Heir to Rowanlea (7 page)

James and Charlotte laughed at the picture presented, and Harry was smiling, but the smile was wiped off his face when Elizabeth, uttering a startled whimper, shrank back in her chair and covered her face with her hands.

“Take him off! Take him off!” she implored, her voice rising to a scream, and began to scream in good earnest when the dog, feeling further advances were obviously called for, tried to lick her face.

“Wolf! Down boy! Come here!” James ordered, and then tried to reassure Elizabeth the dog would not hurt her, was the friendliest possible animal, and only wanted her to pat him.

Harry had meantime risen from his chair, and he strode across the room, seized the dog by the scruff of its neck, and dragged it away from Elizabeth.

“Out!” he ordered indiscriminately to James and the dog.

James looked at them in amazement.

“But he was only being friendly! You like him, Harry, you know he wouldn’t hurt her. I must say,” he continued, looking scornfully at Elizabeth who lay back shuddering in her chair, “I didn’t think you were so chicken-hearted. You’ve got dogs at home, surely? Can’t you recognize a friendly dog? You behave as though he really were a wolf. Alright, I’m going,” he added, retreating towards the door as Harry advanced purposefully on him. “Come on, Wolf, we’ll go somewhere you’re appreciated!”

He dragged the dog out just in time to escape Harry’s vengeance, and Harry turned back into the room to find Charlotte dissolved into giggles while Elizabeth, emitting low moans, lay with her eyes closed.

“Charlotte! How can you be so heartless? Get some smelling salts, or hartshorn, or something,” he said distractedly. “It’s safe now, Elizabeth, they’ve gone,” he went on, moving towards Elizabeth.

“But it was funny!” Charlotte gasped. “And I must say James was right, it was hen-hearted of Elizabeth to behave in so craven a fashion. Oh, she’ll recover soon enough. Don’t fret so.”

Frowning, Harry knelt beside Elizabeth’s chair and began gently to chafe her hands. She gave a shuddering sob, and clasped his hands convulsively. Charlotte surveyed the scene in disgust.

“Your eyes will be red and puffy soon if you don’t stop,” she informed Elizabeth coolly, at which remark Elizabeth sniffed and sat up straight. She glared across at Charlotte.

“It’s all very well for you, you have no sensibility, and in any event, you knew the wretched beast! He—he seemed like some monster, hurling himself at me! Oh, you are odious. Harry, please take me home.”

“Yes, yes, of course I will, when you have calmed yourself. Charlotte, I must say you are behaving with a total lack of regard for your guest’s comfort. You might pour some wine. Would you care for some hartshorn and water?” he asked Elizabeth solicitously. “I believe that is what Aunt Sophia uses when she has the headache. Charlotte, do you know where she keeps it?”

Charlotte, realizing her remiss behaviour, had poured a glass of wine and she now brought it across.

“I think this will be enough,” she said. “I do apologize for laughing, Elizabeth, for I see you were truly frightened. But Wolf meant no harm, you know. I hope you will not blame James, for he was not to know you were here, or that you would be so terrified.”

Elizabeth smiled wanly and sipped at the wine.

“My nerves are shattered,” she said in a low voice. “I—I have never been overfond of dogs, especially large ones,” she attempted to explain.

“Harry usually has several dogs about him all the time in the country,” Charlotte said casually.

“We have them too, but not in the house. What a horrid name,” she added, smiling tremulously at Harry. “Wolf. It is frightening!”

“We think his type is used for wolf hunting in Russia,” Charlotte explained, and told Elizabeth how James had acquired the dog.

Elizabeth made polite rejoinders, then a tart comment that she was surprised James was permitted to wander in all the nastiest parts of the town. She turned to Harry and said she was calm enough now to be taken home, and he sent for his curricle, promising that when her mother’s maid called for her she would be given a message. Charlotte watched them go, thinking how odd it was that Harry, who normally had no patience with people who were afraid of dogs, seemed to have had his protective instincts aroused by Elizabeth’s feeble behavior.

* * * *

Two days later there was an important ball, and Charlotte wore her first really grand ball dress of pale silver gauze, with an underdress of white silk embroidered with pale blue. Her mother, surveying her proudly, thought there could not have been another girl so fresh and attractive, for although Charlotte lacked classical beauty, her sparkling eyes and the red lips that curved into the most enchanting smile gave her a most pleasing vivacity, and her ready appreciation of everything humorous, coupled with instant sympathy for real distress, made her a charming companion.

Many of the men at the ball seemed to share that opinion, for she was besieged by would-be partners, and several men previously strangers contrived to win introductions to her. Charlotte herself was unconcerned, and bestowed her hand for the first dance on Jack. During it, in between the movements of the country dance which frequently separated them, she gave him a graphic but disjointed account of the disastrous meeting between Elizabeth and Wolf.

“Harry escorted her home and has said nought about it since. I think he took her driving again yesterday, but he does not say where he has been.”

“No, he did not, for I did,” Jack replied. “He saw us and looked daggers, but I pretended not to have seen him and did not stop.”

“Don’t make him jealous of you!” Charlotte said in alarm. “Oh, look, there she is, just come in. Where is Harry?”

“With one of the Westering females, I think,” Jack answered. “You do not fear he will call me out?” he added with a laugh.

“No, of course not, but he does do mad things! Let us go and sit down. It’s impossible to converse while dancing. Tell me about the race. What are these horses you have bought?”

“Oh, the sweetest goers you’ve ever seen,” Jack enthused. “I had them from Pauling.”

“Lord Pauling?”

“Yes, do you know him?”

“No, we haven’t met, but Elizabeth was boasting about his horses and his big house in Berkeley Square, and how he was making up to her.”

“Has she a large fortune?” Jack asked quickly.

“Not enormous, but quite enough to buy a title. Why do you ask?”

“It’s going round the clubs that Pauling was badly dipped last month, and was retrenching. He’s sold several of his hunters, and means, he explained to me, to go abroad for a while. Unless, I’ll hazard, he can find a rich wife! I had hoped to get his bays, for they’re the primest bit of cattle I’ve ever seen, but he wasn’t selling them and I had to make do with his second pair. But they’re still good enough to beat Harry’s greys,” he added, grinning down at Charlotte. “Will you back me?”

“Harry’s greys are unbeatable when he is driving them,” she replied quickly. “No, Jack, I’ll not bet on you. Not unless you permit me to drive with you.”

“Drive with me? What nonsense is this?”

“Oh please, Jack. Just consider, unless one is the most depraved female, like Letty Lade, one can never do such things as drive in races, like you men can. If you take me, I might persuade Harry to ask Elizabeth. She says she is afraid, but if it were really possible, and she thought Harry might invite some other girl she might agree. And if he won, she would regard him more favorably.”

Jack was reluctant, but in the end she persuaded him, and he promised faithfully to arrange it with Harry.

“Though he won’t be at all pleased, it might induce him to take fewer risks,” he warned.

“But you’ll take fewer as well, so the race will still be even,” she pointed out, and watched gleefully as he left her to seek out Harry.

She discovered not all of the men shared her confidence that Harry’s greys were unbeatable. The projected race was a favourite topic of conversation amongst the sporting young men, and Charlotte, as cousin to both the contestants, was asked for her opinion so many times she grew to dread hearing the opening gambits. While Harry’s friends were unstinting in praise of his skill, and readily admitted his pair could outmatch any they themselves possessed, they showed great admiration of Jack’s new chestnuts.

“They’ve never been matched with Harry’s cattle before, but it’s well enough known only Pauling’s own bays have ever bested them, and that was a close thing, though admittedly Pauling was driving the chestnuts, and he’s a capital whip,” Richard Davies explained.

“Harry drives better than Jack,” Charlotte persisted. “Surely that makes a difference?”

“Jack’s not so cow-handed as you seem to think,” Richard replied with a laugh. “It can make some difference, but will it be enough? I’m tempted to lay my blunt on Jack!”

He led Charlotte off to dance and they joined a set next to Lord Fenton and a small dark girl. Lord Fenton bowed to Charlotte, introduced his partner as a Miss Wolverley, a distant cousin who was staying for the season with his mother, her godmother, and then turned to ask Richard about the race, opining that both contestants would come to grief or else cause some serious accident through racing on the public highway.

Charlotte defended her cousins spiritedly and was infuriated by the calm condescension Lord Fenton displayed when he replied that females should have no opinion on such matters.

“He and Elizabeth would make such a conformable pair!” she muttered angrily to Richard.

“He and Miss Maine?” Richard asked, surprised. “Is Fenton one of her suitors?”

“He dangles after her,” Charlotte replied curtly.

“I think the dowager will have some influence against such a match,” Richard said thoughtfully. “I heard my mother saying she intended Miss Wolverley for him. She’s an even bigger heiress than Miss Maine, you know.”

At the end of that dance Charlotte found herself near Elizabeth, and went to express the hope she had fully recovered from the fright Wolf had given her. Elizabeth smiled, and then looked up at Harry who had also walked across to them.

“Indeed yes, and I do so regret behaving so foolishly! You must have thought me a complete ninny!”

Politeness prevented Charlotte from agreeing, but Harry spoke before she could think of an unexceptional answer, or ask whether Harry had yet invited Elizabeth to drive in the race with him.

“It was no wonder, since you have an aversion to dogs, and had not expected to see Wolf,” he said calmly, and Elizabeth cast him a grateful look. Then Harry turned as he heard his aunt say his name, and found Lady Weare standing next to him with Mr Penharrow, whom she introduced.

“What was that about Wolf?” she asked, after all the introductions had been made. “It was Mr Penharrow who rescued James on that occasion.”

“And was in a way responsible for introducing Wolf to the house, so I trust he has not been misbehaving?” Mr Penharrow remarked, looking quizzically down at Elizabeth.

She blushed slightly, and glanced quickly at Charlotte.

“I am not accustomed to large dogs, and was a trifle nervous when—when he tried to make friends,” she said hesitantly. “I had not expected him to come bounding into the room like that, and he looked anything but friendly! But it was nothing, I assure you.”

“He did not expect you to be there,” Charlotte said indignantly. “And as for looking friendly, why, his tail almost swept the journals from the table!”

Mr Penharrow laughed.

“Still, I can imagine such an experience to be decidedly unnerving,” he commented, earning a grateful look from Elizabeth. “Ah, they are striking up the next dance. Miss Maine, will you honor me?”

She inclined her head and walked away with him, smiling confidingly at him, leaving Harry looking after her with a frown in his eyes that caused Charlotte to boil inwardly.

“Mr Penharrow has no title,” she said to the air. “Is he very wealthy, Mama?”

Lady Weare suppressed a smile and glanced at Harry.

“I believe he is exceedingly rich, and there is only one elderly uncle between him and an Irish barony,” she said smoothly. “From what I hear, the uncle hates him, and has recently married a girl young enough to be his granddaughter!”

Charlotte giggled, but Harry pursed his lips, and abruptly asked her to dance. Regretfully she refused, saying she was promised to Wilfred Scott, one of his friends, who at that moment approached to claim her, breathlessly apologizing as he had been delayed by having to fetch a glass of orgeat for his mother.

“The crush, it’s frightful,” he complained, “and not nearly enough waiters on duty. That’s what comes of trying to do things on the cheap. M’father always says it don’t pay, and it should be the best champagne, and no scrimping!”

Charlotte looked about her at the lavishly furnished ballroom, hung with pink silk, and thought there could have been little scrimping on anything else connected with the ball, whatever the number of waiters.

Harry had made his way across the room towards Amanda Gregory, but Charlotte caught a glimpse of Jack leading her into the set, and Harry stood propping up the wall, one shoulder hunched, as he gloomily watched the dancers. Elizabeth smiled at him sympathetically, and he turned and disappeared into the card room, emerging as the dance ended and advancing, determined, Charlotte suspected, on taking Elizabeth into supper.

She was herself promised to Richard, and as he appeared and they stood chatting, she was disturbed to see Jack adroitly steering Elizabeth past Harry in the lee of a tightly packed, noisy group. Surely Jack was not interested in Elizabeth? He’d often stated he did not intend to become leg-shackled until he was at least thirty years old. Or was it inevitable she drew all the young men to her? Then she wondered if he were deliberately trying to make Harry jealous. There was no need of that, she ought to tell him. Harry was jealous enough.

* * * *

Elizabeth was in such great demand Harry obtained only one dance with her, and was in consequence still gloomy when Charlotte accompanied him riding in the Park on the following afternoon. His gloom increased when they saw Jack driving Elizabeth in his curricle, and he began muttering about false friends. In an attempt to placate Harry she told him what Richard had said about Lord Fenton, and the probability he would make a match of it with his mother’s goddaughter.