The Aim of a Lady (8 page)

Her voice was cold and angry when he abruptly released her. “Drive me home this minute, Frank, or I will get out and walk the rest of the way. I do not wish to see you again.”

Since it was incomprehensible to Frank that his advances should be repulsed, he was genuinely dumbfounded. When he did not urge the horses to motion immediately, Diana jumped down from the high phaeton and, ignoring the pain in the ankle she twisted as she struck the ground, stalked up the lane without a backward glance.

Alma, watching this episode from his window, decided that all the men in the neighborhood must be lunatics, and felt very little sympathy for Diana when she began to limp once Frank (in a snit) took himself off in the other direction.

* * * *

While George Savile read a book at The Bush in Staines and the rain continued, and his sister stormed about her bedchamber in an excess of anger at Frank for attempting to kiss her, Lord Vallert arrived at Trafford Hall. Vallert was not an early riser, especially after an evening when he had entertained his friends—a bachelor celebration of his engagement, he had informed them. It was, therefore, late in the afternoon when he arrived at Trafford Hall, and he was shown into the Red Parlor by a footman who was not sure exactly whom he should inform of the arrival.

Although Lord Vallert had given him his card and asked for Miss Alonna Sanfield, the footman was aware that young ladies did not receive young gentlemen unattended. Since Lady Trafford was unavailable, he determined to find Lord Trafford, but he was unsuccessful and eventually a message was sent to Alonna that Lord Vallert awaited her in the Red Parlor.

Alonna was sitting with her sister when this intelligence was brought to her and her distressed countenance caused Margaret to exclaim, “What is it, love? Who is he?”

Owing to her sister’s condition at the time of her arrival and the excitement which had followed, Alonna had pushed the episode of the engagement announcement to the back of her mind. She now took the opportunity to inform her sister of the precise reason she had come to Trafford Hall.

“So you do not wish to marry him?” Margaret asked quietly. "It is not just that he has been so foolish as to insert the announcement?”

“I call it more than foolish!” Alonna exclaimed. “It was stupid, unfeeling, thoughtless, and dishonest!”

“I see that you do not want to marry him,” her sister laughed. “Well, I cannot say I blame you. I would not be put in such a position for the world. Did Papa promise to have the announcement repudiated?”

“Not precisely, but what else can he do?”

Margaret studied her sister through lowered eyelids. “Papa has changed since Mama’s death, Alonna. I can tell from his letters. He wants to be free of his family, and you are the last one left. Do not let him force you into a disagreeable marriage. You can make your home here with me if there are any problems.”

“He was not very helpful,” Alonna admitted sadly. “I had hoped that by tomorrow I might receive a copy of the repudiation from him.”

“I would not count on it, love. You had best go to Lord Vallert and see what he has to say. He has probably talked with Papa.”

“How can I face him after what he has done? I don’t want to be alone with him,” she admitted softly.

“You will manage, my dear. The house is full of servants, some of whom will undoubtedly be listening at the keyhole.”

Alonna smiled wistfully. “All right, I shall see him, but if I do not return to you within half an hour you must send me help.” She marched out of the room with her chin held high.

Vallert had been left cooling his heels for some time before Alonna arrived at the door. He rose and bowed formally to her, then strode forward and attempted to take her hand. Refusing to allow this, she seated herself on a rather uncomfortable armchair upholstered in red plush which matched the red damask draperies in the room. Vallert seated himself opposite her in an identical chair and opened his mouth to speak.

Alonna imperiously waved him to silence. “The only thing I wish to hear from your lips, Lord Vallert, is that a retraction of our engagement announcement has been published.” She tapped her fingertips on the arms of the chair and waited while he decided how to answer her.

“Now, Miss Sanfield,” he said at length, “there is really no necessity for a retraction. If you consider your position for a moment you will see that a prompt wedding is the best solution to the whole matter.”

“My position?” she asked coldly.

“Yes, your position, dear lady. Your father has sent me here to fetch you back to town. He is firm in his desire that you marry me, and since the engagement has been announced I feel it would be better if the matter were expedited.”

“Do you?”

“Yes, indeed. You will feel more comfortable once we are husband and wife, and the little annoyance this has caused you will soon be forgotten,” he said with a bland and confident smile.

“I wish to have you understand one thing, Lord Vallert. I shall never marry you. I told you so some days ago and you had the audacity to act in this underhanded way. If there was ever any possibility that I might have changed my mind, it no longer exists, and you may tell my father so,” she added with an outthrust chin.

“But your father says you must marry me!”

“I doubt my father said any such thing,” she asserted. His expression became mocking and she went on, “And even if he had, it would make no difference. He cannot force me to marry you. I shall come of age in a year and during that period of time I may remain with my sister if he does not wish to abide by my decision. That is all I have to say to you, Lord Vallert, except that if I do not have a copy of the retraction in my hands within the week I will take it upon myself to have one printed, and you can be sure that the manner in which I shall do so will not leave your reputation undamaged.”

Alonna rose from her chair and proceeded to the door, intent on ignoring his angry, red face and blustering words. The last thing she heard before closing the door behind her was. “You would not dare!”

Alonna sighed as she mounted the stairs to her sister’s room. In her attempt to be firm she had merely aggravated the young man’s hot temper further. Heaven knew what he would do now. Obviously she was far too inexperienced for such a man as George Savile; she could not even manage one obstreperous suitor.

Chapter Eight

Diana had been in no mood to encounter Lord Alma after her afternoon drive with Frank, and she was relieved that he took his meal in his room. His attendance in the music room would have been welcome, but she contented herself with the amusing thought that he was no doubt studying the plant life of Cambridgeshire in his room. Mrs. Lewis provided pleasant if unstimulating companionship and Diana found it wise to suggest an early retiring hour when her companion began to nod over her embroidery.

In the morning Jenkins assured his mistress that her project would be complete by midday. He still shook his head disapprovingly, but Diana was convinced that it was the only solution to Alma’s entertainment. She did, however, send a message up to him inviting him to go fishing with her that morning, or alone if he preferred, for George’s equipment would be put at his disposal.

When the message reached him Alma was dressed, and his mood had swung once more toward friendship with his “younger brother,” so he joined Diana in the breakfast parlor where she was sipping at the last of her morning chocolate.

“Does fishing appeal to you?” she asked, looking up.

“Yes, I’ve always enjoyed it. You don’t chatter while you’re fishing, do you?”

“Never,” she replied, her eyes twinkling.

“Good. Then let’s go together.”

She led him to her favorite spot along the river where the mossy bank was warmed by the sun the whole of the morning. Without the least embarrassment he spread the rug she had carried and lay down on it, offering her a pole as he did so. They stayed there companionably silent for several hours, occasionally exchanging languid, low-voiced remarks on the wildlife which wandered by, or compliments on each other’s catch.

“Let’s take ourselves off now and have our fish for luncheon,” Diana suggested when the sun was overhead.

Alma agreed and asked as they packed away their supplies, “Did you think about more things to study?”

“No,” she replied with a puzzled frown. “I did not really think much at all this morning. I just...felt good.”

He smiled at her. “Is that something new?”

“Well, I seem to spend a lot of my time planning what I am to do next, thinking about what I will enjoy most, or I am doing something, you know, and then I am only thinking about that. Perhaps I don’t spend enough time just sitting still and being happy.”

“That’s what I enjoy,” he admitted, “and fishing is such a marvelous excuse for it.” Alma was amused that she seemed truly surprised by her unprecedented behavior.

“Will you have luncheon with Mrs. Lewis and me today, so that she can thank you for the fish? I have warned the kitchen that we will be bringing some.”

When he hesitated, she glanced at him imploringly. “I shall have a cushion placed on your chair.”

“Oh, very well.” He grimaced. “I feel sure Mrs. Lewis does not care a fig if I join the two of you for meals.”

“Actually, I fear she forgets you for the most part, and when she remembers, you she thinks you’re rather odd.”

“I cannot blame her. The poor woman looks at me so strangely when I do not sit down. You must not think I do not urge her to seat herself, either, Miss Savile, for I do.”

“I know, but you have a title and she simply cannot bring herself to sit when you are standing, unless I am there to do so first.” They had reached the house by this time and Diana handed the basket of fish to a footman to take to the kitchen. “They should be ready within twenty minutes. I will seek out Mrs. Lewis and a cushion.”

When Alma joined the two ladies in the dining parlor precisely twenty minutes later, Mrs. Lewis was not able to hide her surprise at seeing him there, and he and Diana shared an amused glance. Diana waved him to the chair provided with a cushion and turned to Mrs. Lewis. “Lord Alma and I have spent the morning fishing, ma'am. Cook has prepared our catch for us.”

“Oh, dear,” Mrs. Lewis murmured, crestfallen. “It has been the bane of my life, Miss Diana, what with my husband a navy man and all, but I must confess I do not like to eat fish!”

Alma and Diana burst out laughing, much to the old woman's astonishment. Diana tried to placate her by saying, “It is just that I only induced Lord Alma to join us for luncheon so that you might thank him for the catch. Do not trouble yourself, Mrs. Lewis, my dear. I am sure Cook will send along enough cold meats and fruit to serve for you.”

Mrs. Lewis looked slightly mollified by, if not totally comprehending of this explanation. After all, she saw no reason why Lord Alma should need any inducement to take his meals with his hostess. Seeing her continued reserve with him, Alma, seated awkwardly on the left half of his bottom, exerted himself to converse with her. She was soon cheerfully telling him of her husband’s career and sad demise, of the years she had spent in Linton, and of the Saviles as children. In spite of the fact that Alma said very little during the meal, Mrs. Lewis retired to the small parlor with a much better opinion of him.

Diana could see that the strain of sitting had taken its toll and she allowed Alma to wander off when the meal was complete, but she left word to have him join her in the stables if he should ask for her. Her own impatience to see the completed project made her take a hasty leave of Mrs. Lewis.

A delighted smile spread over her face when she saw it. “It’s perfect!” With small wheels and various pieces from an old dog cart, Jenkins and his assistants had assembled a sturdy carriage which one drove by standing between the wheels, on the order of a Roman-style chariot. One of the stable lads, Josh, had been the one to test this remarkable vehicle, and his enthusiasm was unbounded.

“Did people really drive like that, ma’am?” he asked.

“Well, certainly they raced with such chariots long ago. I cannot imagine that it would have provided a very comfortable means of transportation, but it may have for the sturdier of them. I really do not know much about chariots, though I have seen pictures of them. I shall have to read up on the subject.”

Jenkins, well aware of Diana’s curiosity about anything which caught her fancy, cast his eyes heavenward. “You do not think the young lord likely to break his neck in this contraption, Miss Diana?”

“I should think it unlikely, but if it does not please him, he need not drive it. And your efforts would still not be wasted,” she added hastily, “for I could devise a play around it for next Christmastime.”

“That I would like to see,” he retorted.

“And so you shall, then,” she replied pertly. “Come, Jenkins, are you not the least bit pleased with it?”

He broke into a slow smile. “That I am, Miss Diana, for I was not sure it could be done.”

“I’m grateful to all of you. Could we mark his name on it?”

There was a general discussion of the best method of performing this task and eventually Diana agreed that she would simply draw ALMA on the largest piece of foolscap she could lay her hands on, in her very best copperplate hand and Jenkins would attach it to the chariot for her. When she returned in an hour this was done, and they were still admiring the sign when Alma himself appeared in the stable.

He looked at the chariot and then at Diana. “Is this my surprise?” he asked incredulously.

“Do you not like it?” She suddenly felt uncertain. “The Romans drove chariots standing up, you know, and I had thought it would provide a challenge for you.” The excitement of a few moments before had turned to alarm. Perhaps he was angry for such a silly idea on her part. “There is no need for you to use it,” she hurried on. “I have told Jenkins that we shall use it in a Christmas play if you do not wish to drive it.”

“Don’t be a goose!” he exclaimed, controlling an impulse to hug her in front of the whole stable staff. “How ever did you think of such a thing? No, don’t tell me,” he laughed. “I can imagine.”