My mind was upon household matters, however, the day Melinda Corvil came to call. Her first action after we had kissed was to scold me. “You promised I should be the first you told!” she said. For a moment, I stared at her bewildered, and she continued, “Oh, you must remember! The night before you ran off ... at table ... I asked what was wrong and you told me it was a surprise, and that I should know of it first.” Here, her eyes began to dance, “It was Sir Leslie’s proposal, no doubt. How you made game of us all! With your meek and quiet air we, none of us, thought to suspect you of a secret tendre. And yet, when I think now upon the matter, you were often slipping off to be alone. And you did miss history class that day!”
She laughed and I breathed a silent prayer of thanks for my solitary habits. I forced myself to laugh as well. “I recall my promise. But I only said that I would tell none of the other girls, first. And I did not. But come, sit down. I am delighted to see you. Tell me what happened the next day, when my absence was discovered.”
She laughed again. “Oh, it was beyond everything, Heather! You were not missed until bedtime. And then what a fuss! Mrs. Brenner demanding to know where you had gone, and all of us believing you were in the sickroom! Then, Mrs. Gilwen appeared. I never saw her so angry or so distressed. She demanded an account of Mrs. Brenner, who was quite overset. Then, realising we were all listening, she summoned Mrs. Brenner to her parlour. You can be sure we talked late that night.”
I smiled at the thought of Mrs. Gilwen’s distress. It was well deserved. I had no fear she should betray me ... I was too powerful now. Melinda was speaking again ... Sir Leslie! He is such a figure of mystery. I’ve heard it said he is nip-farthing and harsh and unpleasant.”
“Not true!” I protested. “He is just and honourable and often gentle and patient. And never clutch-fisted.”
She looked at me with surprise. “But his nephew Philip Gainesfield says...”
I cut her short. “Philip is, in many ways, a ... a sapskull. He expects Leslie to frank him when he is afraid to face his father with his debts. And he dislikes Leslie because Leslie has given him more than one sharp setdown!” In fairness, I added, “Though I grant you that Leslie has a temper and has, no doubt, ridden roughshod over Philip. But how do you know Philip so well?” I asked.
She blushed. “Well, I’ve a brother at Oxford ... and you know the circles we move in are so small...”
In spite of myself, I smiled. Yes, the haut ton seemed very small indeed. I only hoped she was not too set on Philip since I suspected he would think her a blue-stocking. Well, no matter, she was pretty enough and would soon find a suitor. “In any event,” I added, “I did not mean to disparage Philip. I think him rather nice. I just could not bear to hear you speak so of Leslie.”
She nodded in understanding. “Of course, when one is in love...”
I blushed guiltily, wondering what she should think if she knew the truth. I turned the talk to that of the Season. I had, of course, missed much of it and she told me the latest on-dits. We were chattering so when I heard a footstep and turned to see Leslie enter the room. He bowed over Melinda’s hand as she blushed in confusion. Then I gave him my cheek to kiss. “I am sorry to intrude, Heather,” he said, “but I’ve just this moment received an invitation for tomorrow and the courier waits a response. Lady Willby requests our presence for cards in the evening.”
I wrinkled my nose. “Lady Willby? Very well, if you wish it, Leslie. But, indeed, I cannot recall who she is, nor understand why the invitation comes so late...”
Melinda began to laugh. I stared at her in amazement, and after a moment, she explained, “You know her very well, Heather! Lisa! Lisa Stanton who left school two years ago. You were always helping her with her history. She finally married this year. How famous ... you must go, Heather. I am sure the invitation comes so late only because she has just I discovered who you are.”
I was easily convinced, for I remembered Lisa with affection. She had been neither handsome nor clever, but always amiable. As soon as Leslie left to inform the messenger of our reply, Melinda rose. “I must be leaving, Heather,” she said. “But I am glad to have seen you and shall again. And I am glad to find you happy.”
I smiled wryly at her words and murmured the conventional phrases as she prepared to leave. Then she was gone and Leslie returned. “You’re managing very well,” he said. “Soon there will be no house where you are not welcome.”
He noted my confusion, for he placed a hand on my shoulder and asked, “What troubles you?”
I shrugged helplessly. “Leslie ... they would not welcome me if they knew the truth ... I ...”
He gathered me up in his arms. “Calm yourself, Heather. You’ve no need to feel an outsider. You do belong. Where is your courage?”
It was the right thing to ask of me. I sat erect. “You are quite right, Leslie. I shall not be such a pea-goose again.”
He smiled and touched my chin with a finger. Then he drew something from a pocket. It was a lovely painted fan. “Oh, thank you!” I cried, and kissed his cheek.
He smiled at me oddly and suddenly, unaccountably, I was nervous. I sprang up and muttered some excuse and left the room. Behind me, Leslie only smiled more strangely still.
Melinda had been correct. Lady Willby was Lisa. She greeted me eagerly. “So it is you! I am so glad, Heather. Good evening, Sir Leslie. Heather, I must introduce you to everyone. Some you’ll remember from school ... though as a rule, I avoid my old classmates.”
I understood that well enough. Lisa had never been popular, and I wondered how she had found a husband until I remembered that she had been an heiress. One of the very few to attend Mrs. Gilwen’s school. That had not aided her popularity. I found myself remembering little kindnesses, such as being taken to tea by her. It had been a small thing for her to buy us both sweet buns, but withal, a gesture few others had made. And now? It was perhaps a small thing to take pains to introduce me to each guest, but it was not a kindness I should soon forget. Last, she introduced us to her husband Drake, Lord Willby. As he smiled at us, half mockingly, I began to blush. For his eyes swept over me as though I stood unclothed. Instinctively I glanced at Lisa, who stood unhappily beside him. I dared not look at Leslie. Instead I stared at Lord Willby as coldly and haughtily as I could manage. He continued to smile, but rather more coldly himself. He spoke to Leslie. “Now that I have seen your charming wife, I am even angrier that you did not tell me of her beforehand. I should have liked to dance at your wedding.”
Leslie’s voice was cool but calm. “Indeed? I am sorry to have disappointed you, then. We preferred a small ceremony, however, as my wife suffers from shyness.”
I did my best to look shy. Lord Willby’s voice continued silkily, “We have heard of her romantic background. Tell me, how did you meet? No doubt that also is romantic.”
Leslie lied without hesitation. “I saw her at the theatre once when she had gone as someone-or-other’s guest. I was intrigued and asked a few discreet questions to learn her identity. Not wishing to beard the dragon, Mrs. Gilwen, I contrived to accidentally encounter her outside.”
Lord Willby seemed disappointed. When he spoke again, it was in a different tone. “By the by, Leslie, a curious thing has occurred. The domestic agency I once suggested to you closed a month or two ago. Mr. Thornsby was the director.”
I held myself rigid. But Leslie seemed not in the least disturbed. “Oh? How curious, as you say. Fortunately such matters are now my wife’s concern. Still, I once found their services quite useful.”
I felt a cold rage growing in me. How dare Leslie speak so casually of ... of that man! Yet I could not betray that I knew of what they spoke. I said in a light voice, “Surely, there are any number of excellent domestic agencies in London? Personally, I should distrust a man to supply me female servants. Only a woman understands such matters.”
Both men smiled and Leslie squeezed my waist reassuringly. And I knew I had allayed any suspicions Lord Willby might have
had. Lisa, silent until now, suggested the card games begin and we found places. The stakes were small, and though I played well, I did not truly care whether I won or lost. My table was congenial and I enjoyed myself.
At midnight, a supper was served and I was again with . Lisa. We talked some, but there was a sense of constraint that arose because of her husband. Yet I felt Lisa needed a friend more than she ever had at school. So I invited her to come to tea within the week. She tilted her chin as she replied, “Thank you, Heather, but I cannot. Drake has decreed I leave for our country house tomorrow. You see I...” She blushed. “I may be breeding and Drake wishes me to pass the next few months quietly and comfortably, away from London.”
I did not know what to say. I was deeply shocked, for I saw that Lisa was not eager to go. And what should her husband be doing in London while she were away? I did not want to guess. Nonetheless I forced myself to say, “Felicitations, my dear Lisa! Well, then, you must come to see me when you return to London. And write to me.”
She smiled shyly, and with relief that I did not speak those thoughts we both held. Soon after, Leslie appeared, and making our excuses, we left. In the barouche I found myself I releasing my pent-up rage. With a clenched fist, I struck the seat. “Poor Lisa! How can she bear being married to that ... that court-card?”
At Leslie’s look of surprise, I told him about Lisa’s condition and her move to the country. He did not speak but his face revealed he felt much as I did. “Oh, Leslie,” I said impulsively, “I’m glad you are not like Lord Willby!”
“Are you so sure of me?” he asked.
I looked at him in shock. “You are not ... you would not ... no, I don’t believe it of you!”
“I thought you considered me utterly depraved?” he said quietly.
“I ... I ...”
I fell silent. No, I knew Leslie was, not so bad as Lisa’s husband. Yet I could not speak freely as I wanted to. In the darkness, I felt Leslie’s eyes on me, and then after a few moments he said, “I know it could not have been easy to hear us speak of Mr. Thornsby, but I dared not do otherwise. “I ... Heather, do you truly regret being forced to marry me?”
“You know that is not what I regret,” I whispered, and even in the darkness, I felt him flinch.
“That cannot be undone,” he said.
“No, nor yet forgotten,” I answered softly.
In silence, then, we rode to the town house. And because I could not bear the look of frustration on his face, I fled at once to my room. But I could not run from my own thoughts. Round and round they went long after Ellen had left me for the night. Yet late as I lay awake, I did not hear Leslie come to his room. I did not doubt that he felt as haunted as I. Never had I felt so tempted to go to him. Yet I could not, should not forgive him.
Could I?
Chapter 17
I woke late the next morning, almost at noon. When I chided Ellen for letting me sleep, she replied, “But my lady, I had not the heart to wake you. You seemed so tired, and with the ball tonight...”
“Very well,” I said, forcing myself awake.
As I dressed I asked if Leslie had also slept late. “Oh, no, my lady. He rose at his usual hour. In a brown study today, one of the footmen told me. Refused his breakfast and went out without a word to anyone.”
“Thank you, Ellen,” I said, trying to avoid the question in her eyes.
Was he angry? At me? I could not absolve myself of guilt. And yet, and yet, what was I to do? Not wishing to brood, I informed Ellen I would accompany her to Mademoiselle Suzette’s establishment to pick up my new ball gown. “Yes, my lady,” she said with some surprise.
I had not set foot in Mademoiselle’s establishment since the day Leslie had found me there. Always I had sent Ellen or another servant to fetch or leave orders. I was not altogether sure I wanted to go there now. But I had to get out of the house. Perhaps I secretly hoped to have Mademoiselle give me advice about Leslie. A naive notion, but then, I was a naive young woman.
Dragon (whom I could not think of by any other name) showed us to a fitting room and took Ellen with her to fetch the gown. This required some time for it seemed half of London society would be at this night’s ball, and many of the women ordered their dresses from Mademoiselle Suzette. At last Ellen returned. The dress was silver again. It fit me perfectly, of course, and yet I could not help longing for a dress which would make me appear older and more mature. Mademoiselle Suzette entered just in time to hear me voice my thoughts aloud. She cocked her head to one side. “Monsieur ... Sir Leslie ... does not wish it.” I flushed angrily, and signalling Ellen to leave us, she stepped closer. “You are a little pea-hen. Do you not understand? Oui, mon enfant, I could dress you as you wish. And all of London would say, ‘Yes, that is the sort of hussy to trap Sir Leslie.’ You must to look innocent.”
My shoulders drooped in resignation. Would we never have done with such worries? Mademoiselle Suzette placed a hand on my arm. “What is wrong, ma petite?”
I shrugged and moved away. The memory of her treachery warred with my desire to tell someone how I felt. She must have read much from my face for she said, “Pauvre enfant! You still are apart? Do you think him so terrible ... worse than other men?”
“No!” I said. Then: “You do not understand.”
“You are wrong. I understand much. But I believe Sir Leslie to be a good man, also. And I believe that if you persist too long like this, he will lose patience. He is not a man to be long lonely, and he will easily find a woman to please him. And then you will understand what you have lost. Tiens! From your face I would say you do not hate him so very much. Perhaps you begin to care? Enfin, you must not to let a stupid pride keep you from him. You...”
She broke off as someone knocked at the door. It was Dragon. “Excuse me, Mademoiselle, but you are needed at once. The duchess...”
Mademoiselle Suzette nodded. She squeezed her hand on my arm and was gone. A few minutes later, Ellen returned. She was in excellent spirits, having spent the time with the seamstresses, even, she confided, helping with one of the hems. As Ellen fastened up my dress she chattered, repeating the gossip she had heard. Soon the ball gown was packed and we departed. We had not come in Leslie’s barouche but by hackney, and I determined we should walk a bit. There were nearby shops displaying various goods: trinkets, hats, gloves, shawls ... On impulse, I entered a shop and purchased a pair of fine gloves for Leslie. It required most of the money left in my reticule, but I did not care. Feeling rather lighthearted, I hailed a cab and we rode back to the town house.
As I drew off my bonnet and mittens in the foyer I asked after Leslie, eager to give him my present. But he was not at home. I sent Ellen upstairs with careful instructions as to what I should wear with my gown and at what time to draw my bathwater. Then I proceeded to the library, still clutching the gloves.
The library at the town house was not such a comfortable room as the library in the castle. Somehow it seemed too formal. Yet by its very function, it was a refuge to me. I took down a book and began to read. Each time I heard footsteps, I would look up, hoping to see Leslie, and I found myself listening for the sound of the front door. But he did not come. At four, one of the maids brought me a light tea. It grew later and still Leslie did not return. Finally I mounted the stairs to dress. At Leslie’s chamber, I paused and knocked. Peter was, as I expected, laying out Leslie’s evening clothes. “Yes, my lady?” he asked respectfully. “I am afraid Sir Leslie is not here.”
“Yes ... yes, I know that,” I replied self-consciously. “Could you ... please give this to him when he returns?”
“Yes, my lady.”
And then the door was closed. Slowly, I continued to my chamber. Ellen was waiting.
When I descended later, I found Leslie waiting in the drawing room, dressed for the ball. He bowed but did not comment on my gown. Nor did he mention the-gloves. And I had not the courage to ask if he had liked them. Before we could speak, the footman announced the arrival of
Lord and Lady Pellen. They were to dine with us and ride in our carriage to the ball. Phyllis wore a blue satin gown that set off her blond hair perfectly. My father was dressed in the same careless elegance as Leslie. Phyllis drew me aside as the two men began to talk of business matters. “Well, Heather,” she began, “one hears you have made powerful friends in Town. Few young matrons have the ladies Ormsby, Rifton, and Crombie as sponsors.”
“Leslie’s aunts,” I said with a smile. “I met them at the theatre the same evening I met you.”
“You seem to have pleased them.”
“Who?” Leslie asked, moving to my side.
“Your aunts,” I explained.
Lord Pellen chuckled proudly. “Yes, my daughter is contriving quite well. Quite well indeed. I’ve made arrangements, Heather, by the by, and you will appear at the Queen’s drawing-room on the eleventh of next month.”
We moved to the dining room, I on father’s arm, Phyllis on Leslie’s. My father was in excellent humour. “You see? Everything is resolving itself quite nicely. You have the entree virtually everywhere. And pretty things, do you not? And from the look in Sir Leslie’s eyes when they rest on you, you can use him as you will.”
I blushed and shook my head but dared not answer. We were soon seated and it was with relief that I greeted my father’s new list of questions. For they were only a catechism, of my recent social activities, and therefore rather impersonal. Leslie listened quietly, adding from time to time a brief comment. Phyllis was also silent, save when we spoke of an event that had led to a mention of my name by one of her friends. I tried, now and again, to surprise Leslie’s eyes on me, hoping to catch sight of that which my father said I should find. But all I could read in those dark depths was a quiet mockery.
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