A Country Cotillion

by Sandra Heath

  Violet’s jaw dropped. “Nothing wrong with her? But you just said—”

  “I was doing as Lady Isobel bade me, and as the duke bade me as well,” the maid added.

  “The duke? But what has he to do with it?”

  “Everything, for it was his idea.”

  “What was his idea?” demanded Violet in exasperation.

  “The plan to see that my mistress wins Sir Alexander, and he, the duke, wins Mrs. French,” Annie replied simply.

  Violet stared at her.

  * * * *

  Shielding the fluttering candle with her hand, Elizabeth walked swiftly along the deserted gallery. The library was in darkness, but the door was again ajar, and as she passed the light from her candle fell briefly across the desk, illuminating the miniature of Constance Bannerman, which still stood in its former prominent place.

  Elizabeth hastened on, for the library held bitter memories of a half-finished letter and the discovery of falsehood in the man to whom she had so foolishly and easily surrendered her heart.

  At last she reached the top of the grand staircase, but there she halted abruptly, her gaze immediately drawn to the dais, where she saw Isobel and Alexander by the piano. Isobel’s spangles and diamonds flashed in the glow from the hall’s many candles, and even from that distance Elizabeth could see the warm flush on her cheeks as she smiled up into Alexander’s eyes. Far from appearing faint and wilting, Lady Isobel Crawford looked remarkably well.

  As Elizabeth watched, Alexander suddenly pulled Isobel to her feet and into his arms. He kissed her passionately on the lips, pressing her slender body against his. Isobel linked her arms around his neck as she eagerly submitted to the embrace.

  Elizabeth stared down at them, and then suddenly she became aware of a shadowy movement on the minstrels’ gallery above their heads. She raised her eyes, and found herself meeting Marcus’s steady, deliberate gaze.

  She backed away from the top of the staircase, and then tore her eyes from his as she turned to hurry back toward her room.

  On the dais, Isobel drew swiftly back from Alexander, and turned to look up at the gallery overhead. “Was it well done?” she asked.

  As Marcus leaned his hands on the balustrade and looked down, Alexander leaped back as if scalded. Guilty color rushed into his face, and he looked reproachfully at Isobel.

  Marcus nodded at her. “It was well done. Now the rest is up to me.” His eyes swung to meet Alexander’s. “Continue to take my advice, my friend. Follow the dictates of your heart, just as I do.”

  As Marcus left the gallery, Alexander looked accusingly at Isobel. “What is going on? What have you done?”

  “I have been entirely honest, and I have seen to it that you have been as well. Elizabeth was at the top of the staircase a moment or so ago, and she saw us together.”

  Alexander closed his eyes. “And you think that that was something well done?” he breathed.

  She took his hands. “Yes, Alexander, I do, for you and I belong together, just as Elizabeth belongs with Marcus.”

  He stared at her. “With Marcus?”

  She nodded. “It’s a long story, but one which I hope with all my heart will end as we all wish.” She looked toward the top of the staircase, where now there were only shadows. “I pray that Elizabeth will hear him out, for her happiness depends upon it.”

  Alexander ran his hand perplexedly through his hair. “I think you should explain all this to me.”

  “I will, sir, for a small price,” she replied coquettishly.

  “A small price?”

  “Kiss me again, and then I will tell you whatever you wish to know.” She linked her arms around his neck once more, stretching up toward his lips.

  He could not resist her, and once again pulled her into his arms.

  * * * *

  Elizabeth’s taffeta gown rustled as she hurried back to her room. Violet and Annie were still talking as she approached, and Annie quickly left, pausing only to bob a polite curtsy to Elizabeth as they passed, but Elizabeth did not even glance at her.

  Violet stood aside for her mistress to enter. “Is something wrong, madam?” she asked anxiously, seeing how pale Elizabeth was.

  Putting the candlestick down, Elizabeth turned to face her. “Violet, I begin to think that nothing will ever be right again.”

  “Is there anything I can do, madam?” Violet closed the door and went quickly to her.

  Elizabeth gave her a small smile. “No, thank you, Violet. Oh, except see to it that all callers are kept out. I could not possibly speak to anyone tonight.”

  “Very well, madam.” The maid watched sadly as Elizabeth went to sit in the chair by the fire. The careful plan that Annie had described had evidently not worked as it should, for no one could have looked more unhappy and low than her mistress did now.

  The room was so quiet that they both distinctly heard male footsteps approaching along the passage outside. Elizabeth sat forward anxiously. “Don’t admit anyone, Violet.”

  “I won’t, madam.”

  But as the maid answered the single knock, there was no chance to refuse entry, for Marcus had more than anticipated what Elizabeth’s instructions would be, and so he strode past the maid and confronted Elizabeth.

  “I will not waste words, madam, but since I have now proved to you that Alexander and Isobel are far from uninterested in each other, perhaps it is now time to also correct certain other erroneous notions you appear to have. It pleased you to read my private correspondence, and to judge me upon its imagined content, and so now I actually request you to read this second letter.” He held up a folded sheet of paper that bore a broken wax seal.

  She rose slowly to her feet. “What possible purpose will be served by pursuing this matter, sir? Why can you not simply desist? I now accept beyond all shadow of doubt that Alexander and Isobel are in love with each other, and I can assure you that I have no intention at all of attempting to stand between them. They are entirely at liberty to be together, and I only wish that Alexander had been more truthful with me this morning.”

  “As truthful as you were with him?”

  She colored. “Or as you were with me?” she countered.

  “Oh, I have been truthful, Elizabeth, believe me, I have. Please read this letter, and if there is then anything you feel you wish to say to me, you will find me in the library.” He pressed the letter into her unwilling hand, and then turned to walk out again.

  Violet closed the door again, and then looked guiltily at her mistress. “I couldn’t stop him, madam, for he just walked straight past me.”

  “It wasn’t your fault, Violet,” Elizabeth replied quickly. She gazed down at the letter. It was addressed to Marcus’s American residence, and had been sent to him by Constance Bannerman. She hesitated. Part of her wanted desperately to read the contents, but part of her was afraid that its words would not banish all trace of doubt. She felt bruised by all that had happened, and now she did not know if she could place her trust in anyone.

  Violet came closer. “You must read it, madam,” she ventured suddenly.

  Elizabeth looked at her in surprise. “Why do you say that?”

  “Because the duke loves you, madam, and because I think you love him.” The maid lowered her eyes a little nervously for she knew that she had overstepped the invisible line that separated what was permissible from what was not.

  Elizabeth searched her face. “What makes you think the duke loves me?”

  “He told Lady Isobel that he did, Lady Isobel told Annie, and Annie told me.”

  If the whole matter had not been so serious, Elizabeth would have smiled at such a response. Was there anyone here at Rainworth who did not know the story of tangled love in which all four persons above-stairs had been involved over the past few days?

  “Please read it, madam,” the maid pressed.

  Elizabeth unfolded the sheet of paper, and began to read.

  My dear Marcus,

  I know that you will f
ind it hard to forgive me for betraying your love as I have, and I freely admit that everything has been my fault, but please believe me when I say that I did not ever wish to hurt you. I should not have seen Henry Devenish when I had already pledged to marry you, but I could not help myself. I loved him before I met you, but he did not then return my affection. When I met him again, and he saw me with new eyes, I could not help myself. I know that I behaved very badly indeed, and that I should have halted our marriage arrangements, but I simply could not face anyone with the truth. My parents were always so delighted about our match that telling them about Henry was very difficult, and as to telling you what I had done, well, that was the most difficult thing of all.

  It is because I still feel very deeply about you that I am writing this letter now. I will always love you, Marcus, but it is the love of a very dear friend who prays with all her heart that you will one day be able to forgive her for what she has done,

  I know that one day soon you will find someone who will love you as you deserve to be loved, and I hope that when that happens you will be able to think kindly of me again.

  Your affectionate and eternal friend,

  Constance

  Elizabeth’s hands shook a little as she carefully closed the letter again.

  Violet waited with almost breathless anticipation. “Will you go to speak to him in the library, madam?” she blurted at last, unable to bear the suspense.

  Tears shimmered in Elizabeth’s eyes, and she nodded. “Yes, I must,” she said softly.

  Violet gave a glad smile. “Oh, madam!”

  But as Elizabeth took a candle and left the room to go to the library, she did not know what she would say to him. She had made such dreadful accusations, called him dishonorable and blackguardly, and she had even gone so far as to strike him… When she had conducted herself in such a fashion, it was hardly to be expected that he still wished to turn the clock back to those idyllic and wonderful moments on the terrace that morning.

  Chapter 18

  The candlelight swayed over the cornflower-blue of her taffeta gown as she paused by the closed door of the library. Suddenly she was afraid to go in, afraid that all the things she had said were too harsh, and that all he wanted of her now was an apology.

  He seemed to know she was there, for he opened the door suddenly, and the light from within flooded over her. He extended an arm to usher her inside. “Please come in,” he said coolly.

  His tone dismayed her, and all her doubts and fears multiplied as she went reluctantly inside.

  He closed the door and leaned back against it, his blue eyes as cool as his tone. “I take it that you have read the letter?”

  “Yes.”

  “And?”

  “And I have been dreadfully wrong.” She could not conceal how her hand shook as she held the letter out to him.

  He took the letter and tossed it on to the desk, where it fell close to the miniature of Constance. “Is that all you have to say, Elizabeth? Simply that you’ve been dreadfully wrong?”

  “I…I must ask you to forgive me.”

  “And I suppose that I, being a gentleman after all, must be obliged to grant that forgiveness?”

  “I do not wish you to feel obliged, sir, for I hope that you will forgive me because you want to.” She was struggling against tears, for more than anything she wanted to fling herself into his arms and beg his forgiveness, beg his kindness, his love…

  But he was unbending. “Perhaps I would want to forgive you, if I felt that you were really sorry for disbelieving me so cruelly in the first place.”

  “Cruelly?” Her eyes fled to meet his. “I…I thought that you were deceiving me, that you still loved Constance!”

  “Even when I had asked you to be my wife?” He gave an incredulous laugh. “By God above, Elizabeth, what manner of monster did you take me for?”

  She closed her eyes as the tears had their way. “I loved James, but he was cruel and faithless,” she whispered. “I thought I loved Alexander, but then I had to face the fact that I did not love him enough, and now he loves Isobel, and I no longer know what is certain and what is not. I love you, Marcus, but I am afraid of being hurt again, for when I am with you I feel as I once did with James, but it all turned so miserably sour before, and now…” Her voice trailed away, and the tears wended their way down her cheeks.

  “And because it happened before, ergo it must happen again?” His voice was no longer cold. “Oh, Elizabeth, I promise you that this time you may trust your heart, for what I feel for you will never waver. I love you, and I always will.”

  Her breath caught, and she took a hesitant step toward him. He relieved her of the candlestick, placing it on the desk, and then he swept her into his arms again, kissing her almost fiercely on the lips.

  She pressed close, returning the kiss with such a release of wild emotion that she was oblivious to the library, oblivious to everything except the soaring joy of holding him.

  He took her face in his hands, kissing the tears on her cheeks. “Are all our misunderstandings unraveled now?”

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  “You know once and for all that I love you and wish to marry you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is there anything, anything at all that still makes you anxious?”

  “Nothing,” she breathed, her eyes still shining with tears.

  “The future is ours?”

  “If you wish it,” she said softly.

  “Oh, I wish it,” he replied firmly, “and from now on that is how it will be.” His lips brushed hers again.

  She held him, savoring the moment, for she did not wish it to end.

  He drew back at last, his eyes dark as they looked into hers. “We must go to the others, for I fear that Alexander is still in a lather of guilt over you, and will not believe that all is well until he hears it from your own lips. I also fear that Isobel is not entirely at ease, for she knows that she has not conducted herself as a proper young lady should.”

  “My own conduct has hardly been beyond reproach.”

  “Nor has mine, which means that we all four bear a portion of blame. But since no one has become a loser, and everyone is with the partner of his or her choice, I think that our little cotillion here in the country has been excellently danced, don’t you?”

  “Our own private L’Echange?”

  He smiled. “That is how I see it.”

  “There was a time when I was indifferent to that dance, but now…”

  “Now it will always be a favorite?” he finished for her.

  “Yes.”

  He drew her palm tenderly to his lips.

  * * * *

  Alexander and Isobel were still waiting in the great hall. She was seated on one of the chairs by the long table, and he was pacing nervously up and down. They both turned the moment they heard the others approaching the top of the grand staircase.

  Isobel bit her lip anxiously, praying that everything had turned out the way she and Marcus had plotted it would. Alexander hardly dared look, for he could not bear to think that Elizabeth had witnessed how he had finally given in to the irresistible love he now had for her cousin. It did not matter that he had learned that she had formed an attachment for Marcus, for he, Alexander, had not observed her in any misconduct, it only mattered that he had indeed transgressed, and that Elizabeth had seen his fall from grace.

  But as Elizabeth and Marcus appeared at the top of the staircase, and those in the hall saw how warmly intimate they were, it was immediately clear that everything had unraveled very satisfactorily indeed.

  With a joyful cry, Isobel rose to her feet and hurried toward them as they reached the bottom of the staircase. There she flung her arms around Elizabeth. “Oh, Elizabeth, I’m so very happy!” she cried a little tearfully.

  “And so am I, Isobel,” Elizabeth replied, returning the hug.

  Isobel’s green eyes became penitent then. “I’m truly sorry for the way I’ve behaved. I’ve b
een a monstrous brat.”

  “It doesn’t matter now.”

  “But it does. I even fibbed about Father’s illness. They don’t expect me at Southwell Park, indeed they think I’m still in London. Oh, and when I think of all those crocodile tears I shed in front of poor Aunt Avery, and the way I fainted away in Hyde Park…” Isobel pressed her hands to her hot cheeks. “I don’t know what came over me, truly I don’t.”

  Elizabeth couldn’t help a smile. “Love came over you, that’s all.” Then she turned to Alexander, who had lingered uneasily a few feet away. She smiled at him. “I’m not angry or upset, Alexander, so please do not fear that I bear a grudge. Besides, how could I possibly accuse you when all the time I have been less than honest myself?”

  Alexander smiled with relief, running his fingers through his hair. “All’s well that ends well?”

  “Yes.”

  Marcus took her hand, kissing the fingertips. “Yes, all’s well that ends well, or at least it will be, for we are to be man and wife.”

  Isobel turned swiftly to Alexander, slipping her arms coquettishly around his neck and pouting a little. “You haven’t asked me a very important question yet, sir,” she declared.

  “An important question?” he replied, his eyes wide and apparently uncomprehending.

  “You must ask me to marry you.” She frowned a little crossly. “Sir Alexander Norrington, must it be left to me? Very well, whether this is a leap year or not, I ask you to do me the inestimable honor of becoming my husband.”

  He grinned. “Well, madam, since you have compromised me beyond all redemption, I suppose I must accept.”

  “You beast!” she cried, realizing that he had been teasing her. But she laughed with happiness as she raised her lips to meet his.

  Elizabeth and Marcus were also lost in each other’s arms. She gazed into his eyes. “I love you, my lord duke,” she whispered.

  “I trust you do, Mrs. French, for the moment you are my duchess I intend to prove that my kisses so far have not been empty promises.”

  His lips were warm and tender over hers, and she could feel the throb of his heart. Then he drew back, his eyes dark with loving desire. “Madam, I rather think that a special license will be required, and right quickly at that!”