Earl to the Rescue

by Jane Ashford

  The two gentlemen said how do you do; Major St. Audley bowed. “So, I take it you haven’t seen my mother?” he went on.

  “No,” answered Gwendeline. “Oh, is that her carriage coming down the street?”

  The major peered out the window. “I believe you’re right. I think I’ll try to outflank her.” He grinned as he said his farewells. “Perhaps I can keep her from dragging me in here for tea,” he said over his shoulder as he left.

  Gwendeline watched him walk out the door and over to the carriage. After some conversation, the major climbed into it, and they drove away. Gwendeline breathed a sigh of relief. She’d been afraid Lady Merryn would come in to join them and upset Mr. Ames. When she turned back to this gentleman, he was eyeing her. “Major St. Audley is a son of Lady Merryn’s,” she said.

  “Ah, a friend of yours then?” he replied, still surveying her.

  “Yes, that is, an acquaintance.” Gwendeline took another sip of her tea. She hoped Mr. Ames wouldn’t take up the subject of lady novelists.

  “This reminds me of something I wished to speak to you about. My wife insists that I do so, in fact, and I must say that for once I agree.”

  “What is it?” asked Gwendeline, puzzled, as he paused.

  Mr. Ames appeared uneasy. “Rather difficult to begin,” he said. “The thing is, we were wondering, my wife and I, whether you’re in trouble of any kind.”

  Gwendeline frowned at him.

  “What I mean is, not trying to pry or any such thing, but we’ve been worried about you. All that nonsense about your family in that foolish book. And your never mentioning London when we were in the country. I got to thinking perhaps there was something amiss.”

  “It’s very kind of you to be concerned, but I assure you that I’m fine. There’s nothing wrong.”

  Mr. Ames looked dissatisfied and more uncomfortable. “What you would say to put me off, of course. The thing I mean to say is, no need to explain anything to me, but if I can help in any way…” He paused, coughed, and went on a bit gruffly. “Have a bit of money, you know. You’re welcome to whatever you need.”

  Gwendeline was surprised and touched by this offer. “Thank you, Mr. Ames,” she said. “I don’t know what to say to you, except that everything is all right with me now.” Mr. Ames started to speak again, but Gwendeline forestalled him. “I was rather upset and uncertain when I first came to Penwyn, I admit. I had run away from London without waiting for explanations of some rumors that worried me. I was very foolish. But since then, I’ve found out the truth and all is well.” She smiled.

  Mr. Ames appeared partly satisfied, but still a little nervous. “The thing is,” he brought out finally, “m’wife received some letters from home. Something about a disappearance or some such nonsense. All a hum, I’m sure, or twisted about by some tattling gabblemonger, but she’s been fidgeting.” He became more emphatic in response to Gwendeline’s distressed expression. “None of our business; I told her so. Told her it wouldn’t do for us to intrude ourselves where we weren’t wanted or needed. But she made me promise I’d try to help.” He paused, looking embarrassed.

  Gwendeline’s dismay at hearing that someone in London knew of her abduction lessened. “I’d prefer to say nothing about this story,” she told Mr. Ames. “But I can honestly assure you that the trouble has been remedied.”

  Mr. Ames was relieved. “That’s good then. Must apologize, but I promised I would ask, you know.”

  Gwendeline nodded. “It was very kind of you to be concerned.”

  “Wish I could have helped,” he replied. “Never had any children, you know, but… Ah, well, I’m very glad you’ve come about all right and tight.” His expression lightened. “My wife had some ridiculous idea that you’d tried to elope with a young man and were prevented by his family. Then, when you spoke to that youngster, well, I began to jump to conclusions.” He laughed ruefully. “You’ll think us a pair of old fools. M’wife wished to help in the romance and give you a dowry or some such silliness. Daresay you don’t need anything of the kind.” He looked a little hopeful.

  “No indeed,” replied Gwendeline.

  His face fell. “That’s what I told her. Ridiculous idea.”

  “You are the kindest people I’ve ever met, and I only hope I can repay you someday for your offer,” said Gwendeline. “I’m deeply touched by what you have tried to do.”

  Mr. Ames coughed. “Ah, well,” he said. “No need for that. Just keep us in mind if you need anything, you know.”

  “Thank you,” she answered.

  “Well, if you’ve finished your tea,” said Mr. Ames heartily then, “we must get on. A great many pictures still to see today.” He rose from his chair.

  They continued their tour, though they didn’t see everything Mr. Ames had planned to view. Gwendeline returned home just in time to change for her dinner party, tired but warmed by the Ameses’s gesture of friendship and eager to reciprocate in some way. When she told Miss Brown, she too was touched, saying that this confirmed her high opinion of the Ameses.

  Throughout the very dull evening, Gwendeline thought periodically of them and of what she might do to show her appreciation. By the time she was ready for bed later on, she was rather annoyed that she could think of nothing, but she vowed she would not give up.

  Eighteen

  The following evening Gwendeline and Miss Brown were to go to Almack’s, the first large public gathering they’d attended in some time, and Gwendeline readied herself with care. Her dress was one she’d worn before, a sea-green crepe, but she looked well in it, she knew, and tonight she added a filmy wrap of real lace.

  As she dressed, she once again encouraged Ellen to talk, and she soon had the girl chattering as constantly as ever. This further sign that things were returning to normal in her household was a relief. Moreover, it seemed that Ellen was striking up a friendship with Yvette, a gratifying development. The two had always maintained a certain distance, which had led to some quarreling and discord. But now it seemed that this was past. Yvette had expressed her sympathy with Ellen’s position and won her over. As she went downstairs that evening, Gwendeline felt rather complacent about the way she’d managed during this difficult period.

  The two ladies arrived on the steps of Almack’s by nine thirty, well before its doors would be closed to latecomers. They chanced to encounter Lillian Everly and her mother as they were going in, and since the girls hadn’t seen each other for an entire day, they were soon deep in conversation. Miss Brown chatted amiably with Mrs. Everly, and the two of them found chairs together; they had become friends since Gwendeline’s return to London.

  Gwendeline told Lillian all about her tour of English paintings. The latter was a little envious. “To be escorted on a picture viewing expedition by one of our foremost living artists! Really, Gwendeline, that’s a bit ostentatious, is it not? Splendid luck you have, that’s all I can say. Things fall into your lap.”

  Gwendeline retorted in the same facetious spirit. “Someone born both beautiful and rich shouldn’t belittle luck, my dear Lillian.” She grinned at her friend, and they laughed together.

  “Well, I really am envious,” Lillian went on. “I spent the day most drearily. First, endless fittings for my new ball gown. Mother is never satisfied with it because I’m to wear it to the duchess’s ball; she wishes me to look perfect. And then”—Lillian paused dramatically, giving Gwendeline a mock tragic glance—“in the afternoon, who do you think called on us?”

  “The queen?” answered Gwendeline.

  “No, goose, and you’ve quite spoiled the effect of my revelation. The Duchess of Craigbourne herself called.”

  This information sobered Gwendeline. “Really, Lillian? What did she want?”

  “Just to look me over, my mother believes,” Lillian replied. Her gaiety had begun to sound slightly false. “She thinks it a very good sign, for the
duke is much influenced by his mother’s opinion.”

  “Ugh,” said Gwendeline. “Just like poor Lord Wanley. I suppose the duchess is even worse than his mother. How horrid!”

  Lillian considered. “No,” she said. “If I’m honest, I must say that the duchess is nothing like Lady Wanley.” She turned to look at Gwendeline. “She’s a very formidable woman, but she has a kind of dignity and true politeness that Lady Wanley will never approach.” Lillian shrugged, smiling ruefully. “I admit I rather admired her. I hope to be half so composed one day.”

  “Lillian, you’re not changing your mind about marrying the duke because of his mother?”

  “No, indeed. It’s just more proof that they’re a charming family and I am a fool to reject such a chance.”

  “That is what your mother says, I suppose,” answered Gwendeline.

  Lillian nodded. “And you know as well as I that she’s right, Gwendeline. Such matches are very rare. I would have everything. Rank, wealth, social position, and a pleasant, considerate husband and mother-in-law. When she talked of how she would be moving to the dowager’s residence as soon as the duke married, for she does not believe that young couples should be burdened with family, I was ready to sink.”

  At that moment both girls were solicited for the first dance and conversation became impossible. Gwendeline danced the first few sets with some of her usual partners, young men whom she liked and could chat with easily. She tried several times to speak with Lillian, but could find no opportunity for private conversation. The set preceding supper was just forming when she saw Lillian solicited by the Duke of Craigbourne, and Gwendeline realized with chagrin that the duke would take her in to supper. She was just wondering whether she could somehow separate them when a voice beside her said, “They make a fine couple, don’t they?” It was Major St. Audley, and his tone was bitter. “They have all the prerequisites. He has great wealth and position; she has beauty, elegance, and enough money to tempt him. It’s a perfect match.”

  “Oh, I’m nearly out of patience with the two of you. Why must you be so foolish?”

  The major looked rather surprised. “What would you have me do? I can’t compete with the likes of Craigbourne.”

  “Of course you can,” insisted Gwendeline. “If you are truly in love. Lillian cares more for love than position.”

  “You seem very sure of that, but I’m not. She would be the foolish one, to take me over Craigbourne. And I’m not even certain she cares for me at all, you know.” He turned back to Gwendeline suddenly. “Unless… Has she said something to you?”

  Gwendeline shook her head, and the major’s face fell. “But I have a feeling,” Gwendeline said, “that she is not indifferent to you.”

  He brightened for a moment then looked down again. “A feeling,” he said. “You’re imagining things because you wish to help me.” He put up a hand to forestall her answer. “And that is very kind. I’m grateful. But it’s no use.” The music was beginning. “I came over to ask you to dance, in any case. Shall we join the set?” He held out his hand, and Gwendeline took it, though she felt like shaking him. He and Lillian would never overcome the obstacles in the path of love if they remained so obdurate. For a moment she felt like giving up and leaving them to their fates.

  But as she danced, she reconsidered. It wasn’t Lillian’s fault entirely that she was acting foolishly. She had no idea that the major loved her. And he believed that he was being noble, sacrificing himself for his love. Gwendeline wouldn’t give up yet. As the dance ended, she tried to ensure that they stopped near Lillian and the duke. The major was reluctant, but Gwendeline maneuvered him close enough so that they had to speak. As the two of them approached from one side, Gwendeline was rather annoyed to see Lord Merryn and Adele coming from the other. All four converged on Lillian and the duke at the same time.

  Adele Greene appeared upset. “We’re so late,” she told anyone who would listen. “Alex delayed so long that we barely got in before the doors were closed, and now I have hardly danced and it’s already time for supper. It’s all exceedingly stupid.”

  Lord Merryn appeared blandly unaffected by this speech. As the party began to drift in to supper together, Major St. Audley looked little short of miserable; Adele was petulant, Lillian withdrawn, and Gwendeline was anxious. Only the duke and Lord Merryn, who remained his usual imperturbable self, seemed at ease. The latter moved to smooth things over. “Adele,” he said, “I don’t believe you’ve met the duke.”

  The change in Adele’s expression was immediate and complete. Suddenly, she was smiling brilliantly. “Why, no,” she replied, turning toward Craigbourne. “I haven’t had that honor.” Lord Merryn performed the introductions with a mocking smile. Gwendeline caught his eye for a moment, and he raised his eyebrows sardonically, as if inviting her to join in his enjoyment of the scene. Gwendeline looked away, not knowing how to respond to this seeming mockery of his betrothed.

  When they seated themselves at a table in the supper room, Gwendeline found herself between the major and Lord Merryn. It seemed to her that the earl had purposely placed Adele next to the duke, and she knew that she had hurried the major into the seat next to Lillian. Conversation was strained at first, as they tried to talk in one large group. But gradually, Adele began to monopolize the duke’s attention, excluding Lillian, and the major perforce engaged her in conversation. This left Gwendeline and Lord Merryn to talk to each other, though Gwendeline’s attention was diverted by the other conversations around the table.

  Adele was acting surprisingly meek. She was listening with rapturous interest to the duke’s description of his country house, really a rambling palace, in the north. Gwendeline could tell from the way he talked that he loved it dearly. Indeed, she heard him say that he always hated to leave it and come to London. Adele agreed fervently with this sentiment, as with all the duke’s opinions, and Gwendeline smiled. She’d more than once heard Adele express complete distaste for country living.

  Gwendeline sat back and sighed. Actually, she thought, Lillian is probably right; she could be more or less happy married to the duke and living in such a place much of the time. Lillian really loved the country. Perhaps Gwendeline was wrong to try to interfere in other people’s lives. She made a wry face; she certainly hadn’t done so well with her own.

  “If you’re going to make faces as we sit here,” said Lord Merryn, “I shall talk to you. I have no objection to a little quiet. But you will have everyone in the room believing that I have done something very odd if you persist in grimacing.”

  Gwendeline smiled. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I was thinking. I haven’t been a very amusing dinner companion.”

  “I do not require always to be amused,” he replied. “What were you thinking, to give rise to such an expression?”

  “I was wondering whether it is better not to interfere in other people’s lives,” she answered slowly.

  The earl looked genuinely startled. “Whatever made you think of that?”

  Gwendeline looked up quickly and gave an embarrassed shrug. “It was simply idle speculation.”

  “You don’t think that one should interfere for the good of all concerned?”

  “How is one to judge what is for the good of everyone?” replied Gwendeline. She put her chin in her hand. “I’ve tried to do so on more than one occasion and have sometimes acted on my decisions, but I began to wonder just now whether I was right to do so. In my own life, I’ve made mistakes, so how can I presume to judge for others?”

  “I think it’s often easier to see the right path for another than for oneself.”

  Gwendeline brightened a little. “That seems true,” she said. “Perhaps you’re right.”

  Lord Merryn started to answer her, but at that moment Adele, seeing that he’d become engrossed in conversation with Gwendeline, claimed his attention. She laughingly appealed to him to confirm some story sh
e was telling the duke, and Lord Merryn was pulled away.

  Gwendeline, left to herself, turned her attention to the major and Lillian. Immediately, she felt better. The reserve she’d noticed in Major St. Audley when they first sat down had disappeared. He and Lillian were talking animatedly but comfortably like old and dear friends. When Gwendeline saw the eyes of each, she was sure she’d done the right thing in throwing them together and certain that they were in love. There was no mistaking their expressions.

  Gwendeline sat back in her seat, her supper plate forgotten. How unfortunate it was that the major had no income of his own that would allow him to marry Lillian. A thought struck Gwendeline. Lord Merryn was said to be very rich. Wouldn’t he give his brother a generous income if he knew his plight? Even as she asked herself this question, Gwendeline was sure he would. A man who would go to such lengths to help her, the daughter of a friend but almost a stranger to him really, would surely share his wealth with his own brother. She turned back to Lord Merryn, the request on her lips, but he was still talking with Adele and the duke.

  Gwendeline realized that this was hardly the moment to bring up such a subject. The major or Lillian might have heard her! She must wait for the proper opportunity. Perhaps Major St. Audley was too proud to ask his brother for money, but she wouldn’t hesitate to do so to ensure Lillian’s happiness.

  The earl turned back to Gwendeline. “Are you too warm?” he asked. “You look quite flushed.” He smiled. “Or perhaps Andrew has said something improper?” His brother didn’t hear this remark; he was too deeply occupied with Lillian.

  Gwendeline smiled. “Oh no, perhaps I am a little warm.”

  “I wish I could offer to take you for a stroll, but I fear we could only walk about the ballroom, and it isn’t much cooler there,” he answered.

  “No, but I should very much like some private conversation with you. On a matter of some importance.”