Karen Harbaugh (21 page)

I looked up at Lucas. “Yes, I think I had better see her. It seems as if there is no help for it; I shall have to go home.” I smiled as well as I could and stood up. I felt Lucas put my shawl around my shoulders and over the stain. It did not cover it. I smiled my thanks at him nevertheless.

Lucas patted my hand. “Well, it’s not as if the ball has just begun. It lacks but an hour and a half to the end of it. Won’t be such a loss if you leave now.”

He led me back to Lady Stoneham, and though I could not make myself look at her, I clearly heard her gasp. “I cannot believe this. Don’t speak to me, miss! My efforts were as nothing.”

I lifted my eyes. “It was an accident!”

She rolled her eyes heavenward. “As was your earlier mishap! And then to disappear with— No, no! I do not want to hear more! There is nothing for it but that you must go home!”

“Lady Stoneham, I saw what happened.” Lucas spoke up. “I assure you, ma’am, it was not Miss Canning’s fault.”

Lady Stoneham smiled at him. “Yes, yes. Quite gallant of you, Lord Ashcombe. But she cannot stay as she is. We must go home.” She turned to look for Amelia, and annoyance passed quickly across Lucas’s face.

He looked at me with an apologetic expression. “It will be all right, give you my word,” he said.

I did not see what he could do about it, so I shrugged. “Oh, it is only a dress after all.” There was my dance with Sir Harlow, too, but I said nothing about that. I looked down, pulling my shawl about me so that the stain would not show. I continued to fiddle with it. I felt so despondent that I felt I could not look at Lucas. I heard Lady Stoneham’s voice with a feeling of relief.

“Come, Georgia, Amelia. I must thank you, Lord Ashcombe, for standing by Georgia while I was away.”

Lucas bowed formally, then glanced at me. “My pleasure, I assure you. I shall tell Samantha what happened; she will be sorry to miss you.” He turned then and left. I fell even deeper in gloom. I knew I was in for a scold when we got back. Amelia looked smug. I think I really began to dislike her immensely from that point.

Of course I was scolded. I was not allowed to receive callers the next day, but that was just as well. I did not feel like talking with anyone. One bright occurrence was the arrival of my new dresses. I tried on one after another under Lady Stoneham’s stern eye, and though she hovered about me as if I were going to spill some nonexistent drink upon them, my spirits lifted as I looked at all the different girls in the mirror. “No more accidents, my girl,” she warned. “I know you are not clumsy, so how you came to ruin that dress is still a mystery to me. And disappearing with Sir Harlow—I thank Heaven that you did not reappear with him as well! I shall have to talk with your grandmama if this continues.”

* * * *

If I looked forward to balls with a certain amount of dread since the last one, at least my outings were free of it. Samantha called almost daily to drive or ride our horses in Hyde Park. This last sort of exercise was not my favorite, since I was not yet practiced at riding the sidesaddle. I had always thought it was a clumsy arrangement and looked at men astride with some envy. Occasionally, Lucas—now that he was back in town—would join us. Then it would almost be as it was before, the three of us, talking, joking, laughing. But still there was that little constraint, that little fence, between Lucas and me. I knew I loved him, but how did one act? What went beyond the line of what was pleasing? Did his kisses in the carriage mean he loved me or did I make too much of it? Or was it like the kiss of Sir Harlow, because there was something not quite right about me?

I didn’t know whom to ask, was afraid to ask, in case what I had allowed to happen was of the grossest impropriety. I tried to put the whole issue from my mind. I didn’t want to think of it. I just wanted to enjoy myself
now.

I mentally shook myself and determinedly switched to a cheery frame of mind for the ride I was to have with Lucas one Monday morning. It was originally to have been with Samantha as well, but she had twisted her foot badly during the last ball, and it was still bruised. I had greeted this news with a raised eyebrow, but I made no demur. Lucas, after all, was Samantha’s brother, I told myself, and I had known him longer than I had known her.

Annie roused me, and I quickly washed my face. I surreptitiously dabbed some essence of lavender behind my ears, even though the maid had turned her back. I laughed at myself. As if anyone cared whether I applied scent or not!

Annie chatted cheerily all the while and flung open my wardrobe as I put on my chemise. Her chattering stopped abruptly. I did not notice at first, for I was unknotting a ribbon, but then I turned. Annie stood as one struck, hands hanging limply at her sides, staring at my wardrobe. I felt definite foreboding at this odd behavior, but I moved to her side and my gaze followed her trembling, pointing finger.

I gasped. “Oh, Lord!” I murmured. The phantom slasher had struck again, but not with a scissors or knife: a liberal slash of ink now adorned everything in front of me. “Oh, Lord!” I backed away and sank hopelessly on my bed.

Annie turned to me, her face pale. “Lawks, miss! What are we going to do?”

I reached over and grasped her hand. “You needn’t worry, Annie. I shall make sure you’re not turned out for this. I know it’s not your fault.”

“But what about you, miss?”

“Well, I...” I stopped. I didn’t know. This was the third time in a row an “accident” had happened, and this time it was to more than one dress. I glanced at the clock. It lacked but half an hour before my ride. “My riding habit, Annie. How badly dirtied is it?”

She gingerly pulled it from the wardrobe. It was a mess. Ink had been smeared from bodice to hem. “Could it be washed?” I ventured. It would be damp even if she could.

Annie hesitated. “I—I don’t think so, miss, but I’ll try!”

Twenty minutes passed while I paced back and forth in my room. What was I to say to Lady Stoneham? I had no real proof that Caroline or even Amelia was behind the destruction of my clothes. Further, I could not display any ingratitude for Lady Stoneham’s presenting me to society by accusing Amelia to her mother—it would be a sure sign that Mama had brought me up badly. Any accusations would be useless. All I could say was that I did not know who had done it; but in the face of my obvious reluctance at the beginning to be parted from my mother, that explanation sounded quite lame. Anyone would be bound to think that a girl not long from school, obviously reluctant to be left with strangers, would be capable of mischief to get her way. And the viscountess had already named me headstrong and no doubt told Lady Stoneham so.

Annie knocked and entered. The look on her face told me all the washing in the world was not going to restore my riding habit to its former state. “Well—well, it seems that I am just going to have to have the headache and cry off.” I smiled weakly. “When Lord Ashcombe arrives, please tell him for me, Annie, if you would be so kind.”

I looked out my window and saw Lucas ride up and dismount. I couldn’t suppress a spurt of frustrated anger; what else was I to do? Surely he would believe I was putting him off; a headache was such a clichéd excuse. And goodness only knew if anyone would believe me about my dresses. A few minutes passed and I saw him leave again—but not without company. A rider in a sky-blue habit rode up to him as he left, and a toss of her head revealed Caroline’s face. My hands clenched. As if she had planned it—all so perfectly. As if—! I was sure from the top of my head to the tips of my toes that she
had
planned it. And there was nothing I could do about it.

Chapter Eleven

I had no choice but to tell Lady Stoneham
about my clothes. One could not have a headache forever, after all. And I made no excuses for it, other than to say that I did not know who had done it. It was, as I had thought, lame.

“Do not know who did it?” she exclaimed faintly. “They are your clothes, which—I had thought— you selected with such care. How could you not know who had—had
desecrated
them?” She raised vinaigrette to her nose and sneezed. “Why, when I was brought out, I could not take my eyes from my wardrobe! But you—!” A trembling hand was raised to cover her eyes. “Tearing your ball dress from bodice to hem was not enough, nor was spilling punch on the result of my creative genius. Possibly—
possibly,
I could see these might be accidents. But this—! This is naught but malice, my girl, malice! I respected the fact you did not want to be parted from your mother—very proper, indeed! But you need not have gone to such extremes as these!”

“But I didn’t!” I cried.

“Then who did?” Lady Stoneham asked reasonably.

I fidgeted. “Lady Caroline,” I said finally, goaded reluctantly into admitting my suspicion.

She looked at me sadly. “How could she have? They are your clothes, in your room, and you see them every day. How could she have done so?”

“I don’t know,” I said dully. “I do not know.”

She tugged at her shawl discontentedly. “Well, I do not know what to do with you, girl. I cannot bring out a girl who constantly ruins her dresses.”

“But I do not ruin my dresses—!” I cried.

Disbelief settled over her face. “If those dresses are not ruined, then I wonder why we are having this discussion.”

“I mean—”

“Please!” moaned Lady Stoneham, holding up a hand. “No more! You fatigue me. I shall have to discuss this matter with your grandmama.”

A sinking feeling grew in the pit of my stomach. I did not want the viscountess brought into this. She already thought me impertinent and headstrong, and nothing she had ever said led me to believe she had any affection for me. She would certainly voice those doubts Lady Stoneham had about me and believe them, too. And then what? I closed my eyes briefly. She would blame it all on Mama. Perhaps whisper it about that she did a horrible job raising me. Perhaps snub her in public. Or worse, never let me go back to her.

The viscountess’s visit did nothing to dispel these fears. If I had thought her manner haughty when I first saw her, I now stood corrected. Her face was set in hard lines, her eyes chilly chips of ice. She had come calling in a black dress, outmoded but regal nevertheless. She said nothing for the first few minutes of our interview; her gaze went through me like a sword. I could not look at her for long, but a rebellious spark made me raise my chin again and I gazed at her as steadily as I could.

“Ungrateful!” she barked, and I jumped.

“No, ma’am.” My voice squeaked just a little.

“‘No, ma’am’ what?”

“No, ma’am, I am not ungrateful.”

“Not ungrateful! Not
ungrateful}”
The viscountess rose like a tidal wave from her chair.

I have never had a scolding in my life like the one I had from the viscountess. Mama had scolded me, but in her firm and gentle way, and I would always be sorry at the end. The viscountess’s hand was like a vise on my arm as she pulled me toward her chair and made me stand in front of her. I had little time to reply to a question before she would snap out another one, and incredulity was writ large on her sharp features. I gave all the same answers I had given to Lady Stoneham, and before this matriarch they sounded weaker than ever.

Finally she let loose my arm and sat back. “You say you did not destroy your dresses, yet you do not know who did. It was not your maid, Annie, for she would have no cause, you say.” She tapped her fingers on the arm of her chair. “Who do you
think
did it, then, if you do not know?”

I breathed a sigh of relief. Perhaps it was not as bad as I thought it would be. “I—I think it was Caroline Emmett-Johns. Perhaps Amelia,” I said.

Lady Canning raised an eyebrow. “Proof?”

“I have little,” I said. “It is just what I think. They are the only ones who would do those things to me. Caroline never did like me at school, and what she did, the others did also. Then, they had the opportunity when I was out with Samantha Ashcombe.”

Lady Canning snorted. “They would not dare. You are a Canning. One does not perpetrate such tricks on a Canning.”

“They would, ma’am, if they thought they could get away with it.” I thought about how Lady Caroline had introduced Sir Harlow Smythe to me—no doubt Lady Stoneham had reported this to the viscountess as well. “And it was Lady Caroline who introduced me to Sir Harlow Smythe and told me I should dance with him.”

“Humph! Did she now?” My grandmother tapped her fingers again, and a thoughtful look crossed her face—only briefly, however. “Well, you should have known better than to go off with him!” I opened my mouth to protest, but she continued relentlessly: “Besides, there is still no proof. And for all I know, you could be a very convincing liar.”

I clenched my teeth. “I... am ... not, my lady,” I said slowly and deliberately.

“Your word means nothing to me, girl.”

I lifted my chin. “I
am
a Canning, after all, ma’am. I don’t lie.”

Her fingers stopped their tapping, then continued again. “You are also your mother’s daughter. I know nothing of her upbringing, and I can only suspect the worst.”

“You never tried to know
anything
of her upbringing!” I spat out angrily. “How dare you judge her!”

‘“How dare I—’“ hissed her ladyship. “How dare you talk to me like that! I have confirmation of your upbringing from your own lips!” Her voice became calm, but her hand closed, white-knuckled, over her cane. “You are confined for three days in your room, no visitors, no parties.”

“Confined!” I cried. “That is not fair! I have done nothing!”

“Five days, with bread and water only,” returned the viscountess.

I shut my mouth, gnawing my lip in frustration. Clearly, the more I said, the worse it would be. I stood there, staring at her defiantly.

Having gained my silence, she smiled genially at me. “You may go.”

* * * *

The first day was not all that bad. I think Annie must have told my story to the cook, for I received large slabs of bread, and she managed to hide small scraps of roast beef in between them. The boredom, however, was excruciating. I had my one book,
Pride and Prejudice,
which I finished and started over again. I was not allowed out to fetch another from the library, and Annie could not get any, either, for she could not read well enough to get the ones I wanted.