Jane Ashford (18 page)

Clarissa frowned. “You are still being silly.” But she sounded less certain. “Very well. We shall have to think of something else. But gaming debts must be paid immediately, Laura.”

“I know,” said her sister miserably.

“Who do you owe?”

“I am not even sure of that. I cannot seem to remember properly.”

Clarissa stamped her foot. “Oh it is infamous. They made you tipsy and then fleeced you, just like in those horrid gambling hells. You should not have to pay at all.”

Laura put her forehead on her hand and sighed. “Perhaps. But that does not alter the case.”

Before Clarissa could reply, there was a knock at the door, and Nancy peeped round it. “Excuse me, ma’am, but a boy has just brought this letter. He said it was important, so I came right up.”

Laura put out her hand for it. “All right, Nancy. Thank you.” The maid went out again. “I wonder what it can be,” said Laura as she tore open the heavy cream-colored envelope. But when she unfolded the sheet inside and read the short note, she turned white and dropped it onto the carpet.

“What is it?” cried Clarissa, picking it up. “My dear Mrs. Crenshaw,” she read. “You will be pleased to know that I have possessed myself of all of your vowels from our card party. So much more pleasant, I think, to owe a friend. You may forward the sum to me at your convenience, or failing that, we might come to some other arrangement. There are so many more enjoyable returns than money for the sincere affection that I hold for you. Shall we not meet to discuss the matter? I will await you in the Greek Pavilion at Vauxhall at midnight tomorrow. Do not fail me. I should dislike having to seek you in your husband’s house, but I will not hesitate to talk to Eliot if you do not come. Yours in hopes. Jack Allenby.” Clarissa threw the letter down with a little sound of disgust. “He is utterly contemptible.”

Laura had not moved. She was still very white, and she stared unseeing at the window.

“This is nothing but blackmail,” Clarissa went on indignantly. “There is no calling it anything else.”

“Yes,” said her sister tonelessly. “He will tell Eliot if I do not do as he says, and then I will be ruined.” Her face twisted. “But I shall be ruined if I agree also. I am trapped.” And she burst into tears.

Clarissa ran to her and put her arms around her. “No, no, do not cry. We shall think of something, you’ll see. I shall think of something.” But her eyes were bleak as she held her sister close.

Laura hardly slept that night. She had not gone down to dinner, pleading a headache, because she was afraid to face Eliot, should he be home. She wrestled for hours with various schemes for saving herself. Nothing came to her, and as she fell into an uneasy doze in the early hours of the morning, she had almost resolved to write to her aunts. Perhaps they could lend her the money; she would pay it back. Even after she slept, Laura tossed and groaned. She woke unrested and twisted in her sheets.

Mary brought her breakfast on a tray when Laura rang. She fussed about her, insisting that she stay in bed. Though this was the last thing Laura wanted at this moment, she gave in after one feeble protest. She hadn’t the energy to argue over trivialities. There were three envelopes beside the teapot on the tray. Mary was very proud that she had thought to bring the mail with breakfast. But Laura eyed them apprehensively and could hardly choke down a bit of toast with them sitting before her. When Mary left the room, she put the toast back on the plate and stared at the letters. Was there another note from Mr. Allenby among them? she wondered.

Reluctantly she reached out and took up the first. Turning it over, she saw that it was from Eliot’s mother; she knew her hand very well. With a sigh that held both relief and a new worry, she slit it open and unfolded the letter within.

Mrs. Crenshaw was perplexed. “My dear Laura,” she wrote, “whatever have the two of you been at? I received the oddest note from Eliot last week, practically ordering me to London to ‘take charge of you.’ What sort of nonsense is this? I write to tell you that I have refused absolutely to do any such thing. I wrote my lumpish son a rather stiff note, I may say. Take charge, indeed! I shall come up to town only if you also request it, and so I told him.” She went on to retail the news of her neighborhood and describe the state of her garden. Laura smiled as she read the affectionate closing. This was like a breath of fresh air.

Her smile lingered as she put down the letter and picked up another. Perhaps she should ask her mother-in-law to come, she thought. Perhaps Mrs. Crenshaw could help her out of the ever increasing tangle she had fallen into. But when she thought of telling Mrs. Crenshaw what she had done, Laura shuddered a little and turned to the next letter. She would never understand.

The second letter was from Marina. Very prettily, she wrote that she had thought over Laura’s offer at great length and, much as she appreciated it and was truly grateful, she felt she still must refuse. This made Laura frown a little; she had honestly hoped that Marina would accept. Laura considered the note again, then put it aside. She would go to speak to Marina later in the day. As she thought this, a wave of color suddenly washed her cheeks. With all the trouble currently threatening her, could she in conscience take Marina into her household? What if she was disgraced? What would become of Marina then? She put her hands to her flaming face and nearly cried in despair.

Shaking her head as if to rid it of such thoughts, she picked up the third envelope and tore it open. The note inside contained only a short message, printed rather than written. “Do nothing hasty about your debt,” it said. “Postpone action until tomorrow, and all will be well.” Laura stared at this uncomprehendingly for some time. There was no signature. She picked up the envelope. Her name and address was also printed, and there was no identifying mark. She threw back the covers and went over to her writing desk, unlocking it and taking out Mr. Allenby’s horrid note of the night before. She compared the two. Though she could not imagine why Mr. Allenby would send a message like this one, he was the only one who knew the whole story. But the notes were not similar. The paper was different, the pens had different tips, and the inks were not at all alike. Still frowning, Laura went back to her bed.

She sat down and considered the two notes further. Mr. Allenby’s was clear, frighteningly clear. But the other. Who would send her such a message? Someone who had been at the card party perhaps and seen her losses? She flushed again. It was embarrassing to think that some stranger was taking pity on her. But who else could it be?

Laura sat for a long time, wondering. Then she rose and again went to her desk to write a note. The unknown writer’s idea was a good one in any case; she would put off the appointment with Mr. Allenby until tomorrow, gaining time to think of some way out of her predicament. She doubted he would agree to a long delay, but one day should not be a problem. She sealed the note, directed it, and rang for Mary. This made her feel better. At least she was doing
something
.

***

It was late morning by the time Laura descended the stairs, and the house was quiet. Mary had told her that Eliot was out and Clarissa was changing in her room, so Laura expected to find the drawing room empty when she entered. But a man rose when she walked in, and bowed politely. It was Mr. Redmon, come to fetch Clarissa for her driving lesson.

“Good morning,” said Laura. “I am glad to find you here. I have been wanting to speak to you.”

Mr. Redmon held up a hand. “There is no need. I believe I know what you would say. You think I should tell the truth. Is that not it?”

“Yes,” replied Laura.

He nodded. “As do I. I must tell her, and I am grateful to you for remaining silent so long. I shall make a clean breast of it very soon, I promise you. In fact I was going to seek an opportunity to discuss the matter with you. I want your permission to pay my addresses to Clarissa.” His open countenance clouded a little. “I hope you will not think my deception renders me ineligible to be Clarissa’s husband?”

Laura repressed a smile. “No. I am very glad that you are going to tell the truth, however. And I wish you success.” Privately she thought that there was little doubt of it.

He started to smile, then looked serious again. “There is one thing,” he said hesitantly. “I should go up to Millshire first and inform my parents. I should like to do so before all is settled between us.” He flushed a little. “You will think this odd, I suppose, but my parents are older and rather, well, sensitive to the proprieties. I…”

Laura did smile this time. “Believe me, I do know what you mean,” she said. “By all means, tell them first. But do not delay too long with my sister.”

“No, no I won’t,” he answered, beaming sheepishly. “I have no wish to, I promise. I will leave for Millshire today.”

She smiled again, but before she could speak, Clarissa came into the room and the two young people went off together. Laura felt better when they were gone. Things were turning out very well for Clarissa, at any rate.

Laura sat down on the drawing room sofa and picked up a book, but she was too preoccupied to read. She decided to go out and see Marina. It would keep her from brooding on her own problems.

The streets were crowded with carriages, and thus it was nearly noon before Laura reached the shop. The workroom behind the curtain was empty. She sighed impatiently and looked around. There must be someone here.

“Hello,” called Laura, but there was no answer. She walked through the workroom and was about to mount the stairs at the back when she heard the voices of two people coming down. She retreated to the front of the shop again. Thus the curtain hid the speakers from her when they emerged from the stairway. Surprisingly one was a man.

“You can’t fool me, Miss Highty-Tighty,” he was saying. “I don’t know what your game may be, but if it’s hopes of getting more money, you’ve mistaken your man. Jasper Greeley pays what’s fair and right and no more.”

Laura’s frown returned. Could this man be buying a dress?

“Perhaps you’ve an offer from someone else, hey? One of the dandies you used to know, maybe? No need to look so startled. I’ve found out about you. I don’t strike a bargain without knowing what I’m getting. Maybe you think you’re too good for the likes of me, eh? That why you disappeared the other night? Well you may as well leave off these airs, my girl. Do you know what happens to little dressmakers who get above themselves? They end up old and blind in the workhouse is what. There’s no pensions for you, my girl, unless you take my offer. I’m a generous man with those as pleases me, as I’ve told you before now.”

“You may be right,” said Marina’s voice calmly. Her cool cultivated accents were a marked contrast to the man’s harsh tones. “But I must take my chances, I fear, and refuse your flattering offer.” The irony in her voice was thick. “My upbringing does not allow me to consider an arrangement such as you suggest.”

“Ahhh, your upbringing, is it? Your sort makes me sick, you know that? Because a man makes his pile in trade, you despise him. Never mind that those man-milliners over in St. James are libertines and gamesters, they’re the gentlemen, and that’s that. Not one of them would treat you as well as I will. Come, these airs and graces are becoming, but you can hardly afford them, now can you?”

His voice had taken on a disagreeable wheedling tone, and there was the sound of a scuffle. Laura started forward and pushed back the curtain. Marina was struggling to throw off the arm of a large beefy looking man in tight yellow pantaloons. Laura lowered her eyelids slightly and, in her coldest and blandest voice, drawled, “Pardon me, but is anyone minding this shop?”

At the sound of her voice, the man started, loosed his hold on Marina, and whirled. In the face of Laura’s bored, slightly amused expression, he quailed. Here was no poverty-stricken dressmaker’s assistant, he saw at a glance.

Marina had flushed scarlet when she saw Laura, but she recovered herself admirably and said, “Yes indeed, madame, I shall be right with you.” She picked up a low-crowned beaver hat from the table and handed it to the man. “Good day, Mr. Greeley,” she finished firmly.

He took the hat, started to speak, then jammed it on his head and went out, brushing rudely past Laura in the doorway. The look he threw over his shoulder was angry and threatening.

When he was gone, Marina sank down in one of the chairs beside the table and took several deep breaths. She was shaking. Laura laid a sympathetic hand on her shoulder. “Who was that horrid man?” she asked.

Marina hung her head. “Mr. Greeley,” she replied almost inaudibly, “a friend of the owner. He comes here often.”

“I daresay,” answered Laura grimly. “And how is it you are left alone here to receive him.”

Even more softly, Marina said, “Mrs. Smith always sees to it. She, she…” And Marina burst into tears.

Laura’s eyes hardened. “I see.” She looked around the room. “Have you a hat here or anything else?”

Puzzled, Marina indicated that her gloves and shawl were on a peg at the back of the room. Laura fetched them and came back to take Marina’s elbow. “Come along,” she said firmly.

Marina stood, still wiping the tears from her cheeks. “Come where?”

Laura put her hands on her hips and regarded the girl. “You are coming home with me,” she said with eyes flashing, “And I do not wish to hear any more nonsense. You cannot remain in this place. And you needn’t try to argue with me, for I am utterly determined. Marina, why did you not tell me?”

The other girl looked down. “I was ashamed. It was Mr. Greeley who took me to the masquerade. Before that, I had not realized that he…” She paused and swallowed. “I had thought that he meant marriage, you see, and in my position, well, I probably would have accepted him. He is a Cit, but I did not think it likely that I would receive any more eligible offers.” She smiled a little at the idea. “Then I found that he has a wife.”

“I see,” said Laura. “Come along.” She put the shawl around Marina’s shoulders and urged her toward the door.

“But, oh I cannot,” replied Marina. “I cannot allow you to…”

“You have nothing to say about it,” snapped Laura. “When I think of that horrid man coming here and you left alone to wait for him, I am so angry I can hardly speak.”

“But the shop,” protested Marina as Laura hurried her toward the door.

“I do not care if everything is stolen,” said Laura. “It would serve her right. In fact I have half a mind to summon some of the street urchins and tell them of the opportunity.”

Marina laughed feebly. “Oh you would not. Mrs. Smith would be so angry.”

“Mrs. Smith’s feelings are no longer of any concern to you. Climb up and let us be off.”

Thus urged, Marina got into the barouche, and in a short time they were back at Regent Street, and Laura ushered Marina in. She told Mr. Dunham to have the blue bedchamber prepared and took the girl up to the drawing room. Clarissa was there, returned from her lesson and a little cast down by the news that Mr. Redmon was going out of town. She brightened immediately when she saw Marina and heard that she was coming to stay. “Splendid!” she cried. “I knew Laura would persuade you. How good it will be to have you here.”

“Thank you, Miss Lindley. You are very kind.”

“Oh you must call me Clarissa,” answered the other. “We will be great friends I know, so we may as well begin at once.”

Marina smiled.

“Yes,” added Laura, “let us not stand on ceremony.”

Their guest’s smile wavered, and she sank down in an armchair. “You are too kind to me,” she said tremulously. “I do not know what to say.”

“Nonsense,” said Clarissa. “We are actually being odiously selfish, for we want you here with us. Come, I will show you your room.”

Marina made a helpless little gesture, then put herself in Clarissa’s hands. Laura smiled a little as the two went out, her sister chattering continuously. She took off her bonnet and set it on the table before the fireplace, then stretched her arms tiredly. She felt as if she hadn’t slept properly for days, as in fact she had not. And the moment she was alone, her problems came rushing back to haunt her. Where was she to find two thousand pounds? How could she meet Mr. Allenby alone after his behavior at their last meeting? Who had written the mysterious note telling her to postpone the appointment? Her brain began to spin with all these uncertainties, and she sat down on the sofa and put a hand to her forehead.

“You look utterly done up,” said a voice from the doorway.