Baffled, Lisette stared at him until he reached over to put one finger beneath her chin and lift it, thus closing her sagging jaw. "Very pretty, that astonished expression," he said with revolting condescension. "But it might not be an especially good habit to encourage, y'know."
Recovering her voice at length, she gasped, "What—what decorations? What have you done?"
He waved an arm expansively. "Have you not noticed? All
London wears her party dress. Flags, bunting, the parks full of lights, bands and parades and jollifications practiced these many days now."
She said indignantly, "But that is not for us, and well you know it, sir!"
"It ain't?" He blinked, disconcerted. "Never cast me down so!"
"Oh, for heaven's sake! You are as aware as am I that the celebrations are for the marriage of the Princess of Wales and Prince Leopold!"
"What? Then I've been properly gulled! Dashed if I shall ever heed the word of the Lord Mayor of London again!" The twinkle in his blue eyes very pronounced, he said solemnly, "I suppose that means I shall be expected to stand the huff for our own celebrations!"
The horses had slowed during this interchange, and, sternly suppressing a gurgle of laughter, Lisette spurred her mount to a trot once more, her covertly grinning betrothed following suit.
Despite his teasing, Strand's adherence to the immediacy of their union was firm, and Lisette soon discovered she had only begun to glimpse his unflagging zeal in achieving that—or any— goal. He did not so much ride roughshod over opposition as he outdistanced it, going merrily along at his energetic pace, apparently convinced that the plans he set in motion were sure to please everyone, so that by the time others caught up with them, it was too late to protest. A bewildered Lisette found herself whisked from Richmond, where her grandmother was not at home, to Windsor, where Strand's grandmother dwelt. This octogenarian was at home and, having favoured her grandson with a plaintive sigh and one faded cheek raised for his kiss, extended two drooping fingers for Lisette to shake, and offered Strand her congratulations on snaring "such a lovely girl. In spite of… everything." It was the first time Lisette had found her betrothed subdued, but he soon rebounded and next day the chaise was racing towards Esher and his Great-Aunt Therese. Therese was a large widow with an overpowering and delightfully erratic personality. She dwelt in a very large house to which she welcomed them warmly, and spent most of the day . introducing them to visitors, more of whom arrived hourly. No one left, and the house became crowded, with each saloon seeming to contain a group of decidely differing opinions to those aired in the next. Lisette was both bewildered and enchanted, the hours flew past, and she was genuinely sorry when they left.
They reached London at dusk. Lisette was thoroughly tired, but Strand arrived for dinner, as full of spirits as ever, and entered into a lively discussion with Mrs. Van Lindsay regarding the date of the wedding. Shocked when he expressed a desire for a morning rather than the customary evening ceremony, that redoubtable dame adopted her most chilling attitude. She was agreed with, smiled upon, told she was "a most delightful lady," and while still befuddled somehow agreed to the morning wedding.
Judith was no less summarily dealt with. Strand, interfering in matters to which gentlemen never paid the least heed, was horrified when he chanced to arrive a few days later while she was promenading in the elaborate gown she was to wear as a bridesmaid. "Why, it makes her look big as a house!" he exclaimed indelicately, and whirling to the murderously scowling Judith, demanded, "Do you like that abomination?" As always rather intimidated by his brusqueness, she stammered that she did. "But you cannot imagine it flatters you?" Sure she was being roasted, she sulked, "Flatters me? What could flatter me! At all events, it is too late now." Strand refuted this and demanded she go and bring "that periodical you ladies are always looking at, My Lady, or whatever it's called. Hurry now!" When she had fled, he turned to the astonished Lisette and expostulated, "Good God! Whoever chose that mass of frills and flounces?"
"My sister, Lady Dwyer, helped Judith make the choice. With which, I might add, she was perfectly happy until you condemned it."
"Hmmn. Thought so. Never mind, we'll come about!"
Judith returned with Ladies Magazine, and the pair of them spent an hour poring over this and that style until Strand decided on a very plain gown Judith thought deplorable. He convinced her it would be more becoming than the other and carried her off to a rather middle-class emporium called Grafton's, returning with a welter of pale peach-coloured satin and tulle, and the triumphant announcement that, Judith being a splendid seamstress, they would go along very nicely with this one. It was the first intimation her family had that Judith was a more than passable needlewoman, but to everyone's surprise, she set to work at once, thoroughly enjoyed herself, and turned out a truly charming gown that admirably became her.
The next item on the agenda was the possible location of the betrothal bail. It had been decided to hold this at the home of a friend until Strand came wandering in one morning with the guest list of his own friends and family. This was voluminous, but he cheerfully refused to shorten it and, since he was paying for the ball, which promised to be expensive even if it could not be expected to be a great occasion, it was clear that a much larger home would be required. Even so, they were all stunned when at his next appearance he casually announced that the Earl of Harland had graciously offered his London house for the purpose, and that Strand's majordomo, one Mr. Fisher, would "handle everything."
When the news of the betrothal appeared in The Gazette, London was deliciously shocked. As a result, a stream of visitors descended upon Portland Place in a flurry of excitement that was not soon to fade. One of Lisette's first callers was a man she dreaded to receive. Mr. Garvey was smiling and suave. He expressed his felicitations with grim insincerity, his eyes glaring his frustration. Bowing over her hand before he departed, he murmured, "I have not given up, ma'am. If there is any possible way to rescue you from this fiasco, it will be done!" Frightened, Lisette relayed the episode to her father. Van Lindsay pooh-poohed her alarm, telling her in some amusement that Garvey was merely a heartbroken suitor and must be excused this flight into melodrama. To his wife, he was less facetious. "Garvey is a vengeful man, m'dear," he said worriedly. "I told Lisette to forget the matter, but I'll not dissemble, he's a power to be reckoned with!"
Among the crush of those arriving the following day were two very different callers. The first of these was Amanda Hersh, whose green eyes still held the shadow of sorrow that had disturbed Lisette when first they met. Lord Bolster, she confided, had made a final attempt to persuade her to wed him and had been thoroughly routed when she had vowed to join the next group of emigrants sailing for the Colonies, if he did not cease to entreat her. "He is such a dear," she sighed, "and being extremely opposed to that notion, has agreed to deface himself.''
Preserving her countenance with difficulty, Lisette said she had heard his lordship meant to go to Europe. "My betrothed," she went on, "has suggested you might agree to visit us in Sussex when we are settled there. I do beg you will consider it. I shall, I fear, find country life somewhat tedious, having been accustomed to Town."
This was not an idle remark. Strand had, at the first opportunity, taken his bride-to-be to visit her new home. Well aware that a certain pair of blue eyes watched her reactions with no little anxiety, Lisette had tried to be polite, but Strand Hall, with its pillared front and neoclassical architecture, she found cold and unattractive, and the housekeeper, a sharp-eyed woman named Mrs. Hayward, was respectful but unfriendly, so that, with sinking heart, Lisette had known there was a battle to be won there.
Shortly after Amanda departed, Lisette was receiving the Honourable Sarah Leith. Sally, who had once been a very dear friend, came into the room rather hesitantly. She was a kind girl, but blessed with few of the good looks so spectacularly evident in her brother Tristram. Her eyes were dark but not large; her clear skin was inclined to be sallow, and alth
ough her brown hair was luxuriant, it could not make her into a beauty. Her smile, however, was warm and sincere, and her gentle disposition soon won her friends to thinking her very pretty indeed. When she saw the smile Lisette summoned, she ran forward to clasp her in a hug and say rapturously, "Oh, Lisette! I am so happy! To think you will be my sister-in-law! Is it not wonderful? I never dreamed of such luck, for I always dreaded lest I be the victim of relations who would either bully or despise me—neither of which you will do! How thrilled I am for Strand—he is the very dearest boy. Indeed, you could not do better! And he, of course, is so deep in love he can scarce recall his own name most of the time!"
She laughed, and Lisette responded suitably, wondering how Strand, so very unloverlike, could possibly have given her such an impression. Drawing Sally to the sofa, she said, "How nice it is to see you again. It has been such a long time since we met."
"Yes—before my brother was married. And then, I heard you were ill. I wrote, but perhaps you did not get my letter. The postal service is so very bad these days."
Lisette blushed. She had received the letter and meant to respond, but never quite found the words. "You were so kind. I intended to write, but everything has happened so fast. How does your brother go on? I hear Mrs. Leith is—is very beautiful."
"Oh, she is! And so sweetly natured. They are beyond words happy! After Tristram lost Mia Buchanan, I began to think he would never wed. For a while I even thought—perhaps—" she smiled shyly—"you will think me foolish, but I hoped you had an affection for him, and that you would be my new sister. Then, when we feared him lost at Waterloo—heavens! What a ghastly time that was! You can imagine my joy when he came home at last, and so deep in love with his Rachel. But you know that story, I do not doubt, and the important thing is that he is happy now. Dear soul, he deserves it, and I could not wish a sweeter wife for him! Enough of my brother. Lisette, may I See your ring? Oh! It is beautiful! Do you know, I'd no idea you had even met Justin."
"I have known him a—a comparatively short time. It was all rather sudden."
Sally scanned her lovely face intently. "You are very brave to marry into our rather notorious family. I was a little surprised that your parents consented to the match."
"Oh, no, did you think us so very proud?" Sarah's colour heightened and, realizing she had thought just that, Lisette went on quickly, "Indeed, had my parents objected, I doubt they could have prevailed. Your brother-in-law is a most—ah— persuasive gentleman."
Sarah went into a peal of mirth. "Isn't he just? Tristram says that Justin quite wears him out." Her face clouded suddenly. "I only hope that long stay in India did not—" She checked and stood as Mrs. Van Lindsay swept into the room. "Good morning, ma'am. I am come to welcome my new sister-in-law into the family."
"Why, that is true, of course, dear Sally," gushed Mrs. Van Lindsay, extending her hand and managing to avoid her daughter's eyes. "A rather distant relationship, I fear, but one that will, I am sure, be a delight to Lisette. It is deplorable that I interrupt, but we simply must get to the modiste's shop for a fitting of the wedding gown. You do mean to come to our ball next week…?" Miss Leith said warmly that nothing could keep her away and left them, and in short order Lisette was in the carriage with her mama and an eager Judith, en route to the exclusive little shop just off Bond Street. The wedding gown was lovely, but she was too preoccupied to show much enthusiasm. Standing patiently while the women fussed about her with tape measures and pins, her thoughts were on Tristram Leith. Sooner or later, she must meet him and his bride. The prospect made her heart cringe. She tried to force that terrible vision from her mind, and wondered vaguely what Sally had been going to say about Strand's sojourn in India.
The day of the ball dawned cloudy and threatening, typical of this depressing Spring, and Mrs. Van Lindsay went about with a glum expression, forecasting the Disaster of the Season. By noon, the rain had settled in with a steadiness that augured ill for attendance, and by dusk was an unrelenting downpour.
Mr. Van Lindsay, who adopted an air of tolerant condescension to his prospective son-in-law, was undismayed by the weather. He had jubilantly told Lisette that Strand's settlement had been magnificent. "All our troubles are over, m'dear. You've done very well by your family, burn me if you ain't!" The full extent of that settlement was unknown to her, but the purse strings were considerably relaxed, which was a joy to all. As a result, she had another new ball gown, a delicious concoction of pale blue satin, the low-cut bodice embroidered with seed pearls. With it, she wore long pearl drop earrings, and knew herself to look very well, a knowledge confirmed by the approval in the eyes of her betrothed when he arrived at seven o'clock for a light dinner. He looked quite charming in his ball dress, although she fancied to see a tiredness in his eyes: not surprising, she thought, considering the pace he'd set himself these past three weeks.
Lady Bayes-Copeland had arrived that morning, her sudden arrival in Portland Place having been a considerable shock to her daughter. "I am here," she announced firmly, warming her frail hands by the drawing room fire, "to see this young jackanapes my Lisette has accepted. Only ever laid eyes on him once before he commenced his courtship. Blessed if ever I saw such an unseemly rush to the altar! I collect you bullied her into accepting his fortune, eh, Philippa?" It was not a propitious beginning and, when Strand arrived, the delay to which she subjected him while critically scanning him through her lorgnette before consenting to offer her hand, was even less encouraging. He seemed unabashed, however, meeting the old lady's keen gaze with twinkling eyes, though his manner was gravely respectful. She slanted several unkind barbs at him during dinner, and twice Mrs. Van Lindsay held her breath, her anguished gaze turning to her husband and quite clearly conveying the fear that Mr. Strand could scarce be blamed did he wash his hands of them all. The only time he gave the least sign that he comprehended the vitriol in my lady's remarks, however, was when she made a contemptuous reference to Tristram Leith's "wretched" existence. A hush fell over the tense diners. Strand had been sampling his wine. His hand paused briefly as he lowered his glass, then he set it down with precision. The eyes he turned to my lady's fierce ones were cool, and his brows slightly lifted. "I fear, ma'am," he said in an uncharacteristically slow drawl, "that you have been misinformed. My brother-in-law is one of the most truly contented men I know. I would not ask a happier marriage."
"Happy?" barked Lady Bayes-Copeland. "What fustian! Who could be happy stuck out there at Cloudhills all year round? The man was a colonel! He is accustomed to activity and a full social schedule. The life of a country squire will soon pall, I'll warrant!''
"Perhaps it will, my lady. But for a man like Tristram Leith, the busiest and most socially glittering life imaginable must be a desolation were not the lady he loves at his side."
It was far and away the most romantic thing Lisette had ever heard Strand say, and she stared her surprise. Beatrice sneered cynically. Sir William was so inspired as to utter an enthused, "Well said, by gad!" The old lady's eyes began to gleam. "Huh!" she snorted. "And what of Justin Strand, sir? Is it to be Town or country for him?"
Strand grinned. "Lord, ma'am, you must not speak of Leith and Strand in the same breath, or the latter must suffer to the point of extinction! Indeed, when I am in Tristram's magnificent presence, I sometimes find it necessary to pinch myself to be sure I'm still there!"
It was said with affection rather than rancour, and they all laughed.
Lady Bayes-Copeland did not so lightly lower her guns, however. "A clever evasion," she nodded grimly. "And I'm still without an answer."
"D'you know, ma'am," he replied, "I suspect you knew the answer before you asked the question."
For a moment she almost returned his unexpectedly winning smile, but instead snapped, "You're nobody's fool, I see. Yet had you been a little wiser, you would have come to see me at Richmond, young man. Not whisked my granddaughter off without so much as a decent meeting. You may imagine that because I'm an old wi
dow, you can dismiss me from the reckoning in this family. But you are out there, and so I tell you!"
Mrs. Van Lindsay placed a hand briefly over her eyes, and her husband looked aghast. Strand said nothing, but Lisette felt constrained to point out that they had driven down to see the old lady. "I was dragged all that way in the rain, dear Grandmama," she said aggrievedly, "the very morning after I had accepted Mr. Strand's offer."
Contrarily, this advice served to send my lady's wrath flaring. "Then why in God's name could you not have said so, Strand? Making mock of me, eh?"
"Not at all, ma'am. But you were having such a lovely time trying to put me out of countenance, I hesitated to spoil it for you."
It was lightly said, but through another taut silence, his eyes met hers steadily. What she read in those eyes, only she knew, but suddenly her scowl relaxed. She smiled, then went into a cackle of mirth and, relieved, everyone laughed with her. "Very well, put up your sword," she wheezed at last. "I own you to be a worthy opponent. Have a care, Lisette! This brown-faced hank of skin and bone will be a sight more difficult to tame than would a gentleman like Tristram Leith!"
Lisette gave a gasp. Strand's narrowed eyes shot to her face. Mr. Van Lindsay, laughing heartily, missed the implication and said, "Well, he stood up to you, ma'am!"
"Indeed he did," chuckled her ladyship. "Game as a pebble!" She lifted her glass. "I give you joy. Strand—you've won yourself a rare girl. It will be up to you to see her beauty don't ruin her! Lisette—I venture to believe you have found a gentleman who is also—a man!"
Lisette met Strand's eyes. They were unfathomable; she dared not guess what he had read into her grandmother's remark, and why she should care what he thought was also a mystery. But she smiled, and for some odd reason felt proud. He returned her smile, and only Sir William noticed how tightly his fingers were clamped about the stem of his glass.
Patricia Veryan - [Sanguinet Saga 07] - Married Past Redemption Page 9