Jane Ashford (23 page)

Thalia shrugged. “Perhaps. Both reasons seem perfectly doltish to me.”

“Yes”—Anne smiled—“but so like a man.”

The younger girl smiled back. “The question is, what are we to do?”

“Oh, we must get John to town. If we can only throw them together again, all will be well, I think.”

“How can we?”

“Of that, I’m not yet sure. I must think. Alex might be able to help.”

“Would he?”

Anne smiled. “Oh, yes, if I ask him nicely. Leave that to me.”

Thalia nodded. “Yes.
I
can’t write him. So I shall count on you to produce Mr. Dudley. Meanwhile, I shall work on Aggie.”

Their eyes met, and both smiled. “We shall bring it off,” said Mrs. Wellfleet.

Thalia nodded once, decisively, and rose. “I must get back before someone notices I am gone. Thank you.”

The other spread her hands. “Thank
you
. I am flattered by your confidence. I will set to work immediately.”

Thalia smiled and took her leave, going home the way she had come. On the way, she thought of her sister and her trouble. Hard as it would be to lose Aggie to marriage, it was far harder to watch her unhappiness without trying to remedy it.

She got back to Lady Fanshawe’s at four and hurried to the stairs. She wanted to take off her hat and tidy herself for tea before anyone commented on her absence. But Jenkins, who had opened the door for her, stopped her halfway up. “Oh, Miss Thalia, a letter arrived for you while you were out. Hand-delivered.” He held out an envelope.

She took it and ripped it open as she continued up the stairs. It was only one sheet, a few lines of writing. When she had read them, she stopped stock-still on the landing. James Elguard had arrived in London.

Lady Fanshawe’s party was to go to Almack’s for the first time that evening, and the girls met in the drawing room at eight thirty to wait for her. They were not dressed alike tonight, despite the countess’s earnest request, but they wore similar gowns of floating muslin, Aggie’s blue, Thalia’s peach, and Euphie’s pale green. And they looked very fresh and lovely as they stood together near the fireplace.

They talked quietly with one another until the drawing-room door was pushed open and Brutus came in, followed closely by Juvenal and Nero. Euphie walked over and picked up the latter. “How they are growing,” she said. “They are hardly kittens any longer.”

Thalia, coming over to examine Juvenal, agreed. “What do they do with themselves all day? Since Pug has gone, I scarcely see any of the cats about.”

“I think they stay belowstairs. Cook told me that Brutus caught a mouse last week. She is happy to have them there.” Euphie held up her white cat and looked into his eyes. “Have you caught a mouse also, Nero, or are you too lazy?”

Nero stared at her for a moment, then began to squirm to be let down. Laughing, Euphie set him on the floor. “They have become so selfish that they care nothing for us anymore.”

“Of course they do!” snapped Aggie from across the room. She had not moved since the cats came in. Both her sisters turned to look at her in surprise, and she flushed.

“Whatever is the matter?” asked Euphie.

“Nothing, nothing. I have the headache.”

Euphie started to speak again, but Thalia squeezed her arm warningly, and she subsided. In the next moment, the countess came down, the carriage was called for, and they were on their way.

They walked up the steps of Almack’s Assembly Rooms just before nine, well before the doors would close to careless latecomers. When they entered the ballroom, already thickly populated with members of the ton, their reception was flattering. A number of people greeted them, and before they had gone three steps into the room, they had all been solicited for the set then forming. As they moved out onto the floor, it was obvious that notice was being taken and that it was generally approving. Whatever disappointed mothers of less entrancing girls might say, society in general had taken the sisters to its heart.

For the second dance, their choice was even wider. At least two young men approached each sister, begging her to choose him as partner. And Euphie laughingly hesitated among four. But the third set was a waltz, and they had to stand back and await the approval of one of Almack’s patronesses before they could join it, so they walked toward Lady Fanshawe’s seat together.

“Isn’t it splendid!” said Euphie as they went. “Oh, I could dance forever. I hope they will approve us right away.”

As if she had been overheard, Euphie was stopped just then by Lady Jersey. “You are not dancing, Miss Hartington? May I present you with a desirable partner for the waltz?” She moved aside, revealing Lord Fanshawe standing behind her. “I think you are already acquainted, are you not?” Almack’s most sprightly patroness smiled mischievously.

“Y-yes,” replied Euphie. “Ah, thank you.”

Lord Fanshawe offered his arm, and she took it to walk out onto the floor.

“Now I must see about you two,” continued Lady Jersey. “Is there anyone you would particularly like for the waltz?”

“No, thank you,”’ blurted Aggie. “I… I must speak to Lady Fanshawe.”

She rushed off, Lady Jersey watching her curiously.

“My sister has the headache,” said Thalia. “She isn’t feeling at all the thing.”

“No?” The lady turned her sharp eyes on Thalia.

“No. I should go to her.”

“Just as you like, my dear.” And she watched again as Thalia self-consciously followed Aggie to the side of the room.

“I’m sorry,” said Aggie in a strangled voice when her sister reached her. “I did not want to dance.”

“It doesn’t matter. But, Aggie…”

“Yes, I know. I
will
tell you, but not now, please.”

Thalia looked at her. “All right.”

“I am going to sit with Lady Fanshawe. I am fine. Just let me be.”

Thalia nodded, and Aggie walked across to the countess, looking despondent.

“I have written the letter,” said a voice behind her.

Thalia turned quickly to find Anne Wellfleet. “Have you? Good.”

“Yes, I think it is. Poor Aggie.”

“She cares for none of this.”

“I know. It is strange.”

Thalia shrugged.

“Perhaps you don’t care for it yourself?” responded the other.

“It is interesting, often amusing, but I think only Euphie really loves it. I should much prefer…”

“Yes?” asked Mrs. Wellfleet when she broke off. “What should you prefer?”

But Thalia found she couldn’t speak. She had just seen the Elguard family enter the room, Mrs. Elguard and Amanda escorted by James.

On the dance floor, Euphie was savoring the novel experience of whirling about in a man’s arms. She had practiced the waltz with her sisters, but this was the first time she had tried it in public. She found she liked it very much, once she was certain that she would not make a mistake. The earl was a skilled dancer, and she had no trouble following his steps.

For his part, he watched her passage from nervousness to exhilaration with amusement. When he saw that she was completely at ease, he said, “You waltz very well, Miss Hartington.”

“I can’t think why,” she answered. “My aunt was scandalized by the dance and always forbade us to learn. We had to try it on the sly, and I never had proper lessons.” Suddenly suspicious, she looked up at him. “But perhaps you were mocking me, sir?”

“Not at all.”

“Well, I haven’t trod on your toes or tripped on my gown, so I suppose I am getting on fairly well.”

Lord Fanshawe laughed. “You remain an original, Miss Hartington.”

“Do I?” She considered this. “I wonder if that’s good? It sounds rather frightening. Shall I turn out to be as eccentric as my aunt, then?” As soon as she said this, Euphie was appalled. “Oh, no!”

He laughed again. “The two things are quite different. You are in no danger, I assure you.”

“How are they different?”

“Well, ah… you do take one up, don’t you? Let me think. An original shows freshness, an attractive unspoiled quality, which is unusual without being at all odd. An eccentric, on the other hand, is, well…”

“Eccentric,” finished Euphie with a laugh.

“Precisely.” He smiled down at her, thinking that she was clearly the most charming of the charming Hartington sisters.

“Well, that does not tell me a great deal, does it? But as I think it over, I believe I shouldn’t mind if I
were
eccentric, so long as it was in some kindly way. In fact, I think I
shall
be, when I am older.”

“And what will your particular eccentricity be? Not cats?”

“Like my aunt? Oh, no. I haven’t decided.” She paused a moment, then added, “Perhaps I shall keep an orchestra always at the ready in my house, so that I can have music whenever I choose.”

“A charming peculiarity.”

“Isn’t it? How wonderful it would be.” Euphie fell into a reverie, and the earl watched her face. They continued to dance through a short silence; then Euphie looked up abruptly. “What nonsense I have been talking. You must turn the subject.”

“Must I?”

“Yes, tell me something witty. What have you been doing since the ball?”

“Nothing very amusing.”

“You always say that. How dreary your life must be.” Euphie’s eyes twinkled.

“Indeed yes. Unspeakably so. It is only when I can escape for a moment to Almack’s, or balls like my mother’s, that I find any amusement at all.”

Euphie burst out laughing. “What a plumper! I know you must think Almack’s abominably slow. All the men do.”

“All?” he answered teasingly.

“They say so, and someone told me that you do not set foot here more than once or twice a season.”

“Ah, that was in the past. The place somehow seems a great deal more interesting now.”

Euphie raised her eyes to his, startled. This sounded very like the compliments she received from other partners, but she had not expected such from him. And her own reaction was unsettling. She found it difficult to breathe for a moment and had to look down again hastily.

Behind them, at the edge of the floor, Thalia stood in a window embrasure and tried to look inconspicuous. She felt both agitated and ridiculous, but when she had seen James Elguard actually walk into the room, she had suddenly found herself unable to face him. In the weeks since she had left the Chadbourne School, through all the changes in that time, she had convinced herself that the episode with Mr. Elguard had been just that—a transitory friendship. Even her meeting with his mother had not altered her position, but now that she saw the man himself, she realized that she had been mistaken. For her response to Elguard’s presence in the ballroom was far beyond what she would have confidently predicted. And because of this, she was confused and upset.

James Elguard, for his part, had been scanning the room alertly since he came in. He did not seek a partner for the waltz, but stood beside his mother and watched the dancers. At last, seeming impatient, he said something to her and started to stroll along the wall. Thalia, seeing him, swallowed and wondered if she could reach the exit without being seen.

She could not. And while she stood irresolutely alone, Elguard saw her and hurried over.

“Miss Hartington!”

“H-hello,” Thalia managed, though she could not seem to raise her eyes. Silence fell and lengthened. At last, able to bear no more, she looked up. James Elguard, as blond and handsome as ever, was surveying her with a mixture of embarrassment and annoyance.

As their eyes met, a flood of recollection hit both. Thalia flushed, and Elguard’s mouth moved uncertainly. “I hardly know what to say to you,” he ventured then. “I have heard about everything from my mother, of course.” Now he flushed. “I should perhaps apologize, or—”

“Don’t.”

He looked at her, then agreed. “No. That is irrelevant.” There was another silence. He seemed to gather himself. “Why did you run away from me without a word?” he said then, his voice full of emotion.

“From you?” Thalia was startled into retorting.

“Didn’t it amount to that?”

“Of course not.”

“Ah.”

There was a somewhat longer pause. Thalia felt a desperate urge to say something, but she could not frame a sentence.

“I haven’t congratulated you on your good fortune,” said Elguard stiffly then. “I was very glad to hear that your aunt did not fail to provide for you after all.”

“Yes,” murmured Thalia, then cursed herself for stupidity.

“Your situation has changed radically.” He indicated the ballroom. “And for the better, of course. I am very glad.” As he repeated this commonplace, he did not sound very glad.

Thalia summoned all her faculties and replied, “It is a very superficial change, however. My sisters and I remain the same despite a few new gowns.”

He seemed to find this encouraging for a moment. “Indeed, externals cannot really alter the character.” But then his face fell. “In the eyes of the world, however, the change is complete. You will be treated differently, and this will eventually change you as well.”

“It won’t,” she said, with more conviction than politeness.

Their eyes met again, more easily this time; some understanding seemed to pass between them. “Nonetheless,” he went on, “my position…”

Thalia shrugged and turned a little away from him. “Money has nothing to do with friendship,” she said.

He hesitated, watching her face. “Indeed, with friendship, very little.”

“How are your studies progressing?” asked the girl determinedly. “Were you not sorry to leave them again so soon?”

Mr. Elguard sighed imperceptibly and replied, “Not entirely. They are going well, and I can work here in London too, of course.”

She nodded. “Tell me—”

But a voice broke in just then to wish them good evening. They turned to find Lady Agnes Crewe on the arm of her partner, coming away at the end of the set. “Isn’t it a lovely dance?” she added, her tone poisonously sweet as she looked from one to the other of them.

Thalia nodded briefly. Elguard looked bewildered.

“Not as pleasant, of course, as meeting old friends,” added Lady Agnes. She had dropped her partner’s arm by this time and showed signs of settling next to James Elguard. The other young man, unintroduced, hovered uncomfortably nearby. “I think that is one of the nicest things there is, don’t you, Mr. Elguard?” Lady Agnes raised her blue eyes meltingly and touched Elguard’s arm.

The gentleman, obviously mystified, muttered, “Ah, yes, to be sure.”

Lady Agnes gave him a blinding smile and moved still closer. “Why, Mr. Elguard, I do believe you have forgotten me. And you said you never would when we met in Bath, at your mother’s evening party. You
do
remember?” She gazed up at him again, her fingers still resting on his forearm.

Thalia, her jaw clamped tightly, said, “I think my sister is beckoning; if you will excuse—”

“By Jove,” burst out Elguard, “so is my mother. Allow me to escort you, Miss Hartington.” He hurriedly offered his arm, and Thalia, with one brief upward glance, took it. Lady Agnes’s silvery laughter followed them across the floor.

“Who in blazes was that?” asked James when they were out of earshot. “I’ve never seen her before in my life.”

“Haven’t you?”

“No, I haven’t!”

Thalia looked at him. “That is Lady Agnes Crewe, one of my former pupils.”

“Crewe? Wasn’t she the one…?”

“Yes.”

“Well, of all the dashed impudent… I’ve half a mind to go back there and tell her so.”

Thalia shrugged. The scene just past had suggested something to her. “Mr. Elguard, do you know a family called Warrington? Most particularly a Mr. Alan Warrington?”

He frowned down at her, puzzled. “What has that to do with—?”

“It does.”

He shrugged. “I know Alan. He was up at Oxford with me. He came to town, and I stayed on to work for a fellowship.”