The Last Earl

by Lara Blunte

  "Bring another shawl. And a hairbrush," Catherine instructed Henriette and ran to see if her mother was ready.

  As their carriage approached Halford, Catherine saw that the front door was open, and several footmen in livery were waiting. She saw a great deal of light coming through the ballroom windows and heard strains of music.

  "It's a ball!" Catherine cried.

  Lady Ware was looking fearfully at the castle. She hadn't been there since the murders. Catherine took her hand, "Oh, mama, I know ─ but it has been a long time! He needs to be happy now, don't you see? And we need to help him!"

  Lady Ware nodded, knowing that Catherine was right, and thinking that if she encouraged their bond they were more likely to announce it sooner, and avoid scandal.

  Mother and daughter alighted from the carriage and Henriette followed. The foyer was alive again, all furniture uncovered, fresh flowers blooming out of large vases; the footmen took their cloaks and led them to the ballroom. Lady Ware couldn't help a fearful look up the stairs, as if she expected the murdered family to be there, staring down at them. But for once she squared her shoulders as she felt Catherine take her hand. She smiled at her daughter; she couldn't spoil the happiness in her face.

  When they got to the ballroom, Catherine almost gasped, because it had always been deserted and covered when she visited the castle, and she had not realized how magnificent it was. There were masterfully painted panels and Venetian mirrors from wall to wall; the ceiling curved and had roses carved on it, and the floor was polished to a high sheen. The crystals in the biggest chandelier she had ever seen caught the very last light of day and sparkled like stars.

  There was no one but Adrian and the musicians in the room. He was elegantly dressed and looked impossibly handsome. Catching her eye he showed her that he was holding his white gloves, as a gentleman was meant to do at balls; but he was only teasing her, she knew he wouldn’t put them on.

  "Are we early, my dear?" asked Lady Ware.

  "No, you're on time." He saw her looking around and smiled. "It's only us."

  Lady Ware couldn't hide her surprise or Catherine her delight. He made use of the privilege of a kinsman to kiss her cheek and whispered, "Happy birthday."

  Her eyes shone with joy. He accompanied them to the sofa as cold champagne was served.

  "Your dance card," he said to Catherine, holding a small booklet up. She took it from him. It read: 1.The Earl of Halford. 2.Viscount Montrose. 3. Baron Layne. 4. Adrian Stowe. 5. Geoffrey Alexander. The card listed all sorts of combinations of his names and titles.

  Catherine looked up at him and dimpled. "I'm glad to have so many gentlemen to dance with, as I plan not to stop at all."

  He inclined his head. "I imagined. And a single gentleman might have a stroke in view of so much exertion. But first," he turned to Lady Ware and bowed, mimicking the behavior of well-bred men at balls. "I've longed to have this honor!"

  A light waltz began and Lady Ware managed to refrain from protesting as he led her to the floor. Soon she was laughing, remembering what it was like to move to music. Catherine couldn't recall the last time she had seen her mother dance and watched with a smile.

  Adrian escorted Lady Ware to her seat and turned to extend his hand to her daughter as another waltz began.

  Lady Ware had thought that two people dancing alone in a ballroom would not look right, but as she watched them whirl gracefully in dance after dance she saw that they looked splendid. Catherine was like a swan, turning and turning in her feathered skirt. Lady Ware saw that Adrian's eyes seemed to caress her during a slow polonaise, and that she was lost in his gaze.

  Perhaps, the hapless mother thought, it was better that they should dance away from a crowd of observers.

  When they finally came to sit next to her to catch their breath and drink a little more champagne, she exclaimed, "I would not have supposed that you danced so well, Adrian! You never do!"

  Adrian had taken Catherine's fan and was using it to cool them both. "If you had been in London more often years ago, Aunt Helen, you'd have seen me forced by my father to dance with every debutante and every matron."

  Lady Ware laughed. "But your father was right in forcing you, for what amusement would be left to girls if handsome men refused to dance, or did it badly?"

  Catherine had rested long enough and jumped to her feet, pulling Adrian. Lady Ware saw that Henriette was near the door, watching, swaying a little to the music.

  Her own smile began to freeze as she turned her eyes back to the couple on the floor. Was the happiness that she witnessed tonight a herald for times to come? Was the curse finally lifting? Or was the fact that they were alone, without friends or acquaintances, in a castle where most shutters were still closed, a sign that nothing could ever be put right again, not for that poor damaged boy before her?

  They are so heartbreakingly beautiful, she thought. They look so happy. Why don't I trust any of it?

  Nevertheless the champagne did get a little to her because after a while she fell asleep. Adrian motioned the musicians to keep on playing and pulled Catherine through a side door onto the stone terrace. She leaned with her back against the wall as he looked down at her.

  "You're twenty-one," he said. "All grown up."

  It was a perfect evening. Halford Castle and the garden looked magical, and she could even see fireflies. "You've made me so happy!"

  "Is it that easy, then? It only cost me a few bob."

  "Don't make light of it."

  "No, it's no light matter," he said, his eyes on her face, his voice deep and low.

  She smiled. "Sometimes I think you are the devil himself, to trick a poor girl so..."

  He took her hand and kissed the inside of her wrist. She closed her eyes as he kissed her shoulder, and he then kissed her lips. She lifted her arms dreamily, and her hands closed around his neck.

  "I think I'll never forget tonight!" she sighed.

  She clung to him as the music drifted through the window. He started to hum it, and slowly he began to dance with her again.

  Henriette had crept to the door and watched them with a smile.

  III. Four. Bright and Dark

  The two young people would spend time at Lytton Hall as well, to avoid causing Lady Ware too much bewilderment and anxiety.

  However, they couldn't hide the fact that Adrian was more than a visitor and more than a kinsman; and yet he was not a suitor either, at least not a confessed one.

  This state of affairs was unacceptable to say the least. They had been flirting for months, they seemed to be quite close to each other, and yet there had been no proposal, no talk of marriage at all!

  They probably thought that she could not see the stolen glances between them, the smiles, the private language they shared. Only people who were in love did these things.

  If they sat with her they would seek to amuse her as well, by playing music and singing, or by talking to her, but she knew that her conversation was nowhere as entertaining as the ones they had alone.

  She would often hear them laughing when they were in another room; guffawing, really. It wasn't ladylike of Kitty to laugh like that. It wasn't ladylike of her to run by the river after Adrian, with the dog after both, or to be pushed so high on the swing, and in her beautiful hand-painted dress too!

  It wasn't ladylike or polite that Kitty should try to make Adrian laugh when there was company. Only the previous evening she had watched her daughter stare at him with eyes full of mischief when Sir Henry had been talking most interestingly about the role of England in the world, and she had seen Adrian doing his best not to look at Kitty — until he had accidentally glanced up at her and immediately started laughing into his wine glass.

  She didn't even know how to begin addressing everything that was happening, there was so much that was terribly wrong with it, even taking into consideration that they were of a different generation than she. If anything, mores were even stricter now than when she had been a girl! She fully
realized that it was her fault that Catherine should have lost her sense of propriety; parents must constantly enforce rules on young people because their desire to experience life was very great, and something innocent could still lead to scandal. Catherine had ruled the household since she was thirteen years old, and now that she was suddenly behaving wildly it was very difficult to stop her. Whereas before she had done some unusual things, such as receiving guests as if she were a married woman, now she was going too far. It was Adrian’s influence, of course ─ and Lady Ware knew that he had always done things differently than other people, and that he was not going to change now.

  However, Catherine spent so much time at Halford, that the very great danger of her losing her reputation forever finally drove Lady Ware to protest.

  "Kitty, you're a young woman! You cannot be running between the Hall and Halford with Henriette! You cannot meet Adrian alone!"

  Catherine felt terrible about abusing her mother's innocence, but she couldn't let Lady Ware dictate terms now. "Why shouldn't I? We aren't doing anything wrong!" She had the grace to blush slightly as she said this.

  Lady Ware was frowning, which was highly unusual. "Child, it's just not done! You must always meet him here, or I'll accompany you ─ even if you are to become engaged this behavior is wanton and will cause a lot of talk!"

  It was the first time her mother mentioned any possible relationship between her and Adrian, and she was obviously waiting to be told that they were in love and would be married. Catherine couldn't tell her what was truly happening, and she didn't know herself where it would lead, so she spoke recklessly: "Am I expected to care about what some old village biddies say, about the envy of these country girls? I don't!"

  "Catherine!" Lady Ware hardly ever called her by her full name. Her curls were shaking as she addressed her daughter. "You are getting your ideas from Adrian, but you must understand the difference between you. He's a man."

  "Good heavens!" Catherine cried. "I had never noticed!"

  "Don't be clever with me! He's a man and men can do what they like, especially if they are rich. A single whisper about a woman and her life is done!"

  Catherine looked calmly at her mother. "And in what way is it 'done'?"

  "You know very well! Any whisper spreads like wildfire, everyone will be talking about you!"

  "Let them!"

  "What? You silly girl, once that starts there is no turning back. You would be ruined!"

  "How would I be ruined? Would they come and take my money away, or burn me at the stake, or set fire to my house?"

  "No one would speak to you!"

  "Well, that can't happen soon enough!" Catherine said, and stood up.

  "Catherine! You don't know what you're saying! No one can live an isolated life! Everyone needs others! You've never been a thoughtless girl!"

  "I'm saying that I shall do what I want, when I know that there's no harm in it. I have heard what your friends talk about, for them there is harm in what people choose to wear and eat and which way they walk to church. Well, they will find something to say about me whether I see Adrian or not!"

  Lady Ware sat on the edge of the sofa, flushing, "You are the daughter of a Viscount! You have a position here! If your father..."

  Catherine was already leaving, but she turned back like a fury at this, "Don't ever say what he would do or what he would not! You can't know!"

  Marching out the drawing room, she stopped and leaned against the wall outside. Her blood had gone up when her mother had mentioned her father because she knew that, had he been alive, she would not behave in this way. She would not have given in to her mad passion at all. Her heart contracted to the size of a pea. I'm a monster, she thought as she heard sobs coming from the room.

  But, though her love for her mother was deep, her love for Adrian was a thousand times more tyrannical. And perhaps there was something in her that believed that she deserved this happiness at no matter what cost, something that reminded her that she had given up her childhood because her mother hadn't been strong enough, and that now Lady Ware must bear trouble for her sake.

  She wanted to run in and beg her mother's forgiveness for being so harsh, but there was no point, because she would not heed her plea, and she would spend every second she could with Adrian.

  Lady Ware knew she couldn't win against Catherine ─ and neither could she speak to Adrian about this because no one ever dared speak to him about anything. There was something to him which was not intractable or rude, but which still kept people at bay; it was a sense that he was apart and very far from others, and that he knew things that they did not know and would find their concerns paltry.

  She still believed that it was impossible for the two of them to do what was wrong, especially when they behaved like two children, but she allowed less and less people to come to Lytton Hall, afraid that they would see how freely Catherine was acting, or ask where she went on the curricle with Henriette all the time, or why she dressed in those simple gowns, and why did she not pin her hair up and wear a bonnet?

  Lady Ware waited and prayed for answers.

  

  There was a greater tenderness in Adrian as autumn came, and there was devastating shift in Catherine as well.

  As they lay together, she could feel something bright and dark eat at her like a glow at night; she thought this feeling would never end, it would never lessen ─ and this thought somehow lay beyond despair and beyond happiness at the same time.

  The rational part of her told her that she was losing herself completely, that she should have learned a lesson about how unpredictable he could be. She ought to return to the feeling she had had just a month ago, the feeling that she could overcome this passion and be whole again.

  Yet, just as rationally, she knew that she would do no such thing. To say that her heart was his was sentimental and shallow; she was his in a way that was deep, brutal and relentless.

  In his room he stopped moving in her and took a deep breath. He made her stop, holding her by the thigh. He then lowered his forehead onto hers, as if he loved her.

  This was the day they forgot themselves. She believed it was the day they conceived their child.

  

  It was winter before Catherine understood that she was carrying a new life.

  Only her relative innocence kept her from realizing it before. She had not bled in over two months, but she had no idea what that meant until the more knowledgeable Henriette told her she might have conceived.

  She would have been less shocked to know that some supernatural being had taken possession of her. What was she to do? When should she tell Adrian?

  Catherine knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that if she told Adrian he would marry her: he might be strange and follow his own rules but he was fundamentally honorable. He would never let her be exposed to the mockery of the world, even if he thought that marriage was an absurd convention, even if he did not love her enough or want a child.

  Yet she did not wish him to marry her because of that; she wanted him to love her first, and say it. A life with him where she would spend her days wondering if he had only done the honorable thing, wondering if he loved her or if he had forced himself to be by her side would be unbearable.

  Henriette told her of teas that she could drink, and advised her to jump from the stairs outside. She might be able to get rid of it. But, listening to her advice, Catherine already felt protective of the life she carried. This was Adrian's child; it was her child.

  "I'll never do such a thing," she told Henriette, glowering at her.

  "But madame, what will you do? You must tell him, then!"

  Soon he must be told, because soon, in spite of corsets and stays, the child would begin to show. She knew that once the priests had prepared ceremonies and the solicitors had drawn up contracts, they wouldn't belong to each other anymore but to the world. She had wanted nothing but to be married to him for months and now she dreaded it because their wedding would put an end
to the enchanted life they had been leading. She wanted that life forever.

  Lying on his bed, she tried to think of how to tell him about the child, and wondered how he would react. He had moved to the piano that he had brought there the day before. It looked as if the instrument had been his before by the way he touched it almost with love and polished it with his sleeve.

  He sat down and tried the fast notes of a partita by Bach; she had never heard him play, he always asked her to do it, and she hadn't even realized that he knew how.

  Suddenly his hands started moving more deliberately over the keys and she recognized a variation. He played Bach from memory, without a music sheet. The sound filled the room, speaking of sadness mixed with hope, and Catherine felt that the notes hovered around her. She loved music and sought it as often as possible, but she had never heard anyone play like that, with such understanding. That very piece was often played quickly, but he dragged the melancholy parts out, hardly touching a key on an accent, hinting at joy, and then infusing the joyful parts with longing.

  A great emotion started to rise in her; she clutched the ring he had given her, feeling the metal warm her hand until it seemed to burn it. She didn't want to spill the tears that sprang to her eyes, but the music wrenched them from her.

  His head bent over the piano, he didn't see that she had started weeping until the end of the piece, when he looked up.

  "Kate! What is it, why are you weeping?"

  I'm afraid, she wanted to tell him. But she just shook her head. "The music ─ it's so beautiful."

  He came to her side and smiled, kissing her. "I hate to see you sad even because of music, sugary one," he told her, and she smiled through her tears.