The Baron's Honourable Daughter

by Lynn Morris

  After the collects she was struck by the odd but solemn instruction in the prayer book: “In Quires and Places where they sing here followeth the Anthem.”

  It was Handel’s “As pants the hart.” The poetry of the words moved Valeria deeply. Then, in the sixth movement, a phrase suddenly struck her as particularly apt to her own mind and spirit: “Why so full of grief, O my soul: why so disquieted within me?”

  It came to Valeria then that much grief and disquiet had been impossible for her to overcome not solely because she had been mired in guilt, although that had certainly been a part of it.

  But the rest of it was that she grieved deeply at the loss of Alastair Hylton’s esteem. For a few moments she wondered at this; often she had told herself that he probably despised her. But she had known that this wasn’t at all true; in truth she knew that he enjoyed their sparring, their battles of wits, as much as did she. Even in his disapproval over her previous gaffes she had sensed that he was more concerned for her than he was angry, or judgmental.

  Until that horrible night at the Pantheon. She recalled his arm around her waist and his hand gripping hers, like vises; his thin nostrils flared, his eyes narrowed to flint-gray slits, his strong jaw clenched tightly. Everything about him displayed his disgust. Nothing in her life had wounded Valeria so deeply, nothing, not even her stepfather’s ill treatment and abuse.

  Why? Why is it that the idea of Lord Hylton thinking ill of me pains me so grievously?

  And then it came to her, not as a shock, or with trepidation, or with a sense of dread. The revelation was bittersweet, and poignant.

  She was in love with Alastair Hylton. She didn’t know exactly when or how it had happened; she would have to think, to consider, much more to understand that. It had no bearing on the simple fact, however.

  She prayed: “Oh, merciful Father, Lord Jesus, what am I to do? What can I do?”

  The answer, simple and clear, came to her instantly, directly from the fervent prayer she had just prayed.

  We have left undone those things which we ought to have done; And we have done those things which we ought not to have done.

  Certainly Valeria knew she had done things she ought not to have done. She wanted to be certain, now, not to leave undone those things she ought to do.

  She must conduct herself with dignity, and grace, and decorum from now on, and never again flout and abuse the rules of the society to which she belonged. She must do this, not only because it was right, but because she must show Alastair that she had truly repented, and was changed. She knew very well that he could never love her, but for her own sake—and for his—she must prove that she was worthy of his esteem.

  Valeria was surprised that she felt so calm and untroubled, but then she realized that Almighty God had forgiven her, and would help her on the right course. She longed for Alastair, with a deep, passionate yearning; but she knew that whatever happened, as long as she remained faithful and true, she would know peace in her soul, if not in her heart.

  The service ended, and Valeria and Regina rose to leave. When they turned, Valeria was shocked to see Alastair at the back of the church, coming out of a pew. He looked up, and their eyes met, and Valeria felt a true, physical wave of uncomfortable warmth assail her. She felt the heat rise in her cheeks.

  He looked wholly impassive, wholly devoid of emotion, as was customary for him. He gave her and Regina a small bow of recognition, then left.

  After long frozen moments, Valeria took a deep sighing breath.

  At least he didn’t look at me the way he did at the Pantheon. At least he showed no outward disgust.

  It was comfort, but cold comfort indeed.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  BUT THE PEACH, SO MAMMA SAYS, does compliment my complexion, and I’m still a little pale, don’t you think, Joan? Perhaps it should be the peach. But I don’t have any jewelry to go with it, except the carnelian, and it’s simply not grand enough for a ball…what about the white? Would it wash me out too much? Or the green, I do love the color, like fresh grapes, but the only slippers I have to wear with it are white, and it’s trimmed with gold tassels, no, no, that wouldn’t do…” Her voice trailed off uncertainly.

  Valeria had been dithering all day about what she was to wear to Lord and Lady Sturway’s ball, the first event she had attended since that fateful night at the Pantheon. She was anxious because it would also be the first time she’d seen Lord Hylton (except at Evensong) since that night. She had barely considered that it was Daniel Everleigh’s family giving the ball. Valeria cared nothing for Daniel Everleigh’s opinion. All she really cared about was Alastair Hylton’s attitude toward her now.

  With practicality Joan said, “Yes, ma’am, so the peach won’t do, the white won’t do, and the green won’t do. That leaves the blue. It’s really a lovely dress, and if I may say so the shade compliments your coloring just as well as the peach. Such a soft pretty blue, it reminds me so much of her ladyship’s Wedgwood cameo.”

  “Oh! Oh, Joan, you’re a genius!” Valeria cried so forcefully that it startled her maid. “Quick, quick, go ask Mamma if I may borrow her Wedgwood and pearls, and the pearl hairpins.”

  Joan ran downstairs to ask Trueman if she might have an audience with Lady Maledon, he went in to secure Lady Maledon’s permission, and Joan had a breathless short interview with her ladyship, who readily gave her permission for Valeria to use any of her jewelry that she wished. Joan then rushed downstairs to find Craigie, who had the key to her ladyship’s jewelry trunk, then chivvied Craigie to hurry, hurry, Miss Segrave was waiting for her.

  “Oh, fie on her,” Craigie said with no ill will at all. “She’s always in a tearing hurry for one thing and another, and there’s no sense in you running about like a lunatic in Bedlam trying to keep up with her, Miss Davies. It’s only half past three, and that ball doesn’t even start until ten.”

  “I know, Miss Platt, but Miss Segrave is in a rare taking today, I’ve never seen her so distraught just from choosing a dress,” Joan said. “I think her nerves are still all ahoo from being so ill. And still I don’t know what distressed her so that she cried so pitiful for days on end,” she hinted to Craigie.

  The rumor belowstairs had been that Valeria and Mr. Everleigh had had a break, but Joan had scorned that to one and all. “Her heart didn’t break over him, that’s nonsense. She liked him, and enjoyed his company, but she was never ever starry-eyed over him. No, Miss isn’t crying her poor eyes out over Mr. Daniel Everleigh.”

  Uncharacteristically, Regina had not confided in Craigie about Valeria at all, so now Craigie ignored Joan’s hints and merely looked thoughtful. However, she did take the stairs up to Regina’s bedroom a little more quickly. The jewelry chest was in the connecting dressing room between Valeria’s room and her mother’s. Valeria was in there, holding the blue dress up on her shoulders and anxiously peering at her reflection in the full-length cheval mirror. “Oh, good, good, Craigie, if the Wedgwood doesn’t work with this I swear I’ll be in utter despair, I won’t have a thing to wear.”

  “Christian ladies don’t swear, missie,” Craigie said sternly. “And there’s no call for you to be talking of despair when you have so many pretty gowns, for shame. Here, let me see. You couldn’t have matched it better if you’d tried.”

  The choker was three strands of pearls, with a Wedgwood cameo clasp that was designed to be worn in front. The blue cameo was exactly the same color as Valeria’s dress. “It’s perfect, just perfect,” she murmured.

  Joan breathed out a sigh of relief, and Craigie winked at her, then said, “Here are the hairpins, and you might as well take the earrings too. I’m not going to run up and down these stairs like a house afire again. Such a pother and bother over a dress, for all love.”

  Valeria continued her pothering and bothering all afternoon and evening, until Joan was almost at the point of distraction herself. Finally, however, Valeria was dressed.

  Her gown consisted of an underdress of g
ossamer white silk and the “Wedgwood blue” overdress of delicate gauze. The hem, neckline, and short sleeves were trimmed with a finespun white Alençon lace. The sash of white satin had a sheen that mirrored the pearls. The choker, which was small and not in the least ostentatious, was particularly graceful on Valeria’s long slender neck, and the pearls in her dark hair looked like stars.

  In the carriage with Elyse and Reggie and Lady Hylton, Valeria could scarcely pay attention to the conversation. She was struggling, as she had been struggling all day, to reconcile herself to seeing Alastair again. It seemed that she was split into halves. On the one hand she was looking forward to talking to him with the highest anticipation; and on the other she felt a heavy sense of foreboding. No matter how hard she tried, she simply couldn’t make herself stop racketing wildly between the two.

  Lord and Lady Sturway, Adele, and Daniel greeted the guests at the door. Valeria had met Lord Sturway several times, and she always marveled at how very different he was from his wife. He was a short, rotund, bluff, hearty gentleman with red cheeks, bright blue eyes, and a bush of gray hair. He greeted her heartily. “Miss Segrave, we’re so glad that you recovered from your illness in time to come to our little party,” he said, beaming at her. “Aren’t we, m’dear?”

  “Yes, indeed,” Lady Sturway agreed. “Your absence was much regretted, Miss Segrave.”

  Valeria found, to her surprise, that Lady Sturway was looking pleased, and not at all like the grim harridan that she had seemed to be before. In fact, even Adele greeted Valeria with a measure of warmth, and Valeria observed that when Adele’s face wasn’t set, as Daniel had once said, like a prune-prude’s, she was actually pretty.

  Daniel seemed to be the only one who felt some constraint. He swallowed hard when Valeria curtsied to him, and his bow was more like a spasm than a courtly gesture. “Good evening, Miss Segrave. And so you have recovered from your illness; we were all mightily concerned.”

  “Yes, sir, I’m fully restored. Thank you for your consideration, both now and in the past days,” Valeria said with composure.

  He seemed nonplussed at her sangfroid. “Er—I don’t suppose you’d care to dance the cotillion with me, would you?” he asked uncertainly.

  Matching his undertone, Valeria answered, “No, I wouldn’t care to at all, Mr. Everleigh. But I will always be grateful to you for your discretion.”

  Elyse, who was just behind Valeria, locked arms with her as they entered the ballroom, with Reggie trailing them. “Bravo, dearest, you handled that with great grace, even though I still say that you don’t owe that scoundrel one scintilla of gratitude. At any rate, that’s over, I have some news that Reggie just told me. I declare, he is lamentably lacking in his comprehension of the truly important things in life. Did you remark that Lady Sturway and Miss Everleigh are looking particularly pleased with themselves tonight?”

  “I did, like two cats coming out of the creamery.”

  “Apparently Miss Everleigh and Charles Ponsonby are a match. Now, it’s true that Charles is a third son, and I know that Lady Sturway had her heart set on a title, but in fact Ponsonby is relatively warm, his estate in Suffolk is worth about eight thousand a year, perfectly respectable. And since Adele’s portion is twelve thousand pounds, they will be comfortable, I daresay.”

  “Ah, I see. Miss Everleigh looks happy; is Mr. Ponsonby genuinely attached to her, or is this another example of a younger son managing to latch onto a wealthy heiress?”

  “Nonsense, Valeria, you know Ponsonby better than that. He would never engage himself to a woman without affection on both sides. He’s like Reggie in that way, warm and fuzzy and perplexed and obliging, but really quite adamant about marrying for love.”

  Valeria giggled at Elyse’s description of her husband. She had been paying close attention to Elyse, bending her head somewhat to hear her half-whispered comments. Now she looked up to see Alastair Hylton standing just in front of them. As her gaze met Alastair’s, the smile died on her lips; and though she was completely unaware of it, her face showed dismay. Valeria had never been very good at controlling her emotions, nor at hiding them. If she had known the pain her change in countenance caused Alastair, she would have been horrified. She recovered quickly, however, and curtsied with great grace.

  “Good evening, Miss Segrave,” he said quietly. “I’m happy you’ve recovered enough to rejoin us.”

  He spoke with his customary gravity, his face betraying no emotion whatsoever. Nervously Valeria said, “Thank you, Lord Hylton, I too am glad that I’ve rejoined the land of the living, as Elyse has said.”

  “Yes, just so. I’m sure you’ll have a pleasant evening, ma’am.” He bowed and slipped away.

  Valeria looked after him helplessly. He had not been curt, and no hostility was evident in his countenance. But he had been so impersonal and remote, he might have been speaking to a servant.

  “He has been much concerned for you,” Elyse said quietly.

  “Oh, yes, I’m sure, he seems distraught indeed,” Valeria said caustically. Then she realized that this attitude was not going to help her at all in her determination to win back Alastair’s respect, so she smiled at Elyse and said, “Never mind. Tell me, who is that gorgeous woman with Lord Stephen? This is the third time I’ve seen her, and yet I’ve never been introduced.”

  “That is Mrs. Lorimer, and she is a wealthy widow, and I will tell you why we don’t like her at all, aside from the fact that she’s a raving beauty…”

  Valeria listened with all appearance of mild amusement to Elyse’s story of how Mrs. Lorimer had been a particular favorite of Prinny’s before her husband died, and how complacent Mr. Lorimer had been before he keeled over in the saddle on a fox hunt, apparently from a massive heart attack.

  In fact Valeria felt downcast and despondent. But slowly she realized that by brooding at parties and in drawing rooms, feeling sorry for herself and moping, she would completely fail to impress Alastair with her newfound mature and decorous persona. She determined that she would be cheerful, and, she hoped, bright and vivacious—in short, she would simply be herself, without her previous arrogance and near-impropriety. He would surely see that she was not a weak, miserable, defeated person; she was determined to do better, and would do so.

  But she didn’t see Alastair again at all that night. And to her chagrin, she soon discovered that his behavior at Lord and Lady Sturway’s had been the beginning of a pattern. Everywhere she went, whenever she saw him, he immediately came up to greet her, said two or three sparse sentences, bowed, and left her, not to be seen again. Gradually it dawned on Valeria that he was publicly acknowledging her so as not to cause speculation, as it surely would if he did not. Painfully Valeria thought it must be a heavy burden on him indeed, to be courteous to her; and doubtless he was doing it only for Lady Hylton’s and Elyse’s sakes. This comprehension depressed Valeria extremely, but she maintained her outward composure, and even Elyse didn’t see how dejected she was. As if they had an unspoken pact, neither Elyse nor Valeria spoke of Alastair at all.

  Valeria resumed her regular rides in Hyde Park, and as she’d known she would, she again saw Lady Jex-Blake coming toward her, accompanied only by a groom. Valeria took a deep breath, set her face to a pleasant expression, and rode directly toward her. As Valeria neared, Lady Jex-Blake’s eyes narrowed darkly, her mouth drew into a thin hard line, and she lifted her chin. Valeria stopped Tarquin just by Lady Jex-Blake’s mount.

  Saluting her by tapping her hat with her riding crop, Valeria smiled sweetly and said, “Lady Jex-Blake, how glad I am to see you. I must apologize to you for my behavior before; it was inexcusable, and very wrong. I sincerely beg your pardon, ma’am.”

  Lady Jex-Blake’s eyes widened with shock, and her mouth even dropped open a bit. For a long moment she was speechless. Then she swallowed hard and nodded to Valeria. “That’s very gracious of you, Miss Segrave. I—I—thank you. Thank you so much.”

  “You have nothing to thank me for
, ma’am. I hope you have a pleasant ride, and I’m sure we’ll meet again.” Politely nodding, Valeria rode on. It amazed her how much she had utterly dreaded this chore that she had known she had to do for her own salvation—and how very much better she felt now. The last remnants of bitterness she’d felt toward Lady Jex-Blake and her stepfather faded completely away.

  Valeria was still determined to try to speak to Alastair in private. She grew so desperate she considered sending him a note, requesting that he meet with her concerning some estate matters of Bellegarde. But what could she say? Anything she thought of to discuss would be blatantly contrived. Mr. Wheeler had begun writing to her every week and no matters had come up that required any urgent attention. Now it dawned upon Valeria that likely Alastair had requested Mr. Wheeler to report to her so that he wouldn’t have to. The realization made Valeria feel hopelessly desolate.

  A wonderfully warm, green, and pleasant June melted into a stifling, steaming July. The heat made the tons of horse manure deposited daily in the streets and the open sewers of London stink, and families began their exodus to the benevolent climes of their country estates.

  Valeria had grown desperate. Alastair’s avoidance of her had been a complete success. She thought that altogether she might have seen him for ten minutes in the last month. Her only hope now was that Lady Hylton was having a last dinner party, a private one, inviting only Valeria and Regina. “Alastair and I will be leaving the next morning for Hylton Hall, and Elyse and Reggie for Whittington Park. So it’s the last time we’ll all be together for a while.”

  At public events Valeria hadn’t been able to simply walk up to Alastair and start talking; young ladies did not accost gentlemen, they had to wait until the gentlemen approached them. But at this last family dinner, as it were, she would find a way to engage him, and somehow she would express to him that she had truly changed.