by Joan Smith
“You read Chaucer? I thought young ladies of your class contented themselves with Byron and Mrs. Radcliffe.”
“As I have told you, Papa is really shocking in the way he has let the library fall out of date, and we have no lending library in the village. But I daresay when I get to London next year, I shall catch up on all the latest works.”
“You won’t have time for that, Miss Ellie,” he answered with a smile. “Balls and breakfasts and routs and drives in the park—no time at all for reading.”
She looked quite alarmed. “Is it so bad as that?”
“Bad? It is considered good by most ladies, I believe. In fact, the more engagements you can crowd into one day, the more successful the Season is considered to be.”
A flicker of a smile came and went so quickly on her face it was hard to be sure whether it had ever existed. “It is the beauties that you are speaking of, I collect. A plain girl will not be so rushed off her feet.”
“What, fishing for compliments, Miss Ellie? And I am now to assure you that you are by no means a plain girl, I suppose?”
“Save yourself the trouble. I know I am plain compared to my sisters.”
“Well, you are not,” he told her gallantly. “You bear a strong resemblance to Lady Siderow, and when you are fixed up—that is, when you have mastered all the tricks of flirting and what not, you will go on famously.”
“Yes, Joan felt I was not ready to make my debut this year. I daresay she was right, even if I am the elder.”
“A whole ten minutes older! You are not much alike, for twins.”
“No, we are not the sort of twins that are exactly alike. Wanda has more confidence. If she were the elder, she would be called Miss Wanderley, as the elder should be, but somehow we are called Miss Ellie and Miss Wanda. It started, I suppose, before the other girls were married.”
“Wanda tells me you are the shy one,” he said, and smiled. She was gratified to see it was his nice, warm smile, not the chilly parting of the lips she had received the other morning.
“I am not shy, precisely. I can converse well enough with one or two persons, as now. It is only that I clam up like a lobster in a large crowd. Joan says I have not the gift of small talk, but she thinks it can be acquired.”
“Well, don’t change, Miss Ellie, for shy beauties are all the rage.” He regarded her shy blush, despite her small audience, and considered his blatant lie. Shy beauties were not at all the rage. The Rose set the tone, and a less shy creature than that brazen hussy had never seen the light of day. But even if Miss Ellie were shy, she had countenance, and considerable charm and vivacity. She was not exactly a beauty. Wanda was the beauty of the two—no doubt of that. With a little confidence, however, and town bronze, Ellie would hold her own. At least she was conversable, which Wanda, for all her looks and wiles, was not. He did not much look forward to returning to the Green Saloon, but could not make the selection of a book last forever, so he grabbed any old book from the shelf (it happened to be Guthrie’s Geography) and returned, just in time to replace Rex, who promptly vanished out the door, one of Adam’s cheroots in his pocket
The game did not last much longer, and the gentlemen were soon heading back to the Abbey. “Still set in your decision to have her?” Rex asked.
“Certainly. She looked very well this evening, did she not?”
“Rigged to the nines. And Hibbard wasn’t there, I noticed. I guess it ain’t as well settled between them as I thought. I asked about him while you was out, and she said, ‘This isn’t the only house Mr. Hibbard calls at. Pray don’t go giving anyone that idea.’ I guess I know what ‘anyone’ she had in mind, eh? You was gone a deuced long time, Clay. What kept you? You ain’t usually one to shove your nose into a book. Not the musty old books you’ll find in Adam’s stacks anyway.”
“I was having a chat with Miss Ellie.”
“That’d be a rare treat,” Rex offered ironically.
“Yes, she is an intelligent girl.”
“Not in your style.”
“Funny, you said the other day I should do better to offer for Ellie.”
“I wasn’t thinking when I said that. She wouldn’t do for you at all, though she’s nicer than Wanda. What you want is a beauty to set the Rose down a notch, and Wanda is the one to do it right enough. Looking very fine this evening.”
“Lovely. I am taking her out in my curricle tomorrow afternoon. Her mama threw no rub in my way. I thought she might find it a trifle fast.”
“No, not in the country. Where you taking her?”
“I don’t know. What do you suggest?”
“There’s Needford, about ten miles away. Got an old church there you might have a look at.”
“That wouldn’t amuse Wanda.”
“It’d be up to you to provide the amusement yourself. Stop at some inn for tea. Buy her a trinket, Clay, that’s the thing to do. Then after you go home she has it to look at, and remember you.”
“Yes, a good plan. What will you do?”
“I’ll think of something. Maybe I’ll go with you.”
“Now really. Little romance that will add to the atmosphere.”
“I could take Ellie. A bit off-putting for her, seeing Wanda jaunter off with her beau, while she sits home like Cinderella.”
“If you do that, take her in your own curricle, and don’t be suggesting we all go together in a carriage. It is privacy with the young lady I require.”
“Don’t worry. I ain’t that fond of Wanda’s company that I’d put myself forward to share your trap. Course I daresay Ellie’d prose my ear off about saints and martyrs and what not—going to a church, you know. Maybe I’ll take Missie instead. That’d please Mama.”
“Yes, that’s a good idea.”
“Or I could take ‘em both, and let ‘em rattle on to each other, and slip off for an ale while they go to church.”
“And they end up trailing after Wanda and me! No, my friend. If you take them, you conduct them to this curst church yourself.”
“Shouldn’t ought to call a church curst, Clay. Not the thing. A shocking loose fish you’re becoming.”
“Shocking.”
Chapter Five
After the gentlemen departed, Mrs. Wanderley called for a fresh pot of tea, and the three ladies commenced to rehash the evening in the time-honored fashion, while Abel slid out the door to indulge in another time-honored custom pertaining to gentlemen. This particular entertainment was named Effie; she was a poacher’s daughter who entertained many young gentlemen in the neighborhood.
“It went well, I think,” Mrs. Wanderley began, addressing her speech to Wanda. Mrs. Wanderley smiled fondly at her beauty as she spoke, and remarked, as she so frequently did, that of all her lovely daughters, it was Wanda who most closely resembled herself at that age. Yes, and she was still a good-looking woman too, even if she had passed that hateful half-century mark on her last birthday.
“You should have had a few more guests, Mama,” Ellie suggested. “You are making it too obvious you mean to nab him for Wanda. Besides, it is very bad to throw poor George over, when he was as well as accepted.”
“And who said anything about throwing him over?” Wanda demanded. “Surely we may entertain another guest if we choose. Besides, he called on Nora Langdon last Sunday. I heard it from her brother.”
“That was only because you were flirting with that ugly old Elmer Rountree after church,” Ellie reminded her sister.
“I was not flirting with him! In fact, I told him I would be busy Sunday evening, and then George didn’t even call, but went slipping off to the Langdons’.”
“Children, children! No wrangling, please. Remember you are ladies. It is this evening’s entertainment we are discussing. I thought the cream cake had an odd flavor. I wonder if cook used cream that was going bad in it.”
“No, Mama,” Ellie explained. “It was Papa’s vanilla beans that lent it that odd taste, though I did not mind it, and Rex said it was very good.”<
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“It is not Rex’s opinion we are interested in, my love. Did Claymore comment on it, Wanda?”
“No, Mama. I wonder where he means to take me tomorrow afternoon.”
“What, are you walking out with him tomorrow?” Ellie asked, as this was the first she had heard of it
“No, driving out with him in his curricle. I suppose we might drive over to Langdon’s. How I should love to see Nora’s face—”
“Are you mad?” her mother interposed hotly. “Let that sassy chit of a Nora get her talons into him, when she has already whisked young Hibbard right out from under your nose! Don’t be such a goose, Wanda. Take him over to Needford. There is that old church there you might show him.”
“He won’t care about a church. But they have a rather good inn, and I expect we will be stopping for tea.”
“It sounds very fast to me,” Ellie objected, but in such an obvious pique of jealousy that no one heeded her.
“Invite him for dinner after,” Mrs. Wanderley suggested. “Never mind that he will not be dressed. It will be only a potluck thing, quite en famille. We can send word over to the Homberlys’ not to expect him back.”
“You are going a deal too fast, Mama,” Ellie warned again. “Joan always says to play hard to get, especially when it is perfectly clear that the gentleman is smitten.”
“It is not perfectly clear yet, Ellie, for he did not stay in the room when he was odd man out at the card game, but went shabbing off to the library or some such thing. I daresay he slipped out for a cigar, for he was gone a long time.”
Ellie kept quiet, and did not reveal where he had gone. She might not receive a scold for her part in his absence, but she would be given to understand she had erred.
“He was dangling after Gloria Golden all Season. Everyone knows that,” Wanda sniffed. “He is only making up to me to pretend he wasn’t jilted. I am not at all sure I shall oblige him by being his new flirt.”
“Flirt indeed!” Mrs. Wanderley said in a shocked voice. “I should say not. If he is not serious in his intentions, he may take himself off. But Gloria is engaged, my love, so he is quite free, you know. Quite something to be a marchioness. Neither Joan nor Caroline did so well as that. Plain Mrs. Hibbard is nothing in comparison to it.”
“We’ll see,” Wanda replied, with a very smug smile. Pooh for Nora Langdon. George Hibbard would see what happened if he chose to ignore her. Not only had he called on Nora Langdon on Sunday evening, but here it was Wednesday, and she had not heard from him since Saturday. She was not so unnatural as to dislike the idea of becoming a marchioness and outdoing all her sisters, but the thing was, she loved George.
She would be plain Mrs. Hibbard—not even a baronetcy or a knighthood. But George was wildly handsome, with the most melting brown eyes—much nicer than Claymore’s. His had a bored, glazed look in them when he spoke to her. She saw very clearly why the Rose preferred Everleigh. Something about Claymore gave the impression that he was insincere. All his compliments and pleasantries had a strained sound to them, as though it were just some dull game he was playing. Without ever for one moment underestimating her own considerable charms, she thought the Marquis of Claymore did not love her. Still, he would be extremely useful in bringing George to heel.
“Wear your yellow gown, Wanda, and that lovely green crocheted shawl that Caroline got you in London, in case it becomes chilly. And don’t dress your hair in that style you are wearing tonight, for in a curricle it will be windy. Wear a close-fitting bonnet, and perhaps you might slip it off in the inn to show off your hair. You will be in a private parlor, and you might say it makes you warm.”
Wanda nodded, and yawned, and very soon excused herself and went off to bed. Her mother, too, arose and said to her other daughter, “Don’t stay up all night, Ellie. And for goodness’ sake, can’t you do something else with your hair besides scraping it all back like a washerwoman? It is not at all attractive, love. Next year I shall take you in hand, and see if we can’t nab a title for you, too. Hah! How I laugh every time I think how Marie Homberly and her set used to pity me, having four daughters. A title and a fortune for every one of them, and then Abel, too, at last, to secure the estate.”
She pranced off in high good humor, and actually hummed as she mounted the stairs to her room. The hum died on her lips as she noticed the threadbare carpeting beneath her feet. Nuisance of a man, with his expensive flowers. Drapes for the three drawing rooms this year, or she would go to London and stay with Joan till he came around.
Once Rex was so indiscreet as to indicate to Missie that he might take her for a spin in his curricle, his fate was sealed. Not only did she rag the life out of him herself, but she also told her mama, who promptly added her solicitations to those of her daughter. Actually, Rex was rather fond of his little sister, and showed it in the usual manner of elder brothers by forgetting her existence nine-tenths of the time, teasing her occasionally, and bristling at any slight offered to her by anyone but himself. In any case, by midmorning it was firmly established that Missie was to go to Needford with Rex.
Missie and her mother were both of the opinion that it was Miss Ellie Wanderley who was to accompany Lord Claymore in his curricle. Wanda, after all, was as well as engaged. So Missie was happy in the knowledge that she would have a famous outing. She and Ellie were bosom-bows in spite of the two years that separated them. It was largely Missie’s approval, in fact, that led Rex to consider her such a right ‘un.
At the last moment Mrs. Homberly was hit with the marvelous notion of Missie going in Claymore’s carriage as far as the Wanderleys’. Claymore was not caught in the parson’s mousetrap yet, and who was to say he wouldn’t as lief have Missie as Ellie. Obviously he was not looking about for a lady of fashion. Unaware of the reason for this slight modification of plan, Missie hopped happily into the curricle, and proceeded to amuse Claymore with a recital of how she planned to be an actress when she grew up, which whiled away the time very gaily for both. Clay congratulated her on her interesting choice of career, and asked nonchalantly if her mama knew of it.
“No, no one but Miss Ellie knows, for we are very good friends. I had hoped she might come to London with me, but I suppose now...”
“Has Miss Ellie different plans then?”
“But of course she has. That is ... well, she very likely will have, if you make her an offer.”
A startled brown eye was lifted from the road long enough to show Clay’s astonishment. “Make her an offer!”
“That is why you’re here, isn’t it? At least Mama thinks it is, and I must say, I don’t know why else you would come to the Abbey, for there is nothing here to amuse an out-and-outer like you. Yes, and I am sure Rex said you came to make an offer to Miss Wanderley. Ellie is Miss Wanderley, even if no one calls her that. Besides, it can’t be Wanda, for she is practically engaged, because, of course, she is so much prettier.”
“No, you exaggerate the matter. She has said nothing to me about being on the verge of an engagement.”
“Why should she? It’s Ellie you’re dangling after.”
“No, it is not.”
“Oh.” Missie looked moderately surprised. “But it can’t be Wanda. And why are you taking Ellie to Needford if it is Wanda you fancy?”
“You misunderstand the matter. It is Wanda I am taking to Needford.”
“What?” Missie demanded, deeply offended at this trick. “You mean Ellie is not coming? If I’d known that, I should have stayed at home. It won’t be any fun with Wanda.”
Clay heard the blunt exclamation with outward calm, and asked on what that assumption was based.
“I hoped we might have a curricle race. Rex says he has sixteen-mile-an-hour horses, and I was sure we would have a race. But if Wanda is along, she will not want to go fast, for it will ruin her hair, or give her freckles, or some such thing.”
“Your mama would not appreciate our racing with ladies in the curricle,” he comforted her. “Not quite the thing, you k
now.”
“No, but I wouldn’t care, and neither would Ellie. So Ellie is not to come at all, then? I wonder if Rex would mind if I stayed behind at the Wanderleys’. Then he needn’t go dragging off to Needford at all, and you can take me back to the Abbey with you, which will please Mama.”
Clay bit back a smile at her artlessness. “A pity you hadn’t sent a note ahead asking Ellie to come with you. Your brother mentioned it last night, and there would be room in his curricle, I think.”
“Did Rex mention it? Well then, I shall ask her when we get there.”
“She won’t be ready.”
“Pooh! How long will it take her to throw on a hat and a pelisse?”
“Quite a while, if she is in the state she was in the other day, covered with mud and messing around in flower pots.”
“That’s true. I hadn’t thought of that. But if she is clean, I shall ask her to come.”
The young lady’s physical state of readiness was not immediately evident upon their arrival, for she was nowhere to be seen. Was, in fact, sulking in her room, determined not to be hanging about like an unwanted dog when Claymore arrived for Wanda. Upon the breathless entry of Missie into her chamber, and a hasty explanation of the situation, she had on her little buff straw bonnet and a paisley shawl that clashed dreadfully with her sprigged muslin in the twinkling of a bedpost. There was really no need for such haste, for the gentlemen arrived at the appointed hour, and naturally Wanda the Wonderful had to keep them waiting for a quarter of an hour while she put the finishing touches on her toilette. She was not such a flat as to be ready and waiting! A protective layer of Gowland’s Lotion was carefully applied to her charming visage, for wind and sun wreaked havoc with a delicate complexion. Then she had to try on the mauve silk pelisse and see whether it didn’t go better with the yellow gown, but it looked gaudy, so she exchanged it for the green crocheted shawl, as Mama had suggested.