Rachelle Edwards

by Sweet Hoyden (lit)

  'How fitting," acknowledged the viscountess.

  Pandora threw back the counterpane and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. "There is one consolation to be had, Rosa. If it all goes wrong in the end, I will be able to take to the boards as an actress. What has happened of late leads me to be­lieve my talent could easily rival that of Mrs. Siddons!"

  Lady St. James and her French "cousin" did not arrive at Hanover Square

  on the appointed day un­til they were certain most of the other guests would have arrived. Despite her bravado, Pandora still feared her mother-in-law's power, and she deemed it sensible not to confront her directly. Much better to mingle with the crowd, where she would not be so prominent.

  It was, however, a strange feeling for her to enter her own house as a stranger to it. As she walked slowly up the great staircase to the first-floor salon where she had greeted so many guests herself, Pan­dora felt emotional, too. Suddenly she had a long­ing for this to be her assembly, to stand at her husband's side at the head of the stairs and greet their guests as she had done before.

  As she glanced around, she felt that her hus­band's ancestors, to be seen in the paintings that lined the staircase, were casting her disapproving looks. For once she could not blame them if they did.

  The grand salon, where most of the Asheville en­tertaining took place, was a splendid room. Silk damask lined the wall, and matching eau de Nil damask covered the many chairs that had origi­nally been brought over from France. In one corner stood her own harpsichord, on which she often en­tertained guests. Her husband enjoyed hearing her play, but today the instrument stood idle and alone.

  As they entered the salon, smiling and nodding to acquaintances, something that belied their inner disquiet, Pandora looked around for a sight of her husband, who was not immediately to be seen. However, the dowager was easily seen at the far side of the room, where various of her old acquain­tances stopped to converse. Ernestina Asheville had been in her youth, and for many years afterward, a leader of the ton. After the death of her husband she lost her taste for the social round, and it be­came her ambition for her only son to marry, in order to perpetuate the illustrious line.

  Unfortunately the wealthy young earl enjoyed his freedom and the company of several ladies who would never have been acceptable as his countess. Nevertheless, he did eventually accept the necessity of marriage and chose as his bride Miss Pandora Kettering, much to his mother's chagrin. In his own way the earl was as forceful as his mother and proceeded with his courtship, so after the marriage the dow­ager retired to a handsome house in Tunbridge Wells, where she was able to take the waters and receive all the respect that she considered was her due.

  All this was very well known to Pandora, who did not doubt for one moment Ernestina Asheville would be rejoicing in the absence of her daughter-in-law. She was quite convinced that the dowager hoped the parting to be a permanent one and to this end was once more taking up her duties as hostess at Asheville House. Once again Pandora's eyes filled with tears, for she regarded it to be so unjust.

  All at once she caught sight of the earl at the far side of the room, in conversation with several of his mother's guests. Her desire to throw herself into his arms was alarming. In fact, her longing to be back here as mistress of the house no longer bore any relationship to attending balls and routs or, indeed, any of the diversions she normally enjoyed so heartily. She merely wanted to be with him again and no longer be a stranger in her own house.

  'Madame de Chambray."

  She turned to acknowledge an acquaintance, with whom she conversed for some time, and she was convinced no one could guess the heartache she was experiencing.

  Everyone, it appeared, wished to discuss with her the worsening situation in France, which was quite natural. Uncharacteristically Pandora was now compelled to read the news sheets to keep abreast of all that was happening in that country. Previ­ously Pandora had only wished to read The Ladies' Magazine and any fashion plates that came her way. Now she was becoming rather knowledgeable, unfashionably so, about politics and other matters that normally concerned only the menfolk. Pandora found it alarming that while she and her friends enjoyed diverse entertainments, dreadful happen­ings were occurring so near at hand.

  Soon, tea and delicious pastries were being served, and Pandora began to relax. All at once it was diverting to be present in her own house while her husband and mother-in-law had no notion she was there. The only drawback was that she could not boast of it to anyone save Rosamond.

  'Madame de Chambray."

  Pandora looked up from her enjoyment of the pastries to discover the earl towering over her.

  'I am relieved to see you recovered after the other evening."

  'Yes, I am, I thank you," she responded in some confusion, glad of her large hat with its profusion of ribbons that served to hide part of her face. "I assure you, swooning is a most uncommon occur­rence for me."

  'I believe it, but your attendance here today was in some doubt in my mind, and I am persuaded my mother will be gratified you condescended to accept her invitation."

  'I take leave to doubt that she is able to notice me among so many, my lord. This is quite a hurri­cane, you know."

  'As you cannot profess to be acquainted with my mother, I am obliged to assure you she misses little, however crowded the room. Come, I would very much like to show you something."

  Intrigued, Pandora followed him, aware that Ro­samond was watching with great interest while conversing with a friend. The earl led the way out of the salon, which was some relief to Pandora, for she had the fear he might be taking her to be pre­sented to the dowager. He led her into the gallery, where it was far less crowded and she was much happier, for the farther away from her mother-in-law, the safer she felt.

  'Your house is most handsome, my lord," she ventured, feeling some comment was expected of her.

  'It gratifies me that you should think so," he re­sponded, casting her a smile that discomposed her once again. "Praise from someone of such exquisite taste can only be a great compliment. This house can, however, only be a backdrop of those who visit it, and I fancy it can only be enhanced by your pres­ence."

  'Lord Asheville, I do believe you are attempting to flirt with me," she answered coquettishly.

  Once again he smiled. "It is a most diverting oc­cupation with one so delightful as you."

  He paused before a painting, and unwillingly she withdrew her attention from him and looked to­ward the canvas, as he was doing. On the last oc­casion Pandora had passed through the gallery a portrait of one of the earl's cavalier ancestors had hung there. When she looked, she gasped, for now hanging in the place of prominence where none could miss it was her own portrait executed by Thomas Lawrence.

  The artist had portrayed her wearing a white gown of silk gauze, her red hair cascading in ring­lets over her shoulders. He'd insisted that she be seated on a rustic bench with a pastoral backdrop. In truth she had not expected it to turn out so fine.

  'Is it not splendid?" the earl inquired, gazing upon it with genuine pleasure. "I feel it is a worthy addition to the gallery."

  'Yes," she breathed. "It is quite, quite splendid."

  'You do not, of course, know her, but be assured that Mr. Lawrence has captured the very spirit of Pandora. Did you ever see such gloriously red hair?"

  'It most certainly sets her apart from others. You would know her anywhere because of that hair."

  'Quite so."

  'Indeed," she said then, casting him a mischie­vous smile. "I am quite anxious of it."

  'You need not be, madame, for you have a unique charm all your own."

  Pandora returned her attention to the portrait. "Did you not tell me on a previous occasion it was unfinished at the time of your wife's departure from town?"

  'That is quite true, madame. You have an excellent memory in addition to your other many attrib­utes. Mr. Lawrence had not quite finished when my wife was obliged to leave town, but it
was only a matter of a few minor details. I am delighted I did not have to wait much longer to put it on display."

  'Lady Asheville will be delighted when she sees it," Pandora murmured, scarcely knowing what else to say.

  'I can see you are much impressed, and rightly so. We have many fine artists here in London. May­hap you would do well to engage Mr. Lawrence to paint your portrait."

  She was deep in thought, considering once more the portrait hanging on the wall. "Oh, do you think so?" she asked in some surprise.

  'It is evident you would have left all such pos­sessions behind you in France."

  'Yes, yes, that is so. It was all I could do to bring out my jewels safely."

  'It would be a great misfortune if your descen­dants had no notion of your beauty."

  'I will give it some consideration," she vowed, "and I thank you for the honor of allowing me to be one of the first to see this painting of Lady Ashe­ville." Pandora hesitated for a moment before add­ing, "I imagine your dear mother is delighted to have her daughter-in-law's portrait on display where it belongs."

  'Oh, yes, she is most impressed," the earl re­plied, displaying a little discomfiture, which was what she expected. As they began to walk back to­ward the salon, he recovered himself sufficiently to tell her, "My wife has the mistaken and irrational fear that she will be forgotten by all who know her while she is obliged to be out of town. Well, now with her portrait hanging here for all to see, that is impossible."

  Pandora turned to cast him a sharp look, a re­buke trembling on her lips. Most fortunately it was never uttered, for at that moment she caught sight of Fanny Courdon, who was just entering the gal­lery. On finding Pandora in the earl's company, the young woman looked not at all pleased.

  She gave Pandora a cool look as she said, "Ma­dame de Chambray, I have been seeking you out for an age."

  'Indeed. That is a singular honor, my lady."

  'Lady Asheville charged me to do so," the mar­chioness replied, making it quite clear it was not on her own account. "She wishes me to convey her desire for you to join her in the salon."

  Pandora's eyes opened wide in alarm. She glanced at the earl, who appeared bland, and then she turned back to her old rival. "That must be a great honor, but surely there are others who are more deserving of it than I."

  'I entirely agree with you on that score," mur­mured the other woman.

  But the earl added quickly, "If Mama requests a coze, madame, I assure you she will not be gain­said. Lady Courdon, while Madame de Chambray cozes with my mother, mayhap you would like to come with me to see the finished portrait of my wife."

  Fanny Courdon's manner thawed considerably at the invitation. "It would be a great pleasure to ac­company you, my lord. Good day to you, madame"

  The earl bowed to her as he took his leave. As Pandora watched them walk away together, their heads close in conversation, she experienced emo­tions that were not only new to her, but not very pleasant. Moreover, she felt a real sense of loss at his departure.

  On her way back to the salon, when she passed the staircase, she was tempted to run down and out of the house, but pride would not permit her to do so. She drew up her head and went back into the salon to the greatest test she had yet endured.

  The lady conversing on the sofa with the dowager rose as Pandora approached them. She glanced around to catch a glimpse of Rosamond, whose face had become a horrified mask at the sight of her friend approaching the dowager. Lady St. James, unaware that Pandora had been summoned to meet the earl's mother, frantically shook her head in an attempt to dissuade Pandora from such foolhardi-ness Pandora, however, who had come too far to retreat, firmly turned her back on all others as she curtsied before her mother-in-law, who patted the now vacant seat at her side.

  'Madame de Chambray, I believe," she said crisply. "We meet at last."

  'My lady, this is an honor," Pandora murmured in her soft French accent, keeping her head slightly averted all the while.

  'Well, do sit down. I cannot forever be craning my neck, and I wish to have a proper look at you." Fortunately Pandora was able to seat herself in such a manner that Lady Asheville could not look directly into her face in the searching way she ha­bitually employed.

  'I have been hearing much about you, madame," the dowager told Pandora, "which I confess has made me a mite curious to make your acquaintance today."

  'I trust what you have heard about me is favor­able, my lady."

  'Oh, indeed. Everyone is most impressed by your bearing, in view of your recent misfortunes."

  'I am safe in England and surrounded by so many friends, I consider myself fortunate, certainly more than many I have been obliged to leave be­hind in France."

  'You are too modest, I feel, but that is also a quality I greatly admire. So many young ladies cannot count modesty among their attributes."

  'I wonder to whom you allude, my lady," Pan­dora murmured, allowing herself a wry smile.

  'It is of no account. Having spoken to you, I am now more able to understand my son's admiration of you." Pandora felt her cheeks begin to burn. "And for your part, I do not doubt you reciprocate that esteem."

  'How could I not, my lady? Lord Asheville is ev­erything which is laudable."

  'I am persuaded you must also be aware of his long and illustrious lineage."

  During the period of Pandora's betrothal, the dowager had ensured that she did know of it. Lec­tures on the family lineage had been so intense, she felt she knew most of Asheville's antecedents better than her own. Every painting in the galleries, both here and at Brocklesby Hall, was as familiar to her as her own face.

  'Only moments before I came here, Lord Ashe­ville was showing me portraits of his ancestors, and the new one of his wife. I could not help but be aware of the splendor of your line, and I am most impressed, you may be certain."

  'My dearest wish, and Asheville's most earnest desire, is for there to be an heir to the title and the lands, which are considerable. In truth, madame, that is the reason my son felt it incumbent upon him to wed this year. Had it been otherwise, I feel certain he would have continued his bachelor exis­tence, which was congenial to him."

  As the dowager spoke, Pandora raised her head to find herself looking directly at the earl, who had placed himself across the room. He appeared to be supremely at ease, leaning negligently against a pillar, his arms folded in front of him. As Pandora's angry gaze met his, he smiled almost knowingly, although he couldn't possibly have known the con­tent of the conversation or her reaction to it, and she looked away quickly, for fear that her anger would be detected.

  'Madame" the dowager was saying, "I speak to you as one woman of sensibility to another. I must appeal to you."

  'My lady?" Pandora asked in astonishment, wondering if she had missed something her mother-in-law had said.

  'My daughter-in-law, of whom you will have heard much, will soon return to town."

  'I did not know that," Pandora murmured. "I un­derstood that her stay in the country was to be a lengthy one."

  'My son assures me it is not so."

  'And what, may I ask, my lady, is that to me?"

  'Ah, yes." To Pandora's amazement her mother-in-law appeared somewhat uncertain as she contin­ued, "I must entreat you to allow them sufficient time to fill their nursery." This statement caused Pandora to look even more astonished.

  'I cannot conceive how that may have anything to do with me, my lady."

  'Come now, such coyness does not become you, my dear," the dowager continued, returning to her more usual crisp manner. "Once there is an heir to the title, no doubt my son will be able to make sure you and he meet often. I do trust that I have now made myself plain, madame."

  'Abundantly, my lady," Pandora responded through tightly clenched teeth.

  To anyone watching her sitting at the dowager's side, Pandora appeared to be the epitome of deco­rum. Inside, however, her feelings were in a tur­moil. How she longed to give vent to her anger. She h
ad never been closer to revealing her true identity than at that moment.

  'Mama, you really mustn't monopolize Madame de Chambray," the earl chided as he came up be­hind them. "You are not the only person to find her company congenial."

  Pandora started, but she was glad of the inter­ruption, never more so. Had she been left in the dowager's company for much longer, she might have been tempted to say or do something rash. One thing her disguise had taught her, and that was prudence. She doubted if she would ever be so im­petuous again.

  'We have finished our coze," the dowager told him, bestowing upon Pandora a rare smile. "And I find we are totally in accord with one another, I am delighted to vouchsafe."

  Understandably Pandora found she could not re­spond but merely curtsied and moved away, letting out a long sigh of relief as she did so. The old har­ridan, she thought, how dare she collude at finding a chere amie for her son? Pandora felt outraged by it, but she really couldn't pretend to be surprised.

  'I trust that my mother did not weary you with her prattling," the earl ventured.

  Pandora contrived to smile sweetly and reply, "Oh, no, 'twas most pleasant, I own. Lady Ashe­ville was most condescending to me. I do believe it is time for me to depart. I see Lady St. James beck­oning to me. It really is a pity to end such a con­genial afternoon."

  Lady St. James was looking tense but relaxed a little when she saw Pandora smiling. The earl bowed low over her hand.

  'I sincerely hope it will not be too long a time before we meet again, madame."

  'I am quite certain it will not be, my lord."

  Aware that he remained to watch her, she hur­ried down the stairs with her friend without look­ing back. Neither of them spoke until they were safely in the carriage and unable to be overheard.

  Then Lady St. James cried, "My dear, how dared you approach Lady Asheville so brazenly? I confess I was almost stricken with a seizure when I saw you do so."

  'To believe I would have the temerity to ap­proach her, Rosa, belies an ignorance of my mother-in-law. I was summoned to her presence, no less."