“I shall enjoy that.”
Elspeth was all coyness. “I am not well enough to accompany you, Cousin,” she said.
As they came down the steep little street, Laura was all but overwhelmed by thoughts of … no, no, she told herself. I will not think of him.
Their carriage pulled up behind the countess’s, near the bottom of the street.
“The Three Cups! You have your wish, Elspeth,” said Laura.
“Her ladyship cannot be expected to stay at the Lion,” her sister replied.
The baronet jumped down and turned to hand the ladies out. As Laura stepped down into Lyme again, her anxiety was swept away by a sense of excitement. The salty wind blowing up from the sea lifted her spirits at once. A young idler gawked at her—mouth round with surprise, but he dropped his gaze at once when she caught his look.
Lady Clarydon was entering the inn and a voice could be heard calling, “Quick now, George—’tis the Countess of Clarydon!” The landlord hurried up from the cellar to join his wife in bowing the party in. They were ushered up to the largest set of rooms in the place. After refreshing themselves, they reassembled in the wide, low sitting room and the countess ordered their dinner.
“Miss Morrison and I will take a turn out to the Cobb,” said Sir Richard. “Who will join us?”
“I am by no means up to such an adventure,” said the countess.
“Nor I,” said Elspeth.
Mrs. Bell began to rise.
“You wish to walk out, Mrs. Bell!” said Elspeth, seemingly astonished.
“How can you be so cruel as to desert me, my own?” said the countess. She turned to the baronet. “I must deprive you of my dear Mrs. Bell, Sir Richard. I find I cannot do without her.”
Mrs. Bell blushed and sank down into her seat.
Elspeth came over to Laura and adjusted her yellow scarf.
“Really, Elspeth, I am not five years old!” said Laura.
“I delight in seeing you at your best, my darling. I hope you will not walk out on the Cobb, Dear Heart. It may be damp, even though the day is fine.”
Laura rolled her eyes. “Yes, Mama,” she said.
“You cannot make me angry, my love.” Then, as though she were planting a kiss on her sister’s cheek, she leant up and whispered, “Pray, do not be so odd and cold to my cousin. I beg you to set a date for your marriage this afternoon.”
Laura extricated herself. Elspeth took both her sister’s hands and surveyed her appearance. “How very well you look in this coat, my darling.” With narrowed eyes, she silently mouthed the words, “Do it!”
With trepidation still, Laura stood at the top of the stairs. The town was the scene of her final humiliation two months before. Sir Richard patted her hand, where it rested on his arm and she managed a strained smile.
“They bundled me down the stairs at the Lion, like a criminal, Richard,” she said quietly.
“Things will be different, now. You saw how the countess was received here.”
“I am safe in the inn, yes.”
“Put them in their place with one of your famous set downs.”
She laughed. “Am I really so fierce as that?”
“You are dreadful.”
“Excellent.”
They descended the stairs to the street, where Laura felt glad of her warm coat, for the wind was cold. Sir Richard’s coachman hovered near the door.
“What ho, Jenkins!” cried the baronet. “How is old Betsy? Did you take a look at her leg?”
“Aye, Sir Richard, and I don’t much like the look of it.”
“Well, ask the fellow at the stables for his opinion. Two heads are better than one.”
They walked back into the street and Laura sensed a difference since her departure from the place—a few people stared then turned their heads away, that was all.
“This is not so bad,” said Sir Richard.
They began to follow the path around to the Cobb. The sea was a splendid greenish-blue, with white caps racing along in the bay beyond the breakwater. The stiff breeze caused Sir Richard to clamp his hat down firmly on his head, while Laura tied her scarf over her bonnet.
Sir Richard smiled. “I do like that yellow scarf, Laura. How well you look in the wind. Your eyes are taking on a splendid lustre.”
“No doubt my nose will follow their example before long!”
Laura looked out along the deserted breakwater.
“Shall we dare Elspeth’s anger and walk along it?” asked Laura.
“Let us take the lower walkway,” he said.
At the point furthest from the shore, no one was about; and they stopped near a spot where a coil of thick rope lay. Looking into the bay, Sir Richard signalled the beginning of a speech by humming and hawing.
At last he began. “I have read your letter, Laura, and find I cannot give way to you.” He cleared his throat and looked down at the water, continuing, in a low rumble, to deliver what seemed a practised speech. “All in the neighbourhood around Oakmont expect that our marriage will take place. We will be exposed to gossip if the match is broken off; I will be censured, and you, especially, may feel some damage to your prospects.”
“What prospects are those, Richard?” she said. “Let us face the truth, and that is that you have been my … only worthwhile suitor all these years. I shall recover.”
“Nay, Laura, dear, I cannot let you take this step.” His glance slid away across the waves. They stood side by side, Sir Richard looking far away onto the watery vista. He frowned and his jaw tightened. “I am determined to be your husband and to make you happy.”
Laura felt her heart sink at the thought of starting their life together with this dogged determination.
“How shall I make you happy, Richard? I feel the deepest disquiet when I think of our future together. Treasured friend though you are, you will regret it, I feel.”
“What should I regret—after wanting this union for so long?”
“Oh, Richard!” The distance still held her gaze. “You have said that it is time to abandon dreams.”
“Can we not trot along together in harness and be happier than when we pulled our carts alone?”
An image of the two of them trotting along and pulling a cart behind them made Laura smile, in spite of the awkwardness of their situation.
Sir Richard took her hand. “Name the day, my dear, and all your troubles will be done with.” He took a step to one side, stumbling slightly on the ropes.
Laura caught his arm, saying, “Have a care, Richard.”
She looked everywhere but at him, and the silence between them was filled with the screaming of gulls and the impatient slap of waves against the breakwater. In this place, the danger of her frailty of mind seemed blown off by the salt wind. Here she felt her fears for her sanity loosen their sinewy hold on her mind.
There would be advantages in this marriage, she thought. Yet I would pay a price for them. What will it cost me—and him?
This she felt even without facing the evidence that Sir Richard was falling in love with someone else. Pure gallantry had him determined upon a course that was now so little adapted for his own happiness.
“Dear Richard,” she said. “I have treated you cruelly and selfishly in entering into this engagement, and hope that you will forgive me.”
“Laura—do not speak so.”
“I beg you to release me.” She could say no more.
“Be truthful, now, Laura. Do you do this only for my own happiness? Do you imagine I have been so dishonourable as to consider another while engaged to you?”
She took a deep breath and calmed herself.
“You consider another? No, Richard. There is no more honourable man than you. Should I ever marry—unlikely as it seems—it cannot be to a better man.”
Laura noted a curious lightening of his expression, and sensed that a ripple of relief washed over him.
He said, “You shall be free and I shall not.”
“That is too
much altogether! I do not accept it.” Her tone was calm and firm; she felt in control for the first time in weeks.
“Then it shall be as you wish.”
He offered her his arm, indicating the way back to the inn, but she shook her head.
“I wish to be alone for a few minutes, Richard. Do you very much mind?”
“Not at all. I shall go to the stable and take a look at Betsy.”
With a vague feeling of anxiety, Sir Richard left Laura and went back towards the inn. His concern about leaving her alone was not for her mind—somehow he felt sure that all was well in that regard—what he feared was Elspeth’s anger.
He went instead to find his coachman, Jenkins, in Betsy’s stall, binding up her leg while an ostler held her head. Another fellow lounged against the horse box.
“Hullo, Jenkins, my good man!” Sir Richard boomed out in a jocular tone.
“Hullo, sir,” his coachman said. “Betsy’s leg’s a-strained, Sir Richard, that’s all, I think. She’ll need a few days rest.”
“Excellent,” said the baronet, and turned to the man holding the mare’s head. “Are you in agreement?”
“Yes, sir, but I axed Jos Creeley here to come and have a look-see. He agrees.”
Sir Richard turned to the other man. “Very kind, I’m sure.” He pulled out his purse and handed the man a coin.
“Thank’ee, sir.”
At the sight of the baronet’s purse, a stable boy moved out from the shadows, looking as wise as he might.
“You are young Jem, I suppose.”
“No, sir, if you want Jem—he’s far off at Mr. Whichale’s.”
“Hold your tongue,” said Creeley.
“At Mr. Whichale’s, you say?” said Sir Richard. He vaguely felt the peculiarity of the coincidence; then shook his head.
“It was just a name that popped into my head. I’m more interested in my horse.”
“I’ll be off. ’Tis a busy day at the Lion,” said Creeley.
Meanwhile, Laura stepped onto the top of the Cobb, turning her face into the salt wind. She went sure-footedly along the top of the breakwater, until she reached the furthest point from land.
Wind whipped her skirts about her ankles. Salt tingled on her lips and her eyes shone. Laura gazed out at the splendours of the sea. It was the first time she had been alone, out of doors, in two long months. Every final doubt in herself, every irritation at the imprisonment of the past weeks, seemed blown out of her by the tangy wind.
They tried to tell me I was crazed, she thought. They almost drove me mad. She looked back to the place by the Assembly Rooms, where she dreamed she stood in the wind that day with Mr. Templeton, marvelling over the way the sun lit the backs of the waves.
She thought of the letter. Perhaps it was not such a perplexing mystery. If the gossips invented a tale of clandestine correspondence, the destruction of her reputation in Lyme was explained.
In any case, she thought, it would make no material difference to her life if Mr. Templeton proved to be real. He had taken himself beyond her reach anyway.
Looking again at the surging sea beyond the bay, Laura knew her tears were already shed. She felt at last free of pain; she felt free.
CHAPTER 36
ELSPETH LOOKED UP EXPECTANTLY AS Laura came back from her walk; then frowned. “Where is my cousin?” she asked.
“Richard has gone to the stables to look at his lame mare.”
“He might have waited upon me first.”
“You make him sound like a neighbour, returned after a long absence.”
“I want to hear the news from you both,” said Elspeth.
Laura did not reply, but went into her bedroom, locking the door. Once inside, she sank upon the edge of the bed, absently untying her bonnet and placing it beside her. Slowly, she unbuttoned her coat, sorting out her feelings, because her relief at ending the engagement was tempered by her dread of the coming conflict. She heard Elspeth’s tap upon the door, tentative at first, then more insistent. The handle turned uselessly for the door was locked.
“Laura, pray unlock your door, dearest. I would speak with you.”
“Not now, Elspeth. I wish to be alone.”
“This is your sister, Laura.”
“I know this, strange as it might appear. Please leave me.”
The handle rattled, softly, persistently. Laura smiled, imagining her sister longing to call out loudly, only held back by her fear of others’ curiosity. The rattling stopped, to be replaced by Elspeth’s sugary whispers.
“I am in an agony of fear over you, dear. What are you doing?”
Laura went to the door and said, “Pray do not take on, Elspeth. I wish to have a few minutes to myself.”
“Very well then,” sniffed Elspeth.
She was offended. Good, thought Laura. If I am in luck, she’ll not speak to me for hours.
Sarah tapped on her door a little later and was admitted, with her mistress’s pressed dinner gown. Preparations for the evening had begun, and Laura knew she was safe from Elspeth’s interference for a time.
At dinner, Elspeth found Sir Richard nervous, and Laura suspiciously light in mood. She made an elegant little grimace to Lady Clarydon. It was clear to her that a rupture had occurred between the engaged couple. After dinner, she secluded herself in her room and wrote to her brother.
Dearest Edward,
I beseech you to come to us with all haste for disaster has overtaken our family. The case may not be altogether lost if you—the moral head of the family, given the weakness of the titular holder of that office—come to save all. Terror on the face of the odious Bell woman leads me to conclude that she is to blame.
Beg a thousand pardons for me from my dear sister, Evalina. Convey to her my deepest apologies. But come, Edward!
In tears of agony,
your loving sister,
Elspeth.
With cold dignity, the lady handed the letter to the baronet, saying, “Will you kindly arrange for this letter to be sent express, at once, to my brother’s house in Cornwall?”
The lady’s tone struck a chill in Sir Richard’s heart and he hurried downstairs, casting many a worried glance upon the letter.
The next morning, Laura awoke feeling at once a lightness of spirit. She had no view of the sea from her window, but nevertheless sat at her desk, wrapped in a warm shawl, working on her old drawings of the sea. The sense of missing elements teased her no longer, and she used her colours to put a hint of yellow in a black cloud, a glitter on the top of a dark wave. Engrossed, she found time went by quickly and she had to hurry to be ready for breakfast.
As Laura entered the dining parlour, the rest of the party, which had assembled already, turned and stared at her.
The countess said, “You are in good looks today, Miss Morrison. The air in Lyme agrees with you.”
“Is it the air that brings about this change, Laura?” said Elspeth.
“I was not aware that I was any different.” She had no way of knowing how the sense of deliverance within was reflected in her manner, her eyes, her every movement.
Elspeth looked from her sister to the baronet, where he sat, his eyes shifting about, and fixed upon Mrs. Bell.
“What think you, Mrs. Bell? Are not my sister’s looks out of the common today?”
Mrs. Bell swallowed. “Yes,” she ventured.
“In what way do her looks please you, Mrs. Bell?”
“You tease our friend, Sister,” said Laura.
“Yes,” said Sir Richard, with a sharpness that took Elspeth aback. “Let us leave it that Laura looks very well.”
Elspeth gave him a look of incredulity; then smiled sweetly.
The countess said, “There is to be an Assembly on Tuesday. Miss Morrison will steal all the attention with these wonderful looks.”
“I faithfully promise to share the gentlemen,” said Laura.
“I thank you for the favour,” said Elspeth. “I must find some lace to trim my new sil
k—I am not at all content with it. After breakfast, let us away to the haberdasher’s and see what we can find.”
“You will join us, Sir Richard?” said the countess.
“No … no,” he replied.
“No?” said Elspeth.
“I regret that I am called away on business this morning,” said the baronet.
Elspeth looked at him in plain disbelief. “I will not ask what business so strangely comes your way so far from home, Sir Richard.”
The baronet shortly made his excuses and left them. Elspeth watched from the window as he went around to the stables.
“I wonder where he is going,” she said.
Far away from you, thought Laura. She laughed to herself dryly—and from me. She could not imagine there was a woman present with whom he felt at ease just now. Perhaps he even feared Mrs. Bell’s society. How fortunate he was—by virtue of being a man, he could leap upon a horse and gallop away alone. He could clatter along paths that afforded him a new view at every turn; then put his feet upon the fender in an inn somewhere.
“We shall pass a very pleasant morning by ourselves,” said the countess. “What will you wear to the ball, Miss Morrison?”
“My white gown with the emerald silk overskirt.”
“Delightful! I rather fancy you in a turban, with a delicious green feather. What think you?”
“I am in the mood for novelty—so I will say yes!” said Laura.
“Let us go on the hunt!” said the countess, getting up from the table.
Seeing Mrs. Bell rise, Elspeth said, “You too, Mrs. Bell? I hoped you would make out the pattern for that little piece of ribbon embroidery I showed you.”
A quick glance at the countess’s expression confirmed for Mrs. Bell that it would be in her interest to please her patroness’s friend. She picked up the fashion magazine and her workbasket and settled at the table.
At the bottom of the stairs, the landlord bowed the three ladies out, shooing an urchin off the step. They briefly viewed the sea; then set off up the street to the haberdasher’s. As they went off, all arm-in-arm, Laura felt the difference from her treatment in September. Lady Clarydon was well known in the little place, having accompanied her husband on his visits to take the seaside cures, and they were acknowledged with bows and bobs.
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