by Joan Smith
“He only did it because of my accepting George, so you needn’t think he loves you. Yes, and he didn’t love me either. It is only that he was jilted by Rose, and he would take anyone rather than go back to London single. He is excessively proud and rude and fast, for he kissed me at the assembly at Needford.”
“Wanda!” her mother turned on her in wrath. “Really, that is too bad of you. What would George say if he heard of this?”
“He already knows. He saw us; I made sure of that.”
Ellie looked at her sister with a black hatred rising in her bosom. “It is nothing to brag about, Wanda. He would not have kissed you if you had not encouraged him.”
“Pooh! He likes me better than he likes you. I could have him today if I wanted him. Lucky for you I don’t.”
“This is the greatest nonsense, Wanda, and I wish you would stop making a goose of yourself. You are engaged to George, and there will be no more of this talk of kissing. I am excessively displeased with you. Even Caroline was not so fast as that.”
“He would not have offered for me if he liked you,” Ellie said, concealing her uncertainty under a thin veneer of sarcasm. Of course he had always preferred Wanda, and it was only after her engagement that he had offered for herself.
“Yes, and I don’t think you care for him either,” Wanda shot back. “You are only marrying a title. I would never be so crass.”
“Well, and what if she is?” Mrs. Wanderley took up the cudgels. “You might have done better than plain Mr. Hibbard yourself, my dear. The other girls both got a title.”
“Pooh, a phony Polish count,” Wanda replied.
“There is nothing in the least phony about Siderow. He is accepted everywhere. And so will Ellie be. The Marchioness of Claymore—just think of it.”
“That is not why I am marrying him,” Ellie said sternly.
“No, I suppose you are madly in love with him,” Wanda jeered. “You never spared him a glance or even fixed yourself to look decent to nab him, so don’t try to con us it is a love match. He is not nearly so handsome as George, and he is insincere, mouthing all sorts of compliments that he doesn’t mean in the least. A desperate flirt—that’s all he is, only trying to nab someone, some poor credulous creature, so that he may flaunt her in front of the Rose. I wasn’t so taken in. Little credit you will do him in London, in any case. I am surprised he was so desperate as this.”
“You are just jealous,” Ellie said, and she left the room, storing up every word spoken to be considered in privacy in her room. She was forced to admit there was likely a good deal of truth in them. She had never supposed he had actually kissed Wanda. That showed an unsteadiness of character—of affection—that surprised her. Well, maybe he didn’t love her yet, but if he was determined to marry someone, it might as well be her, for she loved him. Yes, and he would come to love her in time. She would do her hair in papers to please him, wear lovely gowns and learn to flirt, if that was what he wanted. Joan would tell her how to go on. She would not so much mind making her bows in London with Claymore by her side, to bolster her up. Even if he did love the Rose—and how she longed to catch a glimpse of this beauty who had set London on its ear—he could never marry her. She was engaged to a duke, so he might as well be married to herself as anyone else. He would not have proposed if he did not at least like her. He could have had his choice of anyone (except the Rose and Wanda). Funny though, he hardly looked as if he even liked her when he had proposed.
While Ellie brangled with her sister and worried in her room, Claymore drove back to the Abbey and demanded a bottle of wine, and none of that damned home-brewed ale.
“Ellie turned you down, too, did she?” Rex asked astutely.
“No, she snatched at the chance to get me.”
“Why are you in such a pelter then? Said you loved her.”
“She looked like the very devil, Rex. White as a ghost, and a plain outfit on her.”
“Lord, don’t let that bother you. The mama will deck her out to the nines before she hits the Metropolis. Don’t worry she’ll look a dowd. As to being a shade pale, well, you didn’t look any too chipper when you lit out for the Wanderley place yourself. Terrible strain it must be. Don’t know how you all go through it, just as though it were nothing. Ellie’s a fine girl, Clay. Make you a very good wife. Got countenance, and she ain’t the sort will be cutting capers behind your back either, like some I could mention, but won’t. Take that Wanda now,” he said immediately, apparently abandoning his noble plan of refraining from mentioning names.
“Yes, she’s head and shoulders over Wanda, except for the looks, of course,” Clay agreed. The wine was going down very well, and easing the strain and disappointment of his morning’s work.
“Yes, and think, too, if she’d said no, after you being so stupid as to tell Hansom, of all people, that you was engaged to her. Well, you’d have been ashamed to show your face for a year. You’re forgetting, Clay, how well she looked at that assembly in Needford. Daresay she had the hair yanked back today, and one of them drab old gowns she wears around the garden, but they’ll rig her up right before you have to be seen with her in London. She’ll do.”
“She’ll have to,” Clay said, taking another swig of wine. He was half reconciled to the idea, and wholly unprepared to face London a single man, so he remembered her in Lady Tameson’s green gown, and accepted her.
“Shall we take a couple of rods down to the trout stream?” Rex suggested.
“Rather hunt,” Clay said, and the subject of brides was closed.
Chapter Nine
Ellie had her hair done up in papers, and sent Wanda to the rafters by soliciting her mama’s aid in purloining one of Wanda’s London gowns for the dinner that evening. It was a beautiful pale violet silk with overskirt of gauze. There was a narrow band of violet velvet that went with it, to be wound through her hair. The hair turned out very well, with soft curls around her ears. She was so pale from nervousness before going down that she dipped into her mother’s rouge pot, and blended a little cream into her cheeks to get rid of that deathly pallor.
Mrs. Wanderley had had the presence of mind to send a note over to the Abbey including Rex in the invitation, as she knew his parents were gone to Bath. George Hibbard was to be present as well. Too many men, with Abel along too, but no matter. It was an intimate family dinner. She glowed to think of a marquis now included in the family. If she had another daughter, she made no doubt she could get a duke for her. And to crown it all, Claymore was settling twenty-five thousand pounds on Ellie. A fortune. She would be independently wealthy if anything should happen to him. God forbid. She crossed her heart, a habit she had picked up in the nursery from her Irish nurse.
Wanda, divining Ellie’s plan to shine in her violet gown, donned her white crepe and, with Abel’s contrivance, got an orchid from papa’s conservatory, which she wore in her hair. She looked, she thought modestly, very like a dark-haired angel. She practiced blushing smiles in the mirror, and noticed that she looked better—there was not much difference—from the left side. She must make sure Claymore got a view of her left profile. She transferred the orchid to the left side, and was bewitched herself at the enchanting picture she made. Claymore would be sorry he had not tried harder to fix her affections. Perhaps she would flirt with him a little, to lead him to believe he might have had her, had he only been a little patient.
The two sisters, apparently reconciled, awaited their gentlemen in the Green Saloon. George arrived first, and had to be informed of the shocking news of Ellie’s betrothal.
“Only think, George, it was Ellie he liked all the time,” Wanda smiled, turning her left profile to Hibbard. “And here you thought he was dangling after me. Of course, anyone might have made that mistake, when it was me he drove to Needford in his curricle, and he did appear partial. I daresay he was only shy, for Ellie is so intimidating.”
George looked at Ellie and frowned in embarrassment. “I daresay that’s it,” he said.
> Later Claymore and Rex arrived.
“Why, Lord Claymore—or should I say brother.” Wanda trotted up to them, utterly ignoring Homberly. “What a surprise you have given us. And here we thought it was blondes you preferred.”
“Evening, Miss Wanda,” Claymore said stiffly, looking over her head to Ellie, who had turned quite pale, with the two spots of rouge thus highlighted on her cheeks.
He walked past Wanda to his bride-to-be. “Hello, Ellie,” he said.
“Hello, Giles. Rex, I am happy you came, too.”
The embarrassment of this, their first meeting as a betrothed couple, was alleviated by the presence of Rex. “That chicken I smell, Ellie?” he asked, without even a word of felicitation or any mention of her betrothal. “Nobody makes chicken like your cook. Haven’t had a chicken in an age.” He sat down, feeling he had done very well by Clay’s command that he lend a hand if the conversation flagged.
“We had it last night,” Ellie said, seating herself beside him. “The chickens did very well this year.”
As Clay made no reply, Rex plunged in again. “Don’t they always? Mean to say, may hear of corn or grain having a bad year, but I never heard of it being a bad year for chickens.” Still no help from Clay, who was—now what the deuce was he up to? He had taken out a snuffbox. “Clay, you ain’t never going to take snuff!” Rex shouted in a carrying voice, so that every eye in the room was turned toward the Marquis in this, his first public execution of the tricky business of “taking a sniff.”
“Yes, certainly,” Claymore replied with a chilly smile. “Will you try my sort, Rex?” He offered the box, to put off the moment when he must do it himself.
“No, no, wouldn’t have a notion how to go about it. Silly, dirty habit. If I want to go into a fit of sneezing I’ll wear a damp shirt, for it wouldn’t be so uncomfortable as that awful stuff.”
His effort at sophistication shattered in this miserable fashion, Clay decided to slip the box into his pocket unopened. But he was not to be let off so easily. “Well, you’ve gone this far, might as well go whole hog and have a sniff,” Rex rattled on, revealing to one and all that this was in the nature of an initiation.
Hesitating only a moment, Clay flicked it open, attempting to do the whole with his left hand, as he had seen the Corinthians do in the city. Alas, his practice session had been short, and the flick of the lid was given with more force than was required. The little enameled box popped out of his hand, spilling its contents on the sofa, the carpet, and his own trousers.
A trill of laughter from across the room confirmed that Wanda had been watching the whole performance. “You will require a few more lessons before you manage it with one hand,” she called across to him.
Clay began brushing violently at his trousers, and Ellie said, “Pray, wait till I call a servant to do that with a brush, or you will stain your clothing.” She arose to pull a bell cord, and in the interval while awaiting the servant she said, “How do you two bachelors go on with no lady in the house?”
“Fine,” Clay said. His nerves were too ragged to say more.
“Pretty well,” Rex augmented. “Mrs. Ruxted is looking after us. We went coursing hares this afternoon. Got a nice one—I did, that is to say. Clay didn’t catch anything. Well, he ran a badger to ground, but that’s nothing. Daresay we’ll have a rabbit stew tomorrow. You like rabbit stew, Clay?”
“Yes, very much,” he said, and thought what a fiasco he was making of this important encounter. It was a wonder Ellie was not howling at him, like that viper of a Wanda. The servant arrived, and Ellie requested a feather duster and a whisk and dustpan to clean up “a little accident.”
“Had some very nice trout lately, too,” Rex continued with their menu. “I caught a beauty of a fellow. Mrs. Ruxted did it up with melted butter and lemon juice. Clay caught an old plaice. I told him to throw it back in, but he lugged it home. The Ruxteds ate it up. Can’t abide plaice.”
“I like sole,” Ellie said.
“Yes, but it wasn’t a sole; it was plaice,” Rex pointed out.
She demanded a description of this fish while awaiting the return of the servant. Claymore sat like a block, as his friend later informed him. He had never heard such a mundane conversation in such circumstances. Yet he was thankful for Rex’s presence, or he feared he and Ellie wouldn’t have a word to say to each other. The knowledge that it was his own fault, totally, quite cast him into an eclipse. It was in no way Ellie’s fault. She was behaving with perfect propriety and tact, and looking as pretty as she ever had, in a very nice getup.
Eventually the servant arrived, and looked helplessly at her mistress, with no idea what to do. Surely she, a menial, was not expected to go brushing at the lord’s clothing, yet he made no motion to take the duster from her.
Ellie reached out for it. “Perhaps if you stand up, Clay, most of it will fall off,” Ellie suggested. Claymore complied with this request, and Ellie took a few swipes at his legs with the feather duster, then handed it to the servant and directed her to use the brush on the sofa and carpet.
“Sorry to be such a nuisance,” Clay mumbled.
“It is no matter,” Ellie assured him. “That will be good enough, Mary.”
At this point Rex recalled the importance of this occasion, and felt some chivalry was called for. “You look nice, Ellie. New dress? Don’t recall seeing that one on Lady Tameson. Your own, is it?”
“Yes,” she said, then owned up scrupulously. “That is, it was Wanda’s, but it did not quite suit her.”
“How’s that, then? Same size and coloring as you. Ought to have suited her, for it looks well on you.”
“I am a little bigger than Wanda,” Ellie said. Actually, the gown was a trifle snug on her, and not very comfortable. She could not breathe as deeply as she would have liked. She looked shyly at her fiancé, and he smiled dutifully, wishing he were elsewhere, or at least alone with Ellie. He felt he could redeem his farouche behavior, if only they were alone, without Wanda staring at him from across the room, and Rex forever saying something to make him look stupid.
Just then, Wanda beckoned to him from across the room, where she sat on a sofa beside the grate. He was happy enough to have something to do, and he excused himself to the others and joined her.
“George has taken the absurd notion into his head that you don’t like him, because of that little affair in the garden at the assembly in Needford. I have told him you two must shake hands and be friends, for you are to be connected now by our marriages.”
“No hard feelings, Hibbard,” Clay said readily, offering his hand.
“Called me a raving lunatic,” Hibbard reminded his new friend, but he accepted the hand and nearly wrenched it from the wrist
Wanda laughed gaily. “That would be because you are so foolish as to offer for me,” she taunted.
“Hadn’t offered for you then,” George reminded her.
Wanda ignored this point. “Lord Claymore has no very good opinion, you must know, of gentlemen who prefer brunettes. Oh dear, how could I forget? He has changed his mind on that score—so suddenly! You do prefer Ellie to blondes, do you not, brother?”
“Ain’t your brother yet,” George said, and was again ignored.
“Yes, I do,” Clay replied.
“Do sit down. Claymore,” Wanda said, jiggling closer to Hibbard and making room for him at her other side. Then she had things exactly as liked, with all the eligible gentlemen she cared for at her side. Clay sat, looking across the room at Ellie as he did so, and knowing instinctively that he ought to be there with her.
“Now, Claymore,” Wanda began, “you must tell us all about how you came to find yourself so suddenly in love with Ellie.”
“That is a subject best left to you girls to discuss together,” Clay replied briefly.
“Oh, Ellie tells nothing. A regular oyster on the subject. And you, it seems, are another shy one,” she quizzed, an arch smile on her face. She had to crane her neck so she was nearly
facing the back of the sofa to allow him a view of her left profile with orchid, for she had forgotten and put him on her right side. “You were not so shy ... on other occasions,” she reminded him.
“Not the thing, Wanda,” George warned in a low voice, nudging her ribs with his elbow. But Ellie was watching from across the room, in her good violet gown and she carried on.
“I collect it must have been love at first sight. You really concealed it very well, sly rascal.”
“Yes, I am better at concealing things than some people,” he said dampingly, as he arose in disgust and went back to Ellie. What a spiteful, ill-bred girl. Thank God he had not made the mistake of offering for her. It was with a sense of relief that he rejoined the other party.
“What’s Wanda up to?” Rex demanded.
“Nothing. Merely wishing me happy.”
“That so? Thought you looked a bit put out. Was just telling Ellie she was likely needling you about how suddenly you popped the question to her—Ellie, I mean. Never did get around to asking Wanda.”
“Mama cannot know you are here. I’ll call her,” Ellie said, arising from her seat as though she had been ejected, and quite pink under her rouge.
She returned shortly with both parents, and Wanda was forced to behave herself till dinner was served. Mrs. Wanderley had the good sense to seat Wanda well away from Claymore, so dinner passed tolerably well. Clay could hardly fail to remark that across the table Wanda was bestowing languid and loving looks on George in a most common fashion. He assumed that she kept her head averted completely from himself out of pique, not realizing that he was being given another chance to admire the left profile. He was relieved that Ellie behaved herself in a much more becoming manner.
They conversed on trivial topics with sufficient liveliness that the meal did not drag. Rex was surprised to hear that Bath had been much to Lord Claymore’s liking, and indicated his surprise by a loud snort, and a swallowed chuckle. Mutterings of Hansom and Bath quizzes and scandalmongering, Clay trusted, went unheard by Miss Ellie. They were all drawn into Adam’s plan to grow tobacco plants in his greenhouse. Even Mrs. Wanderley was prevailed upon to give her consent when she learned they were much cheaper than orchids and cattleya.