At that precise moment, the butler ushered in a visitor.
‘Mr Thorne, ma’am.’
Clarissa stopped laughing and stood up, the blood draining from her face. Oriana went to her side and gripped her hand tightly.
John Thorne came in still bundled up in his travelling coat with the capes at the shoulders and his buckskin and breeches. He was taken aback to see so many people in the room, especially gentlemen, and outrage rose in his chest, already begun by seeing the changes to the gardens and the house which he had witnessed driving up. He was cold and miserable but nevertheless had come prepared to forgive his erring sister whom he expected to be regretting her foolhardy behaviour. Now he saw her at the centre of the room looking prettier than he had ever seen her, with her hair clustering in curls around her face. Her dress was black as befitted her mourning, but of a cut and quality that he had never seen adorn her. For the evening, she had left off her fichu and her gown showed her figure to a flattering extent. Why it should enrage him to see her thus he did not examine, he just uttered in an outraged tone, ‘Clarissa.’
Miss Micklethwaite’s even, blunt tones interrupted him. ‘Good evening, John.’ she said. ‘I do hope you’ve cleaned you boots; the carpet is Chinese, you know.’
Stopped dead by the guilt that only a childhood voice of authority can produce, Mr Thorne looked at his feet for a second before his dignity reasserted itself. ‘Good evening, Miss Micklethwaite. Miss Appleby.’ he said politely, then turned to his sister, ‘I did not expect to find you hosting a party, Clarissa. It is not right.’
Mr Elfoy felt his hackles rise. The fire that was in him wished to have the right to avenge that tone of voice being used against Clarissa. He so far forgot himself as to step forward but was restrained by a strong hand. Grandiston watched as Clarissa, at first confounded by her brother’s appearance, pulled herself valiantly forward. Pure pluck that girl. The whole company knew that the young prig of a brother could order her home with him this instant and there was little to be done about it, yet she was keeping her head and sticking to her plan. She moved forwards and extended her hands.
‘John.’ she cried, ‘How nice to see you.’ he was obliged to take her hands and follow as she ushered him into the room, chatting as she went. ‘Hardly a party, John. I am still in mourning for my cousin the Viscount as you see.’
‘What I see, Clarissa,’ he hissed beneath his breath, ‘is beyond…’
‘You must let me introduce you to everyone.’ blithely continued his sister, ‘You remember Mr Elfoy from your visit here?’
John became as ramrod stiff with politeness as his slightly portly frame would allow, and he bowed an inch. Mr Elfoy, following Clarissa’s lead, bowed back politely, his face masking his anxious desire to plant his fist in Mr Thorne’s face. ‘Mr Elfoy kindly joined us this evening to discuss estate business.’
John could not let this pass.
‘I should think, my dear Clarissa, that you should rather leave business to gentlemen.’
‘I’m sure you are right, John.’ she said untruthfully - then swept on, ‘You know Miss Petersham, of course.’ John stared in disbelief at Oriana, whom he had last seen in the schoolroom wearing brown calico, resplendent tonight in a cream silk gown and spangled shawl that had cost her father a hundred guineas in Paris. He nodded, bemused. ‘And I have a surprise for you, John, an old acquaintance.’
Juliana, who had been sitting behind the piano, stood up. ‘Mr Thorne - how nice to see you again. I hope all is well with dearest Mrs Thorne and the children?’
‘Miss Sowersby.’ he exclaimed. ‘You here.’ John felt that he was dreaming. Nothing was as he expected it, especially not to see the daughter of the first family of his home district so comfortably ensconced in his sister’s drawing room. The last thing he could afford to do was to upset her.
Juliana had not been requested to do much but be here but John Thorne’s tone to Clarissa had offended her so she took advantage of his confusion.
‘I hope you are not deceived as to the nature of our little dinner. Having just arrived on…on an extended visit to my dearest Miss Thorne, I discovered that her Dower House tenants were …were friends of mine from London. How kind of you sister to invite them to dinner, for my sake.’
Mr Booth gave a crack of laughter, which he disguised as a cough. He caught Juliana’s eye and gave her an admiring look that made her blush, then held out his hand to Thorne, ‘My name’s Booth.’ John shook his hand whilst casting a glance at Clarissa and muttering, ‘Tenants.’
‘So sorry.’ continued Clarissa, beginning to enjoy herself, ‘The Honourable Charles Booth, my tenant, and his companion, The Earl of Grandiston.’
Miss Appleby shook her head distractedly. Oh dear, when would Clarissa learn that etiquette decreed that Grandiston should have been introduced first, she thought? She continued to observe the introductions with little understanding of the subtleties of the reactions around her.
Mr Thorne was completely overawed by the elegant figure of the Earl and bowed low. Grandiston looked bored and became again, as Juliana watched him, the very picture of languid indifference that she had met and feared in London. As John murmured about the honour of meeting him, Grandiston met Juliana’s eye over his head and she thought she discerned a twinkle in his eyes that caused her to feel comfortable again.
Miss Micklethwaite lifted her considerable bulk from the chair and bustled forward. ‘The gentlemen were just leaving, John. I am sure that you can make their acquaintance again.’
Mr Thorne was confused and stood back as the Earl bowed to the ladies and then stopped at Clarissa and took her hand, bending over it. Clarissa was betrayed into a giggle, but her brother did not see because Grandiston pinched her sharply. Thorne’s eyes widened as he took in the Earl’s smile at Clarissa. A thought struck him - could the Earl be interested in his sister? An Earl in the family. Not just aristocracy, but one of the highest ranking noblemen in the land. And one of the richest.
Chapter 13
Mr Thorne’s Intentions
It seemed John Thorne was to have no more conversation with his sister that evening. Juliana feigned a headache and Clarissa led her from the room, requiring Miss Appleby to see to his needs. This she did in her usual manner, talking as she went.
‘My dear boy, you must be so tired. What a long journey. Yes, I know you wish to speak to Clarissa but she cannot well leave her guest. You would not like her to complain to her mamma about her treatment here, would you? Mm? The house is much improved since we arrived; this staircase was so dirty that it cannot have been cleaned for years, I daresay. You will be so proud of the improvements your sister has made - oh, I forgot, you have visited here before us haven’t you? - No doubt you saw how they have tamed those trees along the driveway? NO? Well, it was dark, I suppose. I have ordered a hot brick but would you like some chocolate before bed, I remember that you used to prefer it when you were younger…’
Mr Thorne was eventually settled in the Chinese bedroom and persuaded her that he was comfortable enough. This was not comfort- it was luxury. The finest linen was on the bed, and a silk coverlet matched the bed hangings. He had to remember that this was his sister’s house now. When last he had seen it, he had recognized its beauty, but the air of disuse and neglect had made it unappealing. Now the floors gleamed and the ancient furniture shone. He preferred his own cosy room with Cornelia in it, but still he could not but be impressed. However, these plans were going too far. Clarissa must be brought to heel soon. The sooner the house was sold the better. Tenants in the Dower House. That could hold things up. He must check with Elfoy how long their lease is. And yet, an Earl. If only Cornelia were here. She would so enjoy telling the neighbourhood of her meeting with a member of the haut ton, the very ruler of fashion.
He got out of bed and wrote his wife a letter on the notepaper still emblazoned by the late Viscount’s coat of arms.
Ushered into the breakfast room the next morning, he was lucky eno
ugh to find his sister alone.
‘Well Clarissa. Things have changed here indeed. I suppose you must be very pleased with yourself.’
Words came readily to Clarissa’s mouth but she swallowed them down with sip of chocolate before she found a more diplomatic reply, ‘I am lucky that Mr Elfoy takes such good care of things,’ she said meekly.
John’s eyes narrowed a little as he searched her eyes for signs of irony: meek was not usually a tone he associated with Clarissa. She gave him back a frank gaze, however, and added, ‘For the rest, it is just good housekeeping… and Waity organizes us like Wellington.’
John gave a short laugh, ‘That I can well believe.’ He walked around the room like an admiral on inspection, nodding at the gleaming sideboards and the silver candlesticks with approval, ‘Well, well. You have done the old place proud. It should fetch a much better price in good order.’
Clarissa’s spoon clattered in her saucer but her eyes remained lowered and her hands trembled a little as she raised her cup to her mouth. She could not trust herself to speak.
‘I was most displeased to find you gone from the school. I daresay you did not realize it, but I had already begun to deal with the burden of your inheritance for you. It is my wish that you make your home with me and I am charged by Cornelia to tell you of the welcome that awaits you.’
‘That is very kind of Cornelia,’ said Clarissa brightly, remembering in detail how ‘welcome’ she had been made to feel on her last visit to her brother’s house, ‘However, I would prefer to remain here for the present.’
John’s voice took on a steely tone, ‘What you would you would prefer, Clarissa, is not what is at issue. You cannot remain here alone and though you have done a great deal to improve the look of Ashcroft you can have no notion what it takes to run a great estate. You have neither the money nor the expertise to do so. You might be ruined within the year.’ Clarissa’s hand gripped her damask napkin as though it were a lifeline. ‘I did mean us to journey back this day but your foolhardy agreement to rent the Dower House has put me in a difficult position. I shall have to stay a little and see what may be contrived about the lease. I’ll talk to Elfoy today.’
His assumption of rights was almost all that Clarissa could stand, in spite of her promising Waity and Oriana to do nothing to annoy her brother. She was saved from an outburst by the entrance of the rest of the ladies but the look she flashed at Miss Micklethwaite was enough to put that lady in the picture.
‘Sit up straight John, do.’ she told him after the morning greetings had been exchanged, ‘you always were given to slouching.’ Clarissa shot her another look, this time of pure gratitude as she saw John collapse promptly from the pompous older brother to erring schoolboy.
She soon escaped with Juliana and Oriana to change for their ride in the park whilst John was detained by Miss Micklethwaite and Miss Appleby’s requests for news of his family. As they were about to set out with Mr Elfoy, that gentleman was detained by Mr Thorne.
‘I wish to speak to you, sir.’
‘Certainly.’ replied Tristram, politely. If his respectful tone was ironic, Mr Thorne didn’t notice.
‘It is about the Dower House lease.’
Mr Elfoy mounted his horse, and ‘Then it had better wait until later, sir, since you must know that I am not at liberty to speak of estate matters without the permission of my mistress.’ As he touched his hat in salute and swung the horse forward to join the ladies, Mr Thorne was left fulminating on the steps.
Up the Dower House path, the Earl of Grandiston and The Honourable Mr Booth were riding towards him. Thorne stood up straighter and arranged his face into a greeting.
‘My lord, Mr Booth. Good morning.’
‘Mr Thorne - charmed to see you once more. Is Miss Thorne ready for her morning ride yet? We thought we might join her this fine morning,’ said the Earl smoothly.
‘Oh my Lord, I’m sorry.’ said Thorne obsequiously, ‘They have left. Would you care to step inside for—for…’ his imagination gave way, ‘a rest?’
‘No, indeed sir,’ said Charles, ‘We’ll catch up…’ He stopped as Grandiston’s whip made sharp contact with his knee.
‘How kind, Mr Thorne.’ said the Earl, ‘we’d be delighted, eh Charles?’ He had already dismounted and had clasped an arm around John’s shoulder saying, ‘Call me Grandiston.’
Clarissa meanwhile was enjoying a vent to her feelings by telling Mr Elfoy and her friends of her brother’s perfidy. Juliana was surprised that Mr Elfoy was party to her confidences, but was now rolling with the surprises. Never before had she been part of such a strange tangle of relations, but she was becoming used to it.
‘Then he said that what I preferred was not at issue.’ Clarissa was saying, her faced flushed with indignation, ‘I declare he is as much a tyrant as…as…Napoleon. Just marching in here trying to conquer yet more territory. Well I shall not have it. How I contrived to keep from throwing the marmalade at him, I cannot conceive.’
Juliana giggled. ‘You are so brave. I cannot bear it when gentlemen raise their voices.’
‘Keeping your nerve is all you can do for the moment, my dear. You know that Grandiston has us all in hand. I believe that he will know how to proceed, though I’m loath to admit it. He’s the most highhanded….’ said Oriana, reaching over her saddle to grasp her friend’s hand.
Mr Elfoy coughed and raised a humorous eyebrow ‘Well, yes. I couldn’t help noticing that the company you are keeping impressed your brother.’
‘Yes and though he was angry about the Dower House tenancy, he has delayed our departure, probably with the purpose of furthering Grandiston’s acquaintance.’ she giggled, ‘Just to think Cornelia missing a real live Earl. She’ll never forgive him.’
‘Oh yes,’ said Juliana, ‘but Mr Elfoy, surely Mr Thorne cannot force Clarissa to sell up?’
Tristram looked around at the ladies ruefully, ‘Well, he cannot, of course. However, she is young enough that he could be considered her guardian and oblige her to live with him.’ He frowned, ‘If that were to happen, it would be the worse for the tenants, I think. He might forbid correspondence and then the estate would go back to the state that you found it and worse.’
Clarissa looked grave. ‘I would be obliged to sell.’
‘Clarissa.’ said Oriana.
‘Any landlord is better than one who cannot manage. There are the tenants to think of,’ she replied, glumly.
Oriana’s head went up and her beautiful green eyes flashed fire.
‘We will trust to Grandiston.’ Then her voice changed as she said, ‘Oh, no.’
Clarissa saw with amusement what had made her cry out. Riding towards them down the long avenue were three young exquisites dressed for the country as only London tailors know how to achieve. One sported a striped waistcoat and spotted necktie that conveyed to London Misses Petersham and Sowersby the unmistakable raiment of the Four Horse Club, but made Clarissa and Tristram, unacquainted with the eccentric attire sported by these young blades, share an unholy grin. The second gentleman wore a very dashing, if rather impractical tall hat whose sheen was only secondary to the sheen of his splendid, gold-tasselled topboots. The third man dressed in a quieter manner, yet his elegance superseded his companions. He was certainly the handsomest man Clarissa had ever seen (excepting perhaps one), with dark wavy hair curling rakishly over his startling eyes. He smiled meltingly at Oriana as the others hailed her.
‘Miss Petersham,’ began the first, ‘Well met.’
Clarissa was amused to see that the little line between Oriana eyebrows meant that she did not agree with this sentiment, but she bowed her head civilly enough and concocted a smile, ‘Sir Piers, how do you do? What brings you to Ashcroft?’
‘Why, only the hint that you might be found here, Miss Petersham.’ said Sir Piers Loxley frankly.
‘And Lord Russell?’ the second gentleman took his hat from his head (to the detriment of his carefully arranged hair) as he sketched a bow
from horseback. ‘Miss Petersham, he breathed, ‘the absence of Aphrodite from London has cast us all adrift.’ Clarissa could not help smiling as Oriana’s face froze into distaste at this compliment but she just touched his proffered hand.
‘Monsieur le Duc de Montaigne.’ Her voice temperature lowered and she inclined her head only slightly to the third gentleman.
‘Mademoiselle. I am charmed as ever.’ murmured the Duc, with the slightest of French accents.
She introduced her companions as form suggested, but did not seek to detain the visitors longer. Clarissa, mindful of Grandiston’s instructions and ignoring Oriana’s sigh, invited the gentlemen to the house for refreshments before they rode back to the village.
This was only the first of the calls that were made on the ladies. Throughout, Oriana sat in magnificent disdain whilst the variety of gentlemen endeavoured to engage her in conversation. Clarissa thought that perhaps a little friendliness might have caused some gentlemen to find her less fascinating, though there didn’t seem any way to tell her friend this. She was a beautiful mystery, a challenge, and her behaviour simply made her more unattainable and therefore more desirable.
Still the house seemed full of people all of a sudden, although Sullivan rationed the visits by the young gentlemen.
The Dower House tenants had begun to wander in through the French windows without any ceremony encouraged by Mr Thorne who was beginning to think of himself as an intimate of the aristocracy. He was, moreover, bowled over by Oriana’s other suitors, even though an impoverished French Dukedom could not rival an English Earl, the foreigner’s sleek charm impressed him. A baronet like Sir Piers (someone he would have felt honoured to meet normally) was almost beneath his notice in this exalted company until Charles whispered in his ear that he was rich as Croesus - worth thirty thousand a year. John’s head was turned. The hint of the attention that Grandiston was paying to Clarissa silenced any complaint about his extended stay from Cornelia. Indeed, only a visit from her mother was detaining her from visiting Ashcroft herself. For which Clarissa would have been very grateful had she known.
Clarissa and the Poor Relations Page 10