The Aim of a Lady (23 page)

“Good-bye, Alma. Thank you for coming.” Diana sadly watched him leave and then went into the music room and sat down at the harpsichord. Her fingers wandered over the keys and for the first time in her life the melody she devised was melancholy.

She felt hurt that Alma would consider her capable of improper behavior with Harry, but then she supposed George had told him of her previous experience, and she herself had behaved incredibly loosely with Alma. The memory of that morning brought a flush to her cheeks, but more of desire than embarrassment. She did not experience that feeling any longer with Harry, though she enjoyed his companionship. Suddenly she thought about the future, after George and Alonna were wed. She would live in the Dower House, alone. Of course every day, when they were at the Park, she would see George and Alonna, probably often see Allison and Walter, but she might never see Alma again since she did not go often to London.

Diana thought of him then in a way she had never thought of him before, the disparate elements of their relationship coming together in her mind. He was no longer simply the attractive friend of her brother’s to be entertained, nor the sulky young man embarrassed by her callous treatment of his body when she removed the arrow. Nor was he the grateful companion presented with the chariot, or the antagonist in their battle of wills. He was also the friend who came to her rescue, and the only person she had found peace with. In his presence sometimes, as on their fishing expeditions, she had been content just to be with him; no plans for future projects distracted her from that enjoyment.

And there was the physical attraction she felt for him, that she did not feel for Harry or Walter or Frank or Vallert. There was the envy she felt of Fanny who did not have to repulse his advances, but could welcome him to her whenever she wished.

Diana stared sightlessly out the windows, her hands unmoving on the keyboard. For the first time she accepted the fact that she loved Alma, that she was lonely when she was not with him, that their encounters made her feel alive as nothing else could. She understood that her desire was based on that love, just as years ago her desire of Harry had been based on the youthful love she had had for him.

Did Alma care for her? He had cared enough to come to her today, but she could not be sure how deep that concern ran. I will always be there if you need me, he had said. But would he be there if she needed him always?

Diana rose from the harpsichord, straightened the ornaments on the mantelpiece and went in to luncheon. She had a month before she returned to London and there was much to be done at the Park.

Chapter Nineteen

George was agreeably surprised by Harry Lewis, who arrived and begged an interview with him minutes before he was due to leave for the ball. The fact that Harry was in town relieved George’s mind and he asked the younger man to accompany him in his carriage so that he would not arrive late. Harry agreed and, when the carriage had started, said, “I appreciate your allowing me to speak with you, Mr. Savile. I have a great deal to apologize for which I fear you can never forgive. Perhaps it will help you to know that I came years ago to understand how reprehensible my behavior was and have agonized over the memory of it.”

“You could not have believed it proper at the time,” George commented dryly.

“No, but I honestly do not think I understood the gravity of it as I might have. I was intoxicated by Diana and used to having what I wanted.” He sighed. “I know there is no excuse, but I beg you will believe me that there is no danger to your sister in my company now."

“I will be happy to believe that. In any case I believe you would find Diana more prudent now. Do you return to Linton?”

“No,” Harry replied. “I have just received a position in the Foreign Office. I hope, with your permission, to see Diana when she returns to town though.”

George studied the young man for a moment. “I have no objection, Mr. Lewis, but I might warn you that I feel her affections are already engaged.”

Harry nodded thoughtfully. “She did not say anything, but she spoke of someone frequently.” He decided to allow Alma to explain for himself his visit to the Park.

The carriage stopped before Lord Franston’s house and George shook hands with Harry. Before stepping down he wished the young man well in his new post, and then directed the coachman to take Harry where he wished. Harry regretfully watched him disappear into the house. Things might have been very different if he had not been such a fool five years ago; he had no one but himself to blame. Diana’s brother was remarkably polite considering the circumstances of their previous meeting. He instructed the coachman to take him to his lodgings.

George and Alonna were fully occupied for the next few hours greeting guests and leading the dancing, but George was puzzled that Alma had not arrived. When he finally put in an appearance late in the evening he looked tired and distracted, but he endeavored to enter into the spirit of the evening nonetheless. After many of the guests had departed he approached George and asked if he might have a word with him.

“I must stay until the bitter end, Ellis,” George grinned.

“May I await you at your house?”

“Could we not speak in the morning?”

“I would rather not.”

“Very well. It may be a while, though,” George replied wryly.

Alma nodded and made his farewells to Lord Franston and Alonna before ordering his carriage. Standing in the hall with the buzz of voices sounding faintly from the ballroom, he wondered if he had finally done something which would stretch George’s friendship too far. Alma valued that friendship highly and felt depressed at the thought of losing it, but he shrugged off his moodiness when he entered the carriage and allowed himself to think of George’s sister.

Once Alma had convinced George’s skeptical servants that George had indeed expected him to await his arrival, the hours stretched slowly toward dawn. Alma had fallen asleep in a comfortable leather armchair in the library and George was hesitant to awaken him, but he removed the book from his lap and rang for brandy and glasses. When these were set down and the servants dismissed for the night, he poured two glasses and gently shook Alma’s shoulder.

Puzzled eyes gazed up at him before Alma remembered where he was. He straightened up in his chair and said, “Sorry. I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

George surveyed him with amusement. “It is practically morning, Ellis. Why don’t you use a guest room and we will talk later?”

“No.” Alma blinked a few times and took a sip from the glass George offered him. “Have you talked with Lewis?”

George was in the process of replacing his glass on a table and turned startled eyes to his friend. “Yes. How did you know he was in town?”

Alma rubbed his face. “I was at the Park this morning, George.”

His friend’s lips tightened. “I told you I would go tomorrow.”

“I know.” Alma frowned. “I knew you would not approve of my going, so I did not tell you.”

“I find it ironic, Ellis, that you should take it upon yourself to guard Diana’s virtue,” George said cuttingly.

“Of course you do,” Alma retorted. “If I had thought of it, I probably would have, too, but I only thought that I could not allow any harm to come to her. I love her, George.”

A slow smile spread over George’s face. “It is about time you came to realize it, Ellis.”

Alma responded with a faint smile before his countenance became serious. “She was in no danger, George. I daresay Lewis is not such a bad fellow.”

“No, he seemed sincere in his reform.”

“I could not tell how she felt about him. She has agreed to meet him when she comes to London.” Alma took another sip of his brandy.

“You did not speak to her then?” George asked exasperatedly.

“I want her to be happy, George, and it may be that she has renewed an attachment to him. She should have a chance to decide.”

“How is she to decide if she does not know how you feel?”

“I shall tell her when she comes to London. You would not object?” Alma asked seriously. Then he said with a crooked grin, “I believe I meet all your specifications.”

“Yes,” George agreed, “I believe you do. We will let her decide. Will you go home now, Ellis? I am exhausted.”

* * * *

Alma did not rise until past noon the next day, and he sent a note to Fanny before he went down to his breakfast. She suggested that he call at three, and he presented himself at the appointed hour, feeling slightly foolish but determined. Fanny’s own sixth sense had alerted her to dress discreetly and welcome him in the parlor.

“It was thoughtful of you to let me know that you would be out of town, Ellis. I hope you had a pleasant trip.” She offered him her hand, which he shook. Her suspicions confirmed, she seated herself in a chair rather than on the sofa and waved him to another.

“I... yes, I suppose it was in some ways. Certainly it was important. Fanny, I have decided to marry a young woman if she will have me; and I think it would be best if I did not see you any more.” He brushed a crease out of his elegant pantaloons.

“You think she would object?” Fanny asked curiously.

“Not that so much as that she would probably think it unfair,” Alma admitted.

“Unfair?”

“That I could do as I please when she cannot,” he explained.

Fanny laughed appreciatively. “I think I would like her.”

“Yes, I feel sure you would, and she would probably like you but..." He stopped, confused.

“But it is not likely we will meet, Ellis,” she said gently.

“No.” He sat there silent for a while before he said, “I wonder, Fanny, if I might ask you...how best to...well, when a woman has not been with a man before ... it must be... somewhat frightening.”

“Of all the men I know, Ellis, I would best trust you with a virgin,” Fanny replied. “But I will tell you what I can.”

When Alma left he gave her a handsome present, thanked her for her frankness with him and kissed her warmly. Fanny wished him well and found it necessary to visit her favorite modiste to choose a new gown to cheer herself.

* * * *

On an exceedingly hot day at the beginning of June, Diana arrived in London. She had completed the renovation of the Dower House to her satisfaction and seen that George’s instructions for Alonna’s suite were carried out. Although these projects had not unduly strained her endurance, George was concerned when he saw her, for her usual glow was somewhat lacking. She professed to excellent health, however, and he did not pursue the matter.

Both Alma and Harry called on the day after her arrival, at precisely the same time. They were civil to one another and exceedingly gallant to Diana, but she felt suddenly nervous in Alma’s presence and the visit was rather awkward. She was not loath to see them depart together.

For several days she was kept busy attending to her wardrobe for George’s wedding, and assisting Alonna with her preparations. She was seldom at home and each day found cards from Alma and usually from Harry. Finally George took matters in hand and invited Alma to dine with him a week after Diana's arrival. His sister and Alonna were the only other members of the party.

Alma arrived before George returned with his fiancée and he seated himself beside Diana on a sofa. “I have been sorry to miss you so often, Diana.”

“Yes, it has been a busy week.”

“I imagine things are fairly well organized for the wedding now,” he said hopefully.

“Yes, I plan to take some time for myself these next few days,” she offered encouragingly.

“Perhaps we could ride together in the morning.”

“I would like that.”

George and Alonna entered to interrupt their mundane conversation and discussion became general for the next two hours. When they had sung several pieces together George announced that he wished to ask Alonna’s advice on redecorating the breakfast parlor, and the two of them departed.

Diana had remained at the harpsichord and in her nervousness picked out the melancholy air she had composed at the Park. When Alma said he did not believe he knew the song she replied, “It is one of mine.”

“I thought you only composed happy songs, Diana.”

“Usually I do.”

“Will you come and sit with me?”

She nodded but found it difficult to rise from the bench. He smiled encouragingly at her and held out his hand where he stood above her. She allowed him to draw her to her feet and immediately released her grip. The sofa was not long, but she managed to sit as far from him as possible.

“Diana, I know we have not always had an easy time together,” he began, his intent eyes holding hers, “and I know that it has usually been my fault. I can think of no reason why you should return my regard; I can merely hope that you do. I have only recently realized that I love you and that I want more than anything to marry you.”

He watched her countenance soften from the anxious look it had worn. “If you find that seeing Mr. Lewis again has revived the emotions you felt for him once, I can understand. Or if you do not care for me, of course."

He paused but she did not speak, so he hastened on. “Perhaps you would like some time to get to know Mr. Lewis again, but I would like a chance to show you that I am not always short-tempered and surly, too.”

Diana gave a gurgle of laughter and stretched out her hand to him. He took it firmly, his eyes questioning. “Oh, Alma, it is no wonder I did not realize I loved you, when I think of those weeks you spent at the Park. I should have known, though, when you kissed me,” she said shyly.

“Yes, and so should I. When you suggested that we bet on the outcome of the chariot race the first thing that came to my mind was to wager you a kiss, and I could not understand where the idea came from.”

“Alma?”

“Yes, love?”

“Will you... continue to see that pretty girl?”

“No, Diana. I have not seen her for a month now, since I decided I wanted to marry you.”

“Really?” Her eyes sparkled. “I would never have asked it of you. George explained to me how it is with men.”