by Joan Smith
“I don’t suppose Mr. Maitland will be there tonight,” Esther said suddenly.
“Mr. Maitland! No, I should think not. Aunt Yootha has no opinion of him.”
“The one who gave you back your hat reminded me of him. Did you notice what a handsome smile he had? He winked at me, Belle. What should I do when a gentleman winks at me?”
“A lady is oblivious to uncivil behavior, Esther. And she does not encourage a flirt—at least not till she’s been formally introduced,” I added more leniently.
We burst into laughter at the same moment. Mama was invaded by the same silly spirit and laughed along with us. “Oh, my, speak of the blind leading the blind. You giving Esther lessons in how to manage a gentleman, Belle. It is hard to know which of the pair of you is the greater green-head! And I no better myself,” she added truthfully. “What is to become of us here in London alone?”
She meant without Papa, and though she tried to feign desperation, I suspected there was a bit of pleasurable excitement mingled with it. Mama was not much over forty.
And for more than half of her life she’d been a clergyman’s wife in dull, provincial Bath. I think she was enjoying this little trip as much as Esther. Maybe even as much as I was.
Chapter Five
We did the best we could with our appearances, but going to dine in an afternoon gown took the edge off the visit for me. Esther supplied all the enthusiasm Mama and I lacked. She chattered like a magpie as she darted from room to room, borrowing blue ribbons from me, a small pearl necklace from Mama, and by the time Yootha’s carriage arrived we were as nervous as a coop of setting hens.
Good as her word, Mrs. Mailer supplied us all with escorts, even Mama. The Mr. Stone in question was a friend and coeval of Two Legs Thomson. Like Thomson, he was red of nose and stout of stomach. Unlike him, he had no white hair, nor any other color either, except for a bit of soft gray fringe around the edge of his skull that gave his head the look of a billiard ball sitting in a roll of dust.
Her introductions led me to fear that the unfortunate-looking stump of a man named Duke was destined for me. He was Ralph Duke, not the Duke of anything. His height was even less than my own, and I am not overly tall for a lady. After he had sized me up, his face took on the expression of a peevish mullet. What he lacked in height he made up in weight. It was really astonishing that a man of twenty-five or so years should have acquired such an unsightly bulk around his middle section. His face, other than the expression, was not bad, though more childish than I like: blue eyes, a turned-up nose, cheeks suspiciously smooth.
He opened his lips to speak, but no words came out. His eyes had discovered Esther. There was a churning sound in his throat, as if a pepper mill had been put into action, and finally he found his voice. “Good evening. Er, good day—er, good evening, Miss Haley,” he said, switching the time of day as he considered the hour and my toilette.
I curtsied and said, “Good evening, Mr. Duke.”
“Too bad about your house. Being ransacked and all, I mean to say.” His eyes wavered away to Esther.
“Yes, a pity.”
“Sorry about Graham, too, while I am about it. I knew him.”
This was his first interesting utterance. I attempted to follow it up, but the acquaintance appeared to be slight, and through Yootha’s friend Mr. Stone, who was Duke’s uncle. “We said good day a few times,” he informed me. “Once on Bond Street, and once somewhere else. Here, I think it was.”
I concluded Yootha had scraped the barrel to find two young gentlemen for Esther and me. But all this was really at the back of my mind. Through an archway I had spotted a more interesting gentleman altogether, and I was waiting for him to join us. I could see by his profile he was too suave and too mature for one of Esther’s tender years, which was bound to have her flirting her head off.
Then he turned toward us, and my heart nearly stopped beating. For a moment I had the mind-boggling idea I was looking at Graham, suddenly returned to earth. He stood at some distance from me, framed in a doorway, like a painting. Light shone all around him, from the chandeliers overhead and from side lamps. The man was the general size and shape of Graham, but it was at his head that I stared. He had the same high, noble brow as my fiancé, with the hair growing in a pronounced peak in front. Our eyes met, and we stood gazing mutely at each other, not smiling, not even moving. Around me the slightly nervous talk of introductions whirled, but I was lifted above it all. My feet took command of the situation and wafted me toward the apparition in the next room.
I was aware of a bobbing motion at my shoulder and heard Mr. Duke say, “Eliot’s the one who can tell you all about Graham. Daresay that’s what you would like.”
Of course the man was Graham’s cousin, Eliot Sutton, but the resemblance was uncanny enough to have startled me. As I drew closer to him I could see the differences clearly. I had to admit Eliot was more handsome. His features were more clearly defined, his nose stronger, his jaw more square; the hair on his head grew even more beautifully, but it was the same rich chestnut color. Mr. Sutton didn’t smile; he wore the solemn expression the occasion called for.
Mr. Duke attempted to perform the introduction. “Eliot, this is Miss Haley—Graham’s ... the lady who was engaged ... that is to say ... Miss Haley, this is Eliot Sutton.”
“How do you do,” I said, and offered him my hand while my eyes continued to drink in this reincarnation of Graham. He held my fingers tightly in a warm grasp for a little longer than the normal handshake.
“Miss Haley, I’m delighted to make your acquaintance. I meant to call on you as soon as you were settled in. I feel I know you already, as I heard my cousin speak of you so many times. I hope we shall be very good friends.” Even his voice had the rich, sincere timbre of Graham’s. Then he noticed that he was still holding my hand, and he released it hastily.
“I hope so indeed.”
Mr. Sutton led me to a sofa, and we sat a little apart from the others, with Duke crouched beside us, listening. To prevent Mr. Sutton from taking the idea I was a moonling, I tried to explain myself. “I’m sorry if I stared at you. It’s just that there is such an astonishing resemblance between you and Graham. It startled me.”
“Dead ringers!” Duke muttered.
“We were often mistaken one for the other by slight acquaintances,” Mr. Sutton agreed, “but as we become better friends, you will learn I can’t half live up to my cousin’s virtue.”
He said all the proper and thoughtful things about Graham, expressed his condolences on my loss, and then wrapped that sad topic up in polite ribbons. “But life goes on, Miss Haley.”
“It does, you know,” Duke confirmed.
“Now it is time for you to think of the future,” Sutton continued. “I insist you treat this visit to London as the holiday it ought to be and enjoy yourself, as Graham would want you to. I intend to see you follow my orders. That I share with Graham—a dictator!” He smiled. No dictator had such an enchanting smile.
“Oh, I am enjoying it, except for certain minor irritations,” I assured him.
“Aunt Yootha told me about your difficulties. Please feel free to call on me if there is any problem that requires a man’s intervention. I am unhappy you ladies have no man about the place. If Maitland returns to pester you, let me know and I’ll speak to him.”
“As to that, I’m the one ought to speak to Des,” Duke interrupted. “Thing is—a bit of a pal of mine. I’ll tip him the clue. Not like Des to be so rag-mannered.”
I was surprised to hear Duke and Maitland were friends, for they were of such very different types. “I doubt we’ll see him again, since he’s been exposed, but really I hardly blame him for trying to recover his money. It is only natural.”
“The way he went about it is not natural, but very havy-cavy,” Mr. Sutton insisted. “Why did he not write you a letter and explain himself?”
“That occurred to me, too,” I said. Duke scratched his ear, but he had no excuse to offe
r on his friend’s behalf. “It is odd the way he went about his business, but he knows now the money is not at Elm Street. I don’t think he’ll bother us again.”
Mr. Sutton nodded thoughtfully. “Don’t let an unfortunate beginning put you off our city. London’s not really such a bad place, you know. And have there been any other troubles? The lawyer has discharged all his duties, I trust? Turned over Graham’s carriage and personal effects?”
“Not the carriage—though he gave me a letter telling me its location and directing the stable to turn it over to me when I want it. I am thinking of hiring job horses for the duration of our visit.’’
“Now there is one way I might be able to help you! Let me hire the team for you. A lady can’t go down to Tattersall’s. If you want to give me the solicitor’s letter, I’ll collect the carriage as well. You’ll need a place to stable the rig and horses.”
I smiled gratefully at his kindness. “We could use some help in such matters. I expect I’ll put the carriage up for sale when we leave.”
“It was a dandy landau Graham had. It won’t be any problem finding a buyer,” Mr. Sutton said. “I expect you’ll want to dispose of other personal effects as well. I’ll tell you what, Miss Haley, why don’t you let me take charge of all that? You won’t want to have to sort through his shirts and boots—it would be too painful for you.”
“I was going to have Hotchkiss, our servant, do it, but you would have a better idea how to dispose of Graham’s things. I want to give it all to charity.”
“That’s what Graham would want.”
Duke leaned forward and intruded upon our talk again. “I didn’t hear any details about your house being torn apart, and about Des having the gall to let on he wanted to buy it. He is up to anything.”
“Why don’t you speak to Miss Esther, Duke?” Sutton suggested in a patient way.
“Eh? Thought you was supposed to ... That is ... By Jove, she’s a taking little thing, ain’t she?”
“Very pretty,” Mr. Sutton agreed. He shook his head and rolled his eyes ceilingward as Duke wobbled up and sauntered across the floor to make a bow to Esther.
“He is really the best of good fellows,” he assured me. “A bit of a trial to his friends, but we all tolerate his idiosyncrasies. And he is extremely eligible, too.”
“But is he of sound character? Esther is a simple Bath miss. I don’t want her meeting just anyone.”
“Despite his being a friend of Maitland, Duke is unexceptionable,” he assured me.
“And is Mr. Maitland less so?”
Mr. Sutton considered the question gravely. He was like Graham—he wouldn’t blacken a man’s character unjustly. When he spoke, his words were tempered. “I don’t think he is a gentleman Graham would want you to know. I don’t mean to imply he is a scoundrel, but he is a city buck, and young ladies from Bath might find him unmanageable.”
Esther had been casting covetous eyes on Mr. Sutton and didn’t waste any time in joining us. Duke got up and followed like a puppy at her heels. “Did you remember to ask Aunt Yootha about the key, Belle?”
“Mrs. Mailer, Esther!” I reminded her. “No, not yet.”
“What key?” Duke asked.
I explained about the key in Graham’s parcel, and Mr. Sutton went to ask Yootha about it.
She came forward to have a look. “No, it’s not for my house. Graham had no reason to have a key, but try it anyway if you like.’’
Her saying he didn’t have a key was good enough for me. I was surprised when Mr. Sutton went and tried it in the lock. What did he mean by doing such a thing? It was almost a hint that Graham had gotten a key without permission. Esther and Duke went with him, and I did likewise. Of course the key didn’t fit Yootha’s lock—how could it? He unthinkingly slid the key into his own pocket when he was finished.
“I’ll take the key, Mr. Sutton,” I said, and held out my hand for it.
“Oh, forgive me! I wasn’t thinking what I was about,” he said, and gave it to me.
As we returned to the saloon, he explained why he had wanted to check the key. “The thing is, I had a key to Aunt Yootha’s house a few years ago and lost it. I thought Graham might have found it. It was similar to that brass key. I used to keep an eye on things here for my aunt while she was in Bath.”
In the saloon I noticed from the corner of my eye that Mama and Mr. Stone were engrossed in a discussion of Bath. Mr. Stone was a regular visitor there, to take the waters. Mama was playfully chastising him for his lack of familiarity with the cathedral.
“Next visit, you shall take me,” he said, and she blushed like a blue cow. Mama, imagine!
“Your Mama is churchy, I see,” Duke said to Esther.
“We are all churchy, sir,” she informed him. “My father was a clergyman.”
“I went to church once,” he said solemnly. “There were candles, and singing. It was monstrously moving.”
“But it did not move you to return, eh, Duke?” Eliot roasted.
“I daresay I’ll have another go at it. Bound to—marriage, funeral.”
Yootha served us a very fine dinner, and conversation was lively throughout. Despite the fact that Two Legs Thomson sat beside me, he didn’t find an occasion to mention buying my house, but he did flirt outrageously.
“Have you thought at all of replacing young Sutton in your affections, Miss Haley?” he asked archly.
I bristled at his bad taste and said, “No.”
“There’s a deal of young prettiness going to waste, then.” He winked.
Across the table, I watched Duke watching Esther. He didn’t eat two bites, and the meal was very fine, too. If he could pass a few more meals in this abstaining fashion, it would do his figure a world of good. But Esther didn’t honor him with any flirtation. She was too busy batting her lashes at Eliot, and I think she received a little something in the way of encouragement, too, though he was properly attentive to me.
After dinner, the older members retired to a parlor for a few hands of cards, leaving the younger population alone. It was as good as a comedy to watch Esther try her burgeoning charms on Eliot and Duke try his more determined ones on her.
“My uncle Gerald is a bishop,” he told her. “Perhaps he could give your papa a leg up the ecclesiastical ladder.”
“I don’t think so. My father is dead, Mr. Duke.”
“Ah, sorry about that. It ain’t a bishop he needs, then, but an angel. No angels in my family. By Jove, you could have a word with those in charge above, Miss Esther.”
A shot from my eyes stopped him like a bullet, and he sat rubbing his ear. Later there was more leaden-tongued eloquence from him, and before we left it was agreed that the gentlemen would call on us the next day.
“We cannot go out and leave Mama alone. We must either stay in, or all five of us go out together,” I insisted.
Eliot incurred more favor by coming up with a clever solution. “Quite right, we cannot trust this pair of frisky puppies alone,” he said, honoring me with a special smile. “We shall have your mama ride bobbin with them. Old-timers like you and me, on the other hand, Miss Haley, can be trusted to visit the Tower of London and St. Paul's without falling into vice. We shall take two carriages and all meet there for the tours.”
“But you must have seen those attractions a dozen times. It will be boring for you,” I pointed out.
“I have not seen them with you,” he parried.
Duke looked much impressed with this piece of gallantry and tried to emulate it with Esther. “You and I have never seen them together either, Miss Esther,” he said. “In fact, I’ve never seen them with Mrs. Haley either, though I must have seen them two dozen times with visiting aunts and cousins. I daresay the dome at St. Paul’s won’t look much different, and the old hippo at the Tower will look as much like Lord Liverpool as ever, but if you’ve a mind to see them, I’ll gladly pass up my afternoon at Jackson’s Parlor and take you and your mother to look at old buildings Instead.”
“My aunt can better advise you on gowns,” Sutton told her, “and as to a male escort—why do you speak of going unescorted, when I have given your sister firm instructions I am to be her cicisbeo during her visit?”
“Me, too,” Duke spoke up swiftly. “I mean yours, Miss Esther. Very happy to be of use to you. I shouldn’t mind seeing that tired old comedy again, I promise you. I have never seen it with you, in any case. About the gown,” he added, his voice wafting off as he gazed at her, “blue. Sky blue, like your eyes.”
Esther primped her curls, waiting for the inevitable likening of them to gold, but the compliment didn’t come. “And bring a stout shawl,” Duke said instead. “It’s colder than Hades at the Haymarket.”
“I should hope so!” Mr. Sutton laughed.
Duke gave him a heavy frown and added, “Cold as ice is what it is. Miss Makepiece caught a chill when I took her there last week and blamed it on me.”
When conversation flagged, Mr. Sutton suggested a little music. I play only indifferently, but Esther plays not at all, so it was for me to tackle the piano while he accompanied me in a rich baritone and Duke tapped out a counterpoint with his toes. We sang “Tu Mi Chamas.” I selected it as it was one I was familiar with. Graham had often sung it for us at Bath while I played. If I closed my eyes, I could be back there....
The music brought the oldsters in to join us. We performed a few more numbers, and it was time to go home. We had four offers of a drive from the four gentlemen. It was Mr. Stone who carried the day, much to my disappointment. But there was tomorrow to look forward to—a day filled with unusual pleasures. And when we entered our saloon there were enough embers that it was possible to build up the fire and warm milk for cocoa.