Lord Satan

by Judith Laik

  “No, it was only ordinary foolishness that caused his death.” They gazed into each other’s eyes, exchanging sympathies in that silent look. “And now, Maude Rose is back,” she said.

  “Yes, damn her! I wish it were Tipton instead—in spite of his dishonorable behavior.”

  He stood and took a couple of turns about the room. “I always hoped you and Tipton would make a match of it. When I saw that mewling creature he married, I knew she wouldn’t hold him.”

  “We never felt anything beyond friendship for each other. Your father didn’t share your attitude about my suitability, as I recall.”

  “True. Remember how our fathers almost came to blows over the claim of your father’s that the Coltons were mere upstarts, and Beesons had been holding their land since before the Norman invasion?” Chuckling, he sat again and reached for the cup.

  “Yes, my father was fanatical on the subject. And proud that the Beesons had never knuckled under to the monarchy to collect a title.”

  “And mine was da-devilishly proud of his title. To tell the truth, I enjoyed seeing him receiving the worst of their old argument.” Neil stood. “I must go. I’ve claimed enough of your time.” He bowed over her hand. “Will you do as I requested.”

  Her lips quirked in a smile. “Yes, I’ll talk to Mrs. Bishop. I can’t guarantee results.”

  *

  The invitation to the party came while Libbetty played in the side garden with the children. The servant in the bronze and green Cauldreigh livery stepped up to the door. She stared after him, forgetting the game, until Henry blundered into her.

  “I’ve got you!” he called exultantly, pulling off the blindfold. As Libbetty watched the messenger and did not respond immediately, Henry accused, “You didn’t even try not to let me catch you. That isn’t fair!”

  “I did try,” Libbetty protested. “You are just too clever for me.” She allowed him to fix the blindfold over her eyes. As she joined in the game again, a part of her hoped, against all logic, that she could go to the party. She pictured talking again with Lord Neil, her feverish sensations whenever he was near. Caused, no doubt, by her conviction of his wickedness.

  Mrs. Hayes arrived for an afternoon call as Libbetty and Floss ushered the younger children into the house. Libbetty helped settle them in the nursery and went down to the drawing room, hoping her mother’s cheerful friend might lift her own spirits.

  She did not plan to eavesdrop, but when she heard Mrs. Hayes say, “Nonsense, Ethel. Elizabeth has companioned Edwina Hogwood of late, and she is out,” Libbetty could not help stopping outside the door to learn what was being said about her.

  “Yes, but she is younger than Edwina. And I am not at all convinced that among the Coltons she will meet the type of young man I would wish her to marry.”

  “It won’t be just Coltons at the party, but other young people too. Ethel, you know such sociability will not happen again around Peasebotham for years. By then Elizabeth will have made a mésalliance. She won’t wither into spinsterhood.”

  “I had planned to take her to attend the assemblies at Crossfield next winter.”

  “Where the company is almost as thin as in Peasebotham.”

  “I know you have the right of it. But I cannot chaperone her in my condition—and in any case, it is Mr. Bishop whom you must convince.”

  “I shall chaperone Elizabeth. I should enjoy it—Amelia won’t be old enough to attend adult parties for several years. However, I shall not attempt to win over Mr. Bishop. You may do that.”

  Libbetty crept back to the stairway and almost danced up the stairs. At the top, she gripped the newel post. Her elation over having a champion warred with doubts that her mother could persuade Mr. Bishop. But Mrs. Hayes had believed it possible. Oh, grant that it might happen, she breathed.

  Of its own volition her mind provided her with an image of herself dancing with Lord Neil. She shivered at the thought of standing next to him, their eyes meeting and hands touching.

  Most likely, Mama would not persuade Papa to alter his edict, and besides, she must never forget the man’s probable guilt. In any case, it was Lord Cauldreigh with whom she should imagine herself, both for her pledge to Edwina and to promote her sisters’ interests.

  The next morning, Mrs. Bishop summoned Libbetty to her bedchamber. Her mother sat at her dressing table, twisting her sandy brown hair into a smooth knot at the back of her head. “You and Tom have received an invitation to a party at The Castle this Thursday. Mrs. Hayes and Dr. Hayes will also attend, and will chaperone you.”

  “Oh, Mama.” Libbetty threw her arms around her mother. “How did you persuade Papa to let me go?”

  “He was not difficult to persuade,” Mrs. Bishop said. “He does remember his own youth.” Not giving Libbetty time to think about this revolutionary statement, she went on, “We must do something about your wardrobe. Your clothes are not adequate for this occasion and those that will undoubtedly follow.”

  “You mean I may go to other social events besides?”

  “Yes, your father has lifted your restrictions.” Her mother placed her hand under Libbetty’s chin and stared into her eyes. “Do not give him any cause to regret his decision. He doubts you are sufficiently mature for adult company.”

  “Oh, yes, Mama, I will remember.” In her joy and gratitude, Libbetty could not conceive of behaving in any but decorous ways in honor of this miracle.

  “I have a small sum of money set aside for my daughters, which will purchase some of what you will need, and after breakfast you and I will venture into the attic for old clothes of mine to make over for you.” This excess of generosity completed Libbetty’s happiness.

  Previously, she had only explored the attics in a cursory way, but now found that her mother’s trunk was a treasure trove. Amazed, Libbetty pulled out garment after garment, holding them to the sunlight filtering through the dusty gable window. “Mama, I never knew you had so many beautiful clothes.” She crushed an ivory froth of jaconet to herself.

  “That will do for Lord Cauldreigh’s rout.” Mama took the frock, shook it out, and examined it. The gown had a low neckline, full skirt, and long, narrow sleeves ending in a lace ruffle. “A buffon went with the gown.” She dug into the trunk and found a diaphanous cloth. “See, it draped about the neckline like this. There is extra material in the skirt to cut a new bodice.”

  Libbetty had trouble picturing the gown recut to a more stylish mode. The material was pretty, however, and she agreed.

  Mrs. Bishop held the gown up in front of Libbetty. “The lace on the sleeves would make a nice trim for the neckline.” She held a strip of the lace up against the frock. “But it needs some ribbon. I know just the shade; I wonder if they will have it at Sidneys’? We must go this afternoon and see what we can find. We can purchase your other needs at the same time.”

  Libbetty was curious about the extent of her mother’s twenty-year-old wardrobe. Fingering a dull gold satin ball gown, she said, “Mama, where did all these clothes come from?”

  Mrs. Bishop held the gold gown before Libbetty. “No, that color isn’t for you,” she decided. “We will save that one for Catherine or Isobel.” Libbetty had nearly concluded her mother would not answer when she said, “Did you imagine I came from a poor family? My father was a baronet with a comfortable competence.”

  “What happened? You never mention your family.”

  “This would make a lovely riding habit.” She held up a sapphire merino skirt and jacket. “No, I do not mention them. We have been estranged since I married your father. They disagreed with my choice of husband. For a long time my father withheld his consent to the match, but I refused to give up Mr. Bishop, and he at last agreed. It caused an unmendable breach, much to my regret.” Her eyes misted over for a moment, but she said, with a shake of her head, “Well, what do you think?”

  Libbetty caressed the soft merino and enthusiastically endorsed it. “Are you sorry you made such a marriage, Mama?”

&
nbsp; Her mouth curved. “No, never. Your father and I love each other, and I have a happy, useful life, assisting him in his work. Your father is a noble man, helping so many. It is my family’s loss, I think. It would have been different, of course, if I had wanted to marry someone lacking in principles. I only regret I cannot do more for you children.” She seemed momentarily sadder, but brightened. “Of course, I have a small dowry. Your father and I decided we would put it aside for our daughters. Some of that money will buy your new clothes.”

  By the time they reached the bottom of the trunk, they had set aside a light blue sarcenet with silver tissue overskirt, a lilac-and-white striped pekin silk, and an apricot muslin, as well as feathers and other trimmings from her mother’s hats, and ribbons and lace with which to refurbish Libbetty’s older gowns.

  “With Mrs. Slidell to sew one or two more gowns and some new undergarments, that should be enough to see you creditably garbed through whatever the summer has to offer,” Mrs. Bishop said.

  *

  “Which do you like, Elizabeth?”

  Nearly every spool of ribbon Sidneys’ mercer shop offered lay on the counter. This did not amount to a grand array, given the limitations of the small shop. Mrs. Bishop had requested a shade darker than the gown’s ivory. Mrs. Sidney had offered a notably muddy brown, which Libbetty knew had reposed unsold on the shelf for several years; a bolt more nearly orange than ecru, which her mother dismissed as unsuitable; and an ugly grayish sand color. Disappointed in these options, Mrs. Bishop had asked to see some other colors. She had brought snippets from the gown and the lace to assist in making their choice.

  Libbetty tentatively fingered ribbons of yellow, mint green, and coral, looked regretfully at a deep maroon deemed unsuitable for a young lady, and said, “I believe I like the coral best.”

  That momentous issue decided, Libbetty and Mrs. Bishop gave their attention to stockings, gloves and other accessories. Libbetty approved a pair of elbow-length beige gloves in soft kid unearthed by Mrs. Sidney from some dusty corner. Her attention wandered, however, when Mrs. Bishop began attending to the more mundane matters of thread and buttons.

  If any logic existed in the arrangement of the goods, it escaped Libbetty. The dim shop, illuminated only by rays of sunlight streaming in the narrow front window, was jammed with an assortment of merchandise: shoes, string, cheese, bread, bonnets, all jumbled haphazardly.

  The Sidneys seemed to know just where to find every object requested by their customers. Miss Sidney, their plain spinster daughter, helped in the shop when the village dame school at which she taught had no classes.

  The variety of scents and sights inspired Libbetty to an awareness of a larger world. She had always enjoyed the shop, although she seldom had money to spend. Since the Coltons had arrived at The Castle, she became aware of Sidneys’ shortcomings as well as the rusticity of the village. What would the worldly Lord Neil make of the shop, she wondered.

  “I believe that is all for today,” Mrs. Bishop said to the mercer’s wife. She added to Libbetty, “Your white evening slippers will match the ivory frock sufficiently well. You will need some boots, and we must yet see what Mrs. Slidell can make up for you. Perhaps one or two more gowns will suffice.” She had turned back to Mrs. Sidney to ask her to wrap their purchases when the bell rang over the door, announcing another customer.

  At first Libbetty surmised the well-dressed lady who rushed into the shop was a guest at The Castle. She had a petite but curvaceous figure, and hair of rich, deep brown. Her russet-colored riding habit seemed to Libbetty of the greatest elegance, and her precipitate entrance into the shop brought with her a musky scent of exotic perfume. She stopped short upon seeing Libbetty and her mother, a smile of delight upon her face. “Why, hello, Mrs. Bishop. What a piece of luck to meet you. And this must be your charming daughter…?”

  What happened next astounded Libbetty. Her mother stiffened, and two bright spots burned on her cheeks as she turned to Mrs. Sidney. “Please wrap our purchases and have them delivered.”

  Their purchases made a bundle small enough for them to carry the short distance home, but her mother was obviously in a hurry to quit the shop. She seized Libbetty’s arm and propelled her toward the door.

  However, the newcomer refused to be denied her conversation with Mrs. Bishop. She stepped in her path. “I regret that I have not had the opportunity to foster an acquaintanceship. I have attended church services at Crossfield, although I have planned for some time on coming to see your little church. I understand it has some architectural interest.” She had a soft voice with a slightly foreign-sounding inflection.

  “You are mistaken. It is a very ordinary church. Come, Elizabeth, we must go home. We have much to do.”

  Mrs. Bishop tugged at her daughter’s arm, almost dragging her from the shop. Libbetty gave a last look at the unknown woman, noting she was older than her first impression had suggested, and went out onto the street, half running to keep up with the rapid pace set by her mother. They had gone some distance down the street when Mrs. Sidney’s breathless “Mrs. Bishop!” halted them.

  The shopkeeper ran up, gasping, “I’m sorry I didn’t come after you right away. I wouldn’t leave that woman alone in the shop! I had to call Mr. Sidney to keep an eye on her—though goodness knows I must go back and keep an eye on Mr. Sidney! I apologize to you for that woman’s behavior. I have never been so mortified!” she wound up, staring at Mrs. Bishop anxiously. The two women’s extraordinary behavior gave Libbetty a clue to the stranger’s identity.

  “You need not apologize, Mrs. Sidney. You cannot prevent even such a person from entering your shop. I do not hold you responsible.”

  After several more effusions, Mrs. Sidney hurried back to the shop, and Libbetty and her mother continued home.

  “Was that Mrs. Whitelow?” Libbetty asked.

  “Yes. No doubt you have already heard something of her history. I did not wish you to be exposed to such a person. Oh, well, I suppose it has done no real harm.”

  Chapter Nine

  “It seems a little indecent to me.”

  Libbetty looked to her mother for a defense to this charge, not daring to dispute with her father.

  Her mother quickly supported her own dress design and her daughter’s appearance. “It certainly is not. Indeed, it is more modest than the present fashion. I would never send our daughter out garbed in anything that would shame her or us.”

  Libbetty’s neck and the part of her shoulders exposed to view reddened under her father’s scrutiny. She had tried to persuade her mother to lower the square neckline, more in accordance with the fashion plates she had pored over with Edwina. Now she gave thanks she had not succeeded and closed her eyes in prayer that her father would not forbid her the gown—or worse, prohibit her from attending the rout.

  At last Papa said, “I bow to your judgment, as long as you did not let her persuade you to go beyond what you had planned.”

  “You may rest assured I know what is due to your position. Elizabeth looks exactly what she is: a clergyman’s daughter.”

  Libbetty tried not to become too cast down by this fact. She had hoped for a more dashing appearance. Recollection of the image her pier glass cast just before she came downstairs reassured her. She looked grown up, confident, and even quite pretty.

  Her mother had cut the thin cotton to simple lines, with short puffed sleeves, and the ecru lace threaded with coral ribbon that edged the square neckline contrasted pleasingly with her creamy skin and strawberry blonde hair. The skirt had a small train and fell from a high waist, with a ribbon bow at the back.

  A half-kerchief with coral ribbon bows rested on her loosely coiled hair. Libbetty wore the beige elbow-length kid gloves they had bought in Sidneys’ shop, dainty pearl earrings, her mother’s Norwich shawl and flat white slippers.

  Her gown conceded more to decorum than fashion, but she had never before appeared this close to beauty. Even Papa, once he decided to abide by Mama’s ju
dgment, gave Libbetty an encouraging smile. “You look very charming.”

  “Thank you, Papa.”

  Tom clattered down the stairs and came into the room. As he had stayed out late that afternoon, he had to dress in a rush. Libbetty could find no fault with his appearance, however. He wore a dark blue, double-breasted coat with gilt buttons, white marcella waistcoat, knee breeches of drab kerseymere. His neckcloth was neatly tied, not in an overly elaborate knot. His short-cropped hair in a Brutus style was still slightly damp.

  Libbetty restrained herself from crying out that Tom would surely impress Edwina. Although Edwina had disavowed any interest in Lord Cauldreigh, the Coltons had other guests, and the squire’s daughter had still not shown any sign of becoming enamored with Tom. Libbetty thought it a great pity, as Tom was such a worthy person.

  “You are very handsome tonight,” she told him.

  Tom smiled in embarrassment. “I don’t see how those town dandies can go through this fuss every night,” he confessed. “I’d go crazy if I had to spend this much time on my attire.”

  He dressed for dinner every day in nearly as formal a fashion, so Libbetty took his disclaimer as due to nerves over the coming festivities.

  A rattling of carriage wheels outside denoted the arrival of Dr. and Mrs. Hayes. They entered the drawing room, Dr. Hayes saying, “Well, my children, are you ready? We must be off.”

  The Hayeses appeared so different from usual that Libbetty nearly forgot her manners and gaped.

  Mrs. Hayes wore a deep green gown, with a transparent bronze overskirt. Emeralds shimmered around her neck and on her ears, and her chestnut hair, topped with a green plume, gleamed. Libbetty had never noticed Mrs. Hayes’ trim figure or that her face showed few lines. More than Alonso’s mother and Mrs. Bishop’s friend, Libbetty saw an attractive and modish woman.

  Dr. Hayes appeared distinguished in a black coat that accented his full white hair. Alonso took his appearance from his father, but the son’s tall lanky form and crackling energy had in Dr. Hayes matured into elegance and a continually brusque air, as though not enough time existed for all he wished to do.