PoetsandPromises (11 page)

“Miss Ashwood, she had the success at Miss Earlywine’s ball,
yes? Does your sister find her the match yet?” Miss Thibeau asked with a change
of subject.

“No gentleman has yet shown a decided interest in her,” Lord
Sherbourne answered, not looking too closely at his reasons for failing to
inform Miss Thibeau that he himself was Miss Ashwood’s intended husband.

“It is early in the season yet,” Miss Thibeau commented.
“And you must not forget my suggestion of the poet, no? Her eyes, they follow
the poets.”

Evonne put down her brush and surveyed her canvas
critically. “That is enough for the day, I think, Lord Sherbourne. But you must
come once more before the painting she is complete.” Evonne set her palette
down and rose from her chair as Lord Sherbourne rose from his.

“Thank you, Lord Sherbourne. Please to remind the Monsieur
Earlywine to come for his sketch.”

“I shall,” Lord Sherbourne agreed. “Good day, Miss Thibeau.”

Sherbourne mounted his horse in silence and, abstracted,
took the reins from the groom without his usual nod of thanks. Why had he done
it? he wondered as he directed the horse back toward his town house. Why had he
gone to Miss Thibeau’s studio without Earlywine? It was true her studio was in
the comtesse’s home but he had known from his previous visits that the artist’s
aunt did not feel it incumbent upon her to be present during her niece’s
sittings. Worse, he had known in his heart that he was doing something that
would distress his betrothed if she discovered it and had done it anyway.

Sherbourne winced as he remembered how he had felt Miss
Ashwood retreat from him that day in the carriage when he had mentioned Miss
Thibeau. And what had she done to deserve such hurt? Was it that she had stood
unmoving when Shelley had brushed a strand of hair from her forehead? What had
he expected her to do—scream and pull back in shock? Such a reaction would have
been false and theatrical under the circumstances. Then why had he been so
upset at Miss Ashwood? Jealousy, he realized in shame. He had disliked seeing
the poet touch even a lock of her hair. Sherbourne shook his head in disgust at
himself. He was old enough and had enough experience of the world that he
should have behaved better. He had no right to distress Miss Ashwood
intentionally by going to sit with Miss Thibeau without Earlywine.

The remainder of his way home and for the rest of the day
Lord Sherbourne lectured himself about his obligations and commitments to Miss
Ashwood. It was not well done of him to act in a manner that would hurt his
betrothed if she knew of it and unworthy of him to be jealous of her manner
with the poet when it had in fact not been improper. He would have to amend his
own behavior, for truly it would seem that Miss Ashwood had been correct when
she accused that his own conduct was not above approach.

In the week following their first serious disagreement,
Elisabeth and Lord Sherbourne were carefully polite to each other, watching
each other closely under veiled eyes. Neither risked a rebuff by referring to
the incident again but their avoidance of the subject led to a loss of ease in
each other’s company and Elisabeth mourned the loss of the close connection
that had been developing before the quarrel. How frail were the first bonds of
affection between a man and woman! Instead of being strong, as she had always
imagined such love to be, it seemed to break with the least strain, she thought
sadly. But Elisabeth still looked forward to the promised night at the opera and
even hoped that it might perhaps be an opportunity to reestablish the rapport
that had been growing between herself and Lord Sherbourne before their
misunderstanding through a shared love of music. Although Elisabeth had heard
operatic arias performed by individuals after dinners at country estates, this
was the first time she would see an opera in its entirely, sung by professional
singers, and she was looking forward to it immensely.

The night of the performance arrived at last. Elisabeth had
chosen to wear one of her favorite new gowns, a dark blue silk with a deep
flounced hem and an overdress of white net. Molly had parted her mistress’s
brown hair in the center and arranged her curls in attractive bunches at either
side of her head. Elisabeth did not own any elaborate jewels but she felt her
simple neck chain with a sapphire pendantlooked
quite acceptable and she carried her finest painted silk fan.

But when she descended to the drawing room Elisabeth felt
quite outshone by the older Lady Parker. The elder woman looked extraordinarily
elegant in a long, dark rose gown with a high waist, the neckline filled in
with fine flesh-colored netting drawn up with wide ivory lace at the neck.
Matching lace fell gracefully from the gathered wrists of the long sleeves. Her
honey-blonde hair was coiled at the nape of her neck, adorned by a diadem of
garnets and diamonds.

Lord Sherbourne, who waited with his sister, was clad in the
standard evening dress of dark coat and pantaloons, white waistcoat, white
starched cravat, top hat and shoes.

“Miss Ashwood, you look charmingly,” Lord Sherbourne said
with evident sincerity as Elisabeth paused at the drawing room door. “I shall
be the envy of the theater, attending with two such Beauties.”

“Shall we go?” Lady Parker suggested. “I believe the
carriage has been brought ‘round and I have heard the performances are
amazingly crowded.”

And in fact when they arrived at the Haymarket a few minutes
later they were required to wait for quite some minutes until their carriage
could approach. Word of the wildly successful premiere of the opera two nights
before had spread and this night looked to be almost as packed as the premiere
itself.

Once inside Lord Sherbourne suggested they repair
immediately to their box and settle in. As she took a seat between Lady Parker
and Lord Sherbourne Elisabeth looked around with wonder. The theater was
brilliantly lit with candles and in their light she could easily see across the
theater to the tiers of boxes directly opposite, a gallery above. Below, in the
center of the theater before the stage, was the pit, from which a commotion
could be heard as the rowdy attendees in the pit called out to each other and
even tossed objects back and forth. But even they were all attired in formal
evening dress similar to Lord Sherbourne’s.

Seeing Elisabeth’s interest in her surroundings, Lady Parker
offered her opera glasses. With the aid of the glasses Elisabeth discreetly
viewed those in the boxes on the opposite side of the theater. She recognized a
few of the occupants of the boxes, including the Earlywines. Miss Earlywine
also had opera glasses to her face, and as their gazes met the younger woman
gave a discreet wave. Smiling in return, Elisabeth continued to scan the boxes,
stopping abruptly when she saw Miss Thibeau and her aunt the comtesse in a box
almost directly across from Lady Parker’s.

This evening, instead of the elaborate gown Elisabeth had
last seen her wearing, Miss Thibeau had chosen an elegantly simple gown of
white satin with small cap sleeves, the low neckline enhanced with an edging of
white lace. A light blue silk fringed stole lay gracefully across her shoulders
and long white gloves and a beautiful pendant completed her toilette.
Elisabeth’s pleasure in her own appearance once again dimmed. Why was it that
when she dressed simply Miss Thibeau’s attire made her feel too plain, and now
that Miss Thibeau had dressed simply her own attire seemed fussy and overdone?
Elisabeth sighed.

But from the moment the opera began Elisabeth forgot Miss
Thibeau in her absorption in the story unfolding before her. How wonderful it
was to hear the singing as part of a story acted out before her very eyes
instead of only hearing arias taken from an opera and performed in isolation!
Elisabeth was entranced.

Apparently the rest of the audience agreed, for even jaded
operagoers were quiet this night as they saw Mozart’s
Don Giovanni
performed,
most for the first time. Enthralled, the audience lost itself in the nocturnal
adventures of the fickle Don Giovanni.

When the first act ended about forty-five minutes later with
Don Giovanni escaping, sword in hand, after being denounced by his friends,
Elisabeth leaned back in her seat and sighed again, this time from happiness.

“I believe you are enjoying the performance, Miss Ashwood?”
Lord Sherbourne asked with a twinkle.

“Oh yes!” Elisabeth replied. “What riches, to be able to
hear such music performed by those who devote their lives to it! I would think
Londoners would be at the opera every night.”

“Not every opera is of this quality,” Lord Sherbourne
cautioned. “This performance is exceptional. I believe it is the best I have
ever seen. Londoners owe Hunt a debt of gratitude for bringing this opera to
their city.”

“I do not quite understand why the theater did not wish to
put it on,” Elisabeth confessed.

“It was because of a feeling that operas by composers other
than Mozart better fit the taste of the London audience. Although it appears
from the reaction of the Londoners at this performance tonight that those who
lobbied against the production of the opera were greatly mistaken.”

People from the audience were beginning to move about, those
in boxes leaving them to visit acquaintances in others. The Duke of Norland was
the first to arrive at Lady Parker’s box, followed shortly afterward by James
Earlywine. With the arrival of James to keep Elisabeth company, Sherbourne made
his excuses and left to greet various acquaintances he had noticed in their
boxes. Within a few minutes, Elisabeth was dismayed to see Lord Sherbourne’s
unmistakable figure in Miss Thibeau’s box. James noticed the direction of
Elisabeth’s gaze and heard her indrawn breath.

“You must not mind,” he said in a kindly, low voice, seeing
that Lady Parker and the duke were absorbed in their own conversation. “It is
the custom to greet those acquaintances one knows in other boxes during
intervals.”

“How can I not mind?” Elisabeth dared to counter. “Miss
Thibeau is so excessively beautiful, and she is a talented artist as well.”

“One may admire beauty and talent without it lessening one’s
admiration of the same qualities in others,” James pointed out. “Do you not
admire the poet Mr. Shelley?”

Elisabeth confessed that she did.

“Does that affect your esteem for Sherbourne?”

“No, Mr. Earlywine. It does not,” Elisabeth had to allow.

“It is the same thing,” James said reassuringly. “Sherbourne
may admire Miss Thibeau’s beauty and talent but that does not mean he admires
yours any less.”

“Perhaps,” Elisabeth allowed, still unconvinced. Privately
she thought Mr. Earlywine’s argument would have more force if she
had
talent and beauty but Elisabeth was too honest and too modest to imagine
herself to have either.

“Come with me back to our box,” James proposed, desirous of
cheering Elisabeth up. “M’sister wishes to have a moment to speak with you.”

Politely, Elisabeth agreed, and after asking permission of
Lady Parker accompanied James to the Earlywine’s box, where she was persuaded
to remain for the remainder of the interval, only returning to Lady Parker’s
box as the music heralding the second act began. Elisabeth slipped back into
her place beside Lady Parker and immediately became lost to her surroundings,
seeing only the world unfolding on the stage below. Not until Giovanni was
devoured by flames and Elvira proclaimed her intention to enter a convent did
Elisabeth stir.

Elisabeth and Lady Parker both slept late the morning after
the opera, not meeting in the morning room until nearly eleven.

“I was happy to see you enjoying the opera,” Lady Parker
commented to Elisabeth as they consumed their late breakfast with relish. “It
is one of the few advantages the city has over the country, I believe.”

“Yes, there is no comparison in the quality of musical
performance that is available,” Elisabeth acknowledged. “I believe the performance
last night was something I will remember for the rest of my life. I am so
grateful for the opportunity to hear it.”

“I am pleased we were able to give you such pleasure,” Lady
Parker returned politely.

“Miss Ashwood,” Lady Parker essayed after a moment of
silence, “might I speak to you frankly?”

“Of course, Lady Parker,” Elisabeth said, pushing her plate
back and giving her sponsor her full attention.

“I believe that at first you might not have been entirely
reconciled to coming to town for the Season but I hope I am not mistaken in my
feeling that lately you have become much more content?”

“I had not been away from my family’s estate before,”
Elisabeth answered carefully, not wishing to offend Lady Parker. “So it has
taken me some time to adjust but there are many things here in London I have
been enjoying and I have also been pleased to become more closely acquainted
with you and Lord Sherbourne.”

“I am pleased to hear it,” Lady Parker said frankly. “I know
what it can be to leave all one is familiar with and go to a strange place.
Although I had my brother with me, when I first arrived in India I was
excessively melancholic. It took me many months to accustom myself to living in
such a different place.”

“If I may ask, why did you choose to go to India?” Elisabeth
asked curiously.

“I suppose there were two reasons,” Lady Parker answered
consideringly. “I was excessively attached to Richard, he being nearer to me in
age than our elder brother, and also I thought it would be a great adventure.
It certainly was that,” she finished with a rueful laugh.

“I thought perhaps a marriage had been arranged for you with
someone in the East India Company.”

“No, I met my first husband after I arrived there,” Lady
Parker said, and added perspicaciously, “Am I correct in guessing that had I
answered ‘yes’ you would have asked me how it felt to marry someone I had not
known well?”

Elisabeth blushed. “Yes, I must admit I was. I thought that
perhaps your situation had been similar to mine and that you married without
knowing your betrothed well.”

“I hope,” Lady Parker said, putting down her knife and fork
and giving her full attention to Elisabeth, “that you have come to know Richard
at least a little and that you are not entirely disinclined to a match with my
brother?”

“No, I am not disinclined to the match,” Elisabeth answered,
knowing as she said it aloud that it was indeed the truth, despite their recent
quarrel. “I find your brother very congenial.”

“I am very pleased to hear you say so, because I should not
wish you to marry Richard if you did not find him congenial,” Lady Parker said
seriously. “Although as I said to you before, I am naturally prejudiced in his
favor and believe any young woman should be pleased to make such a match,” she
added with a smile.

“What I have been leading up to asking,” Lady Parker
continued, “is if you would allow me to announce your engagement with my
brother. I must confess I feel I am perpetrating a bit of a falsehood upon
society, pretending to be your sponsor only.”

“Has Lord Sherbourne asked that you do this?” Elisabeth
asked, her heart beating rapidly as she thought, Please say yes! Perhaps, she
thought in sudden joy, this was Lord Sherbourne’s way of showing he was sorry
for their misunderstanding.

“No, I felt I should ask you first, and I was not going to
mention it to my brother if you were disinclined. But I am certain he will
agree. It has been his intention from the beginning to marry you, of course. It
is all arranged.”

Elisabeth’s happiness vanished in an instant, leaving her feeling
dull and leaden. “I believe, Lady Parker,” she said slowly, “that I would
prefer to leave the plan as it was originally, to which my father and mother
agreed.”

“Very well,” Lady Parker accepted. “The Season is nearly
half over and I suppose it makes little difference now in any event.”

Wishing to divert Lady Parker’s thoughts and change the
subject to one less painful to herself, Elisabeth dared to ask the question
that had long been on her mind. “If I might inquire, Lady Parker, it is obvious
the duke calls to see you. Do you not wish to marry him?”

Lady Parker poured fresh tea into her cup and took a sip.
“It is only fair I be as frank with you as you have been with me. I care for
the duke but I feel I cannot marry him. I told you I was widowed in India. That
was true as far as it went but…”

Abruptly, Lady Parker pushed back her chair from the table
and rose. “Come with me to my bedchamber,” she invited, turning to leave the
room.

Elisabeth followed Lady Parker upstairs to her bedchamber,
anxious to have her curiosity satisfied, for the door to Lady Parker’s chamber
always remained closed and Elisabeth had wondered at what seemed to be an
extreme desire for privacy.