“I … I have ever …” Sir Richard looked at Laura, in appeal.
“You have ever what?” cried Elspeth.
“Ever held Laura in … highest esteem …” He trailed off.
“You never could tell a lie, Richard,” cut in Laura. “That is one of your many fine attributes.”
“You might stay out of this!” said Elspeth.
Laura jumped up and stood facing her, saying, “It does not concern me, perhaps?”
Elspeth looked at her in disdain. “You have created a problem for others to solve.”
“You are ridiculous, Elspeth. You seek to force this marriage upon us for reasons of your own.”
Elspeth at last dropped all semblance of loving concern. She spat out: “You have been unmanageable ever since we left Oakmont. How stubborn you were to listen to that silly letter business.”
“What letter?” said Edward.
Elspeth paused. “A horrid slattern at the Honiton Arms claimed that Laura wrote a letter—to a gentleman.”
Edward looked surprised. “What is this, Laura?”
Laura walked to the other side of the fireplace and stood facing him there. He saw, for all her anger, that she was quite herself within.
“As we left the inn, the maid who had served us at dinner claimed she knew some great secret about a letter I had written.”
“It would be no surprise if there was such a letter,” said Elspeth, with a nasty edge in her voice.
Laura did not look her way. “I am inclined to agree with Elspeth,” she said. “But only on account of the girl’s incredulous expression when I denied it.”
Elspeth patted her lace collar. “My poor, poor Laura,” she said, her voice purring. “Are you the best judge of what exists and what does not?”
“Elspeth!” cried Edward.
Laura scarcely heard him, overwhelmed by a surge of fury and disgust for her sister. “How you have enjoyed poisoning my mind with insinuations these past weeks!”
Elspeth gave a little shrug. “One was hardly required to be inventive.”
“Silence, Elspeth, lest you do harm that cannot be undone!” said Edward.
“It is merely the truth, which Laura so values in my cousin.”
Laura said very quietly, “I did not know you to be so evil as this.”
Elspeth smiled, smoothing the silk of her gown. “Who wrote the letter, my poor deluded one—the countess? Mr. Woodruff perhaps?” she said.
The other three stared at her, appalled, while she continued to smile.
Laura said quietly, “I note your constant ridicule of every suggestion that the letter materially existed.”
“You are imagining things again!”
Laura looked at her coolly, with a calm masking her pain. “No, Elspeth, I am suspicious.”
“A lady does not interest herself in unseemly letters.”
“Ah, but you do, Elspeth.”
“How dare you!”
“Why did Mr. Woodruff hand you a letter so secretly that day, after his family dined with us at Oakmont?”
“He carried a letter to my housekeeper and brought back her reply. Why should I waste the expense of postage when Mr. Woodruff was to pass through St Austell?”
Laura looked at her thoughtfully. “I don’t believe you, Elspeth. I believe you sent a letter, under cover to your housekeeper, intended for someone else.”
Elspeth blushed furiously and all but shrieked, “Do you hear her, Brother? Do you hear how she insults me?”
Edward shrugged slightly. “Why do you not answer the charge, Elspeth?”
“If a respectable widow cannot write to her own housekeeper, to whom may she write?”
“Then why did you accept the parcel so secretly? You tried to hide it from me in your shawl,” Laura said.
Elspeth leapt to her feet and rushed at her sister, her hand raised to slap her. Edward reached out and seized her arm.
“This is more of her nonsense, Edward,” cried Elspeth, struggling to pull out of his grip. “Laura is harking to her invented friend once more.”
“You connect that matter to your letter, not I,” said Laura. “Why—”
Laura broke off and an expression of incredulity came over her face, and the men saw that she looked at the lace, which had come loose from her sister’s neck. “What is that?” Laura said.
A chain that had been concealed beneath Elspeth’s bodice had come out in her struggle with Edward. On the end of the silver strand was a small brass key, with an ornate handle. Elspeth grabbed at it with her free hand.
“My key!” said Laura. “That is the other key to my desk.”
“No—it is mine,” said Elspeth.
Laura was shaking her head. “I cannot believe you capable of this. You have stolen the key to my desk.”
“It is not yours.”
“That is why you sent to St Austell so secretly. How did you know where it was?”
“I didn’t!”
“Did you bid Mrs. Gooding ransack my room?”
Elspeth struggled to maintain her look of disdainful amusement.
“You did, I know it!” said Laura.
“Give me the key, Elspeth,” said Edward.
“It is mine.” Her blush was fading, to be replaced by two bright spots of anger in her cheeks.
“We can prove that by trying to open Laura’s desk with it,” said Edward.
Elspeth undid the chain and gave the key to her brother, who dropped her arm to take it. “You need not take the trouble—it is Laura’s,” she said. “But I had very good cause to do what I did.”
Laura was almost faint with horror. She reached out to support herself against the mantle. “You have read my journal!”
“I had to understand your mind.”
“You took that sketch.”
Elspeth looked on the point of denying it, but her shoulders slumped a little. “I did not wish you to be reminded of your humiliation.”
“No, Elspeth, you wished to drive me mad.”
“How can you be so unkind?” Elspeth put her handkerchief to her eyes.
“I am unkind? Not satisfied with taking one sketch, you tore the sketch of Mr. Templeton from my book and put it in the same place—to drive me crazy with doubt.”
“No … no … no.”
Laura sank onto a chair. She said, faintly, “You have ransacked more than my room—my journal, my sketches, my mind—my life.”
“You exaggerate, Laura. I only wished you to put the past behind you and marry my cousin.”
Laura ignored this. “Why do you hate me so?” she said.
“I don’t hate you but how can I enter the level of society that I deserve encumbered by you?”
“What?”
“You stand in my way with your eccentric doings.”
“Elspeth, that is unjust,” said Edward.
Elspeth flared up. “Why is Laura never called upon to make sacrifices?” She turned again to her sister. “You think marriage to Richard would be irksome!” She waved her hand in the direction of the despised baronet. “At least he is young … ish, and in good health.”
Laura stared at her sister, incredulous and shocked. “It was your own mistake to marry for the wrong reasons. Why do you wish it upon Richard and me?”
“I am not free until I am free of you.”
“Take your treasured freedom. I give it back to you!”
Elspeth turned and stalked from the room. The soft click of the door sounded loudly in their ears.
Silence fell. Laura could not bear to look at either of the gentlemen. What did Elspeth mean by her eccentric doings? It seemed she meant something other than Laura’s strange episode in September. How did Laura cramp her freedom? It was Elspeth who dictated whether they came or went; she did as she pleased. Realisation came to Laura, as she recalled all the constant little niggles from Elspeth about presenting oneself according to a recipe that summed up her ideas of elegance. Elspeth thought her sister’s manners too natur
al, and her conversation too honest to be accommodated by the fashionable world of Lady Clarydon’s circle. This was her real crime.
She saw that Edward looked at her in deep concern. Their eyes met. Brother and sister were on opposite ends of the scale of happiness.
Sir Richard sat disconsolate in his chair by the fire.
“Come, Richard, will you not take my hand?” Edward said, extending his own. Sir Richard jumped up and shook his hand warmly. Tears stood in his eyes.
“Edward, I never thought to be part of such a scene!”
“No more did I.” Edward turned to Laura. “Laura, will you shake my cousin’s hand in friendship, at this strange turn in our lives?”
“I will do more,” said Laura, and kissed first Sir Richard and then her brother.
“I have wronged you, Laura,” said Edward.
Laura shook her head. “Edward, you did what you considered best for Richard’s happiness and mine.”
Edward put the key in her hand. “You shall make your home with Evalina and me, Laura. I see it is impossible for you to go with your sister to Clarydon Castle.”
They parted for the night, each to their rooms. Laura opened her journal but found it impossible to put her feelings onto paper, so complete did the crisis in her life appear. Over the past few years, Elspeth had whittled away any cause for Laura to truly esteem her, but this violent quarrel with the sister who had been so significant a part of her life was difficult. Even if they parted in the morning, time would bring them together again—as soon as Christmas. Laura’s prayers that night were that her heart not harden against future forgiveness.
CHAPTER 38
LAURA AWOKE THE NEXT MORNING feeling calmer than she could have imagined the night before. She unlocked her desk and lifted out her diary.
Friday 31st October, 1806
I am determined to do whatever I can to avoid another disgraceful scene such as took place last night. There will be no outward demonstration of my anger towards, and deep disappointment in, Elspeth.
I have also resolved to resist the temptation to look back over my journal to find all the passages that refer to my sister. She has read ill of herself, no doubt, and of her noble friend, but she did so of her own accord. On the intimate passages concerning my private feelings, I will not dwell.
My wish is that Edward will take me at once to Cornwall.
Breakfast brought them all together again. Elspeth’s frigid greeting of her relations made her resentment very plain. Laura watched as Elspeth tried to fill the silence with elegant nothings.
Whom does Elspeth imagine she fools? she thought. I know now of certain acts she has committed—but what deeds are still unknown to me?
The countess, on the other hand, seemed to have recovered her usual charm.
“I long to show you the forest at Clarydon in its autumn dress, Miss Morrison. Perhaps you will sketch the Folly, and the Cupid who lurks there.”
“It sounds very picturesque, Countess.”
“You dislike artifice, I know, but you may see something poetical in the way the leaves blow into the ruined temple and moulder away upon the head of the poor little archer.”
“Poetical, indeed,” said Laura.
Edward then said, with a bow to the countess, “I fear my sister must postpone her visit to Clarydon Castle, Countess.”
“What!” said Elspeth.
Laura was amazed at her sister’s pretend surprise. Was Elspeth ready to continue as though nothing had happened?
“I hope you will pardon us, your ladyship,” said Edward. “My wife particularly wishes to have Laura’s advice on her refurbishments, and I am in a position to escort her conveniently.”
“It will seem very odd if the whole party does not arrive at Clarydon,” said Elspeth. “It would be an insult to the earl.”
Laura doubted very much that the earl would even notice her absence, let alone take offence. She wondered if the countess knew of the quarrel the night before. Then her ladyship added, “I would be delighted if our happy number could be augmented with the addition of Mrs. Morrison and of you, Captain.”
“My wife is in Cornwall,” said Edward, as though she were as far off as the Americas.
The countess’s look informed him that she read his reluctance.
“It is a matter of twenty miles or so! It would be the work of a day to fetch her, surely?”
Edward muttered something as to the honour of the invitation.
“It would look peculiar if Laura were to run away from this place as soon as she arrived,” said Elspeth.
Now this gave even Laura pause for thought. She was aware of how the perceptions of the townspeople towards her seemed to alter in the presence of the countess. She had indeed been in the town for only two days before her brother appeared. Would it seem that she ran away, or was carried off by him again? Much as she wished not to care, she did resent the interest gossips had taken in her before.
Lady Clarydon was saying, “How can I tempt a bridegroom to join our party within a week of his wedding?”
Edward did not answer quickly enough to satisfy Elspeth, who said, “Our dear Evalina would be delighted with the pleasures of such a visit.”
“Of course,” he said, with a bow of the head to the countess. “However, there are certain obligations to fulfill—invitations from our neighbours.”
In truth, Edward could picture only too clearly his wife’s ecstasies on receiving an invitation to stay at the castle. They had experienced joy in the near solitude of the cottage, but Evalina deserved—richly deserved—all of life’s pleasures. Perhaps her presence would be the ingredient to cause the ladies to cast aside their differences. He had no wish for the quarrel to become public knowledge—and he imagined Laura felt the same.
The chatelaine of the noble seat was watching him patiently. She gave him one of her enchanting smiles. “If Mrs. Morrison will but let me know when she is at liberty, a fitting reception will be prepared for her.”
“With heralds and trumpets!” said Sir Richard, pleased that the icy mood seemed to be thawing.
Edward gave way so far as to write to his lady telling her of the invitation; he sent it with his servant immediately after breakfast, with instructions to make all haste.
He stood up from the writing table to say, “You will excuse me, ladies, I hope. I wish to find the surgeon and thank him in person for attending to Tom.”
The ladies excused him: there was an unspoken understanding that the captain would not hurry back. Sir Richard made to rise, perhaps hoping to accompany his cousin, but Edward seemed unaware of him and he sank back in his chair to stare at a newspaper two days old.
Laura looked for a reason to escape, as her brother seemed to have done. Elspeth herself came to her rescue.
“You might collect her ladyship’s parcel from the haberdasher, Laura. He is not even to be trusted to send a package to an inn.”
“Certainly,” Laura said, coolly. “Mrs. Bell, will you give me your company?”
The countess’s long-suffering companion was employed in sewing a row of lace beneath the brim of Mrs. Evans’s new bonnet. Mrs. Bell had been given to understand that a lifetime of such services might go some little way towards earning forgiveness for her unnamed transgressions. She looked in the direction of the countess, who barely raised her eyes from her book to wave her hand in a gesture of farewell. Mrs. Bell nodded.
“Our friend is very much occupied at present, as you can see,” said Elspeth.
“Oh, let her go, my dear. I cannot have her fading away from want of exercise,” said the countess. “Also we must lose no time before assembling the fatal turban.”
So all is to go ahead as planned, despite the horrible disagreement last night, thought Laura. She wondered if she could endure those two women fussing about her head.
“May I escort you, ladies?” said the baronet, rather too eagerly.
Laura nodded.
“Wait, my love!” cried Elspeth. “I wi
sh you to find me a ribbon to match my midnight-blue silk. Come with me, my pet!”
Laura followed her sister into that lady’s bedchamber, where Elspeth turned over the items in her work basket. Over her shoulder, she said, “Do not leave them alone for an instant!”
“Whom, Elspeth?”
“My cousin and that Sly-Boots, Mrs. Bell.”
Laura laughed. “You call Mrs. Bell a Sly-Boots! What has the poor lady done?”
“You know very well, Miss!” Elspeth was wrapping a piece of blue silk in paper with her dainty little hands, as she hissed the words: “You may get out of your promise to Richard, but I will not have that … nobody … take my sister’s rightful place!”
“You cannot direct another’s life to your own ends, Elspeth.”
“It would have been to your benefit to be settled at Oakmont, in a quiet, retired life.”
“You make it sound like a nunnery.”
“I envy our ancestors that useful depository for troublesome females.”
“Those were delightful times, in which my brother would have engaged you to another old man as soon as the first died. You would have bade goodbye to the delights of Lady Clarydon’s company! Nothing would be worth that to you!”
Elspeth’s arm flew back; Laura side-stepped and the small parcel hit the wall behind her. Laura opened the door and walked out without looking back. She took one or two deep breaths to calm herself, before returning to the sitting room. That touched her sensitivities, she thought.
“Did your sister not find the silk?” said Lady Clarydon.
“It is not where she thought it to be.”
Sir Richard was relieved to escape the two more formidable of the ladies, yet he could not feel quite comfortable. On one arm was the lady whom many people expected him to marry; on the other arm was … another lady.
Fortunately, Laura’s spirits rose with every step she took away from her sister. She suggested the river path as a pleasant detour from their errand, and she met with no opposition. She pointed out all the prettiest sights along the way and met with no disagreement. Of the dozen witty thoughts that came to her mind, those that she voiced produced a rumble of amusement from the baronet and breathless laugh from the widow.
The Imaginary Gentleman Page 29