Clarissa and the Poor Relations

by Alicia Cameron

  Clarissa looked serious for a moment but then her sunny smile returned, ‘I cannot think at the moment, but I am sure that I shall think of some way of rebuffing him. It’s not today in any event, and we still have a great deal to do. I think we should continue as normal until we get advice from Mr Micklethwaite. It may not be so bad after all.’

  Miss Micklethwaite exchanged glances with Oriana, both of whom had some notion of the reasons for Clarissa’s sudden optimism. They would need to keep harder heads about the impending disaster, but they silently assented by looks to keep their inevitable reflections to themselves for the present.

  ‘Well,’ she said rising, ‘then I had better get along to the kitchens. The stillroom is in need of reordering.’

  Clarissa’s voice stopped them, ‘No, Waity, don’t go. I quite forgot to tell you at breakfast but Sullivan delivered a note from Mr Elfoy. It’s the Dower House tenants. He’s bringing them over this morning to be introduced.’

  The ladies exclaimed and asked for details but whilst Clarissa was replying the morning room door flew open and Sullivan announced, ‘His Lordship, the Earl of Grandiston; The Honourable Mr Charles Booth and Mr Elfoy, Miss.’

  The gentlemen were on the threshold; Miss Petersham turned sharply; she gave a little cry, then, ‘Grandiston.’ and she flew across the room, her arms extended to catch both of his in hers, ‘Oh, Grandiston.’

  Grandiston caught her hands and looked down into her eyes, shining with a warmth that he had seldom seen in her except when she had looked at her father. She looked so beautiful, even with her hair in that constricted style. She looked like an angel and caught off-guard, Grandiston returned her look and for a moment his suavity slipped and the real man showed his face. The ladies therefore saw him at his very best; the harsh looking face softened, the eyes humorous and warm, bending down to Oriana from his considerable height.

  ‘Oh Grandiston,’ she said again ‘you cannot think how I have longed to see you. You are the nearest thing to my father that I have left.’

  Miss Micklethwaite, interestedly watching this encounter with the rest of the room’s occupants, thought she saw the giant retreat a little at this. He bowed over her hands and kissed them however and said, ‘Miss Petersham, Oriana, how do you come to be here?’

  Oriana withdrew her hands and coloured a little. ‘You did not know?’

  ‘No, indeed,’ said Grandiston, ‘I have just come to stay with my friend who has become tenant in the Dower House. You know Mr Booth, I believe?’

  Oriana looked dazedly beyond him to his companion; the handsome, merry faced young man brought back memories of her horrible London season. She did not know why her spirits had suddenly sank except that she had thought that, that - but what? That her father would come in behind him slapping his back and shouting for his breakfast after a long ride? That Grandiston could whisk her away to a time when she had been happy and secure before she had to worry about whether Fitzroy or Clarissa’s brother could rule her life? That he would keep looking at her in that teasing way of his…

  ‘Mr Booth. We met in London, of course,’ she said, extending her hand. He bowed over it and swept a magnificent leg much in the manner of gallants from the previous generation, ‘Your devoted slave, ma’am.’

  Clarissa giggled. This had the effect of drawing the gentlemen’s gazes in her direction. Booth looking a little discomfited.

  ‘Oh, dear. Excuse me, if you will,’ said Clarissa, still smiling.

  ‘ Ladies,’ said Oriana smoothly, ‘may I introduce Lord Grandiston, an old and dear friend of my father, and his friend The Honourable Charles Booth. This is Miss Clarissa Thorne, our hostess, and the Misses Micklethwaite and Appleby who, like me, are bearing her company here at Ashcroft.’

  His Lordship held out his hand to the young lady who hardly looked old enough to be anyone’s hostess, then bowed over the hand of the little reed of a lady who fluttered in her beribboned frock. This gallantry almost overset her and she exclaimed and tinkled her little laugh whilst she waved her lace handkerchief to fan her reddened cheek. Clarissa giggled again and caught Grandiston’s ironical eye as he observed these transports. They had only just subsided when Mr Booth had the office of touching her hand and she was off again. Lord Grandiston’s eyebrow went up and Clarissa gave herself to a helpless fit of the giggles. His Lordship had himself in hand until he turned to Miss Micklethwaite.

  ‘Fool.’ remarked that lady, ‘Well, that’ll teach you young men to keep it to a nod next time or we’ll all be driven to Bedlam by Louisa’s foolishness.’

  Meeting Oriana’s eye this time, he felt his restraint go and soon all five of the young company were helpless with laughter, though Miss Appleby was unsure what the joke was, and Miss Micklethwaite’s face remained composed.

  The arrival of refreshment brought some order but the whole company had left formality behind and so instead of quelling Mr Booth’s fulsome compliments with her usual frigidity, Oriana merely grinned or groaned, depending on his deftness. She thought of him as a silly boy and she divided herself between fending him off and chatting with the rest of the company. She could not help her gaze resting fondly on Grandiston from time to time for his presence was giving this time a kind of magic from her past, when she was the favourite daughter of a great man ruling the roost in a great house. Grandiston she saw, was mightily entertained by Clarissa - who looked, thought Oriana, so vivacious and pretty today. She was conscious of a twinge of something strange. Probably I want my old friend all to myself, she thought, at least until I have caught up with him. Mr Elfoy was asking her something; she had to ask him to repeat it.

  Elfoy was enjoying the camaraderie that had been so easily established, and smiled at Booth’s outrageous attempts at flattering Miss Petersham whilst suffering agonies when he heard Clarissa laugh at one of Grandiston’s dry remarks. Of course he had expected that she would have found an admirer, just not so ridiculously soon. He saw Grandiston admire the circlet at her breast, saw her move the ringlet which had fallen over her shoulder so that he could better see, and burned.

  Clarissa was enjoying herself more each moment. She did not see that she was flirting with Grandiston, for her knowledge of the ways of the world was small. Yesterday had filled her with such a wonderful confidence that her heart sang and she was at her prettiest. Her companions were the best in the world: she thought Grandiston devilishly attractive and charming and Booth the greatest of young bloods. She had never been in such male company before and she was relishing it--men who, like her father, were just as pleasant as women. But although she seldom looked at him, it was Elfoy for whom her heart sang and as he bent to listen to Miss Appleby she thought, ‘Tristram.’

  Waity watched it all whilst occasionally replying to remarks made to her with her usual acerbity. When she told the Honourable Charles (upon hearing his well-turned compliments to Oriana) that if his mother did not know how to deal with that sort of behaviour, she did, he gave a bark of laughter and declared himself her slave. ‘-When you threw my hat into the mud the first time I met you my fear has held me in your sway.’

  ‘At the Inn. That was you. I knew then that you were a reprobate and I haven’t changed my opinion.’

  She liked them, though she would never have openly declared it. Booth is after Oriana, and I could have sworn that Grandiston’s hers. Now he’s flirting outrageously with Clarissa whilst Elfoy and Oriana look, well…what? They are getting themselves into a pretty pickle. She looked at Grandiston. I could trust a man with that jaw to get me out of many straights, but matters of the heart? Well, I’ll step in if needs be, if only we can send this brother of Clarissa’s packing. She looked at Miss Appleby fluttering her eyelashes and her handkerchief in equal time. Oh, Louisa, aware of no more than her own beating heart.

  ‘Why do you take the Dower House, Mr Booth?’ inquired Clarissa presently.

  Grandiston achieved an interested expression, ‘Yes why is that Charles?’

  Mr Booth ignored him
, ‘An inveterate love of the country Miss Thorne.’ he said jovially but untruthfully. Since even his country buckskins and top boots bore the cut of the best town tailor, not to mention the daringly nifty yellow waistcoat that he sported today, this was a little surprising to the ladies.

  ‘But do I not remember that your family own a great estate in Yorkshire, sir?’ asked Oriana

  ‘Well, yes ma’am, that is to say, well…it is a little far from town. I can travel to London from here in a day’s ride in case business should call me.’

  ‘Ah,’ said Clarissa, still mystified ‘I see. Well, I hope you will be very happy here.’

  There could be no doubt of that. When the gentlemen took their leave they had stayed for a full hour beyond the polite twenty minutes allotted for a morning call and they had agreed to Clarissa’s invitation for dinner that evening. When a chance remark by Miss Appleby announced the younger ladies habit of taking a walk after their light luncheon, the gentlemen elected to come back later and accompany them.

  Oriana had to wait for three hours before her chance to talk to Grandiston presented itself. She dropped her shawl and he retrieved it so that they fell a little behind the others. She was a little stiff, though she had no idea why until Grandiston said gently, ‘You may have misunderstood me yesterday. When I came back from the Peninsular and heard the news of your father, I sought you out at once. Your brother would not give me your direction.’

  She turned to him and her eyes shone, ‘I knew I could not have been mistaken in you.’ she said impulsively. ‘He did not want our acquaintance to know I had become a school teacher.’ She saw his eyebrows rise at this intelligence and her eyes teased him, ‘I assure you I was very good and patient. My humble position quelled my rebellious spirit so that in all the time I was at Clarissa’s mother’s school, I didn’t kill even one of our young ladies.’

  ‘Now that does surprise me, remembering your lamentable temper.’ he quipped back. His voice became more serious. ‘It must have been difficult to change your position so radically,’ Grandiston said gently. Almost without thought Oriana drew her arm through his as she had used to.

  ‘Far, far, more difficult to stay at home.’ Though she had attempted to speak jauntily, her voice cracked, and knew that she would die if she gave way.

  ‘Yes, I see. Your brother does not improve with acquaintance.’ He said so silkily that she was obliged to laugh and in doing so composed herself.

  ‘Dreadful man. It was father’s fault, I think; Fitz always knew that Papa despised him. Perhaps if he had taken more pains with him - but he was such a sulky boy that Papa couldn’t abide it. I don’t blame him now - but I cannot live with him.’

  Grandiston played for a moment with his quizzing glass which hung from his waistcoat; ‘It seemed you had for a time another home in the offing. Were you not engaged to be married?’

  He was looking at her keenly as he said this and her pride was hurt. Did he too believe her capable of that grotesque engagement? The anger flickered over her face to be replaced by the ice. ‘We found we did not suit.’ She said baldly. ‘Shouldn’t we quicken the pace to catch up the others?’

  Grandiston wished that she would confide in him, but Oriana had always been proud and impulsive. Surely it was this spirit that made it impossible for her to live at home, or take up any of the offers of marriage she had no doubt received in her London season. Was this wilfulness selfish and careless, or was it the true pride of independence? He would not have thought her capable of the fickle act of a broken engagement, so sure had she always been of her own mind. Perhaps, though, he had not really known the spoiled daughter of an adoring father as well as he had thought. Maybe he too, like her other suitors, had been captivated by her beauty.

  They joined the others and he began to regale Clarissa with tales of Oriana’s young girlhood her imperious fury with her first pony when it had thrown her, her father’s equal fury at her behaviour. Though Oriana remained a little stiff at first, eventually she laughed and threatened to tell much worse stories about him.

  The ladies got back to the house a great deal later than usual and got very little done before dinner ushered their friends back again.

  ‘This will never do,’ chattered Oriana happily, ‘we must ban the gentlemen from our walk tomorrow or we shall never get on with our estate Business.’

  ‘Indeed, yes,’ said Oriana teasingly, ‘we mustn’t neglect Mr Elfoy.’

  Clarissa blushed and ran up the stairs to dress.

  Chapter 10

  Confidences and Plots

  The ladies had taken pains in their toilette that evening. Oriana was encouraged to wear one of the dresses that her old butler had sent from home, a light blue silk cut very low at the bodice over an under-dress of muslin, embroidered with tiny white roses. She rearranged her hair letting some of the magnificent curls cluster as they wished around her beautiful patrician face. Grandiston should at least see that she was her father’s daughter still.

  Clarissa came in whilst she was bestowing a frothy lace shawl about her shoulders and gasped.

  ‘Oh, my dear Oriana, you look beautiful.’ she gasped. It was said so naturally that Oriana laughed lightly.

  ‘Perhaps I need no longer be a school mistress – at least until your brother comes.’ She was quite sorry that she had spoken, since Clarissa’s radiance dimmed somewhat. ‘Forget I said anything. Tonight we are neither of us school mistresses, I think.’

  Her black silk, adorned as it was with her mother’s fine lace, looked so well that Clarissa knew herself to be in her best looks. The time was coming to leave off mourning for her mother, but it would be seemly for another few months to wear little colour in respect for her unknown cousin whose heiress she had become.

  The ladies left the room in high spirits and found the three gentlemen there (for Mr Elfoy had also been invited) very much at their ease with the ladies. Miss Micklethwaite had distinguished the occasion with the addition of her finest Paisley shawl (present from her wealthy brother) whereas Miss Appleby’s dress was adorned by a multitude of lace and gauze shawls held in place, thought Clarissa wickedly, by every piece of jewellery that she owned.

  The entrance of the younger ladies was everything they could have wished. Mr Booth gave a start and said, ‘By Jove.’ He grasped Oriana hand and pelted her with so many inarticulate compliments that she was obliged to laugh.

  ‘Miss Petersham, you look…you’ve never looked lovelier…that is to say, your gown…your hair…’

  ‘Your address, Charles, leaves us all standing,’ interjected Grandiston smoothly, ‘however, do surrender the lady’s hand.’ He grasped it himself and bowed low over it, murmuring, ‘Charles says it all for me.’ At his touch, Miss Petersham blushed slightly and uncharacteristically, her eyes glowing. He passed swiftly onto Miss Thorne, however and before Mr Booth reclaimed her, she had the happiness of seeing him say something to her friend that made her giggle. She was very sure that she was glad that two of her dearest friends stood on such easy terms with each other, but she sincerely hoped (for her own good) that Clarissa was not developing into a flirt.

  Mr Elfoy greeted the ladies with his customary good manners. He could not but be aware of the change in Miss Petersham and he gave her a simple compliment on her looks, but his demeanour to Miss Thorne was a little reserved, Oriana thought.

  Actually, he was in turmoil. Would Clarissa ever stop getting prettier each time he saw her? What did she mean by it? She was too kind to torment him, so why did she smile so and laugh with Grandiston? It seemed his Lordship was growing particular in his attentions and Tristram thought that he should be glad that Clarissa had found such a suitable suitor. He was glad – or would be, in time.

  Had either of the young ladies had any pretensions to social climbing, their duennas might have given them embarrassment. As it was, they enjoyed Miss Appleby’s fascinating flirtation with the Earl and his companion. Mr Elfoy had not enough of the town bronze about him to send her flut
tering (good gracious, thought Oriana, can that really be a fan?) and blushing by turn. The young ladies and gentlemen watched fascinated as Miss Appleby wafted fan and eye lashes in a captivating display of arts from a bygone age of courtship. She was arch and playful by turns and it was only when The Honourable Charles was rapped on the knuckles after addressing to her a perfectly innocent request for the salt that Miss Micklethwaite was moved to intervene.

  ‘Louisa, strive not to be a fool.’

  Much to Grandiston’s chagrin (for he had enjoyed the little spectacle) Miss Appleby promptly collapsed, like a stuck balloon. As the lively dinner conversation continued she recovered under the kind and unalarming gentlemanliness of Mr Elfoy.

  It was not usual, but seemed perfectly natural that the topic of Mr Thorne’s imminent arrival and its likely outcome was discussed in front of the gentlemen. Mr Booth was full of easy sympathy and sadness at the ways of the world. Grandiston, however, asked to be told a little bit about the gentleman.

  Clarissa obliged. ‘There is not much to tell. He left home ten years ago and was given his portion from my father at that time. I have seen him very occasionally since then,’ she paused and flushed a little, ‘he did not really approve of my mother, you see. She was too free in her thoughts and actions for him. His reaction to her and papa was to become ultra-respectable as I believe his own mother had been. He certainly did not approve of the way they brought me up, free to speak my mind. He often said to father I was educated beyond my sex.’ She stopped here and became a little conscious.