Pointless question, really, wasn’t it?
Elaine’s father was no fool. He understood the necessity of having the Ellerys to dine and he understood that necessity of having witnesses. That didn’t mean that his emotional state was in lock-step with his intellect.
“I don’t see why we had to invite half the damn town,” he said, pulling at his left cuff.
“Because we need half the damn town to agree that Elaine wasn’t ruined. If not, we shall all be ruined,” Robert, her eldest brother said.
Robert and Henry, both younger than she, were quite old enough to know the facts of the situation. Like her, they had known them since the cradle. The Montford universe was entirely well-ordered.
“I notice Lord Aysgarth and his daughters declined,” her father said.
“You know that he declines nearly everyone,” Elaine’s mother said.
Elaine’s mother was not brow-beaten, not truly. She was cautious and careful and kind, traits which worked very well when paired with her father’s habits of being temperamental, prickly, and tautly-strung. To be fair, when her father had married her mother, he had assumed that a familial and cordial (and profitable) connection to the Earl of Aysgarth would follow, their grandparents having been siblings. Aysgarth was not of so sentimental a nature. How their grandparents had been related was of no interest to him. Her father’s disappointment and disillusionment had burned a bitter hole in his mind.
In truth, Elaine was more of Aysgarth’s frame of mind than her father’s, and perhaps that was the only hint of their familial connection. She did not see why grandparents being siblings in any way required money or connection between the descendants. She was quite certain she would not know Aysgarth on sight, though she was delighted to have made the beginnings of a friendship with his daughters, her cousins. They were lovely women. She had Eleanor Kirkland to thank for that, as for so much else.
But that did not include her ridiculous motto-making.
Certain truths were not up for debate, marrying well being first and foremost among them.
“The Countess Helston declined,” her father said, picking at a loose thread on his cuff.
The loose thread was an aberration. They were not short of funds; her mother had enjoyed quite a nice dowry and her father was a most particular man who paid attention to everything nearly obsessively, and that included his accounts. No, the search for a title was a thing wanted for its own sake. Her family was hardly alone in that.
“And thank goodness she did,” her mother said, plumping a cushion in the front drawing room. “We should have had far too many women and not enough men. It was difficult enough to round out the numbers without three more women added in.”
“We are all from Cornwall,” Robert said.
Elaine had never been able to decide if Robert was like her father because he chose to be or because he naturally was. He had been parroting her father’s sentiments for as long as she could remember.
“And it would look most peculiar if we only invited people from Cornwall,” Elaine said. “As if we were colluding.”
“Aren’t we?” Robert said, giving her a nasty look.
Elaine didn’t bother to reply.
“I’m delighted with our guest list,” her mother said. “It should be a sparkling evening.”
“The Marquis of Melverley was required to come,” her father said, just to be difficult, Elaine was certain.
“The Marquis of Melverley,” her mother said, snapping off the loose thread with brisk authority, “cannot be required to do anything. That is a well known fact, dear, which even you must admit.”
“It seems I must,” he said, sparing her a smile.
For all his quirks, her mother did seem to genuinely love her father. Elaine had never been able to puzzle that out. She found her father exhausting.
The guest list was impressive and far beyond their normal sphere. The Marquis of Melverley, Lady Jordan, Lady Eleanor, her sister Lady Louisa, Lady Louisa’s husband, Lord Henry Blakesley and his brother Lord Josiah Blakesley who were the Duke of Hyde’s fourth and fifth sons, respectively. Add in Elaine and her brother, Robert, Captain Roger Ellery and Mrs. Ellery and the list was complete. A dinner for twelve. A most sparkling dinner for twelve.
Everyone arrived on time, which was cause for remark. Everyone knew that Melverley did not arrive anywhere on time, not even his mistress’s bed.
The house in Town was not theirs, yet it was a nice house on a good street. The furnishings were quite fine, with the exception of that one uneven chair, and the servants, who had come with the house, were competent. It was not an exceptionally large house, the rooms corresponding, so that twelve at table in the dining room was just the right number that could be achieved without crowding.
Still, Elaine felt crowded. Captain Ellery seemed to fill the room and be everywhere she turned. True, he had not moved from his chair and his chair was three down from hers and on the opposite side, yet crowded she still did feel.
One would have imaged that the Marquis of Melverley, who did have such a strong presence and quite a monumental reputation, would have taken over the room and the conversation. He did not. Lord Melverley had entered the house with a polite word to her mother, a one word greeting for her father, a stern look for Lady Jordan, a bland look at Lady Eleanor, and then he had proceeded to nod when required and eat when the opportunity presented itself.
The Marquis of Melverley did not sparkle.
Melverley’s elder daughter, Louisa, had so much sparkle that she was in danger of causing a fire. Louisa and her younger sister, Eleanor, were both red-haired and blue-eyed. They were also both tallish and slender. It was much to have in common, yet they were not very much alike. Louisa’s hair was orange fire, her complexion white and flawless, and her eyes brilliant blue. Eleanor’s hair was deep red, her complexion heavily freckled, her eyes dark blue. And then there was the matter of their dispositions. Eleanor was effervescent while Louisa was . . . the only charitable word was disagreeable. In that, she was much like her father.
“I’m not familiar with Cornwall,” Louisa said.
“Few are,” Elaine’s father said.
“Of course, I have heard that it is a prime location for the hunt. Do you hunt, Mr. Montford?” Louisa asked.
“Avidly. Blissfully,” he answered.
“If a man does not hunt, he does not long survive in Cornwall,” Elaine’s mother said on a trill of laughter.
Louisa smiled. It seemed a cold smile. Eleanor watched her sister from across the table and grinned.
“Do you hunt, Lord Henry?” Elaine’s mother asked.
Lord Henry, Louisa’s husband and one of the many sons of the Duke of Hyde, was blond and blue-eyed, like every son of the Duke of Hyde. He was not a soft looking man, his features cast in slanted, hard lines, yet there was a look of good humor in the depths of his eyes, or so Elaine hoped.
“Not as often as I once did,” he said. “We do have a tradition of sailing in my family and I have sailed along the coast of Cornwall. Most challenging waters.”
“Turbulent, to say the least,” her father said.
“Dangerous, to say the most,” Louisa said. “I have strongly urged my husband to refrain from dangerous activities.”
“And his response?” Eleanor asked.
“To ignore me completely,” Louisa said, a quick smile dancing about her mouth. “As you are well aware, Eleanor. Kindly refrain from forcing me to state the obvious.”
“Kindly refrain from starting a row, dearest. We are guests here,” Lord Henry said to his wife.
To which Louisa grinned and visibly softened. It was a remarkable transformation.
“My husband loved the hunt,” Mrs. Ellery said, her pale eyes watery in the candlelight. “He was most fond of deer and as my father was quite skilled at grouse I came into my marriage very thin on deer recipes. I had my work cut out for me at the start.”
As a conversational sally, it fell with a thud. No o
ne at this table of superlatives ever need worry about recipes. Certainly the Montfords had never given a thought to recipes; that was Cook’s domain.
“It is appalling how ill-prepared a woman can be for marriage,” Lady Jordan said, smoothing the moment. Lady Jordan, of all people. Elaine was dumbstruck. “I do think that mothers can and should do more to prepare their daughters for the rigors of the marriage contract.”
“Rigors?” Lord Josiah Blakesley said. Josiah Blakesley was the youngest of the Hyde sons and highly eligible. He was also very handsome. It was somewhat of a surprise to Elaine that Josiah and Eleanor exhibited not a single whiff of interest in each other.
“Oh, certainly,” Elaine’s mother said. “There are so many . . . adjustments to be made upon marriage. I only hope I have prepared Elaine for them.”
Whereupon all eyes at the table turned to study Elaine.
Elaine did not enjoy the scrutiny. Particularly from Captain Ellery.
“And then there are the instructions a woman receives regarding courtship, all the rules and standards which must be adhered to,” Louisa said, eyeing Elaine. “Such a bother, aren’t they, Miss Montford?”
“I haven’t given it much thought,” Elaine said.
“Clearly,” Louisa said, taking a bite of her fish.
“And my wife knows all about ignoring the rules of courtship,” Lord Henry said, giving Elaine a warm look of support. “If I may ask, Miss Montford, Elaine is such an unusual given name. Is there some significance?”
“Yes, I’m afraid there is,” she said, resolutely ignoring Captain Ellery’s stare. “My father is an avid reader of the classics.”
“Oh, heavens,” Lady Jordan said. “Not truly?”
“Really? That sounds marvelous,” Eleanor said. “Which ones?”
“Don’t encourage my sister, Miss Montford,” Louisa said. “She already gets far too many odd notions from books.”
Elaine smiled at this chorus of response and said, “He was reading Arthurian tales, as it happens, and I was born at precisely the wrong moment.”
“Or the right moment,” Roger Ellery said from his side of the table. “Elaine is a beautiful name. It suits you.”
There was silence at that, whether awkward or wonderful, Elaine could not determine. It was a silence that stretched and expanded until Roger was the only one she was aware of for a scant few moments.
Lady Jordan cleared her throat, and the silence was broken.
“I remember Guinevere,” Eleanor said, “but not Elaine. Who was she?”
“Lancelot loved Guinevere,” Elaine said, “and Elaine loved Lancelot. When he left her, she pined for him and died. Unrequited love played to its logical end, I suppose.”
“I don’t believe in unrequited love,” Eleanor said.
“Quite rightly,” Lord Josiah said. “Defeats the entire point of love.”
“To die of love lost,” Mrs. Ellery said, her eyes looking particularly shimmery. “Yes, I can understand it.”
“Ah, but she died of love not returned, of love abandoned, Mrs. Ellery,” Elaine said. “Not of love lost. Lancelot never loved Elaine.”
Mrs. Ellery looked recovered and, smiling, cut into her fish with vigor. “Yes, that’s right, isn’t it?”
“If the man I loved did not love me,” Elaine’s mother said, “but then, I do not have that concern.”
“I think Elaine a beautiful name,” her father said. “I did then. I do now.”
“As do I, sir,” Roger Ellery said, staring at her, his gaze intense.
“I do not think the name suits me, I confess,” Elaine said. “I would not be the sort of woman who dies of grief, who loves where she is not loved in return.”
“I should hope not,” Louisa said.
“Wouldn’t you?” Lord Henry said to his wife. “How reassuring.”
Whereupon, Louisa blushed and smashed her fish to pieces with her fork.
“We are all love matches in my family,” Eleanor said. “We hope to make a fashion of it.”
The table, at least the younger set, laughed at that. The elders, not at all. And Robert, truly not at all.
“Marriage is a serious pursuit,” Robert said. He sounded exactly like Father.
“One can be seriously in love,” Eleanor said.
“Or one can be not at all seriously in love,” Josiah said.
“Flippantly in love?” Louisa said. “I don’t think so. Then it is not love.”
“It need hardly be so serious that one die for love,” Lady Jordan said. “Though one may wish to. At the time.”
Lady Jordan had enjoyed five glasses of wine and they were only just finishing the fish course. Lord Melverley looked down the table at his sister-in-law, his look enigmatic, and she reached again for her glass.
“One should live for love,” Mrs. Ellery said. “That is the gift of love. It makes life golden and bright.”
“Yes, it does that,” Elaine’s mother said, smiling at Mrs. Ellery.
“Marriage is marriage and love is love,” Robert said. “They are not often conjoined, at least not at the start.”
“You have a precise view of it,” Captain Ellery said. “Perhaps when you are older and seeking a wife your perspective will change.”
“I don’t see why,” Robert said.
“That is the voice of youth,” Roger Ellery said. “There are no questions, only certainties.”
“You sound as old as time, Captain,” Elaine said. “I had thought you younger.”
“I am not old, merely experienced.”
“Never say merely and experienced together,” Lord Henry said. “Experience is too costly for that.”
Roger Ellery smiled in agreement and raised his glass in a silent toast to Lord Henry.
The fish course was removed.
The meat course was served.
“I do think I may have misnamed my daughter,” Father said. “She is not the sort of woman to die for love. Elaine is of a very practical, efficient turn of mind. Her character is as solid as stone. She will make the right man a good wife.”
If ever a girl sounded dull and solemn! Elaine dipped her head and concentrated on cutting her meat, venison, as it happened.
“My, you do sound daunting,” Louisa said. “What man could resist such a list of qualities?”
“Louisa,” Lord Henry said.
“Yes?” she answered with an innocent look.
“It may be my military training,” Captain Ellery said, “but I find efficiency and practicality to be very lacking in most people and, therefore, highly desirable. Far more than the dubious trait of dying for love.”
“And all because she loved the wrong man,” Robert said. “Something my sister would never do.”
“I’m quite certain she would not,” Roger Ellery said. “Your sister is not frivolous, nor is she reckless.”
“She knows her duty,” Robert said.
“She knows her own mind,” Roger said.
They were staring at each other with some heat. They were seated directly opposite one another, which had seemed a safe choice at the time and which now seemed ill-advised. Robert could play the bully, if he was of a mind to.
He was of a mind to.
“My, my,” Lady Jordan said. “Your families truly are close, aren’t they? They fight almost like brothers. I will admit, now that it has been proved entirely false, that I did wonder if your family connection was a fiction designed to save Miss Montford’s reputation. All those rumors of her being chased through Hyde Park by Captain Ellery. Quite salacious.”
And then there was a silence unlike any that had gone before. It was most awkward, nearly painful.
“I was not, nor have I ever been, chased,” Elaine said.
There was another silence upon that pronouncement.
“Not even by the bee?” Eleanor said. At that, the hideous spell of awkwardness was broken. Josiah even laughed. Robert did not. “I have it on good authority that it is a very enjoyable thing, to be
chased by a man,” Eleanor added.
“Eleanor,” Melverley said, the warning clear in his voice.
“I don’t have to guess on whose good authority you heard that,” Lady Jordan said, her sixth glass of wine almost drained.
“Lady Dalby’s ideas are very progressive,” Louisa said. “Dangerous at times, but so very progressive.”
“I find Lady Dalby remarkable,” Eleanor said. “I want to be more like her.”
“Eleanor!” Melverley said. Eleanor seemed to have no trouble ignoring her father. How interesting.
“Lady Dalby,” Father said. “She married very well, raising herself up considerably.”
How predictable.
“I do think that was her entire purpose for marrying Dalby,” Melverley said. The first full sentence uttered and this was what he chose to say. Fathers were all alike, everywhere.
“According to my mother,” Lord Henry said, “the duchess, it was a love match.”
“Certainly on his part,” Father said. “What had he to gain by the match?”
“A wife?” Louisa said, abandoning her venison to glare at Elaine’s father. Elaine felt the urge to glare as well. She did not indulge the urge.
“Lady Dalby is not as cold-hearted as the rumors of her,” Lord Henry said.
“Rumors are false as often as they are true,” Roger said. “Rumors running through the front lines can kill a man as surely as a bayonet.”
“We were speaking of Lady Dalby,” Robert said.
“I was speaking of rumor, and of how they should never be trusted on their face. Rumors serve a purpose and can be intentionally manipulated. That is the best use of rumor, in fact.”
“That is just what Lady Dalby says!” Eleanor said. “But how does a soldier use rumor, Captain? I thought it was all of bullets and bayonets.”
Roger smiled, a brief thing that hardly touched his mouth. “If the rumor is that the enemy has two thousand more men than he actually has? If the rumor is that his arsenal is unlimited, his men healthy and fit for battle, his supply lines unbroken? All that can weaken a man’s will to fight before the battle is engaged. A good leader makes good use of rumor.”
An Encounter at Hyde Park Page 5