“Ruth takes good care that none of the most eligible gentlemen speak to me,” complained Letty. “I’m sure I cannot guess what they see in her to keep them dangling after her.”
“Keep them dangling! Indeed, it would be a very good thing if she did make an effort, after all I’ve done for her. There’s Lord Theodore Barrington, not been seen for days, and what I’d like to know, miss, is just what you did to give him a distaste for your company?”
“I did nothing, Aunt.”
“Nothing! Upon my word, that is a very casual attitude!”
“After all, Aunt, Ruth is nearly thirty years of age,” put in Letty. “You must not blame her if upon closer acquaintance her fine beaux hedge off.” She tittered.
“There is still Lord Sarbury,” mused Lady Hadrick. “He’s a better catch than Lord Theodore, certainly. A peer, and born hosed and shod. I daresay he must be worth fifty thousand a year, or more. Ruth, if you play fast and loose with Lord Sarbury, I shall disown you, I vow! You must make a push to capture his affections, for he shows no interest in your sister.”
“Ruth does not care a groat if she ruins my chances of a creditable connection. She is the most provoking sister in the world, and I’m sure it is all one to me if she dwindles into an old maid.”
* * * *
Lord Sarbury was Ruth’s only comfort, and her aunt bid fair to spoil that. He seemed to realise that she was unhappy and, without inquisitive prying, redoubled his efforts to cheer and console her. Whenever it was fine they walked or drove in the park. He took her to see Lord Elgin’s Marbles, which the government was considering purchasing at an exorbitant price, and to Westminster Abbey, and Vauxhall Gardens. They met every evening at parties and balls, and soon their names were being coupled by anyone who could spare breath from the Byron scandal.
Lady Hadrick was
aux anges
, and it was this that brought Ruth to earth. She found Lord Sarbury entertaining and was grateful for his attempts to distract her from her sorrows, but she did not wish to marry him. Suddenly she was besieged by sly enquiries as to when the announcement would be made. Turning to his lordship for a disavowal, she surprised a proprietorial gleam in his eye just like the one in Theo’s that had amused her. In Lord Sarbury, it appalled her.
Had she led him to expect that she would look upon his advances with pleasure? Was it her fault that he seemed so certain of her? She looked back in her mind at her behaviour of the past week. It was impossible to deny to herself that she had certainly appeared to encourage him.
Faced with the prospect of attempting to persuade him that he was mistaken in her feelings, when he had not even proposed to her, she wondered if it might not be preferable simply to marry him. She was sure he would be a kind, considerate husband. She could not tell him he must not ask for her hand, and equally impossible, she could not let him offer his heart in the expectation of her acceptance and then reject him. It would be so much easier to let things take their course, to float with the tide, to say yes and receive the congratulations of all her acquaintance.
Then Lord Sarbury took her to St Paul’s. Looking up at the dome, the double dome, she felt tears she could not suppress well into her eyes and overflow.
“I
...
I’m sorry,” she choked. “I can’t
...
”
“Ruth, what is it?” Lord Sarbury put his arm about her shoulders and offered his handkerchief. “Did I say something
...
”
“No, oh no. It’s just
...
please, will you take me to Rose? It’s not far, just across the street. Please!”
“Of course, my dear,” soothed the bewildered gentleman. At least, he hoped he was bewildered but rather suspected he was not.
Ruth, still weeping, was delivered into Lady Pardoe’s welcoming embrace and put straight to bed.
“Don’t tell me anything now,” said Lady Pardoe firmly, as she tried incoherently to explain without mentioning Oliver. “You are burnt to the socket, my poor child. I cannot think what your aunt is about to let things reach this state! Sleep now, and we shall talk later.”
A long sleep did wonders for Ruth’s composure. When she woke it was dusk. She lay luxuriating in the warm comfort of her bed, remembering her first morning in this house, when she had awoken early in this very chamber, with all the world awaiting her. Perhaps her misery had been caused by fatigue, all her problems blown way out of proportion.
There was a light knock at the door and Lady Pardoe entered. She came to sit on the edge of the bed and took Ruth’s hand.
“I am sorry to disturb you, my dear, but I must send a message to your aunt. You are looking much more the thing. Do you wish to return to Curzon Street? You know you are more than welcome to spend the night here.”
“May I, Lady Pardoe? We are supposed to go to a musicale tonight, and I do not feel at all like doing so. I should like of all things to stay here.”
“Ruth, you may stay as long as you wish. I hope you will not think me presumptuous if I say that I do not believe that Lady Hadrick takes good care of you. She must be quite preoccupied with finding a husband for Lady Laetitia, not to notice that you have overtaxed your strength. I wish you will consider staying with us for a week or two on what young gentlemen call a ‘repairing lease.’”
“I should love to, only I shall have to consult my aunt, and I would not want my uncle to be offended. May I stay tonight, and I will see them in the morning?”
“Of course, child. Do you feel up to coming down to dinner? There will be no guests, only a young man who is almost one of the family.”
“Not Lord Theodore? Are he and Rose engaged? That is why she has not been to see me!” cried Ruth.
“They are not formally betrothed yet. Rose will tell you all about it, I am sure. Theo has practically lived here for the past week, so we have scarce missed Oliver.”
“Oliver is not at home?” Ruth hovered between disappointment and relief.
“He went to Manchester on business a week since. Now you lie here and rest, and I shall write a note to your aunt. I’ll ask her to send a gown for you to change into.”
Ruth lay back. Oliver was in Manchester! No wonder then that she had not seen him. She should have remembered that he travelled frequently. He had been gone a week, surely he must come home soon.
Cool friendliness, she reminded herself sternly.
Chapter 16
A few minutes later, Rose came into Ruth’s chamber. Ruth hugged her.
“My dear, I am so very happy that all is settled between you and Theo,” she congratulated. “I never doubted it from the moment you met.”
“Nor did I really,” Rose confessed. “I tried to be sober and sensible, but he is such a dear. And do you know, I believe his self-confidence has improved no end. He is talking now of tackling his mama in my behalf, and he is more frightened of her than of the rest of the world together.”
“I cannot blame him. She is a veritable dragon. Oh, Rose, I have just thought—she invited me to call last Tuesday and I did not go. How very shocking! I hope Lady Radnor did not fly up in the boughs with Theo on my account?”
“Theo said she cut up very stiff, but he did not heed it as he was quite pleased that she was disillusioned with you! I think that was the moment when he realised that he might stand up to her, so it was a very good thing that you did not appear. You must have been amazingly busy to forget such an engagement.”
“I have been a regular gadabout, Rosie. Your mama thinks I have gone the pace too much, and I am inclined to agree with her. Do you know that I have got the reputation of a dashing female? It is all because of those gowns I purchased from Mademoiselle Denise. When I wear them, my character seems quite changed and I do not know myself.”
“I expect it is because people treat you quite differently. Do you enjoy being the Toast of the Town?”
“Oh, I’m not quite that! It was very pleasant at first, being so popular and never sitting out a dance, but it is very wearing, and I came to long for a quiet evening at home. One does not have time to consider one’s actions properly. Rose, I very much fear I have misled Lord Sarbury, and I do not know what to do.”
It was a great relief to Ruth to tell Rose all about her suitor and to ask her advice.
“Well, I do not think you need feel guilty,” said Rose consideringly when she finished. “It is quite commonplace for a lady to prefer one of her beaux above the others without having any serious intentions toward him, and the old tabbies are always jumping the gun. Certainly you need not marry him!”
“No, now that I am rested I can see that.”
“You will not wish to cut his acquaintance abruptly, however. You had best treat him with cool friendliness.”
Ruth blushed and sighed.
“You are quite certain you do not love him?” asked Rose anxiously.
“Oh no.” Ruth hurried to assure her. “He is very kind and amusing, and a true gentleman. I should be happy to have his friendship, but I have no warmer feelings for him. I daresay my behaviour today has given him a disgust of me in any case, and I shall not have to do anything further.”
“I do not think so. He has already sent to ask after you,” Rose revealed.
“I wish I did love him.” Ruth sighed again. “Life would be so much simpler.”
“Not everyone falls in love at first sight like Theo and I. Might you not come in time to return his affection?”
Ruth simply shook her head.
Lord Sarbury was not about to abandon hope without a battle. If anything, the realisation that the unknown Oliver was a serious rival increased his determination to win Ruth’s hand. He arrived in Curzon Street at noon the next day and was dismayed to hear that Lady Ruth was not only still at the Pardoes’ but was fixed there for a week or longer.
He immediately headed for the City, undeterred by the fact that his only acquaintance with the Pardoes was through his escort thither of the distraught Ruth the previous day.
He found her composed and cheerful. She apologised for subjecting him to her megrims, thanked him for his solicitude, and held him strictly at arm’s length. His only comfort was that apparently young Mr Pardoe was from home. He persevered.
More than one of Ruth’s less persistent admirers had been put off by her new, unfashionable address, but Captain Juillard and Mr Quilby both turned up as, of course, did Theo and the ever-hopeful Lieutenant Drake. One or two young ladies also dropped in, and Lady Pardoe invited everyone to stay for an impromptu luncheon party.
It was a foul day, March coming in like a lion with a vengeance. Not one of Lady Pardoe’s guests preferred venturing out in the chill drizzle and blustery wind to staying snug in her drawing room where a roaring fire formed an irresistible contrast to the lowering sky outside the window. The afternoon passed delightfully in games of speculation and charades, occupations that would have usually been laughed to scorn by the sophisticated company.
At last the hostess rang for tea and cakes, evening engagements were recalled, and carriages were regretfully ordered. Lord Sarbury noted with envy that Theo showed no signs of joining the general exodus. He would gladly have disappointed the dinner party that expected him, at the slightest indication that he was welcome to prolong his stay.
Ruth bade him farewell charmingly and agreed to drive with him on Monday, if it was fine. She smiled with equal cordiality on her other visitors, and promised Captain Juillard to accept his escort to Hookham’s Lending Library on Tuesday.
The weather seemed to Lord Sarbury entirely appropriate.
* * * *
On Sunday the clouds gradually cleared and by Monday the sky was blue and the sun shone with a real promise of warmth. Lord Sarbury could detect no equivalent promise in Ruth’s behaviour.
Not that she was anything other than friendly. The trouble was, from his point of view, that she was equally friendly to everyone they met in the park, and as she now had a large acquaintance and his own was still more extensive, he was continually forced to draw up his chestnuts in order to exchange greetings with pedestrians, riders, and the occupants of other vehicles. The whole world seemed bent upon taking advantage of the springlike air.
By the time his lordship returned Ruth to her temporary home, he was resolved to seek a private interview with her in the near future. It seemed inconceivable to him that he had known her for only a little over two weeks. He might be accused of rushing his fences, but he felt his present position to be intolerable. It was time to make his declaration, before his rival returned to London.
He was already too late. Oliver came home that very afternoon.
Ruth was sitting on a bench in the garden with Rose and Theo. Sheltered by walls on four sides, the courtyard was abloom with daffodils, crocuses, polyanthus, and hyacinths, whose scent filled the air.
Theo was bursting with news.
“I enlisted my brother in our cause,” he told the ladies. “He’s a good sort, I should have thought of it earlier. He came with me to beard Mama in her den—well, her sitting room actually. We tackled her last night, right after evensong. Thought she might be in a Christian frame of mind. I can’t say she was. First she was on her high ropes about the family honour, then when that did not work she succumbed to the vapours and said I’d be the death of her. I didn’t budge an inch, Rosie; you’d have been proud of me. But she grew quite hysterical and her abigail came to the attack, and Reggie thought we had better leave.”
“Then nothing came of your bravery, Theo dear?”
“Not last night. Except that it gave me the courage to take up the struggle again this morning. I’m not afraid of her any more, after seeing Reggie back down first. I kept at her until she agreed to see you this afternoon, so pray get ready, and I will take you at once.”
He rose and pulled her to her feet, silencing her admiration with a hearty kiss.
At that moment Oliver stepped into the garden. He submitted in bewilderment to Rose’s embrace.
“Oh, Oliver, I am so happy!” she cried, and disappeared into the house with Theo in tow.
Oliver slowly descended the steps, his stunned expression gradually giving way to a sort of eager apprehension as he approached Ruth. She steeled herself.