Cry of the Peacock (42 page)

“No, sir, of course not.”

“To ruin David and all his plans.”

She looked at him, but he turned away from her.

“And I understand James has formed an attachment of some kind to your sister. Do you mean to disappoint them as well?”

“Cannot Mariana inherit it in my place?”

He seemed to think for a minute, drumming his fingers hard upon the desk. “James is not the heir,” he said at last. “Surely I don’t have to explain to you how these things work.”

“No, sir.”

“Neither was it your sister who was named, but you. You alone have the power to determining our future, yours and my own, and all those to whom you are presently indebted.”

She looked to David once more. Again, he turned from her. Was he not going to help her at all?

“It was never my intention to put you in this position,” Sir Nicholas said. “I never thought you would require the incentive. Ruskin’s interest is sincere. I may have encouraged him to form it, but it did not take much doing. It never occurred to me you would not be able to return his regard. Why can you not do it?”

“Again, sir, I did not say I meant to refuse him. I only ask for time to make my choice, and the freedom to do it without pressure. There must be some time, even if it is only a week, or a month.”

“We have until the end of the year to pay up or to renegotiate the terms. If we were able to announce a formal engagement, soon…well…your word alone would be enough to satisfy the creditors for a time. David, too, would be able to announce his engagement. So much is riding on one or two words from you, Arabella. One or two words will determine whether we shall sink or be saved. You hold us in your hands.”

Nothing more was said for some time. Abbie turned to look at David, who was standing looking into the fire. She crossed the room to approach him but stopped midway when he looked up.

“Have you nothing more to say?”

“A hundred thousand things, but which is the most appropriate for the occasion? Congratulations? My condolences? Something in between?”

“You have no counsel to give?”

David glanced at his father then looked at her again. “My counsel to you is no different now than it has ever been.” He looked at her a moment more, then bowing his head, he crossed to the door.

“Where are you going?” his father asked of him.

“I have a few items of business to finish. I believe I have been expected at the Barnwells for this last hour or more. And perhaps,” he added, “for a great deal longer yet.”

D
AVID HAD CHANGED and was preparing to go out. As he reached for the knob, he heard a knock from the other side and opened it. It was James, of course.

“What do you want?” David asked his brother as he entered.

“Are you going out?” was James’ reply.

“I am as a matter of fact.”

“Where?”

He didn’t have time for this. “I’m going to the Barnwell’s. I have some unfinished business.”

James examined him very dubiously.

“I’m going make my formal offer to Katherine, if you must know.”

“Not like that you’re not.”

David released a breath and returned to the mirror where he adjusted his tie and straightened his jacket. It was not what James had meant and he knew it.

“I told her,” David said at last. “Abbie knows.” He felt rather proud of the evenness of his tone. “You are aware, aren’t you, of the consequences if she refuses him? Do you know that we may find ourselves in a financial bind we can’t extricate ourselves from?”

James didn’t answer.

“Well?”

“I didn’t know, but I suppose, considering all of Ruskin’s orchestrations, it seems logical that things have come to that. Ruskin has backed her into a corner.”

“It doesn’t change the direness of the situation.”

“So you are now of the opinion she should accept him?”

“I don’t think there is anything we can or should do to prevent it happening if she decides to do it.”

“Don’t you?”

He wasn’t certain, and apparently neither was James. “What do you want her to do?” his brother asked.

“I don’t know,” David answered.

“I’m not sure I believe you. What do you hope she decides?”

David brushed the dust from the sleeve of his coat, but James waited still for an answer.

“Well?” he said at last.

“At the moment, I suppose I hope I was right all along, that she can be turned by a fortune and can learn to love the man who would give it to her.”

“I see,” James said, and seemed to understand more than David would have wished him to.

*   *   *

David arrived at the Barnwell’s, but did not approach the door right away. He remained sitting in the carriage for several minutes. At last he stepped out, resolved—or very nearly—to his purpose. Lord Barnwell met him in the entry.

“David. This is a surprise. I hope you are not here on business,” he asked and winked knowingly. He almost smiled, which was a rare thing.

“I’m here to see Katherine, if that’s all right. She was expected to remain the day, but quit us early. I hope she’s all right.”

“Yes, yes, a headache is all. She is in the parlor now, if you want to go on in…”

David nodded his thanks and went in search of her. He found her where her father had said she would be, alone and reading and looking not quite herself.

“David!” she said, and put down her book. “What brings you here tonight? Is father working you late? And on a Sunday, too? Shame on him!”

“I’m here to see you, Kat. I heard about your ride today. Are you all right?”

“Oh, yes. It was nothing.”

“Ruskin played the hero, I understand.”

“Yes, he rushed to Abbie’s aid, and all was well.”

David was unsure what to make of this supposed heroism on his brother’s part. He was having a difficult time believing in it. “I’m glad your horse knew better than to go dashing off. Where did the blasted dog come from?”

“Who knows,” Katherine said, and dismissed the whole episode with wave of her hand. “Do sit down,” she said and made room for him.

He sat, and she put forward both cheeks to be kissed. He would rather have kissed her properly, but she didn’t seem inclined to let him. She was cheerful enough, but there was certainly something distanced in her manner.

“Katherine,” he said, and took her hand. She let him, but there was still an air of reluctance there that troubled him. “I wanted to talk to you.”

“Oh?” she said.

“It has occurred to me how unfair it has been of me to keep you waiting. I may have my uncertainties in respect to what I want to do with my life. Whatever it is, though, I want to do it with you.”

She smiled briefly. The gesture fell flat.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Are you happy working with papa?”

“I don’t know if I would call it happiness the work gives me. But then nothing I’ve so far tried has.”

“You are happy when you speak of your gadgetry and engines.”

“It’s a hobby, I suppose. Like stamp collecting. Or needlework.” He nodded toward her newest creation, which stood on a stand beside the fire. It was very good work, and she rightfully took great pride in her skill.

“I want you to be happy, David, whatever it is you decide to do.”

She was apparently sincere, but it seemed there was a catch.

“Even if it isn’t with your father?”

“Even if it isn’t with me.”

“Katherine, what is this?” He was truly alarmed now. His father’s warning that she may not want him if he had no money had certainly inspired him to reconsider his procrastinating. This was something else entirely. “I certainly want my happiness to be with you. I have counted on it. Have you changed your mind about us?”

“No. I haven’t. But I do think you have.”

“I haven’t.” At least if he had, it had been a brief fancy, and he’d repented of it. He took her face in his hands and held her gaze. “Marry me, Katherine. Say you will.”

She did not answer. He kissed her. Her lips were unresponsive, and so he released her.

She looked at him a moment, smiled briefly, and then: “Let’s see what Abbie decides to do, shall we?”

David stood. He looked at her very keenly. “Do you mean to say you’ll refuse me if it turns out I must make my own way? You know very well I can do it.”

She looked at him; there was no emotion whatever in her face. Nothing at all to tell him what she was thinking. Neither would she speak.

“You will then,” David said, not quite believing what he was hearing. “If Abbie throws Ruskin over, you will throw me?”

“You called her Abbie. You’ve never done before.”

“For heaven’s sake, Katherine! Will you answer my question?”

“It isn’t about the money. Yes, I know you can make your own way, whatever you do. It isn’t about them. This is about you.”

“About me? What does that mean?”

“I don’t know.”

“Katherine!”

“Let us wait and see.”

“Katherine.”

“You have put me off,” she said, losing patience now. “You have made me wait for weeks and months and years. I’m asking you to wait, just a few weeks more. You can give me that, can’t you?”

Truly, there was no objection he could rightly make. “Of course,” he said, defeated and sounding it.

“Thank you,” she said, and arose to kiss him on the cheek.

He put an arm around her to stay her, to hold her near. She looked up at him, smiled sadly and then excused herself to retire early. She still had a headache—or so she declared.

*   *   *

Abbie was disturbed from her reading by a knock at the door. She watched, with curiosity, as Becky arose to answer it. A moment later the door closed again, and Becky returned with a package in her hand.

“What is it?” Abbie asked her. “Who was it?”

“Just one of the housemaids, miss, but I don’t know what it is. Not yet, at any rate.” Becky laid the parcel on Abbie’s bed and together they looked at it.

“Are you going to open it?” Becky asked at last.

Abbie hesitated a moment more, staring at the package, and a little afraid of opening it. Brown paper was tied with a string around a box the very shape of those which had come from the dressmaker. Had Lady Crawford made her yet another gift?

“Shall I, miss?” Becky asked with a nod toward the box.

Abbie, in turn, nodded her assent.

In a trice, Becky had the strings untied and the lid drawn away. It was Abbie, however, who unwrapped the tissue to reveal the garment laying beneath.

It was the dress.
Her
dress. The one she had wished for so much but which had previously been refused her.
Had
Lady Crawford changed her mind? It didn’t seem likely. But then who else might have sent it? Katherine knew of it. Her sister knew of it. Had it come from one of them? It was possible, and yet neither seemed likely. Or maybe…maybe she only wished it had come from some other source. Ruskin? No. He had never seen it. Neither was he likely to approve of something his mother did not.

“Do you think you might ask the maid, Becky, where it came from?”

“I did ask, miss. She said it was given her by the housekeeper, who found it below stairs with a note that simply said it was to be delivered to you.”

“I don’t know what to make of it. Is it a gift from Mr. Ruskin, do you think?” Truly, such a gift must have come from him. Who else would have been so bold?

“Has he ever given you anything, miss, that he did not want you to know came from him?”

Abbie thought about this, thought of all the instances in which he had gifted her something, flowers, mostly, but always he had made it clear they had come from him. No, not Ruskin then.

“Do you mean to try it on, miss?” Becky asked now.

“No,” Abbie answered. “That is, not just yet.” Somehow she feared to do it. She feared to know it was a mistake. That it was not some sign, some gift of great meaning. She wanted it to be a gift of great meaning.

Her sister’s gift? No. She did not want that either. But of course it had come from Mariana. Abbie sat down that minute to write her a letter of thanks.

“Shall I put the dress away then, miss?”

“Yes, please, Becky,” Abbie answered her and then looked once more at the dress as it lay in the box. “Actually no. No. No, leave it.”

*   *   *

David left the house that night, and did not return again to it. A day passed, and then two. No word from him was heard beyond the necessary. He was staying at his club, and there he would remain for the time being. His reasons for remaining away were vague. He had work to do and he could concentrate better away from home. His rented rooms were more convenient to Lord Barnwell’s chambers than was the townhouse. But he was avoiding something, too. James was certain of it. Perhaps he merely wished to avoid the distraction of his eldest brother’s matrimonial ambitions. Perhaps the distraction was of another sort entirely. And what had become of his proposal to Katherine? Of that James had heard not a word.

In the meantime, the day of the Christmas ball drew ever nearer. Abbie had a decision to make and had not, for all James could tell, made it. Which he considered rather a good thing.

Certain matters were weighing upon his mind as well, and they were growing more cumbersome by the day. His excuses for procrastinating were wearing thin, and so was his patience with the uncertainty of his own situation. He could not remain at home any longer. He must be up and out. He must do what he could, if he could, to put his wrongs to right.

He arrived that afternoon at Newhaven house. Standing upon the step, he examined the knocker. Would he even be welcome here now? He knocked and waited. At last Mrs. Giles opened the door, and stood glowering at him

“I’ve come to see Miss Gray, if she can spare a moment to speak with me,” he said.

Her scowl darkened as she looked him up and down. At last she relented, allowing him entrance, and asked him to wait in the front hall. It was many minutes later that the housekeeper appeared again.

“Come this way,” she said, and led him through the corridors of the narrow house, and into a very dark but comfortable library. Mariana stood beside the desk. She did not appear quite pleased to see him.

“Miss Gray,” he said and bowed.

“Mr. Crawford.”

“How are you?”

“I am well, actually,” she said and moved to stand behind her desk, as if the object itself, the neatly stacked papers, the pen and inkstand, the books upon it, should provide proof of her statement. She certainly appeared to be busy. But was she happy?

He asked her the question.

“I am satisfied,” was her answer. She gave it with the only the merest hint of hesitation.

“That’s not quite the same thing, though, is it?”

“I have much to do, as you can see, Mr. Crawford,” she answered impatiently. “Might I ask what your business is?”

“I owe you an apology,” he said.

She offered no reply.

“I would have come before now. I
should
have come before now. Only—”

“You are a busy man, with many responsibilities. It is none of my business, truly, Mr. Crawford.”

James took a step or two nearer the desk. “I would have come if I could. I’ve been rather laid up of late. It’s not a good excuse, but it’s the only one I have.”