Wicked and Wonderful
Page 14
He was stunned by her words, by her assessment of her own situation as well as Judith’s. “I would never have thought of it in that manner,” he said.
“Do you think I do not feel the whispers and stares when I go amongst society, when I go alone in society? My father is not permitted to tread where I tread and I am at the mercy of the character of any lady that desires my presence in her home. I know that it is never by my own accomplishments that I am invited to the best houses. Sometimes I am treated properly and with great civility and other times as though I might as well be required to do the laundry as perform in the drawing room. Surely, you cannot think me ignorant of my situation in that regard?”
“Of course not,” he said quietly. “Though I confess I do not think on the subject much. I hope I have not been unkind.”
She smiled fully. “No, that is perhaps the most exceptional part of your present charm—you never let me feel for a moment that I am beneath your dignity.”
He burst out laughing. “Well, that is because I have no dignity, or did you not know as much and are you certain you even wish to be here? My reputation is rather sad, in fact.”
She continued to smile. “I think it the worst hypocrisy in the world.”
“As do I,” he said. “I should be treated as an outcast, not you.” He breathed a sigh of relief. “I find it wonderful to be speaking in this manner. I was not certain how much you knew of me.”
“I believe you have quite underestimated the beau monde’s love of gabblemongering.”
“I always have, much to my detriment, I suppose.” He fell silent for a moment then asked, “So your desire was to come to know Miss Lovington during this picnic and you say you achieved your object.”
“Well, I certainly made a beginning, but I must say I had a very difficult time restraining all the questions I desired to ask of her. You see I am convinced there is some great mystery surrounding her presence in the troupe. Are you aware, for instance, how much she is loved and protected by them? Betty said… Do you know Betty?”
“Betty of the onions?”
“Oh, lord yes,” she returned grimacing. “At any rate, I chanced to speak with Betty as well and she informed me of these truths and that the troupe has often withdrawn in the middle of the night to escape the attentions of some forward rogue or other and even debated doing so because of you.”
“Indeed? Because of me?”
“Oh, yes. I was given to understand your presence created quite a dust-up. So you see your reputation does precede you.”
“Abominably so, I fear, and yet you are still willing to converse with me.”
“So I am,” she stated.
“Do you know, you put me in mind of Laurence in this moment. I believe you share a quality with him that I value very much.”
“And what would that be?”
“That neither of you fears a little plain-speaking.”
“There is no point to refrain from it when one wishes to know well and to be known.”
“Aye,” he responded softly. He recalled that Judith had said something of a similar nature.
He realized that he liked Miss Currivard, even that he admired her, much as he admired Laurence. There was perceptiveness in her that she also shared with his friend and it was possible that she might even match his elevated intelligence. He knew himself to be quick-witted but there was something in Laurence of brilliance. He suspected Miss Currivard might be cut from the same cloth.
She glanced out the window then frowned. “I believe I recognize those gates. That is the country house of the Marquess of Stolford where we passed the night.”
Kelthorne leaned forward and caught sight of the tall iron spires just as the coach passed by. “So it is.”
“You know, I dislike him very much but your sisters seem quite enamored of him.”
“I believe they are but I would wish them well away from such a man.”
By the time the coach drew up the steep incline to the front of the house, Kelthorne was greatly content Judith had retreated fully from his thoughts. Miss Currivard’s candor and goodness had quite set him at ease. As he handed her down and watched her stretch her back a little, he thought this was what his marriage ought to be: open, artless, warm.
He offered his arm, his heart full of good will as he led her into the house.
“There is one thing I think you ought to know,” Miss Currivard said.
“And what would that be?” he inquired as they crossed the threshold.
“That I intend to help Miss Lovington in whatever way I can.” She released his arm and began drawing off her gloves. She looked up to meet his gaze, perhaps to see his reaction.
“Do you think it necessary?” He felt nervous suddenly for he strongly suspected that by helping Miss Lovington, the lady before him meant to encourage a friendship with Judith. He had just spent the last hour scouring thoughts of her from his mind but the specter which now raised its head was of Judith being underfoot. “Do you think it wise?”
“As for necessary, I actually think very little in life is truly necessary, but I do believe it to be wise.”
He wanted to argue the point but there was something in the determined set of her chin that stopped him. Instead, he asked, “And what precisely did you have in mind?”
“I am glad you have asked,” she said smiling as she removed her bonnet. “Over the last mile of the journey a notion came to me that I begin to like more and more and which I have every confidence will be greatly pleasing to all the guests in your home.” He gestured for her to head in the direction of the staircase, which would take them to the drawing room above. Laurence’s voice could be heard, followed by uproarious laughter.
She chuckled and looked up the stairwell. “You have a wonderful friend in Mr. Doulting. He is never at a loss as to how to best entertain anyone. I find I am always amused in his company.”
“As to that, he does seem intent on making certain you are comfortable, perhaps for my sake, I suppose. He seems much taken with you and he does not generally approve of most of the ladies of our circle. He finds them full of artifice.”
“Well, as you must already know, he will not find artifice in me.”
Kelthorne chuckled. “No. That he will not.” As they mounted the stairs together, he asked, “So what is this present scheme of yours?”
“I think that for a very fine fee, Miss Lovington should be asked to perform for a little soiree you intend to give.”
His heart sank. This would not do, not by half. He felt certain he could get over this absurd tendre he felt for Judith, but not if she was in his house for him to look at and wish for. “Forgive me, Miss Currivard, but I beg to differ with you on the point of wisdom.”
“I have but one object,” she said, though he sensed this was a whisker. “She told me she hopes one day to purchase a cottage, that she has already saved quite a bit of money to that purpose. I mean to help her in that objective. But if you disapprove, I shall understand. After all this is your home, but I warn you I will simply make arrangements elsewhere.”
Kelthorne felt as though he was being tested but he was not certain in what way. He did not feel as though refusing her would in any way cause her to like him less, but if that was not the nature of the exam he was facing, then what was it?
Worse, however, was the simple truth that he could not possibly confess the real reason he disliked the notion. He could hardly tell her that he feared were Judith to be in his home, he would be unable to keep from touching her, perhaps even finding an opportunity to drag her into his arms and kiss her again. There it was, plain and simple. He did not feel he had the smallest command of himself when he was around the deuced woman.
Still, he could hardly tell Miss Currivard that.
Instead, before entering the drawing room, he said, “I would only ask that you gain the support of my sisters. Should they disapprove of your scheme, my house would become a place of great misery for everyone, not less so yourself
.”
She smiled, quite broadly. “You have little understanding of the matter, do you?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“My lord,” she said quietly, “your sisters would grant me the moon so long as I remained beneath your roof and attempted to win your heart.”
He laughed feeling wholly resigned. “You are right. Of course, you are right. My wits must have gone a-begging.”
“Then it is settled and I may proceed with your blessing?”
“Yes,” he responded, but his heart betrayed him by suddenly surging with delight at the very thought that Judith would soon be in his home.
A familiar clattering up the stairs prompted him to move protectively in front of Miss Currivard. “Rufus!” he called out, turning around and pointing at the dog. His faithful hound, already at the top step, stopped instantly in stride and panted.
“Come.” The dog moved to his side.
Kelthorne moved away slightly and let him see Miss Currivard. “Now greet our guest properly.”
Rufus, who was a highly intelligent, though incorrigible creature, did as he was bid and held out a paw to her.
Miss Currivard laughed, leaned down and took the large, dark shaggy paw in hand. “And good day to you as well,” she said.
Kelthorne watched Miss Currivard pet his head and rub his ears, just as Judith once had. He knew Miss Currivard had an excellent heart, only what the devil was he to do?
*** *** ***
Judith bid Miss Currivard to seat herself on the stool. She was still astonished, however kind the young woman had been to her at Cheddar Gorge, that she had actually come to call, even requesting to speak privately with her.
“To what do I owe this visit?” she inquired.
After sitting down, Miss Currivard glanced around her humble abode and exclaimed, “I should have done just this when I was forced to live in a tent for all those weeks in India. How much I should have enjoyed having my things about me, a painting or two, a piece of framed embroidery, and these dried flowers hanging from your looking glass—I think it splendid.”
Judith sat down in the chair by her dressing table and smiled. How wonderful it was to be understood. “This arrangement did not occur overnight, I assure you. But once having begun, I found it afforded me a great deal of pleasure.”
“Did you do the rug as well?”
“Yes, of course.”
“I am utterly amazed,” Miss Currivard said. Her face was aglow.
Judith waited for her to speak. She had already posed her question but did not wish to press her guest too hard. At the same time, she knew Miss Currivard’s presence in her tent to have excited the greatest curiosity among the troupe.
Miss Currivard met her gaze and smiled in some understanding. “As to the reason why I have come,” she began, “I wish to lay a small proposal before you. Since you were so kind as to share your hopes for the future with me, I was hoping to be of what assistance to you that I can. I was wondering if you would be so good as to perform for a soiree at the castle in the next few days or so. You will be paid handsomely—a hundred pounds.”
“What?” she said. “A hundred pounds?”
“I thought I might give you a shock, but indeed, if you are to have your cottage before you are quite advanced in years,” here she smiled more fully still, “then a little push is necessary. I suppose you might even think of me as your patronness.”
“A hundred pounds.” Judith was truly astonished. “You would do this for me?”
“Yes, of course. A friend ought to be of use, I think, and I hope you will call me friend.”
Nothing could have warmed her heart more than to hear Miss Currivard address her so kindly. From the time of their conversation at Cheddar Gorge, Judith had embraced the possibility of a friendship with her, however unlikely their circumstances. She had enjoyed conversing with her and was never made once to feel the disparity in their situations. She sensed in Miss Currivard a unique quality that would make the very best of friends.
These thoughts brought her round, however, to the more pressing difficulty—Kelthorne. The very notion that she would be obliged to spend an evening in his company sent a shiver along her spine that had nothing to do with fear. For the past two days, she had worked very hard to relinquish all thoughts of him. But now, with the prospect of an entire evening in which she would be required to converse with the guests as was natural in such private settings, she became acutely aware that she would be with him far more than could ever be thought desirous.
Miss Currivard rose. “I know that the demands of this life are great so I will not keep you. Only, I do hope you will oblige me in this.”
She seemed so serious that Judith could not help but wonder if there was more in Miss Currivard’s plan than merely helping her to one day purchase her cottage. She could not however, for the life of her determine just what that might be nor could she ask her directly.
“I must lay the request before Mr. and Mrs. Ash,” Judith said, rising as well. “They have charge of our time and schedules.”
“Yes, of course.” She extended her hand and Judith shook it warmly. Releasing her hand, she added, “There is one more thing, Miss Lovington. If you would not be disinclined and should you choose to accept my proposal, then I would be greatly honored if you would permit me to accompany you on the pianoforte.”
“Indeed?” Judith inquired, shocked once more.
“Do you fear I am not sufficiently accomplished? I promise you that my governess, who lived in constant dread that my rank as a tradesman’s daughter would sully her sterling reputation, made certain from the time I was a very little girl that I learned my scales and arpeggios properly.”
“I did not mean to imply anything of the sort. I was merely stunned that, given the differences of our situation, you would be wishful of doing so. After all, we will need to practice together, and I should require several rehearsals. So are you absolutely certain this would not be repugnant to you, for I promise you, on this head, I am a severe taskmaster. Mrs. Ash and I have quarreled more than once on just this topic.”
Instead of appearing doubtful, Miss Currivard merely laughed. “I see that you are something of a perfectionist, as am I. Although I must say, I suspected from the first that we two shared this in common. I promise you in return, therefore, that you alone shall name the date of the soiree and you shall have as many rehearsals as you deem necessary to be comfortable with my skills.”
Judith felt there was nothing more to be said. She reiterated her need to discuss the proposal with John and Margaret but promised to send word to the castle by the afternoon.
“I hope you will not refuse me,” Miss Currivard said. “Indeed, I am depending upon you more than you can know.”
There it was again, the hint that the entirety of her motives for the soiree was yet hidden.
A few minutes later, Judith was locked in a great argument with both John and Margaret.
“But I do not think it will do at all,” Judith said. “Without wishing to elaborate, I do not feel it wise that I engage a concert at the castle. It is not seemly.”
“In wat manner not seemly,” Margaret said. “What rubbish. Lord, Judy, I ain’t never seen ye so missish.”
“Aye, Judy,” John agreed. “And ‘tis not as though ye have not performed fer a private audience afore. Do ye not remember Shropshire?”
“And do you not remember that we were required to leave town that very night. Charles was furious.”
“I supposed that were a poor example,” John said. “But Lord Kelthorne has been most kind to the entire troupe and I have seen nothing of his attentions to ye that were improper. Margaret agrees with me.”
“Even though he came to my tent?”
“Even then, fer he were a gentleman just as Margaret knew he would be.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “And Miss Currivard has been a perfect lady and shown great kindness to ye, singling ye out as she has. “‘Twould be an insult to deny her n
ow. Ye know as much. I know ye do.”
This much was true. “But I cannot like it. I know Kelthorne has not precisely gone beyond the pale. However, I still feel in danger.”
“Aye,” Margaret said softly. “But ye are speaking of yer heart.”
Judith gasped. How did Margaret know? “Yes,” she confessed.
John suddenly swept an arm about her shoulders. “Judy, ‘twould not be bad to let yer heart be engaged a little.”
Tears started to her eyes. How easy it was for him to say such a thing to her when he had been able to wed the woman he loved, but what of her? What if she tumbled in love with Kelthorne? There would be no such marriage to fulfill the dreams her heart seemed to weave the moment she was within twenty paces of him.
There seemed to be no argument, however, that she could put forth that would convince John and Margaret that she should refuse the invitation. Besides, to deny Miss Currivard was to show her unkindness when she had been so good to her at Cheddar Gorge. No, she must go.
John gave her shoulders a squeeze then released her. “Ye know wat ye must do.”
“Well, if I must do this thing,” she snapped, “then I insist upon sharing the hundred pounds with the troupe.”
“None o’ that,” John said. “Ye know very well that earnings from any private performance is not to be shared. Those are the troupe’s rules.”
“It is not right,” she countered.
“Nonsense. Remember Winchester, when the officers asked for Betty and Angelique for the evening, fifty pounds a-piece?”
“But that was not for...” She broke off blushing deeply. John laughed at her. “And still, after all these years, yer cheeks will turn the color of a tomato.”
Margaret laughed as well, but said, “Have done with it, Judy. Take the engagement. Indeed, ye have been such a blessing to the troupe, whatever Charlie says. Ye have brought audiences when no one else could. And as fer Kelthorne, if ye be worried, then hint him toward Miss Currivard.”
“I suppose I could do that,” she murmured, but she was not content.
An hour later, she penned her note to Miss Currivard accepting her proposal and naming the number of rehearsals she required, five for at least an hour each time and therefore setting the date of the soiree for a week’s time.