by Gayle Buck
Lady Darlington had turned during a lull in the conversation and now said, “Have you made it up at last, my dears? I am so glad. Abby, we have sorely missed you these past days. Pray won’t you call on us one day soon? I should like to visit with you.”
“Of course, my lady. I will certainly do so,” said Abby, smiling.
“I am calling on Abby early tomorrow afternoon, Mama. Do you wish to accompany me?” asked Lady Bethany.
“No, no. I shan’t go with you this time, Bethany, for I know well you will wish to catch up with all your chatter,” said Lady Darlington.
A general laugh ensued, and Mrs. Crocker said, “How true, my lady! I, too, intend to leave them to themselves. But will you not come to tea later?”
“I have a few errands to discharge first, but I shall certainty attempt to come by,” said Lady Darlington.
“We should welcome your company, my lady,” said Mrs. Fairchilde graciously.
Lord Fielding and another gentleman came up to pay their respects to the ladies. Lord Fielding smiled down at Abby, having retained her hand after their greeting one another. “I see you are well, Miss Fairchilde. You appear delightful this evening. The program was exquisite, don’t you agree?”
“Quite, my lord,” said Abby, gently extracting her hand from his lordship’s hold. She was acutely aware of Lord Darlington’s presence as she exchanged pleasantries with Lord Fielding.
Before many minutes passed, the Darlington party made their excuses and moved away to greet others of their acquaintance. Lady Bethany promised faithfully to call on Abby no later than one o’clock. “I trust that Sylvan will have you back home by then,’1 she added gaily.
As Lady Bethany left, Lord Fielding turned to Abby with raised brows. In a bantering tone, he said, “What is this about Lord Darlington having you back? I trust his lordship has not stolen a march on me.” Lord Fielding chuckled at his own joke.
“Lord Darlington was kind enough to extend an invitation to go driving,” said Abby, as discouraging as she could muster.
Lord Fielding shook his finger playfully. “Now, let us have no ill will between us, Miss Fairchilde! If due to that unfortunate interview between us, you have felt unable to request my escort to go driving, put that thought completely out of your head, I pray you. I hold not the least animosity toward you. Indeed, I am quite reconciled since our little spat. I trust you also have gotten over your spleen, so that we may go on as promisingly as before.”
Abby disbelievingly stared up at the gentleman’s smiling countenance. It struck her as plainly as though Lord Fielding had said it. His lordship had not been deterred one whit from his determination to make her his wife. She felt somewhat helpless in the face of a stronger personality. She had no inkling how she could discourage Lord Fielding’s suit without wounding his sensibilities. It was a puzzle she could not solve at just that instant.
She shook her head. “I am not the least put about, Lord Fielding, I assure you. Indeed, I—”
“Good! I shall naturally see you at Almack’s on Wednesday. I pray you will reserve a quadrille for me,” said Lord Fielding, bending over her hand again. He turned almost at once to say good-bye to the Crockers, Mrs. Fairchilde, and Mrs. Paddington.
“Well! Lord Fielding is in an excellent humor,” said Mrs. Crocker, sliding a glance at her sister.
Abby was quick to put construction on her sister’s observation and frowned. “Pray do not ascribe his lordship’s humor to me, Melissa. I assure you that I have nothing to do with it, excellent or otherwise!”
“As you say, my dear,” murmured Mrs. Crocker.
“I understand there is a tidy dinner awaiting us at Lady Malcolm’s,” interposed Mr. Crocker suggestively.
Mrs. Crocker laughed. “Very well, Peter! Let us be off, then. We must take leave of our hostess for an excellent musicale, of course.”
“Of course,” said Mr. Crocker matter-of-factly. “It goes without saying.” His spouse laughed again, for Mrs. Crocker was well aware of her husband’s aversion to musicales.
The Crocker party left the musicale. Mrs. Fairchilde and Mrs. Paddington declared themselves to be too weary to attend another full-blown function that evening. They were agreed that a light supper at home, followed by a backgammon match, suited them better, so Mr. Crocker saw them into a hackney that would set them down at the town house. Then he handed Mrs. Crocker and Abby up into their own carriage, and they set off for Lady Malcolm’s dinner party.
Chapter Twenty
The morning dawned bright and clear, a perfect day for driving, Abby thought happily. She could scarcely contain herself until Lord Darlington’s arrival, but when his card was sent up she managed to appear cool enough as she went downstairs.
Lord Darlington smiled as he took her hand. He carried her fingers to his lips. “That is a most fetching bonnet,” he said.
“Thank you, my lord,” said Abby, blushing a little as he escorted her out of the front door and handed her up into his phaeton.
Lord Darlington leaped up onto the seat beside her, took up the reins, and nodded to the groom to let the horses go. As the phaeton started away from the curb, the groom jumped onto the back.
“It is a glorious morning, is it not?” declared Abby, her spirits high.
“Quite,” said Lord Darlington, throwing a grin at her. He looked absurdly youthful, the usual sternness that characterized his expression gone. “I am glad you and Lady Bethany have made things up between you,” he said. “My sister was moped beyond what either my mother or I could bear. But since last night she has been as merry as though she hadn’t a care in the world.”
“I, too, was moped,” admitted Abby. “I care dearly for Lady Bethany, and I don’t wish anything to ever come between us.”
“She won’t dislike having you as sister-in-law,” remarked Lord Darlington.
“My lord!” said Abby, throwing a glance backward toward the groom.
Lord Darlington laughed. “Rest easy, Abby. Hinson is as close as a crab where I am concerned. He’ll not tout around what isn’t his business, until I give him leave. By the by, when shall I let the world know? I’d like to insert an announcement of our betrothal as soon as I may. Have you informed your sister and brother-in-law how well my suit is prospering with you?”
Abby was covered with confusion by his warm address, while she felt also a frisson of dismay. “Why, I haven’t said anything to the purpose to Melissa or Peter. I have only said that your suit is acceptable to me.”
Lord Darlington was silent a moment, while the slightest of frowns creased his dark gold brows. “I fear I don’t understand. I thought the matter fairly well settled between us.”
“Oh, it is!” said Abby hastily. ‘‘It is just that—what with one thing and another—you see, Lord Fielding offered for me and—”
Lord Darlington slewed his head around. “Fielding offered?”
“Y-yes,” faltered Abby. She was dismayed by the hardness of the expression in his eyes. “I refused him, of course. But he did not quite believe me, I think. After what his lordship said last night at the musicale, I gathered that he is still wishing to wed me.”
“I hope you have made the matter perfectly plain to his lordship,” said Lord Darlington, clipping his words.
“I could not very well say anything at the musicale,” said Abby, uncertainly eyeing his angered expression. “I tried to hint him away, of course, but he interrupted me and—”
“It does not appear to me that you have tried very hard, ma’am,” said Lord Darlington tightly.
Abby stared at him, her mouth dropping open slightly at the injustice of his reaction. “But I have! I don’t wish to wound his lordship, however, and I—”
Lord Darlington gave a short laugh. “Wound him, you say! What of my feelings, ma’am? Are they nothing to you? Do you care nothing of how I feel to know you are dangling Lord Fielding on your string even as you are entertaining my suit?”
“Of course I care!” exclaimed Abby
, distressed. She was bowled out by his misrepresentation of her position. “You are being unreasonable and nonsensical.”
“Am I!” exclaimed Lord Darlington. “I have offered my heart to you, ma’am, and I thought my feelings were reciprocated. Now I am not so certain!”
“Oh, pray, pray do not let us quarrel!” begged Abby, beginning to quake inside as she always did whenever there was unpleasantness. Her heart hammered. She felt almost ill. She couldn’t believe how such a delightful outing could have turned so quickly to misunderstanding and strife.
“No, we shall not quarrel,” said Lord Darlington icily. He turned the phaeton around and swiftly guided it back in the direction of the town house.
Silence reigned for several moments. Abby threw more than one glance at the marquess’s unyielding profile. Her hands twisted in her laps. “Sylvan, pray do not be angry with me,” she said in a small voice. “I cannot bear it. I really cannot bear another’s displeasure.”
“I am sorry for you then, ma’am,” said Lord Darlington shortly. He pulled up the horses and turned to her. His eyes were hard, and there was a set look about his mouth. “I do not wish to let my horses cool. Hinson will set you down.”
Abby stared helplessly at his uncompromising expression. She wanted to say something to make everything right, but she couldn’t think of anything to the purpose. In the end she had no other choice than to accept the groom’s assistance out of the phaeton.
Lord Darlington did not wait to see her enter the door of the town house, but immediately set his team in motion. The groom made a regretful bow to Abby, then leaped onto the back of the phaeton.
Abby turned and wearily trod up the steps and entered the town house. The morning that had begun in so glorious a fashion now seemed dreary beyond compare. She felt the tears threatening to explode from the tightness in her chest, and she hurried upstairs to the refuge of her bedroom before she disgraced herself in front of the servants.
Some time later Abby sat up from where she had flung herself across the bed, and groped for a handkerchief to dry her eyes. It had done her good to have a hearty cry, Abby decided, for she was left empty of feeling. She had gone all numb inside. She went over to the washbasin, splashed her hot face, and dried herself with a towel.
Sniffing dolefully, she crossed to the cheval glass to take stock of her reflection. The tragic look in her eyes made her mouth droop. Her nose was pink. Her hair was a mess, naturally, after her bout of self-pity. She ruthlessly pulled a brush through her gleaming light brown curls. Her maid would have been outraged had she seen how carelessly Abby treated her appearance.
A knock on the bedroom door, followed by a message that Lady Bethany had called and waited for her downstairs, filled Abby with instant dismay. There was no one she less wished to see than Lord Darlington’s sister, unless it was the marquess himself.
Abby was on the point of sending down her excuses by the maid, but thought better of it. She was not such a coward that she could not face her friend, surely. “Pray tell Lady Bethany that I shall be down directly,” she said quietly.
“Yes, miss.”
Abby smoothed the wrinkles out of her crumpled carriage dress, wishing she had already changed into a gown more appropriate to receiving callers so Lady Bethany would not readily see that something had gone awry. However, it could not be helped. She only wanted to get it over with.
Abby hurried downstairs to the drawing room. She stopped uncertainly just inside the door, disconcerted at sight of the drooping posture of her guest.
She had never seen Lady Bethany Hart in any but the best of spirits. Unsure what had put her friend into obviously unhappy straits she wasn’t certain what her reception would be. It immediately popped into her head that Lord Darlington had confided his disappointment in her to his sister.
Abby went slowly into the room, closing the door softly behind her. Such was the preoccupation of her visitor that she had to make her presence known. “Lady Bethany?”
Lady Bethany turned quickly. Her expression was strained and her smile lacked spontaneity. She nervously played with the strings of her reticule. “I know I have come early, Abby. Thank you for seeing me. I wasn’t sure that you would, you see, and—” Tears welled up into her eyes.
At once Abby was made certain Lord Darlington must have told his sister about their quarrel earlier that morning. What it had to do with Lady Bethany, she was at a loss to understand, and she was angered by his lordship’s insensitivity. Forgetting her own troubles in an instant, she rushed over to Lady Bethany, taking her in a swift hug. “Oh, Lady Bethany, but I am glad you came! Pray, come sit down.”
Lady Bethany was unresisting as Abby pressed her onto the settee. Abby sat down beside her caller. She couldn’t help noticing how strained and pale Lady Bethany appeared. Though nothing could entirely mask Lady Bethany’s beauty, it was considerably dimmed. Abby was distressed. “Oh, pray, pray don’t regard it so! It—it was simply a stupid misunderstanding, you know!”
Lady Bethany stared uncomprehendingly at her before shaking her head. “Misunderstanding?”
Abby realized that she had been wrong. Lady Bethany knew nothing about what had passed between her and Lord Darlington. She eyed her friend, feeling the awful certainty that something was terribly wrong. “Bethany, what have you been doing to yourself?” she blurted.
For the first time, a natural expression flitted across Lady Bethany’s face as she laughed. “It is so good to be with you, Abby. Indeed, I am so very sorry for quarreling with you. I was horrid!”
“We settled all that last night at the musicale,” said Abby, smiling warmly at her friend. “Never mind! I shan’t ever refer to it again if you don’t.”
“Oh, no! That is, I hoped you would say that,” said Lady Bethany. She paused a moment as though to gather her thoughts. Then she turned with an almost pathetic look in her eyes. “Abby, I must talk to someone. I knew you wouldn’t breathe a word, even to my mother. I’m in trouble, Abby.”
Abby wondered what kind of trouble Lady Bethany could possibly have gotten into between the time they had seen one another at the musicale and that morning. “But what is it? How can I help?” she asked. A suspicion came quickly to mind. She threw up her hand defensively. “If it is a message to bear to Mr. Farnham, I won’t take it.”
“If it were so simple,” sighed Lady Bethany. Her lips began to tremble. “You will think me the stupidest wretch alive, Abby, but I was completely taken in! I didn’t know—I didn’t realize. Oh, it is a nightmare!” She dropped her face into her hands and began to weep.
Abby was appalled. She wrapped her arms around the other young woman and rocked her, making soothing sounds. She felt completely inadequate. She threw an agitated glance toward the door, almost wishing that her sister or her mother might come in. Her thoughts were in a whirl, for she couldn’t fathom what should have brought Lady Bethany to such a pass.
Lady Bethany stiffened and drew away, swiping her eyes dry with her gloved fingers. “I mustn’t cry. Your sister or someone else may come in at any moment.”
“Bethany, what has so distressed you? Pray tell me! I promise you, I shall help you in any way I can,” said Abby.
Lady Bethany gave a small hiccupping laugh. A slightly hysterical note came into her voice. “No one can help me! I am completely undone. In fact, I don’t know why I came here.” She was rising as she was still speaking and fumbling for her reticule.
Still seated, Abby caught Lady Bethany’s slender wrist and held her firmly. “I am not letting you go until you tell me, Bethany.”
Lady Bethany stared down at her for the longest minute, but in the end seemed to acknowledge that Abby’s determination outweighed her own will. She collapsed back onto the settee, nodding dispiritedly. “Very well, I shall tell you after all. I am eloping with Mr. Farnham.”
Abby reared back in shocked surprise. Recovered, she exclaimed in dismay, “Bethany, you cannot! You will ruin yourself!”
“I am alread
y ruined,” said Lady Bethany bitterly. At Abby’s uncomprehending stare, she added impatiently, “I may be increasing, Abby! I could have a baby! There! I’ve said it now. I haven’t dared to say it before, but now I can, at least to you.” Her beautiful face whitened, contorting with fear. Urgently, she exclaimed, “You won’t tell anyone, Abby. Swear to me that you will not say anything to anyone!”
Completely shaken and shocked, Abby stared at Lady Bethany before she numbly nodded. Almost incomprehensible thoughts and questions jostled about in her mind, but one of importance emerged. “Mr. Farnham? Is he—?”
“Yes.” Lady Bethany shuddered. “He—he is not at all what I thought, Abby.”
“If you would rather not tell me, I shan’t mind,” said Abby hurriedly.
“No, no, I want to tell you! I think I shall go mad if I don’t tell someone,” said Lady Bethany feverishly. “I was so stupid, you see. After Mama and I and Sylvan returned home last night from the musicale, I sneaked out of the house and went with Richard to a public masquerade at Vauxhall Gardens. When we arrived, I was uneasy, for the masquerade was nothing like I expected. There were so many vulgar persons and— and such liberties in manners. I wanted to go home. I told Richard so, but he only laughed.” Lady Bethany began speaking faster and faster, as though she couldn’t get the words out swiftly enough. “He insisted that we take a walk in the less-frequented paths. I went with him readily enough because I so disliked my surroundings. But then, when we were alone, in the dark, he—” Lady Bethany pressed her hand hard to her lips, obviously overtaken by sharp emotion. When she could speak again, she gasped, “I feel ill whenever I think about it!”
Abby slid her arms around Lady Bethany again, the only constructive thing she could think of to do. “Oh, my poor Bethany! What you must have been through!”
“You will say it is all my own fault, and you will be right!” exclaimed Lady Bethany, tears beginning to course down her cheeks again.
Abby felt helpless. One thing she was certain of and that was that she was not the best person to help Lady Bethany. “You must tell your mother. Or your brother! I am certain that they—”