another tack today. Let me see. Did she strike someone?” There was a barely perceptible nod from his companion, and he sighed. “Kilbane, then, for I doubt even Miss Stafford would dare touch you or Miss Thomas."
“He ... was not treating her as he was used to do, and I could not blame her for being upset."
“Come now, Miss Forbes. There is no need to justify her temper. Why was Kilbane acting differently toward her?"
Glenna m
ade a nervous gesture and asked, “How should I know?"
“I feel sure you do, so please tell me. Or would you rather I went through another list of possibilities?"
“The vicar spoke to him,” she said softly.
“I see, and was the vicar present when Miss Stafford lost her temper?"
“No, only Phoebe and I, and of course Kilbane."
“Of course. Well, I think she has disillusioned the poor devil.” He gave a resigned shrug. “I regret the vicar spoke to him."
“Well, you certainly made no attempt to put a halt to their ... flirtation,” she muttered.
“I thought things were going on prosperously."
“I beg your pardon?” Glenna was confused by the turn the conversation had taken, and she glanced up to find him regarding her wryly.
“Never mind, my dear. There was never much hope. I should perhaps warn you that Miss Stafford is unlikely to make mention of the incident or ask your pardon."
“It is Kilbane to whom she should apologize."
“She may have done so.” He stooped to pick up a stone and toss it accurately at a fence post. “Have you made any arrangement for leaving the vicarage?"
“We had a letter from my cousin Mary today; she's delighted we're presenting her play and plans to attend the performance. Having had a gentle nudge, she invited me to return with her to her home for a while. I suppose I shall."
“And beyond that?"
“I have made no plans.” They were headed back now and he handed her over the stile again, pressing her hand as he did so.
“Something will turn up.” He watched her nod dubiously and silently cursed Jennifer for ruining her chances of happiness with an Irish peer.
Chapter 17
When Glenna and Pontley emerged from the garden they found Kilbane approaching the house wearing a distracted air. Pontley could sympathize with him and greeted him cordially, thanking him for seeing Miss Stafford to her aunt's. The door to the drawing room was open when they approached and they found Phoebe alone there. She met Glenna's questioning look with a wide grin, saying, “He's with Papa now, and no doubt Mama is hovering."
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