Web of Love (4 page)

But he did not know her, he was discovering. She was an interesting conversationalist. She had a lively sense of humor. They laughed a great deal over memories of Spain. And she did not dwell on the horrors of life there, he found. She had a gift for recalling the small, absurd incidents that he had forgotten all about. The incidents that helped him to remember his years there with some pleasure, horrifying as they had been in the main.

The evening at the opera was amusing. A little annoying too, perhaps, but basically amusing. Lieutenant Penworth, it seemed, had a passion for Madeline, and monopolized her company, completely cutting out Colonel Huxtable, who did not look at all pleased at being bettered by an inferior officer. He turned in some pique to Miss Simpson.

And so Lord Eden was left to amuse himself with Mrs. Simpson. Very good thing that he liked her, he thought, and found her an easy companion. And it was a pleasant surprise to see her dressed in an elegant silk gown with her hair dressed more softly than usual about her face. She really was a strikingly lovely woman.

“Do you think the tenor has to stand so close to her,” he whispered in her ear at a most serious point in the opera, nodding in the direction of the leading soprano, “in order to stick a pin in her so that she can reach the high notes?”

“Oh.” She slapped a hand to her mouth and looked at him with eyes that held a horrified sort of amusement, and her shoulders shook. “Oh, don't,” she said with something of a squeal when she had herself a little under control. “I shall disgrace myself by laughing aloud. And just at a time when everyone is dying so tragically all over the stage.”

“It will be her turn soon,” Lord Eden whispered. “I have seen this opera before. Then the tenor will be able to put his pin away and concentrate on his singing until his turn to expire comes. It is all most tragic, is it not? Would you like to borrow my handkerchief, ma'am? It is large, I do assure you.”

“To wipe away the tears of laughter?” she said. “You have quite ruined an affecting drama, my lord. I would have expected such unappreciative comments of Charlie. I did not expect them from you.” But her eyes brimmed with suppressed laughter as she scolded.

Lord Eden grinned and winked at her.

“You are quite right,” she said when the performance had finished and the singers were taking their bows. “The singing was inferior.”

It was pleasant at times, Lord Eden consoled himself after an evening in which he had hoped to sit beside Miss Simpson, to have a companion with whom he could relax, someone with whom he could share a joke, someone who knew how to laugh. If he really had sat beside Miss Simpson, he would probably have had to pretend raptures for very inferior vocalists. And perhaps he really would have had to lend that handkerchief.

Charlie was a fortunate man. To have such a wife. And—of course—to have such a daughter.

“I
DO LIK
e Mrs. Simpson a great deal,” the Countess of Amberley said to her husband later that night. “She is very sensible and very charming, is she not, Edmund?”

“Mm,” he said. He was lying in bed, his hands clasped behind his head, watching her brush her long dark hair, though her maid had already done it for her in her dressing room.

“I wonder why she is married to Captain Simpson,” she said.

“I suppose because he asked her and she said yes,” he said.

The brush paused in her hair and she smiled at him. “You know what I mean,” she said. “It is rather a case of Beauty and the Beast, is it not?”

“Ooh,” he said. “Cruel, love. He is older than she is, yes.”

“Dominic has always been very fond of both of them,” she said. “I suppose they must be contented together if he enjoys their company.”

“I would be a great deal more contented with you if you did not feel obliged to stand there brushing your hair,” he said. “A great deal more contented, Alex.”

“Silly,” she said, putting down the brush and slipping beneath the blankets, which he held back for her. “Do you think Dominic is in love with Miss Simpson? She is a delight, is she not?”

“Mm,” he said. “But I have given up waiting for Dominic and Madeline to fall in love to stay. They don't have my good sense.”

“But you were nine-and-twenty when you married me,” she said. “Only three years ago, love.”

“Was I?” he said. “It must have been because you did not have the sense to meet me sooner, Alex.”

“Captain Simpson must be shy,” she said. “It was a pity he did not come tonight. Do you think Mrs. Simpson minded not having his company, Edmund?”

“No idea,” he said. “I would mind not having your company, but I can't speak for anyone else.”

“Lieutenant Penworth is taken with Madeline,” she said. “But I think he is too young to interest her. What do you think?”

“I think that I might wait all night for you to be finished with your mouth if I don't take drastic measures,” he said. “Hush, love. I have better use for it.”

“Do you?” she said. She smiled at him as he raised himself above her. “What?”

He leaned right across her in order to blow out the candle on the table beside the bed. “This,” he said.

 

“O
H
, C
HARLIE, YOU DO
look splendid!” Ellen set her hands on the captain's shoulders and stood back to look at him in his dress uniform, her eyes dancing with merriment. “And you do look as if you are about to face a firing squad.”

He grinned sheepishly. “But you won't expect me to dance, will you, Ellen?” he asked. “I will if you want me to, you know, and I'll be there so that you can take my arm whenever you don't have a partner. But I can't dance, lass. My legs seem to turn into two stiff poles when I try.”

“Of course you don't have to dance,” she said, kissing him on the cheek. “We decided that yesterday when Lord Eden was here and teased you so mercilessly. And he has already reserved two sets with me, and Lord Amberley one, as well as Captain Norton and Lieutenant Byng and Mr. Chambers. Goodness, Charlie, my card is half-full and we haven't even arrived at the ball yet.”

“And so it should be, lass,” he said. “You will be easily the loveliest lady there.”

“Oh,” she said, “you had better not let Jennifer hear you say that.”

“She will be the loveliest girl there,” he said. “But you are a lady, lass, and the handsomest one I have ever laid eyes on. Especially tonight. So this is the gown you bought in London and have been keeping a secret, is it? It's beautiful, sweetheart. Green is your color.”

“I remember your saying that in Spain when I had that riding habit I was wearing when I fell off my horse into the mud one day. Do you remember?”

“I remember thinking you must be dead,” he said. “I didn't think it was possible to gallop through mud until that day. But both Eden and I did it, only to find you lying there cursing in most unladylike fashion.”

She laughed. “But I remembered that you liked me in green when I was having this gown made,” she said. “You know, Charlie, tonight will not be so very bad. We are not nearly important enough to have been invited to dinner at the Hôtel de Belle Vue. That would be an ordeal, I grant you, with the King and Queen of the Netherlands as guests of honor. Lady Amberley says that the earl dreads the thought of going. I think he is something of a hermit too. And the evening is to start with a concert. Madame Catalani, no less. All you will have to do is sit and listen. And when the dancing begins, there will be no lack of men who will feel as you do and be quite content to stand in a corner talking politics or horses or women or whatever it is you men like to talk about when there are no women present.”

He smiled and kissed her. “Thank you, lass,” he said. “Thank you for understanding me and accepting me as I am. But I am going, you see. I want to watch you and Jennifer dancing and enjoying yourselves. You have been enjoying yourself since she has been here, haven't you? I'm glad for that. I know I am sometimes dull company.”

She shook her head. “Do I look like a woman who is dissatisfied with her lot?” she asked. “Do I, Charlie?”

He looked into her eyes. “You are smiling,” he said.

“All the way inside me,” she said. “Right down to my toes. Because I am the happiest woman alive. I love you and I am married to you. And Jennifer will be tearing her room apart with impatience if we don't go and fetch her soon. Oh, wait until you see her gown, Charlie. She looks quite like an angel in it. You will be proud enough to burst.”

“I already am that,” he said, taking the hand she held out for his.

And she really was happy, Ellen thought. She was going out for the evening with the husband she loved and with the stepdaughter she had grown to love. And her mirror had just told her that she was looking her very best. And she was going to dance for most if not all of the evening. Even one of the waltzes on her card had been taken already, and she loved to waltz. Lord Eden had signed his name next to it the day before when Charlie had finally admitted that he would not dance, even with his own wife.

“Which set did you dream of dancing with Charlie, ma'am?” Lord Eden had asked when they were still laughing over his quite untrue comment that Charlie's two left feet sometimes led him to march off in a different direction from the rest of the company on the parade ground. “A waltz, certainly. And after supper, during the romantic hours of the ball. Now, where are my country dances? Ah, yes, the third set of the evening, I see. I shall sign myself for this waltz as well, then, and we will make Charlie sorry he lost the chance, shall we? I shall twirl you and spin you and make him purple with jealousy.” He had laughed at Charlie and winked at her. He had already written his name twice in Jennifer's card.

She was going to enjoy the evening, Ellen thought as her husband exclaimed over a radiant and excited Jennifer. It was going to be quite, quite splendid. They had been to dances in Spain, but it was a long time since she had attended a ball quite as grand as this one promised to be.

A
FTER DINNER AT THE HÔTEL DE BELLE VUE with the more elite of his guests, the Duke of Wellington arrived with the Dutch royal family at the Salle du Grand Concert in the Rue Ducale when all the rest of his guests were present and seated. There was a great stir as everyone rose. Jennifer, standing beside Ellen, followed her lead and swept into a deep curtsy as the King and Queen of the Netherlands were led to their seats.

“The duke looks more like a king than that other man,” she confided in a whisper. “I am glad he is not the King of England, Ellen.”

“Sh,” her stepmother said with a smile as they resumed their seats and settled for the beginning of the concert. But all the performers were merely tolerated, she felt, sensing the buzz of anticipation as the audience waited for the performance of Madame Catalani, the famous soprano, who had just recently arrived in Brussels.

The singer favored her audience with only two songs, and no amount of enthusiastic applause and calls for an encore could persuade her to sing more.

“She is very lovely,” Jennifer said.

“And has the most glorious voice I have ever heard,” Ellen said.

Her husband leaned toward her at that moment and spoke in a whisper. “I have been gazing about me ever since we came, Ellen,” he said, “and I don't see any lady that looks lovelier than you. Or any girl that looks prettier than Jennifer.”

“Not even Madame Catalani?” she asked with a twinkle in her eye.

“Madame who?” he asked.

“Charlie!” Ellen giggled and linked her arm through his.

Lord Eden joined them before the dancing began. “Ma'am?” he said, bowing to Ellen. “Miss Simpson? Charlie, it is positively not fair that you should have two such lovely ladies in your charge. Especially when you have no intention of dancing with either of them. I am going to take them away from you.” He grinned at Ellen and Jennifer, and extended an arm to each, favoring them with an exaggerated bow. “Will you join my sister and me at the other side of the ballroom, ladies? I am afraid she is rather tied up with prospective partners at the moment.”

“Do you mind, Charlie?” Ellen laid a hand lightly on his arm.

“Go and enjoy yourself, lass,” he said, patting her hand. “And Jennifer too. I see Fairway and Hendon over there. I'll go and have a word with them.”

“Are Lord and Lady Amberley here too?” Ellen asked as Lord Eden led her and Jennifer away.

“They have gone home for a while for Alexandra to, er, put the baby to bed, I believe,” he said. “They will be here later. I'm afraid Alexandra has rather vehement views on the question of wet nurses. Indeed, my brother and his wife are somewhat eccentric in several ways.”

“Oh, but I agree with the countess,” Ellen said.

He smiled at her before turning to Jennifer in order to point out to her the rather unimpressive figure of the Prince of Orange and the more gorgeous one of the Earl of Uxbridge, leader of the allied cavalry.

Lady Madeline greeted them both with a friendly smile. She drew Jennifer's arm through her own and presented her to a large group of admirers. How she had succeeded in gathering such a court about her when she had been in Brussels for less than a month, Ellen did not know, but she was undoubtedly a very lovely and a very vivacious lady. Several of the gentlemen were signing their names in Jennifer's card, Ellen was pleased to see. Her stepdaughter was looking exceptionally lovely in her gown of delicate pink silk overlaid with white lace.

Colonel Huxtable bowed and asked Ellen if he might sign her card.

Lord Eden had turned away to talk with a pretty little auburn-haired lady who had tapped him on the sleeve. Lady Madeline turned from her group of followers and smiled at Ellen.

“You are such a surprise,” she said. “Dom has mentioned both you and the captain in several of his letters home. I pictured you as a dumpy, comfortable-looking lady of middle years. You must be no older than I. And that is a glorious shade of green you are wearing.”

“Thank you.” Ellen smiled. “You, on the other hand, look very much as I expected. You are like your brother.”

“Have you been with the army ever since your marriage?” Madeline asked. “You must be very brave.”

“I joined my father in Spain when I was fifteen,” Ellen said. “But there is no courage involved in staying with one's husband, you know. I think it would take a great deal more to stay in England and wait for news. I could not bear that. Charlie might be hurt or worse, and I not know about it perhaps for weeks.”

“I know.” Madeline's eyes looked tormented for a moment. “I do not have a husband, Mrs. Simpson, but I do have Dom. And I have lived through three years of being separated from him. But not again. I am going to stay here until this is all over.”

“We have this evening,” Ellen said. “This evening, at least, there is no danger. Only lights and music and laughter. When you have become a part of army life, you learn to accept each day and each evening as a precious gift.”

Madeline looked as gay as she had appeared a few minutes before. “Of course,” she said. “Perhaps after all, we are more fortunate than other generations, Mrs. Simpson. We have learned to live and to love for the moment instead of wasting time planning for an elusive future. Here is a gentleman wanting to dance with you, I believe.”

Ellen turned to find Captain Norton, an officer of the Ninety-fifth Rifles, smiling at her and bowing. “My set, I believe, Mrs. Simpson,” he said. “I suppose Charlie won't dance tonight, as usual?”

“Oh, he would make the supreme sacrifice if there were any danger of my being a wallflower,” Ellen said, placing a hand on his sleeve. “But you and several other gentlemen have kindly reprieved him, you see.”

 

L
ADY
M
AISIE
H
ARDCASTLE
joined Madeline at the end of the first set. They were old acquaintances from London, though Madeline would not have attached the label “friend” to their relationship. She disliked Maisie's constantly barbed tongue.

“My dear Madeline,” she said now, tittering and tapping Madeline on the arm. Ever since the former Maisie Baines had married Sir Humphrey Hardcastle two years before, she had affected a condescending air with her old acquaintance. “I saw you talking with Mrs. Simpson earlier. Do you know who she is? I did not know myself, actually, but I was just talking with Lady Lawrence, who arrived from London only last week.”

“Mrs. Simpson is the wife of Captain Simpson of the Ninety-fifth,” Madeline said, fanning herself and hoping that the orchestra would not delay much longer before striking up for the second set so that Lieutenant Penworth might come to her rescue.

Maisie tittered again. “I thought you could not know,” she said. She looked dramatically about her as if she expected to see all the hundreds of guests leaning her way, ears extended for her news. She lowered her voice. “She is the Countess of Harrowby's daughter.”

“Indeed?” Madeline said, her foot tapping with some impatience. “Then it is surprising that she does not attach the title ‘Lady' to her name.”

“Oh.” Maisie smirked. “I did not say that she was the
Earl
of Harrowby's daughter, my dear.”

Madeline turned her head to stare at her, her eyes hostile. “Indeed?” was all she said.

“You do not know the story?” Maisie asked. “I did not know myself until Lady Lawrence told me.”

“No,” Madeline said, “and I am not excessively interested in gossip, Maisie.”

“Oh, this is not gossip,” the other said, two spots of color appearing high on her cheekbones. “I would not indulge in gossip. You should know me better than that, Madeline dear. This is quite true, and such an old story that everyone knows it anyway. So one cannot be accused of being malicious. But I thought you would want to be warned, my dear. In a place like this, one does not always know quite with whom one is cultivating an acquaintance, does one? It is an act of simple friendship to warn someone when one is privy to some unsavory story.”

Madeline looked at her coldly. “I see Lieutenant Penworth approaching,” she said. “I have promised him the next set. I thought the music would never resume, didn't you?”

“How inopportune!” Maisie said. “I will call one afternoon if I may, my dear, and give you the full details. Lady Amberley would doubtless be grateful to know too.”

“We both plan to be out that afternoon,” Madeline said with a smile before turning with a far more sparkling one for the lieutenant.

That dazzled officer would not have known from her manner during the following twenty minutes that she was seething with indignation. Maisie had always specialized in character assassination, and yet no amount of pointed insult seemed to penetrate her armor of self-righteousness. One could probably tell Maisie with one's mouth six inches from her ear that she was an ass and she would still simper and call one her “dear.”

 

L
ORD
E
DEN DANCED
the opening set with Jennifer. She was looking extremely lovely, he thought, and sparkled with an excitement that many very young ladies tried to hide behind a pretense of sophisticated boredom. Although she still blushed every time she looked into his eyes, she seemed to have recovered the use of her tongue in his presence.

When the pattern of the dance allowed conversation, he questioned her about her years at school, and delighted in the humor with which she recalled several incidents there. She had spent her holidays in London with Charlie's sister, Lady Habersham, the only member of his family, it seemed, from whom he was not estranged. But of course she had always been too young to participate in any adult entertainments.

The world was new to her, Lord Eden realized, and thought how long ago it seemed since he had looked on life with such fresh eyes. And yet he was only five-and-twenty even now. He had done a lot of growing up during the past several years, especially during the three since he had bought his commission.

He felt a tenderness for the girl. It would feel good to be in love with her. To be in love again with youth and innocence. It would be good to marry such a girl, and to spend his life protecting her from the rougher side of life. It would be good to marry Charlie's daughter.

Charlie would be his father-in-law. Now, there was a thought!

He smiled in some amusement at Jennifer as the pattern of the dance brought them together again, and drew another blush from her.

Perhaps he would let himself fall in love with her. After this battle. Not before. He did not want any emotional entanglements before the battle. He might not survive it.

He returned Jennifer to Ellen's side at the end of the set and went in search of Susan Jennings, who had stopped to talk with him earlier, and whose card he had signed for the next set. Susan. The same Susan he had loved and almost married three years before. She had married Lieutenant Jennings soon after and had been with him and the army ever since. But three years of rough living had done nothing to destroy her look of fragile innocence and youth. He had seen her occasionally during those years.

“It is exceeding kind of you to dance with me, my lord,” she said as he led her onto the floor for the beginning of the set. She looked up at him with large hazel eyes. “I did not think you would sign my card when there are so many grand ladies present.”

“Ah, but how could I resist dancing a set with you, Susan?” he said. “You are easily as lovely as the grandest lady here.”

“Oh,” she said, blushing and lowering her eyelashes, “you are just saying that to tease me, my lord.”

“Not at all,” he said. “And how is life treating you, Susan? I have not talked with you in an age.”

“We spent the winter with Lord Renfrew,” she said. “My husband's brother, you know. He is still unmarried. And Dennis—he was the middle brother—died two summers ago of the typhoid. He was in Italy. My husband is now Lord Renfrew's heir.”

“Is he indeed?” Lord Eden said with a smile. “So one of these days I may be able to address you as ‘my lady,' Susan.”

“Oh,” she said, looking up at him with wide and stricken eyes, “you must not think such a thing, my lord. I do not let it enter my mind, I am sure. I am excessively fond of his lordship.”

“Quite so,” he said. “It was a bad joke, Susan. Forgive me?”

“There is nothing to forgive,” she said.

He might have married her, Lord Eden thought. He had almost done so, except that he had finally made the choice between her and buying his commission. And the very evening on which he had renounced her and watched her run away in tears after declaring her love for him, she had announced her betrothal to Lieutenant Jennings. And had entered the very life into which he had thought it impossible to bring her. She seemed not to have suffered.

“Have you heard from your family recently?” he asked.