Friends and Lovers (22 page)

“I could hardly discuss it when I was on duty welcoming guests. One likes to pull crows in comparative private.”

“It is a pity, but let us not permit it to spoil the whole evening.”

“We must sail a tighter ship in future, Wendy. When
I
refused her the new riding habit, she weaseled it out of you. When
you
refused the mink tippet to go with it, she got the fur-lined cape out of me. I have a good mind to renege on that promise. And when all else fails, she trots to Lady Menrod or Althea. They are as bad as your mother and Mrs. Pudge—putty in her hands.”

"Thank God Ralph at least is biddable. I daresay he too will become more difficult as he grows older. You were correct to deny me the privilege of raising them. I won’t fight the custody application you have made.”

“Do! Please! I am fed up to the eyeballs with Gwen. I was within ames-ace of giving her a good thrashing. Earlier today, when I refused to let her wear my mother’s diamonds, she threatened to run away to you, who are always so kind and sweet to her.”

“It’s really Ralph I like.”

“You like him too much. The girl needs a firm hand—like yours,” he said, taking my fingers in his.

“No, no—I would never be able to spank her as I ought. I hesitate to lob an inch off my plants, Menrod. To spank a child would be beyond me. You keep her.”

“She’ll get dreadfully spoiled when I am away, bear-leading all the servants,” he pointed out, half joking now.

"The cottage is too small. You said so yourself.”

“Peter had money. I'll turn it over to you—Mrs. Livingstone’s house is empty.”

“Don’t grovel. It doesn’t become you.”

“We’ll work something out.”

I extracted my fingers from his, without much opposition. “It was a bad idea I had. It seemed like Fate, at first, as if God had meant me to have the children, as I had none of my own, and nothing else that mattered very much in my life.”

“We men are conceited enough to think women were put on earth to nurture us, and we them. You were putting the cart before the horse. It was a husband you should have been seeking, not the children.”

“Well, I am no longer seeking the children, at least. I would not have Gwen in my charge for all the cream in Devon.”

“You refuse to share the burden with me, then?”

“I don’t mean to say I am abandoning them entirely. I will always be at the cottage, to give a hand in any way I can.”

“That was not what I had in mind.”

“I know it. Pray forget what you had in mind. You had your chance to be rid of her, and unwisely lost it.”

There was a tap at the open door. Glancing to it, I saw Lady Althea entering, with an angry, fixed smile on her face.

“What is this awful tale Gwen tells me, about your not letting her down to see the ball, Miss Harris?” she enquired.

“You appear to have heard the story,” I answered.

“Oh, heartless! How
can
you be so unfeeling? She is sobbing and weeping. Let us take her down, just for a moment, Menrod. I promised her some of the iced cream before she went to bed, and it will not be ready till midnight. Mr. Everett—your friend, Miss Harris—says it should be readied at the very last moment. Gwen is under your care, Menrod. What do you say?” she asked, with a coaxing smile.

He had arisen upon her entry. She did not take a seat either, which left me looking up at them from my chair, too weary to arise. “We have agreed she is much too young to attend a ball,” Menrod told her.

"
Agreed?
Miss Harris has dictated, you mean. Previous to her arrival, it was agreed Gwendolyn and Ralph would be allowed down for a few minutes.”

“It was discussed, not agreed. Our decision has been taken,” he replied firmly.

Her eyes narrowed for a fraction of a second, then grew wider in vexation. Her nostrils also flared. From my seat below, she looked closer to ugly than I had ever seen her look. She sniffed, throwing back her copper head. “I find it odd Miss Harris should intrude into our affairs,” she said.

“The affair is her business and mine—no one else’s.”

“This is a change of face! You have complained often enough about her interference...” She stopped in mid-speech, to stare mutely at Menrod. I looked to see what in his reaction had brought her to a halt at this interesting juncture. His jaws were clenched in anger. He looked ready to strike her.

“Well, I see I am interrupting your tête-à-tête. So odd you choose to abandon your own ball. You
will
be down later, when Miss Harris releases you?” she asked.

“When we have finished our
private
discussion,” he agreed.

She glared once at us both, turned sharply, and left, without another word.

“You are released, Menrod. Our private discussion is about over,” I said.

He shook his head and laughed. “She’s an impossible woman,” he said, dismissing her. I found the incident anything but laughable. I was boiling mad, as much at his having complained of my interference as anything else. He calmly poured two more glasses of wine, raised his glass, and made a toast.

“To your continued interference,” he said, with a bold smile.

“I’ll drink to that. And to your kindness in relating it to Lady Althea.”

We drank ceremoniously.
“Initially
I may have made a few comments... That stiff jaw does not encourage me to continue,” he pointed out.

“Good. I have had enough of this subject. Shall we go back down now?”

“By all means. I think folks ought to have a dance or two, when they attend a ball. You have not stood up with me yet,” he said, offering his hand to aid me up from my seat.

We went together, arm in arm, down the lovely curving staircase, without talking. My mood softened to pleasure, to see the chandeliers sparkling, the beautifully gowned ladies and black-coated gentlemen walking to and fro, standing in clusters all around the hallway and on into the ballroom. There was a pause in the music, which sent many couples off to the refreshment parlor.

Lady Althea was there, complaining to Lady Menrod, who looked uncomfortable to be in the middle of a quarrel. She gave us a worried, placating smile. Menrod, to spite them, took a closer grip on my arm and inclined his head to smile at me in a besotted way.

“I do believe your friend Everett is measuring my hallway up for refurbishing,” he said, indicating a corner where my friend was indeed scrutinizing an intricate piece of carving to discover the secret of its smoothness.

When Everett glanced up and saw us, Menrod bolted in unseemly haste toward the ballroom, to lose himself and me in the throng. Lines were beginning to form for a country dance. “I am not up to such a scramble, after the past half hour’s annoyance,” he declared, echoing my own feelings. “I’ll ask the musicians to play some waltzes.”

“If you want to empty the floor and dance solo, go ahead. Hardly anyone waltzes yet, here in the country.”

“Do
you
waltz?” he asked.

“Yes, badly.”

“If even
you
have attempted it, I am convinced my other guests will be adept by now.”

After that vote of confidence, I was careful to stay off his feet. Our conversation was on the most mundane of topics. He mentioned the troublesome necessity of having to plaster Mama’s ceiling, enquired whether Lady had turned up and heard she had not, made a few bad jokes about Oakdene and my mistress-ship of it. He only put on his doting smile when Lady Althea came into view. On those few occasions, his frosty eyes melted as he stared at me in a bewitched way.

“Do you really think you are fooling anyone with this lovesick performance?” I asked him.

“What
can
you mean?” he asked, feigning puzzlement.

“I mean those rumors that we are to hear an engagement. You are
using
me to show the world you don’t intend to marry Lady Althea.”

“Who else should I use? But really it is only Althea and Lady Menrod I have to show. What do
you
care? You’re safe—engaged to Mr. Everett. What
is
the status of that peculiar engagement, at the moment?”

“You know I am not engaged to him.”

“He is more generous in allowing himself to be used than you are.”

“You don’t have to remind me. He is criminally good-natured. He makes me feel guilty, he is so generous.”

“You’ll feel much better when you learn the reason for his eagerness to wed you.”

“Did he tell you?” I asked.

“He was kind enough to give me his reason, when I asked,” he admitted, holding in his laughter.

“Why did you ask? It’s none of your business.”

“Simple curiosity, madam. Life is dull in the country, with no petty intrigues going forward. I might have been worse employed.”

I realized the significance of that speech, but was too curious to dwell on it. “What did he say? What was his reason?”

“I have a theory regarding bad news. Hardly an original one—it comes to us from the Greeks. I never transmit bad news if I can help it. It redounds to the discredit of the transmitter. Why should
I
receive the poke in the eye that is due Mr. Everett?”

“That bad? This is a mystery. He knows I have no money. He can see for himself what I look like. What is it? Tell me, Menrod. I promise I won’t hit you.”

“Ladies’ promises are writ on water. Usually hot water.”

“It’s not... he is not sorry for me? Is it pity—is that it?” I demanded, mortified to suspect I had discovered the humiliating truth. His generosity might well take this form.

“No, no—hardly that bad. Or on the other hand, you might consider it worse.
I
would be the one to pity you, if you accepted him. He goes in for such an abundance of things. A
dozen
of them—really!”

“Is he setting up a harem?”

“No, not a harem. Who is to say he wouldn’t go on to try for a baker’s dozen too? There would be no end to it.”

My curiosity soared higher, and to make it worse, the dance was ending. “You must tell me. You can’t leave me like this,” I said urgently.

“I often say that to the ladies. It don’t do a bit of good, Wendy. Don’t ask again. It’s not nice to throw a tantrum at a ball.”

The music ended, confronting us with that embarrassing moment when a lady is in a gentleman’s arms, and more aware of it than when the music is playing. He looked down into my eyes, with one of his satirical smiles forming. “If you feel you
must
know, ask Ev. He'll tell you without blinking. He’s told everyone else in town.”

“I hate you.” I smiled sweetly, the smile for Althea’s benefit. I disengaged myself from his arms, as he seemed to have forgotten it was time for it.

“I knew how it would be! I have a theory about violent emotions, however.”

“You had better remove yourself from my sight, before that old Grecian theory about the bearer of bad news is fulfilled.”

“You haven’t heard the bad news yet.”

“I know it is bad, or you wouldn’t be smiling. I have a theory of my own as well.”

“I
adore
theories,” he said, tucking my arm under his to leave the floor. “Please let me hear it.”

“You are making this whole story up to annoy me. Liars ought to be beaten.”

“Severely,” he agreed amiably. “That is a demmed sparse theory, by the by. It wants refining. Are you interested to hear mine, regarding violent emotions?”

“No.”

“Liars ought to be beaten,” he reminded me. “Instead, I shall hit you over the head with my stunning theory, which I developed with only a little help from Lord Byron. It is really quite intriguing. Emotions are reversible, like quilts. The other side of hate is love, and vice versa. It is the absence of emotion that is dangerous. Once you manage to get a lady into a pelter, she is as good as won. Tell me truthfully now, do you
hate
Everett?”

“Not yet. I haven’t heard why he wants to marry me.”

“You don’t love him, either, and you never will.”

“I never said I did, or would.”

“True, but you said you
hate
me,” he pointed out, raising one finger to wag at me.

My violent emotion felt not the slightest urge to reverse itself. “I think I am beginning to hate you too,” he added, with a curiously warm smile, just before he turned aside to ask another lady to dance.

I could only conclude Menrod had drunk more wine than was good for him. I expected to see him topple over dead drunk before the night was through. Actually I saw little more of him, except his head and shoulders through the throng of dancers. He was being flirtatious with every eligible lady at the ball, except Lady Althea. To show his disdain for her, he did not stand up with her again the whole night. He was the host, and nothing more, where she was concerned.

Mr. Everett was more solicitous of my welfare. He came strutting back for another dance after dinner. “How did you like the ices?” he enquired, as they were his contribution to the party.

“Very nice.”

“It was the pewter pots that turned the trick for the ladies,” he told me. “There is no making a decent un-slivered ice with a tin freezing pot. Shall we stand up and have another jig? I like a country tune. I begin to think I must have a ball at Oakdene. Lady Althea says she would give us a hand with arranging it.”

“I doubt she will linger long in the neighborhood after this ball,” I told him.

“She has indicated she will stick around for a while,” he answered.

“Has she indeed?” I asked, always surprised at his intimacy with her. “I begin to think she is setting her tiara for you, Mr. Everett,” I said, to roast him.

A girlish blush suffused his face. “Heh heh—I would be aiming high, to go for an earl’s daughter. But it is only a thought, after all. In the eyes of the world, I am engaged to
you
at the present, and very happy I’d be if you said yes, too.”

It was my chance to discover what he had told Menrod, and I was not about to miss it. “Let us skip the country dance,” I said. “Shall we go to the refreshment parlor instead?”