Lord Sidley's Last Season

by Sherry Lynn Ferguson

  “What interests you, then, Miss Ware, that you do not pursue-thoroughly?”

  When she stared at him, with much anger and something else equally unsettling in her expression, he recalled his promise to himself and instantly attempted an apology. “Please do excuse me, Miss Ware,” he said, rising from his seat. “I had no thought to needle you so. I-”

  “My lord, please sit down. I should very much like to finish with you here this morning.”

  At which he sat and tried not to look as he felt, which was suddenly, blazingly, angry-whether at her or himself, he could not have said.

  “This is why gentlemen do not sit in the presence of ladies, Miss Ware,” he attempted. “‘Tis not so much a courtesy as denial of an advantage” When she met the observation with continued silence, he determined to match her for taciturnity. He sat wordless for innumerable minutes.

  “Are you wearing powder, my lord?”

  The question so startled him that he was slow to respond. She had already abandoned her palette and moved out from behind the canvas to approach him. As she leaned closer to examine his face, he felt her perusal almost as a touch.

  “I would ask you not to wear any powder tomorrow morning,” she said. “I must see your complexion. Whatever your-whatever scars you may wish to hide-”

  “I am not hiding scars, Miss Ware.”

  “All the more reason, then, not to-”

  “Do not stand so close”

  She pulled back abruptly. He read her bewilderment in her gaze. But she was continuing to hold and assess his own, which would not do. He was conscious as he had never been before of the presence of the servants.

  “And my eyes are blue,” he snapped. “As you’ve had occasion to remark. They have not changed”

  With her beautiful lips set grimly, she returned to her post behind the easel, and Sidley at last drew breath.

  “You two certainly keep farmers’ hours,” his aunt remarked from the doorway. “I confess I did not expect such predawn application, even from you, Sidley. Can you paint him in the dark, Miss Ware?”

  Marian smiled as his aunt came closer, to stand examining the canvas.

  “This is astonishing, my dear,” she said. “You have done so much in only two mornings?”

  “I work quickly when I have had time to consider the subject, my lady.”

  “You have thought about me, then, Miss Ware?” Sidley asked.

  “I have had time to think about painting you, Lord Sidley,” she corrected him.

  Lady Adeline laughed. “You are not accustomed to such set-downs, Nephew.” Her gaze again sought the painting. “You have caught that look, Miss Ware. I had wondered if you would.”

  “‘Tis difficult to miss, my lady.”

  “What look?” Sidley asked.

  “You shouldn’t need it described to you, Sidley,” Lady Adeline told him. “All the rest of us are far too familiar with it.” She ignored his frown and turned to Marian’s paints. “You do not mix much here, Miss Ware, and seem to use a most limited palette”

  Marian smiled. “It is my habit, ma’am. As paints are expensive, and the tinting takes time each evening, I extend from few colors.”

  “It appears to work well, my dear.”

  “Is my face blue, then, Miss Ware?”

  “‘Twill be red, Sidley, once you see what a fine job she has done” Lady Adeline smiled as she looked at Marian. “I confess, I had no idea you were quite so accomplished, having studied in town only a month. What other training had you?”

  “Since my childhood, ma’am, I have belonged to a sketching club in Northampton, and my father used to take me painting with him in his last years, after hisafter he returned from the Army. As an artillery officer he was well versed in illustration. Then at school, with Lady Katherine, we had drawing and painting. And I have worked at copying for a local printer and engraver.”

  “Still, it is remarkable, at your age. I hope you needn’t abandon it.”

  “Abandon it, ma’am?”

  “Once you are wed.”

  “Oh, but I have no intention-”

  “Little ones are likely to alter your intention.”

  Marian’s cheeks warmed. “I shall always paint, ma’am.”

  “Ha!” Sidley remarked.

  “Do be quiet, Sidley. Should Miss Ware take a disgust of you at this point, where would you be?”

  “Without a nose?” he suggested.

  “She has, most generously, already graced you with a fine one” She frowned at him. “Why you should initiate this project, Nephew, with the intention of sabotaging it, distracting Miss Ware in such a manner-”

  “If anything distracts, ma’am, it is your own charming presence. We made progress enough before you decided to quiz Miss Ware”

  Lady Adeline’s chin rose. “I must leave you in any event,” she said. “Edith and I shall accompany you on your picnic today, Sidley. I would speak with you before we depart.”

  “Certainly, Aunt. In fact”-he rose from his chair”do forgive me, Miss Ware, but I find I grow a bit stiff, settled here so long.”

  “I am sorry, my lord. I should have thought-”

  “He is most capable of looking after himself, Miss Ware,” Lady Adeline observed. “You must not apologize.”

  Sidley smiled. “No indeed,” he said. “Far be it from me to oppose any lady’s efforts on my behalf. My wishes must always parallel her own”

  At which his aunt pursed her lips and made for the door.

  “Miss Ware, please excuse me,” Sidley said. “You have enough to get on here this morning?”

  Marian nodded and watched him follow his aunt. As the two departed, she heard Sidley say, “Tomorrow. I promise,” before the doors clicked shut behind them.

  Later that afternoon, Marian sat sketching by Aldersham’s picturesquely placed lake. Her thoughts returned repeatedly to the assurance she had overheard Sidley give his aunt; she puzzled unhappily over his reference to “tomorrow” and feared he meant to select a bride at any moment. In the hour’s repose after their picnic, Marian had watched him escort the party’s eligible damsels in strolls about the serene water-first Becca Harvey, then Katie, and now Delia TinckneyDwight. Marian believed the purpose of the exercise only too obvious.

  She sketched studiously, trying to force her attention to Aldersham’s lovely expanses or to the idle conversation about her. The remaining picnickers had settled lazily under the trees, in various states of awareness. Miss Poole and her brother had stayed close to Marian and now commented intermittently on aspects of the landscape or the neighborhood. Lady Adeline and Edith sat together some few feet away. Though at times they spoke quietly, their gazes pointedly followed Sidley and his companion on each of his rounds. After her own outing, Katie sat beside her mother and sipped lemonade as she also quietly assessed Sidley’s activity.

  Lord Vaughn had accompanied Becca Harvey on a ride with Edgar and Lord Benjamin, no doubt intending to keep the peace among the trio. And while her husband dozed peacefully near the emptied picnic hampers, Mrs. Harvey breathlessly fed on dits from town to an obligingly receptive Sir Philip.

  As Marian’s gaze again drifted to the couple circling the lake, she likened Sidley’s effort to a ritual. She turned a page in her sketchbook with some vigor, only to have Dicky Poole note the action.

  “Before you begin another, Miss Ware, might I convince you to take a walk about the lake? I, at least, must work up an appetite for the next meal.”

  Marian smiled but shook her head and retained her sketchbook. She wished to finish her private depiction of Sidley, as they had only the next day before returning to town.

  “Then I propose to take a solo jaunt,” Dicky said, rising to his feet. “I shall move clockwise, to confront our host head-on. His measured method wears” Which comment told Marian that Dicky had also noted Sidley’s regimen.

  As Dicky strode on down the slope toward the lake, Clara smiled at Marian. “My brother’s spirits have lifted her
e at Aldersham,” she remarked, her fond gaze on Dicky’s tousled brown head. “I’m much relieved. I know my own low mood has weighed on him. I have been the poorest company”

  “That is most doubtful,” Marian said, returning the smile. “You have been the best of company here, though your situation is one that all of us would find difficult.” As Clara swallowed, Marian risked a question. “Were they much alike, Lord Sidley and his brother?”

  Clara sighed as her gaze moved to Sidley and Delia across the water.

  “They looked much alike, though Simon was not as dark-his hair was closer in color to Dicky’s. And he was always more reserved than Lee, less … , playful, perhaps. He was at all times aware that he was heir to Aldersham. I think he felt more keenly the responsibility to the family, with his father so distracted by Lady Sidley’s difficulties, and having a younger brother. I have wondered if that is why he chose to run off to war there at the end. ‘Twas the only irresponsible thing Simon ever did. The future, even … even with me, must have seemed much too settled. And despite our attachment, he’d convinced himself I was still too young to wed. I shall be twenty this autumn, Miss Ware,” she added.

  In the subsequent pause, Marian reflected that in this group of very young women, she herself was one of the eldest. Only Delia TinckneyDwight claimed some two additional years.

  “Simon and Lee were always close,” Clara continued. “They loved their mother dearly, but she was never-never quite to rights. Luckily, her sons were not troubled in that particular way. Always very steady and strong”

  Dicky Poole was making quick work of the distance to the other couple. As he at last saluted Sidley and bowed with a comically low flourish to Delia, Marian kept her gaze on them rather than Clara.

  “It must be doubly hard, then, that Lord Sidley should be so ill now.”

  “He was ill, Miss Ware. But you see how much improved he looks here at home. Even at breakfast I noticed that his color was much healthier.”

  Marian hated to correct the girl, to disillusion her. And, truth be told, Lord Sidley had looked better today than yesterday. Perhaps excitement regarding his decision had given him a beneficial glow. Or he had removed some powder.

  “You know him best, Miss Poole,” she conceded, pressing her pencil point too darkly against the page. “And certainly we must always hope. But you must be aware of the talk-that his condition is most serious…

  “Lee has said so?”

  “I think-well, I do not quite know. But Lady Adeline is very close to my aunt Edith. She would have relayed anything to the contrary”

  “I do not believe it!” Clara objected. “If that is the talk, there is some misapprehension. We heard he was ill on returning to England. We heard he had come near to losing his leg. Lady Adeline was most distraught. But he was always strong. If anything, the years away have only made him more so. True, when he arrived last week, we were told that an accident in town had set him back”-Marian had the grace to blush guiltily-“but he’s threatened that tonight he means to dance! And Dicky expects to go riding with him any day. Lee is not foolishly impetuous, Miss Ware. He would not attempt so much unprepared.”

  “Then perhaps we have been misinformed,” Marian allowed. She did not have the heart to discourage her. She could not meet Clara Poole’s frown and returned diligently to the complexities of her sketch.

  “Indeed, I must believe so. Else why should he be contemplating marriage?”

  “We-we understood he thought it time,” Marian said. “Regardless of his-regardless of his prospects”

  When she again looked up, Clara’s expression was more contemplative than alarmed. She was watching the three now ambling along the lakeside toward them.

  “Tell me, Miss Ware, what do you think of Miss TinckneyDwight?”

  “I think”-Marian still concentrated on her pencil strokes-“that she is quite … perfect”

  “Yes,” Clara sighed beside her. “It is impossible not to find her so. And yet … But he must know his own mind.”

  Marian at last looked up. “You do not object-that Lord Sidley appears to have chosen?”

  Clara shook her head, though her small smile was rueful. “Dicky and I wish him happy. Lee is in many ways another brother. We must welcome his choice as we would welcome any member of the family.”

  The words were generous; they were proper. But despite the acceptance of Delia’s perfections, Marian sensed a certain disappointment. Whether it was on Clara’s part or Sidley’s, Marian did not press. She had come to an understanding of her own, an understanding that at once dismayed her and led her to take care with Clara Poole’s feelings. In observing Sidley that afternoon, Marian had realized that she could not proceed with her engagement to William Reeves, that she could not bind herself to a marriage of practicality alone. However ill-fated the choice, however improper the sentiment, she was in love with another; she was in love with Lord Sidley.

  She had not believed hearts such weak instruments, to be drawn so easily and completely from their own safe interest. Yet hers had proved remarkably, traitorously adaptable. And she would soon find herself in Clara Poole’s unenviable position, but without the open acknowledgment of bereavement.

  She could no longer work and sat scribbling upon the page in some agitation.

  “Ho!” Dicky called as the walkers approached. “We must make haste for the domicile. Sidley insists we dance this evening.”

  Katie had discarded her lemonade and now rose to join them. “Will we have the same musicians, my lord?” she asked, inserting herself neatly between Sidley and Delia.

  “We will indeed, Lady Katherine. And they will play whatever tune you request” Sidley’s gaze fell upon Marian’s sketch, which she hurriedly covered. “How industrious you are, Miss Ware. You put the rest of our frolicking party to shame”

  “You have been a most industrious walker, my lord.”

  His smile was irritatingly satisfied. “I have, haven’t I? After such rigorous exercise, Lady Katherine’s gigue will no doubt be beyond me”

  “Oh, no!” Katie protested. “I shall ask them to play it slowly!”

  “A dirge of a gigue? I am most grateful, my lady.”

  Marian suspected that only she noticed the challenge in Sidley’s voice. She knew it annoyed him to be treated as an invalid.

  “You must have them play everything slowly, Lady Katherine,” Dicky said. “I have not been dancing for many months and must consult the steps cards”

  “I shall show you this afternoon if you like,” Katie offered helpfully. “And this evening you might dance with Marian, for she was always termed patient by our dancing instructor.”

  “Was she indeed?” Dicky asked with a smile. “I should have wished to dance with Miss Ware in any event”

  “Are we ready to return?” Sidley asked abruptly. “Lady Formsby, have you had quite enough of the air? Auntie?”

  They piled into the carriages for the brief drive back, leaving servants to pack up the remains of their repast and direct the riding party home. Most then retreated to their rooms for a period of rest before the evening’s entertainments. Indeed, Katie actually slept while Marian worked on her watercolor painting. But after little more than an hour her cousin was awake and ready to talk.

  “I have been thinking, Marian,” she began, while considering which gown she would wear that evening, “that I should very much like an offer from Lord Sidley.”

  Marian drew a sharp breath and dabbed at the unintentional bloom of paint before her. “You are certain, Katie?”

  “About the offer, indeed. It is so important, you see, that everyone know I receive it.”

  “If you accept him, ‘twill be supposed”

  “But I’ve no intention of accepting him.”

  Marian turned to her impatiently. “What are you on about, Katie?”

  “Just that I-I like Lord Sidley. I truly do, Marian. But he is so very old. Almost twenty-nine! And I thinkin fact, I know-I should most definitely l
ike another season, or even two, before I become Lady Sidley.”

  “He does not have that time, Cousin.”

  “Oh, I know. Even if I might have many seasons as Lady Sidley, I should be in mourning two years. And unable to dance! I should abhor it above all things. But he does not seem so terribly ill, does he, Marian? Just a bit slow. Although there is something in his mannersomething that reminds me of Papa-that I find I cannot quite like.”

  Marian silently credited Katie with more insight than she had displayed to date. Sidley did treat Katie as though she were less a partner than a charge.

  “Then why should you wish an offer, Katie? Because it is a matter of pride?”

  Katie was nodding vigorously. “Too many know that I’ve-that I’ve claimed to want one. I cannot turn back now!”

  “But what of Lord Sidley’s pride, you goose? Do you think he will enjoy such a refusal?”

  “I think he will offer for someone else straightaway,” she said practically. “I expect Becca Harvey would have him.”

  You are wrong there, Marian thought silently. Delia shall have him.

  “Anyway,” Katie continued, “I might need your help tonight, to bring him up to scratch.”

  “And how shall I do that, pray?”

  “When you talk with him, you must remind him that other gentlemen have been most attentive to me in town”

  “He knows that already, Katie. You are wildly popular. But Lord Sidley will not compete.”

  “Oh, yes he will,” she claimed. “All gentlemen do”

  Marian sighed. “If I speak with him, I will mention it. But why should he listen to me?”

  “He seems to admire you-as an artist. He always has something to say to you. This afternoon he was asking me about your home in Brinford. And he’s asked several times about William, whom I’ve only met the once, and that long ago, when I was fifteen. Lord Sidley has little to say to me unless it concerns you”

  “He finds me a curiosity, Katie. An oddity, nothing more. He searches for reasons to tease me”

  “He teases you as well? Then I shan’t find it so vexing.”

  When they at last went downstairs, music already flooded the common rooms. There were just enough couples among Aldersham’s guests to insure that all who wished to stand up to dance could do so, however small the set. When Marian came to dance with Edgar, she queried him about his fascination with Rebecca Harvey.