Thomasina

by Joan Vincent

  “What a pleasant surprise to find you here,” said Lady Terese. “We did not know what to expect. Parker’s story was so confused.”

  Raising a hand to her mouth to stifle a gasp, Thomasina could only stare at them. How could she have forgotten Parker? Mathew had told the boy something after Dianna’s departure from the tower, but what? Aunt Augusta would be more than furious at having him left on her hands.

  “Miss Thait, are you quite uninjured?” Lord John asked, joining the group. “You look quite pale.”

  “Oh, Thomasina, we are so relieved to see you,” echoed the Misses Claymore.

  Everyone surrounded her, spoke at once, peppered her with questions as to what had happened. Silence fell only when Lady Augusta piped a cough as she approached the group. Those about Thomasina fell back.

  The Baroness, Parker in hand, halted before her niece with displeasure written in her every line. “Parker has imparted his part in the incident in the tower ruins,” Lady Augusta began shrilly. “I am happy to find you unharmed by the fall you incurred because of my son. As his punishment he is to remain in his room until you give permission for him to leave it.” Apparently finished, she nodded curtly and sailed away.

  Parker, in tow, managed to throw a weak smile over his shoulder before they disappeared from sight.

  Watching the last of Lady Augusta’s billowing skirts skimm across the floor in her wake, Thomasina could not believe her ears. Cautious, she scoured the small group for Dianna.

  Eaken’s voice, raised in greeting, drew her glance to the doorway.

  Lord George was bowing Dianna inside with an exaggerated flourish. Her eyes met Thomasina’s, wavered, then turned away. Dianna lifted her head haughtily and took Lord Sternbye’s arm.

  With a smirking nod and a lift of his eyebrows, he acknowledged Thomasina.

  Her dislike of Lord George took a huge leap. A sudden fear for her cousin sprang to her heart. Dianna would have to be warned to be wary of Sternbye Thomasina sensed, but knew not how to manage to get her cousin to listen.

  The thought was lost as the party began discussing what to do next. General agreement was reached to retire to their rooms and freshen up. They arranged to meet in the gardens in the early evening before they dined.

  Thomasina’s steps back to her shared room were much slower than those that had lead her from it. Dianna had excused herself instead of visiting with everyone for those few minutes, and now awaited her. With chin uplifted, ready for the assault, Thomasina stepped into the room.

  It was not the role of combatant, nor even of defendant, that awaited her, but that of consoler. Dianna lay sprawled upon the bed, weeping with an intensity that tore at Thomasina’s heart. There was naught she could do but wait for the worst of the storm to pass.

  “Please, take this,” Thomasina urged, holding out a dampened towel. “It will make your headache better.”

  Dianna reached for the towel sulkily but raised it eagerly to her red-blotched, swollen face.

  “Will you not tell me what has upset you so?” Thomasina attempted once more. “Let me explain what happened in the tower.” She lowered her head, a slight blush upon her cheeks.

  “I am most grateful you did not tell what you saw. It could be so easily misunderstood.”

  “You can thank Lord Sternbye,” Dianna sniffled, “that I said nothing. He insisted the news would end to all activities. That mother would drag us all home if she learned of your scandalous behaviour.”

  Thomasina strove to control her temper. “There was nothing scandalous about my behaviour,”.

  “Here, give me that towel. I will freshen it for you. We must do something about your face for there is only a short time before we are to rejoin the others.” Thomasina deftly rinsed and wrung the towel.

  “What you saw in the tower,” she began as she handed the towel back to her cousin, “was simply Mathew trying to console me as a brother would. There was nothing more in his actions.”

  “I cannot believe that,” Dianna snuffled. “Mathew has been overly attentive to you for some time. You have replaced me in his affections.

  “Oh, what does it matter? Mother insists I marry the Marquess.” Tears welled brightly once more.

  “Do not cry, Dianna. It will only make matters worse. You will only bring the swelling back. What will your mother say when she sees you if you continue to carry on so?”

  The tears were frightened away by these words. Rising, Dianna went to the stand and washed her face. Patting it dry, she surveyed the damage. “Do you think the redness will depart in time?”

  “If you remain calm, I am certain it will,” Thomasina reassured her.

  “Oh, Tommi—may I call you that?” A weak smile appeared as Thomasina nodded. “I must talk to someone or I shall simply die. Do you promise you will tell no one what I say?”

  A knock on their door startled both girls. Lady Augusta steamed into the room, a reproving glare directed to each. “So, you both have guilty consciences,” she stated stridently and slammed the door shut. “Now young misses, both of you, be seated,” she commanded, pointing to the bed.

  Sitting side by side, the young ladies were united by mutual dread.

  “Thomasina, I do not care for you to be deceived by my words before the others. The incident in the tower was completely your responsibility. You did not control Parker.

  “You shall henceforth be relieved of his care and shall do whatever errands and tasks Dianna and I find for you. When we return to Buckley House a suitable position shall be found for you.

  “May I remind both of you that it is never proper to be alone with a gentleman for any reason. Let us hope tongues do not wag overly much about either of you,” she staccattoed to a finish.

  “Yes,” both girls managed, eyes properly lowered.

  “And you, miss,” the Baroness said, turning the attack on her daughter, “you do not need to be reminded of our purpose here. It will not be accomplished if you continue to simper over that popinjay. I will not tolerate such behaviour.”

  “But—mama—”

  “You dare to interrupt me,” shouted Lady Augusta and hand slapped Dianna.

  The young girl recoiled and blanched.

  The Baroness paused as if regretting her action, but her determination drove her. “I will have you betrothed to the Marquess. No one will snicker at me again behind my back when you are the Marchioness of Thornhill. It will be done—do you understand?”

  Visibly shaken, Dianna nodded.

  “Compose yourself—what have you been snivelling over this time?

  “Never mind—make yourself fit to be seen and come to the gardens. You are to be pleasant to his lordship.” Abruptly Lady Augusta bent and kissed her daughter’s cheek.

  “It is for your good I do this,” she said in a milder tone.

  “I shall be watching your behaviour also,” she warned Thomasina as long strides took her to the door. With one last warning glare at both girls, she departed.

  As the echo of Lady Augusta’s steps faded, Thomasina laid her hand gently upon Dianna’s. “I am sorry,” she began.

  “Do not.” Her cousin flung the hand aside. “I do not need sympathy from you. How can you understand? My own mother condemns me to life with a glowering beast and you have Mathew’s love.” She bounded up from the bed.

  “How stupid I was to tease Mathew. If I had not, he might have offered for me before the Marquess wrote that horrid letter.

  “Only Lord George understands. He is kind and considerate and—”

  “You mustn’t pay attention to what he says, Dianna,” Thomasina cautioned her.

  “Why not?” she demanded.

  “There is something false about him. We know nothing of his family or of him.”

  “He is of the gentry and mother would say that is all that matters, if it were not for the Marquess,” Dianna retorted. “You are jealous because he has not flattered you,” she added cattily. “We had best go to the gardens or mother will scold us
again.”

  “Dianna—”

  “I will not listen. Are you coming with me?”

  With a hopeless shrug at the ever swelling waves of difficulty, Thomasina’s steps dragged as she followed her cousin from the room steps.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Tapping his powdered cheek, Lord George contemplated his future. The Buckley chit, while favouring him with smiles, was kept from his side by her mother. The old harridan could prove an obstacle to my plan, Sternbye thought, one that must be gotten around.

  Through questioning Lord Stone he had learned that Buckley’s wife had brought a small fortune to the marriage and that it had been improved upon. That, plus the fact that the girl was as empty-headed as any he had ever seen, had almost made certain success.

  Thus far fate had stepped to his aid. Now he plotted how to further manipulate events to his advantage little realizing the stage was already set. Time was the only factor that he had no control over and it concerned him greatly. Already his behaviour towards the Marquess had put him in disfavour among the gentlemen. He had no doubt Lord Stone would see to his instant removal if he aroused suspicions of his intentions towards the girl.

  All my actions must be carefully considered to allay apprehension on everyone’s part, Sternbye concluded.

  With a tug here and there he made certain of his appearance. Assured that his orange breeches and rose-red frock coat were neat, he fixed a toothy smile upon his face and set about to make himself pleasant to the older women and gentlemen. He was most solicitous of the Marchioness and Lord Stone. Little did Sternbye realize that the pair were almost driven to distraction before supper was announced.

  Lady Longeton accepted the arm the Marquess offered when Eaken intoned supper. “Is there still to be an announcement this eve?” she asked as she took in his brooding countenance.

  He nodded curtly.

  “You could delay until word reaches us about the Thait connection. I am certain that Wenton will be able to clear the matter up for us when he arrives. He knows more of Longeton dealings than even I, especially your brother’s affairs. I left the settlement of matters in his hands when Duard died, as you know.

  “Enough then,” she said, patting his arm. “Take heart—anyone who hates well loves well,” the Marchioness encouragingly.

  Longeton and the Marchioness took their places at the long table. Changes in seating arrangements caused a flurry of activity as all sought their proper places.

  Lady Augusta brightened visibly as she saw that Dianna was to sit to the left of his lordship. Thomasina noted with relief and the faint hope of reprieve that she was to sit at the far end of the table to the left of the Marchioness.

  When the time came for the gentlemen to take their port, the Marquess rose. “I have a request,” he said and paused until all turned their attention to him. “This eve I desire to make an announcement so let us all adjourn to the salon at this time.

  “No, no,” he answered the outburst of questions bantered at him by Lord John and Sir Peter. “You shall all know in a few moments what I wish to impart.”

  Waiters holding trays laden with champagne-filled glasses awaited them. Waiting until all had been served and comfortably seated, Longeton raised his glass.

  “I propose a toast. Let us drink to a long and happy life for my betrothed.” He walked slowly to Thomasina. “To you,” he said.

  The intensity of his emerald-green look pierced Thomasina to the quick.

  All about them utter silence fell except for smothered gasps from Lady Augusta and Dianna.

  “Will you not drink with me?” Longeton challenged.

  Instantly, felicitations and laughter broke out. Longeton took Thomasina’s hand and helped her rise.

  Standing at his side Thomasina felt all warmth drain from her face. She was unable to speak—unable to believe he had truly done it.

  After the first burst of congratulations, the Marquess called for silence. “There is one present,” he said, “whom I must thank, for it is she who was responsible for introducing me to Miss Thait.” He bowed to Lady Augusta.

  “A toast to your kindness, Baroness,” he said, and lifted his glass.

  “To the Baroness,” echoed about the room. All drank.

  The startled lady knew not what to make of matters. All hopes crushed upon the one side and hope renewed for connections with Longeton on the other. She tried to manage this sudden alteration with aplomb. The only matter clear to her was that Dianna would have to be severely reprimanded—both for her past treatment of Thomasina and her nitwitted dallying with Sternbye.

  * * * *

  For Thomasina, the evening had proven a long struggle. The Marquess had not moved far from her side since the announcement. The conversation and congratulations grew increasingly unbearable.

  Then Longeton was motioned away by Lord Buckley.

  Mathew approached and kissed Thomasina’s gloved hand. “My most sincere felicitations upon your—

  Why, Tommi, what is the matter?” he asked when he saw the dismay in her eyes.

  “Tut, tut,” Sternbye mocked as he joined them. “Your claim has been overridden,” he sneered derisively to Mathew.

  “Why, you—” Mathew stepped towards Lord George.

  “No, Mathew,” Thomasina said quickly. She moved between them and took hold of Sherrad’s arm.

  “Of course, the ‘lady’ is correct, Lord Sherrad,” Sternbye continued to mock.

  “Tommi, release my arm,” Mathew bristled.

  “Lord Sternbye,” Longeton addressed the dandy, “Lord Stone wishes to speak with you.

  “Lord Sherrad, please excuse Thomasina. My grandmother wishes a few words with her,” he said, taking hold of her arm.

  “My congratulations,” Mathew said holding out his hand. “I wish you both a long and happy life together.”

  After a moment’s hesitation, Longeton reached out and shook Sherrad’s hand. The firm grip and clear, direct eye contact given by the young Viscount gave assurance of his sincerity. “Thank you,” the Marquess answered, then drew Thomasina away.

  “Fine man, Sherrad is,” Longeton commented as they walked across the room. “What did Sternbye say to raise his hackles so?”

  Intercepted by Lord Claymore who tool Brutus aside, Thomasina was spared having to answer. She nodded and attempted to smile at the appropriate times but her mind wondered at Longeton’s words. What dishonourable man would commend another who was not?

  Glancing at him while he spoke with Lord Claymore, Thomasina noted the solid lines of his face and the lack of any sign of dissolute living. His features were not those of a man who spent his time taking the homes and means of livelihood from those weaker than he. What she felt and saw contradicted what she knew for fact. What could not be denied.

  * * * *

  “At last, Miss Buckley, a moment to speak with you. Why have you been avoiding me?” Lord George purred.

  “Why Lord Sternbye, I would not think of choosing to be without your company,” Dianna responded warmly.

  “We must speak—at length.” He lowered his voice as Lady Terese passed near them. “There is a matter of great import to both of us which I must discuss with you.”

  “Whatever can you mean?” flirted the young lady when she saw Thomasina frown at her.

  “You have been so ill-used,” Sternbye began. “I cannot understand how your mother— Oh, pardon my words, but I cannot tolerate injustice directed at one as lovely and innocent as you,” he blustered. “How can your mother force you to associate with Miss Thait? Why, even as Lord Longeton announced their betrothal, she was agreeing to an assignation with Sherrad.”

  “No,” protested Dianna weakly.

  Like a hound who has scented the fox, Sternbye pressed on. “Did you not see his reaction when I approached them?” he asked indignantly. “I only meant to offer my congratulations to Miss Thait and could not help overhearing their plans. When I mildly reproved them—well, you saw his reaction.”


  Her worst fears verified, Dianna shook her head. “You—you were brave to speak out against their designs,” she said tremulously.

  “It was thought of you that caused my action.” Sternbye took her hand in both of his. “Knowing you would never be untrue to one you loved, Miss Buckley, I could not tolerate the unfaithfulness I witnessed. May I hope that there is a chance that you shall find a place in your heart for—”

  “Oh, Lord Sternbye, you must not,” she interrupted him.

  “Forgive me, dear Miss Buckley. I go far beyond propriety in speaking so, I know. Just being in your presence affects me mightily.” He heaved a dramatic sigh.

  Seeing her mother, Dianna jerked her hand free.

  Sternbye spotted Lady Augusta heading towards them. “Promise me you shall speak with me once more before you depart Thornhill. The ball Thursday eve—it would be easily accomplished with so many present. Please, favour me by this. I do not care to live if you will not,” he implored.

  “Of—of course, I shall speak with you, Lord Sternbye,” she answered breathlessly, torn between his words and her mother’s impending arrival.

  Mathew never once said anything so romantic, so thrilling, Dianna thought. The idea that Lord Longeton would even consider to express such a thought made her giggle.

  “There is little for you to be laughing about,” her mother piped in an undertone at Dianna’s side. “Not only did you lose the chance to be Marchioness, but by encouraging the attentions of that fop you have lessened your chances even with those such as Sherrad,” she scolded.

  “I would not have him—-”

  “You would not?” interrupted her mother. She drew the girl roughly aside. “How could any child of mine be such a conceited, ungrateful wretch? If you do not mend your ways, miss, not even the most generous dowry will purchase a husband for you. Why, even your behaviour towards Thomasina has been shameful.”

  “But mother, I only did as ...” Dianna tried to protest.

  “Silence. To your room. I shall make your apologies. Tomorrow we shall discuss your behaviour,” Lady Augusta commanded in a tone that filled Dianna with foreboding.