Love's Way (21 page)

“Greatly improved. He’s often sober for an hour at a stretch now, in the mornings. He promises to attend our ball. He is in high gig with all the company landing in for it. We have relations over from the western lakeside to stay a few days. Many of them I have not seen since I left home fifteen years ago.”

One could only wonder that he would waltz out of the house and leave them so shortly after their arrival. Indian manners. “Yes, Chloe, I am on my way back to them this minute,” he announced, reading my mind. “You forget I have Mrs. Crawford and Emmie to play hostess for me.”

“Lady Irene will
be coming, I expect?” Nora asked.

“Irene tells me she never misses a ball, if she has to travel for a fortnight to reach it. She will be arriving for dinner tomorrow evening. I hope you will all come as well. It was not mentioned on your invitation, but Hennie has arranged a banquet of no mean proportions for a select company before the dancing begins.”

Various sounds of approbation and acceptance showed our delight at this added treat. That we had been included at the last minute did not bother any of us a whit, for Hennie Crawford was held accountable for the lapse. Jack soon left on that occasion.

The day was busy with beginning early preparations for the morrow. After Nora and I had given each other’s face a lemon-juice rub, followed by cream to restore the juices taken away by the acid, I decided to try my hand again with the thugee rope. I never got to it, for on my way I saw the tinker’s wagon sitting scraped but not painted. Its loss was felt keenly by Nora and myself, so instead I undertook to see to its refurbishing, including sending to the village to have a wheel made. This would not be driven to the ball. For that prestigious occasion we would take our own black carriage. The instant I opened the door I realized the stench of smoke made this impossible. It ought to have been airing out all these days, but no one had thought to do it.

While I stood wondering how we were to make the trip, Tom arrived. A servant came to me, and as I saw some hopes of going to the ball with him, I went quickly to the house. Nora was talking to him. I noticed she had stuffed her sewing under the cushion. What weaned her from her netting on this occasion was the addition of a row of lace to the bottom of her petticoat. I was impatient that Tom was so nice he would blush at this chore. In fact, Tom seemed very much of an old spinster to me, after the more roisterous company of Gamble.

“I thought your aunt might want a drive to the ball,” he explained as I sat down.

“Kind of you to offer, but we are invited to dinner
before
the ball,” Nora told him. My hopes for a ride with him were dashed.

“
I
am invited to dinner as well,” he said proudly. “I chanced to be speaking to Mrs. Crawford and Lady Emily yesterday. Mrs. Crawford is a friend of my mama, you must know. She took Emily over to meet her. It was kind of her, don’t you think?” We nodded. “While there, they invited me to attend the dinner. It sounds a very grand do. The Mandrels, who were to go with me, have arranged other transportation. So shall I stop for you and Edward, Mrs. Whitmore?”

“Chloe is going as well,” she said.

“Have you indeed changed your mind, Chloe? Sensible of you,” he said, but he did not fool me. He was not pleased. This mystery plagued me throughout the visit. Tom was not a man to be at odds with his noble neighbours, or to want his friends to be. Certainly his wife would be ragged to death if she dared to offend any prestigious acquaintances. He had disliked my refusal to attend. Why then did he not laud my acceptance more loudly?

We chatted about general topics—the fire, the rebuilding, and so on. It struck me as rather odd then that he had not come forward with any offer to help. He had been remarkably silent for a suitor, and remarkably little missed. When tea was served, he asked, “How—er—how are things between Edward and Emily?”

“How should they be, Tom? You know she is considering Gamble’s offer of marriage. Taking her time about it, too, I would say. Edward seldom sees her, but for church on Sunday. Was she asking you about him when she called on your mama?” I asked, with more than mild interest. I had always thought she was too young and innocent to make a suitable bride for Jack Gamble. I think Jack was feeling the same way.

“No, she wasn’t,” he answered quickly. “She did not mention him at all, except to say he has quit writing poetry. She is sorry for that.”

“I see.” There was an idea so novel, so absurd really, forming in me that I was certain I must be mistaken. The idea was this: that Tom was beginning to entertain some amorous regard for Emily himself. She was pretty to be sure, and high enough born to flatter his ego a little. She was much too young for him—not quite eighteen, while Tom was over thirty. Still, age had not been mentioned as an impediment with Gamble, and he was a bit older than Tom. I decided to test my theory, and did it by stating what I thought he would dislike to hear, regardless of truth.

“I am not surprised she had quit speaking of Edward.” He looked interested, pleased. “This ball will see the announcement of her engagement to her cousin. That is the whole purpose of it, don’t you think, Nora?”

“I
did
think so,” she agreed. “I recall we spoke of it some time ago.”

Tom did not quite jump to his feet in protest, but he looked as if he would like to. “I think you are mistaken,” he said. “Mrs. Crawford indicated nothing of the sort. She had hoped for a match, but her talk indicated the matter was as well as forgotten. In fact, she says Lady Irene has ousted Emily in his interest. It would be a much better match in my view than to shackle little Emily to him.”

“What have you got against him, Tom?” I asked innocently.

“Bit of a ramshackle fellow,” he said carefully. “I mean to say, there was the business of his getting some cousin into trouble before he ever left the country. Fifteen years out of the country will not have done his character any good, depend on it.”

“He has been very kind to Edward,” Nora pointed out. It was not hard to see she was piqued at Tom’s words. Gamble had been inching his way into favour with her ever since the Indian blanket affair. Two evenings she had sat trying to remember some ill of Millie Henderson (the lady he ruined before setting out for India) without any success, though she remembered very distinctly she never cared for the girl in the least. Any man who accepts food and drink at the hands of a lady old enough to be his mother finds favour, so long as he does not treat her
too
much like a mother. There must be a little of the gallant in his makeup if he is to become a prime favourite. She could not like to condone these past crimes, but she would have liked very well to be able to forget them.

I chanced to remember, when I lifted the tea pot, that Tom had either sold my silver service to Wingdale or returned it to Oldham’s shop. Either act was displeasing, and to tease him I mentioned it. I did not tell him I had actually drunk tea from the vessel but only said I had heard it was there.

“I offered it to you. You refused point blank. It seems to me if a lady says no she has no call to be throwing the matter up in a man’s face. You would not accept it from me, as you have never accepted my offer of marriage,” he said, forcing the words out, not without an obvious effort.

I really thought he had come to try his hand at weaseling out of his offer. Nora, usually so eager to throw us alone together, stuck like a burr. Tom resented it, but had he known the reason he would have rejoiced. The fact was that Nora was admitting, perhaps unconsciously, that she believed him to be no longer a real contender for my hand. She had said nothing to me, but it was there, to be inferred from her indifference and her not leaving us alone.

“You might have told us you were taking it back to the shop,” I said.

“If you want it so badly, I daresay it can be bought from Wingdale. He would not know a Queen Anne tea service from a tin tray.”

“He knew enough to snap it up in any case,” Nora said.

“He is fond of Queen Anne,” I said, and laughed to myself.

Tom was so unhappy with the visit that he rose to his feet. “Well, do you want to come to the ball in my carriage or not? That is really the only reason I came. I had a look at yours while I was at the stable, and know you will not want to submit your gowns to it.”

“That is true,” Nora said, looking to me for directions.

I disliked to accept so ungracious an offer; disliked even more to arrive at a ball reeking of smoke. “Thank you, Tom, we would appreciate it very much.”

“Seven o’clock then?”

“Seven,” we agreed.

I accompanied him to the door, in case he was dashing enough to broach the subject of marriage. And I would refuse him this time very firmly. He said nothing at all about it. Neither did he make any attempt at taking my hands, at touching me. He left with a stiff, angry face. He could be very unattractive when he pokered up in this way.

Chapter Twenty-one

The gala night of the ball finally arrived. Tom called for us and took us in state to Carnforth Hall. More improvements had been made since our last visit. There was some attempt at shaping the shrubberies, and fresh pebbles had been laid to cover those spots where grass invaded the drive. It is one of life’s little mysteries how it will grow so profusely where it is not wanted and refuse to come up on one’s lawn, except in patches. Within, the changes were more dramatic. One had the sensation of entering a fine home, well cared for, with perhaps just a touch more of newness in carpets, window hangings, and sofa coverings than is usually encountered. There were splendidly-outfitted guests, most of whom were strangers to us. While Nora and Tom stood discussing between themselves which were titled and which less interesting personages, Gamble came forward to make us welcome. The strangers, upon introduction, proved to be friends and relations from the Western Lakes.

Entering the main saloon, I looked in vain for elephant feet, Indian blankets, and other objectionable bric-a-brac, to be told by the mind reader that if I had an umbrella I wished to store, I would find the pachyderm’s foot in his study.

“You are looking very elegant this evening, Chloe,” he added, scanning me quickly from head to toe.

“I had thought so till I got here,” I admitted, for I am sure he knew it anyway. “I see you, too, have got a new bib and tucker for the occasion.”

“Like it?” he asked, brushing his lapel and looking down at himself.

It was a handsome suit. There is nothing like a black jacket and white cravat to bring out the best in a man. Edward, too, was looking very aristocratic. Even Tom had less the air of a country squire than usual.

I felt the evening was going to be wonderful. There was champagne, an unaccustomed luxury in our simple lives. Lady Emily was beautiful in a white gown with silk roses catching up the skirt in ruches. When she smiled at Edward I did not see how he could well resist her, but his attention had been caught by a businessman from the west who was enlightening him as to the best way to invest his spare capital. Edward listened as closely as if he had a thousand guineas to dispose of. It was for Tom to do the pretty with Emily. I watched him closely. There was surely love shining in his eyes, and as surely none being returned by hers. Dinner, when it was served, proved to be no less than a banquet, with every manner of delicacy. I thought with dismay of the meager dinner we had served Jack at Ambledown. But we had not called it a feast, nor been expecting company.

Lady Irene was set at Jack’s right hand, some elderly aunt on his left. I was placed between Tom and a gentleman called Sir Arthur something or other, who mined copper, and spent the meal complaining of the high cost and low productivity of his workers. Despite these twin destroyers, however, he had a diamond twice as big as a cherry pip in his shirt front, and the lady who was his wife had a whole set of them around her wattled neck.

I was unhappy to hear Captain Wingdale announced, when the guests for the ball began arriving, but was glad he had not been invited to dinner at least. When the minuet struck up, it was Lady Irene who began the dancing with Gamble. Had the purpose of this ball been to announce his wedding to Emily, she would have been given the honour. This settled in my mind that there was to be no announcement made. If any serious attachment were forming it seemed Lady Irene was to be the lady, as Hennie had said. Mrs. Crawford happened to be standing by me at the time. She had removed her black mittens for the occasion, and had tried to alter her customary flavour with cloves. Onions and cloves combined, I learned, give off a worse aroma than onions alone. Positively pungent.

“Lord Carnforth is unable to come down, is he?” I asked her. We had seen nothing of him since arriving, though I thought I heard a song coming down the stairs shortly after entering. Death and the Lady it was, so lugubrious.

“He was brought down for lunch. It knocked him about so that he is resting.” I murmured my regrets.

Her eyes trailed off after Irene as she spoke on about fatigue and old age. She became quite a pest to me that night, though it was Tom who drew her to me. I stood up with him for the minuet. As soon as it was over, Hennie ran up to us again. “Where is Emily?” she asked.

It seemed significant to me that he could point out the precise corner where she stood. Neither did I fail to notice his feet were soon following his eyes after her. Hennie’s eyes narrowed in speculation. “Mr. Carrick is a good friend of yours I believe, Miss Barwick?” she asked.

“We have known him a few years.”

“I have known his mama socially a little, but was never at Tarnmere till last week. A very fine estate
,
” she said, making it somehow a suggestion that I was a fool not to nab it and a hint to know my intentions on that score.

What did one say to such a thing? “Yes,” I agreed. “Very fine indeed.”

“I wonder what the income would be on such a place. Not a penny under five thousand, I should say.”

I did not deny it. Her thinking was no mystery to me. Having lost out on becoming mistress of Carnforth Hall, she was thinking of setting Emily and herself up at Tarn-mere. She would meet her match in Tom’s mother, but let her worry about that.