Seventeen

When she woke, late in the morning, Gwendeline realized that she should have kept the letter instead of burning it. Yet it must have been the work of some malicious prankster and nothing more. She would ignore it.

She dressed carefully, remembering that Lord Merryn was to call, and had Ellen pay special attention to her hair, brushing the pale blond curls until they shone, and arranging them à la Tite. She chatted with Ellen, who’d been subdued for the past several days, trying to find out how things were going belowstairs. But Ellen would say almost nothing, which was most unusual for her.

When she finally stood before the mirror, she was pleased with her appearance. She had chosen a gown of white sprigged muslin with long sleeves and a high ruffled neckline. A flounce circled the hem, and a row of tiny blue buttons closed the back and cuffs. She went downstairs with a feeling of anticipation. She still had no idea what Lord Merryn wished to discuss, but she was eager to see him.

Miss Brown was in the breakfast room, though she had long since finished her meal. She was writing letters when Gwendeline entered, and paused only to smile a greeting and her approval of Gwendeline’s dress. Gwendeline hurried through breakfast, and indeed she’d hardly finished when she heard the bell and Reeves entered to tell her Lord Merryn was in the drawing room. Miss Brown looked up, surprised, and Gwendeline said, “He wrote me yesterday and said he would call. I don’t know what he wishes to discuss.”

Miss Brown put down her pen. “Shall I remain here? Does he wish to speak to you alone?”

“He didn’t say so. You may come if you like.”

“I should much prefer to finish my letters, as you know very well. You go on. If you want me, I’ll be here.”

Gwendeline nodded and left the room. She paused for a moment outside the drawing room doorway, then walked in. The earl rose from the sofa at her entrance. “Good morning, Lord Merryn,” she said. “I received your note late last night and thus had no time to reply.”

“Good morning,” he replied. “I hope my call doesn’t then come at an inconvenient time?”

“Oh no,” answered Gwendeline, taking the armchair. “Please sit down.”

The earl did so. “How wonderfully polite we are!”

Gwendeline laughed. “Yes indeed.”

“And I must say now that you are looking lovely this morning.”

“Thank you, my lord,” replied Gwendeline demurely. “You are too kind.”

“Oh no,” said the earl. His expression turned serious. “I’ve come to discuss a rather delicate matter,” he said. “I’m not certain how to begin, in fact.”

“Oh?” said Gwendeline. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing is precisely wrong,” he went on, “but a very odd conversation I had with Adele last evening left me puzzled, and I hoped you could enlighten me.”

“I?” Gwendeline wondered whether Adele had told Lord Merryn of her visit and its purpose. She couldn’t believe that she had.

“Yes. You have no idea to what I am referring?”

“I’m not sure,” said Gwendeline. “You must explain.”

“Very well,” he answered. “The first thing Adele said to me when we met last night at Almack’s was ‘I suppose you have already heard all about my visit to Miss Gregory.’ I replied that I knew nothing of any visit, whereupon Adele refused to say any more about the subject and even became angry when I pressed her to explain.” Lord Merryn raised his eyebrows. “Can you throw any light on the topic?”

“You put me in a difficult position, Lord Merryn,” answered Gwendeline. “Surely I shouldn’t discuss a matter your fiancée doesn’t wish pursued.” Gwendeline had no intention of telling the earl what Adele had said to her.

“My… Don’t be a goose, Gwendeline. Has Adele said anything to upset you? That’s really all I wish to know. Don’t go all missish on me now.”

Gwendeline lifted her chin and looked directly into his eyes. “No,” she answered mendaciously, “not at all.”

The earl surveyed Gwendeline skeptically. Finally, he sighed. “I don’t think you’re being entirely honest with me,” he said. “But I suppose I can expect no more.” He looked resigned, and Gwendeline nearly blurted out the truth. “Only promise me, Gwendeline, that you won’t run away again if anything should happen to upset you. I couldn’t stand it. Ask for an explanation first, please.” He leaned forward and took her hand. “Will you promise me that?” he continued, gazing into her eyes.

Gwendeline could hardly speak through the beating of her heart. “I’ll never be so foolish again.”

“Good.” He squeezed her hand and released it. There was a short silence. It was all well and good to speak of explanations, Gwendeline thought, but one couldn’t ask a man why he’d become engaged to a girl who seemed entirely wrong for him. Not when all she wanted was to throw herself into his arms. The answer might be more than she could bear.

“I understand you’re beginning to entertain,” said the earl.

“Yes.” And so they were doomed to chitchat. “You received my invitation? I hope you will come.”

“Certainly. Is it true that you are to have Carleton Ames to meet my mother?”

“I’ve asked them both.”

Lord Merryn smiled. “It’s very kind of you. Mama has wished to meet a well-known artist or writer for years and has never managed it. She will be in ecstasies.”

“I hope so. She’s been so kind to me. I’d like to do something to repay her.”

“You have repaid her tenfold,” he answered. “You’ve fulfilled her dearest wish.”

Gwendeline smiled. “Well, I’m glad. Do you know, I believe Mr. Woodley is something of a fraud. Mr. Ames says he is not a friend of his at all. In fact, he said that Mr. Woodley doesn’t really know any of the celebrated people he claims as friends.”

“Of course he doesn’t. He is a crashing bore. But your influence with Mr. Ames must be large if you could make him agree to such a party. I’ve heard that he dislikes both society and novelists of all sorts. You’ve scored quite a coup.”

“Oh, now you’re bamming me,” Gwendeline answered. “I shan’t listen.”

“In that case, I’d better take my leave.” Lord Merryn rose.

Gwendeline realized this was an ideal opportunity to ask the earl about her income. She didn’t wish to, but she felt she must. “Could you stay a moment more?” she asked him.

He raised his eyebrows. “Of course.” He sat down again. “Do you wish to tell me what Adele said, after all?”

Gwendeline shook her head. “You will think me foolish, I suppose, but I have been worried once again about my situation.”

Lord Merryn looked at her.

Gazing at the elegant, handsome figure next to her, Gwendeline’s heart nearly failed her, but she made herself say, “Yes. My income, you know, and this house.”

“I thought we’d settled that long since. What has occurred to upset you?”

Gwendeline was staring down at her folded hands. “I’ve heard some things, and, and thinking over my conversation with Sir Humphrey, I realized that he didn’t…” She broke off and looked up into St. Audley’s gray eyes. “Lord Merryn, is there truly a group of my father’s friends helping me? Or are you the only one involved? I can’t dismiss the idea that you are, and it worries me considerably. You must see how improper it would be, that is…” Her eyes dropped. “I’ve been very uneasy.”

“I can see that you have,” he replied. “What would satisfy you? Shall we visit Sir Humphrey together and ask him to confirm his role in your rescue? Would that make you easy?”

Gwendeline gazed at him with painful intensity. “Would he?”

“He would,” answered Lord Merryn positively. “I will take you there whenever you like.” He chuckled. “Though the old man will hate to be bothered, of course.”

“No, no, that isn’t necessary.” Gwendeline sighed as a wave of relief washed over her.

“Is it so good to find that you don’t owe your rescue wholly to me?”

“Yes,” replied the girl fiercely.

“Ah. Well, I’m glad to have set your mind at rest.” He rose rather stiffly. “And now, if there’s nothing else?” Gwendeline shook her head, and he bowed. “Goodbye.”

“Goodbye. And thank you.” When he was gone, Gwendeline leaned back and felt again the luxury of her relief. Why did she persist in doubting him? She thought over their visit. He certainly talked of Adele in an odd way for a man who was engaged to her.

She suddenly remembered the anonymous letter, and in the same instant wondered if Adele might have sent it. Her own letter might have inspired a sort of tit for tat, a mean-spirited prank. Who else could it be? Gwendeline dismissed the matter from her mind and went to look for Miss Brown.

The rest of the day passed uneventfully, and they spent a now-rare quiet evening at home, having cancelled plans to go to the theater.

Gwendeline rose early the next morning and held a long conference with Alphonse on the subject of tea cakes. With some difficulty she persuaded him to forego the elaborate many-layered, cream-covered confections he had in mind in favor of some simpler sweets. As they talked, it seemed to her that he had regained his former spirits. Greatly encouraged, she began to hope that the latest domestic crisis was really over at last.

Gwendeline had promised Mr. Ames to be ready promptly at one for their picture viewing expedition, and he arrived as the hour was striking. Gwendeline was amazed and a bit dismayed to find that he had made extended arrangements for the afternoon, including viewings of several paintings in private houses. It was to be a thorough lesson.

They said goodbye to Miss Brown and entered the open carriage Mr. Ames had rented in town; he’d carefully plotted the best route to take in order to reach all stops and return most expeditiously. He was in high spirits and looked jollier than ever, with his halo of white hair blown by the breeze and his eyes twinkling. “A capital day,” he said to Gwendeline when they were settled in their seats and under way. “You’re going to enjoy this, I promise.”

“I am sure I shall,” replied Gwendeline.

And somewhat to her surprise, she did. Mr. Ames spent some time with each picture they saw, explaining the effects it achieved, the brush strokes, the color use, and the individual techniques of the artists. Gwendeline’s part in the afternoon’s conversation consisted chiefly of murmurs of agreement, but she thoroughly enjoyed his explanations. His discourses were fascinating, and the paintings they saw were beautiful. She particularly liked a series of aquatint lithographs they looked at in a private home. Mr. William Daniel had formed the idea of cataloguing English harbors and seacoast towns in a “Voyage around Great Britain,” and since the responses of “those noblemen and gentlemen who wish to become subscribers” had been very favorable, he was now doing so. Mr. Ames pointed out the fine detail in the works so far completed and praised the concept. He, too, was most interested in landscapes.

Gwendeline’s head was whirling by the time they’d finished only half their tour, and Mr. Ames was beginning to realize that his plan for the day had been too ambitious. They both agreed that a cup of tea would be welcome and stopped in a tea shop near Bond Street.

As they sipped, Mr. Ames continued his talk of the surprising way in which completely alien colors could be used effectively to convey a scene. “Blue in the trees, say, or purple in a stone.” He cocked an eye at Gwendeline. “But we talked of this the first time I saw your painting, didn’t we?”

“Did we?” answered Gwendeline. “I’ve forgotten.”

“Red in the ocean it was. I’m certain of it.” He grinned. “I may forget a name or a face, but never a painting. Did you put it in?” Gwendeline looked a bit puzzled, so he continued. “The red, you know, did you put it in your painting?”

“Oh,” said Gwendeline. “I must have.” She remembered that she’d done no such thing but had dismissed Mr. Ames as something of a busybody. “I’ll have to look for that canvas.”

The twinkle in Mr. Ames’s eyes grew more pronounced. “Indeed,” he answered, “I should like to see how the red came out.” When Gwendeline, unable to frame a truthful yet tactful reply, grew obviously uncomfortable, Mr. Ames burst out laughing. “What a goose you are. Of course you didn’t put in the red. No decent artist lets someone else dictate his strokes.” He drew out his handkerchief to wipe his eyes. “Your face,” he went on between great bursts of laughter, “you looked so guilty, like a little girl caught stealing jam, you know.”

Gwendeline smiled. “I only meant to be polite,” she replied, as Mr. Ames’s laughter began to subside.

“Oh, ah.” He wiped his eyes one last time, put his handkerchief back in his pocket, ran a hand through his untamable hair, and sat back, hands folded over his stomach. “Polite!” he said with contempt. His expression grew more serious. “Never be polite about art, Gwendeline. Or indeed about anything really important. You have to say what you think when it matters, when a thing means something to you.” He stared at Gwendeline. “Do you understand me?”

“Yes,” said Gwendeline. “But it’s not always possible to say what one means. There are times when politeness is very necessary.”

“No.” Mr. Ames looked at her from beneath his bushy eyebrows and opened his mouth to say something further, but at that moment a voice behind Gwendeline said, “Miss Gregory.” She turned to find Major St. Audley standing there.

“Hello,” she answered, surprised. “I should never have expected to find you here, Major.” She smiled at his obvious discomfort in the tea shop.

He looked around the room. “Nor will you ever again,” he said with a grimace, “but I promised to meet my mother here this afternoon. Some nonsense about parcels.” He grinned. “I think she just wants one of her sons dancing attendance, and she knows there’s no hope of getting Alex.”

Gwendeline laughed, but she grew a little uneasy, hearing that Lady Merryn was expected. “I’m sure she’d rather have you,” she said.

“Much the better man for a tea shop and shopping expedition?” he asked her wryly. He made a face and bowed mockingly. “Thank you very much.”

As she laughed at this sally, Gwendeline glanced across the table. “Mr. Ames, allow me to introduce Major St. Audley. Major, Mr. Carleton Ames.”

The two gentlemen said how do you do; Major St. Audley bowed. “So, I take it you haven’t seen my mother?” he went on.

“No,” answered Gwendeline. “Oh, is that her carriage coming down the street?”

The major peered out the window. “I believe you’re right. I think I’ll try to outflank her.” He grinned as he said his farewells. “Perhaps I can keep her from dragging me in here for tea,” he said over his shoulder as he left.

Gwendeline watched him walk out the door and over to the carriage. After some conversation, the major climbed into it, and they drove away. Gwendeline breathed a sigh of relief. She’d been afraid Lady Merryn would come in to join them and upset Mr. Ames. When she turned back to this gentleman, he was eyeing her. “Major St. Audley is a son of Lady Merryn’s,” she said.

“Ah, a friend of yours then?” he replied, still surveying her.

“Yes, that is, an acquaintance.” Gwendeline took another sip of her tea. She hoped Mr. Ames wouldn’t take up the subject of lady novelists.

“This reminds me of something I wished to speak to you about. My wife insists that I do so, in fact, and I must say that for once I agree.”

“What is it?” asked Gwendeline, puzzled, as he paused.

Mr. Ames appeared uneasy. “Rather difficult to begin,” he said. “The thing is, we were wondering, my wife and I, whether you’re in trouble of any kind.”

Gwendeline frowned at him.

“What I mean is, not trying to pry or any such thing, but we’ve been worried about you. All that nonsense about your family in that foolish book. And your never mentioning London when we were in the country. I got to thinking perhaps there was something amiss.”

“It’s very kind of you to be concerned, but I assure you that I’m fine. There’s nothing wrong.”

Mr. Ames looked dissatisfied and more uncomfortable. “What you would say to put me off, of course. The thing I mean to say is, no need to explain anything to me, but if I can help in any way…” He paused, coughed, and went on a bit gruffly. “Have a bit of money, you know. You’re welcome to whatever you need.”

Gwendeline was surprised and touched by this offer. “Thank you, Mr. Ames,” she said. “I don’t know what to say to you, except that everything is all right with me now.” Mr. Ames started to speak again, but Gwendeline forestalled him. “I was rather upset and uncertain when I first came to Penwyn, I admit. I had run away from London without waiting for explanations of some rumors that worried me. I was very foolish. But since then, I’ve found out the truth and all is well.” She smiled.

Mr. Ames appeared partly satisfied, but still a little nervous. “The thing is,” he brought out finally, “m’wife received some letters from home. Something about a disappearance or some such nonsense. All a hum, I’m sure, or twisted about by some tattling gabblemonger, but she’s been fidgeting.” He became more emphatic in response to Gwendeline’s distressed expression. “None of our business; I told her so. Told her it wouldn’t do for us to intrude ourselves where we weren’t wanted or needed. But she made me promise I’d try to help.” He paused, looking embarrassed.

Gwendeline’s dismay at hearing that someone in London knew of her abduction lessened. “I’d prefer to say nothing about this story,” she told Mr. Ames. “But I can honestly assure you that the trouble has been remedied.”

Mr. Ames was relieved. “That’s good then. Must apologize, but I promised I would ask, you know.”

Gwendeline nodded. “It was very kind of you to be concerned.”

“Wish I could have helped,” he replied. “Never had any children, you know, but… Ah, well, I’m very glad you’ve come about all right and tight.” His expression lightened. “My wife had some ridiculous idea that you’d tried to elope with a young man and were prevented by his family. Then, when you spoke to that youngster, well, I began to jump to conclusions.” He laughed ruefully. “You’ll think us a pair of old fools. M’wife wished to help in the romance and give you a dowry or some such silliness. Daresay you don’t need anything of the kind.” He looked a little hopeful.

“No indeed,” replied Gwendeline.

His face fell. “That’s what I told her. Ridiculous idea.”

“You are the kindest people I’ve ever met, and I only hope I can repay you someday for your offer,” said Gwendeline. “I’m deeply touched by what you have tried to do.”

Mr. Ames coughed. “Ah, well,” he said. “No need for that. Just keep us in mind if you need anything, you know.”

“Thank you,” she answered.

“Well, if you’ve finished your tea,” said Mr. Ames heartily then, “we must get on. A great many pictures still to see today.” He rose from his chair.

They continued their tour, though they didn’t see everything Mr. Ames had planned to view. Gwendeline returned home just in time to change for her dinner party, tired but warmed by the Ameses’s gesture of friendship and eager to reciprocate in some way. When she told Miss Brown, she too was touched, saying that this confirmed her high opinion of the Ameses.

Throughout the very dull evening, Gwendeline thought periodically of them and of what she might do to show her appreciation. By the time she was ready for bed later on, she was rather annoyed that she could think of nothing, but she vowed she would not give up.