Eleven

Elisabeth began her new book immediately and found it delightful. But continual interruptions soon made her wonder if she’d ever finish. Three mornings after her visit to Jane Taunton, she was sitting in the drawing room with a volume open before her. She expected no one and had settled down confidently when Ames entered the room and handed her a card.

“Lady Darnell,” Elisabeth read. “Oh, dear. Lachrymose.”

“I beg your pardon, miss?”

“What? Oh, never mind, Ames.” She frowned at the card. “I suppose I must see her.”

When Lady Darnell came in, Elisabeth surveyed her with some surprise. She didn’t know exactly what she’d expected, but it wasn’t this slender, willowy lady dressed in fluttering draperies. “How do you do,” she said. “It’s kind of you to call. Please come and sit down.”

Lady Darnell opened her very pale blue eyes even wider and gathered her diaphanous shawl closely about her shoulders. “Oh, you are very beautiful,” she cried. “James told me so, but I longed to see for myself.”

A bit nonplussed, Elisabeth smiled. “Thank you. But I’m afraid he exaggerated if he said that. Do sit down, won’t you?”

Lady Darnell made no move to do so. Rather, she put one beringed hand to her forehead, neatly avoiding any disarrangement of the blond curls clustered there. “You are beautiful,” she said, with a hint of petulance in her voice. “I won’t have you criticizing yourself.”

Elisabeth’s eyes began to twinkle.

“Oh, how happy I am to meet you at last,” said her guest as she sank down on the sofa. “James talks of nothing else. He is utterly bouleversé, you know.”

“Ah,” said Elisabeth. “Would you care for a cup of tea?”

“Oh, no. I never take anything at this time of the morning. My health is rather delicate, you see, and I must take great care.”

“I’m sorry,” replied Elisabeth.

“Yes,” answered her guest airily. “It’s a great trial to me. It comes from my mother; she was excessively sickly. I daresay she hardly enjoyed four well days a month after my youngest sister was born.” Lady Darnell seemed to take a certain satisfaction in this fact.

“How…how unfortunate.” Elisabeth cleared her throat. “We all enjoyed our outing to Vauxhall Gardens with your son last week. I am sorry my cousin Lavinia is away from home. I know she’d like to meet you.”

Lady Darnell murmured a polite rejoinder. “This is a lovely room,” she continued. “Have you refurnished it lately?”

“When I moved into the house, yes. My uncle left a great deal to be done.”

“A great deal,” echoed her visitor absently. “Those curtains are very fine velvet. I daresay they were frightfully expensive.”

“Why, yes, I believe they were.” Elisabeth might have been offended had she not been so amused by her companion’s expression. Greed, envy, and acquisitiveness were about equally mixed with desperate hope on her face.

Lady Darnell seemed to recall herself. “I’m so fond of blue,” she said.

“A lovely color,” agreed Elisabeth. A short silence fell, during which it seemed to Elisabeth that her guest was totting up the value of every object in the drawing room.

“I hope you will come to dinner,” said Lady Darnell at last, with great difficulty tearing her eyes from the Chinese vase on the mantel. “I should so like you to meet my daughters.”

“You’re very kind. You have more than one daughter, then?”

Lady Darnell gave a high laugh. “Oh, lud, yes. I have three daughters. Is it not diverting? Though everyone says we look more like sisters.”

“I’m sure you do,” answered Elisabeth obediently. “When you came in, I could hardly believe you were of an age to be Lord Darnell’s mother.” She consoled herself with the fact that this statement was absolutely true.

Lady Darnell preened a bit. “Oh, you are too kind. I must reconcile myself to advancing age now that James is old enough to set up his own household.” Here she gave Elisabeth a sharp glance. “And my second daughter is ready to come out.”

Elisabeth was finding this conversation difficult. “One of your daughters is out, then?” she asked. “What is her name? Perhaps I’ve met her.”

“Aurelia is my oldest. She has been eighteen these six months, but she is only just out. She has not gone about much as yet.” Privately, Elisabeth wondered whether they lacked the money to bring her out properly. “Then Portia is seventeen. She is only too eager to leave the schoolroom also. And Augusta is fifteen, though anyone would take her for a year older, as I tell her.”

“What, uh, splendid names you’ve given them.”

Lady Darnell looked pleased. “Are they not? I prefer the old Roman names. They have such a solid sound.”

“Umm,” replied Elisabeth. “Well, I shall hope to meet them one day.”

“Perhaps you can come to dinner on Thursday next?”

“I’ll have to ask my cousins if they’re free,” said the girl, looking for a way to avoid this invitation.

Lady Darnell pouted. “Oh, I’d so hoped you would come alone, just a quiet family party, you know. Are you already engaged for Thursday evening?”

“No,” said Elisabeth. “That is, I am not precisely certain…”

“Wonderful,” interrupted Lord Darnell’s mother. “You may bring your maid with you, of course, and I’m sure James will be happy to escort you home. We shall expect you at seven.”

“But, I…” began Elisabeth.

“No need to worry, my dear,” continued Lady Darnell airily. “It will be quite informal. And now I must go. I promised Aurelia I would go shopping with her today. She is utterly dependent on my judgment in matters of dress, you see.” Lady Darnell rose with these words and drifted toward the door. Elisabeth could see no way of evading her invitation, short of outright rudeness, so she accepted the inevitable with as much grace as she could muster.

Elisabeth returned to her book, but her enjoyment of it was broken. She spent some minutes going over the conversation just past, trying to determine how she could have managed it better, but no amount of thinking gave her the answer. Lady Darnell had been an irresistible force. Still, Elisabeth was annoyed with herself. “Stupid,” she said aloud. “You certainly made a mull of that.”

“What have you made a mull of?” asked an amused voice from the doorway behind her, and Elisabeth turned quickly to see Derek Wincannon standing there.

“I told Ames I would come straight up, since I’m a few minutes late, and I thought you might have given me up.” He raised his eyebrows at Elisabeth’s uncomprehending expression. “We had fixed today to go driving, had we not?”

“Oh, dear, I’d completely forgotten. How bird-witted I am today.”

Mr. Wincannon smiled wryly. Though he’d never spent much time with young ladies of the ton, the few such engagements he’d made had been treated with flattering enthusiasm. He was not accustomed to having his attentions ignored or his appointments forgotten. This was part of his fascination with Elisabeth, he did not doubt. Her unconscious originality, which made her unlike any woman he had met hitherto, compelled his interest and dispelled his customary boredom. But these welcome sensations were accompanied by a good deal of unease and chagrin. Had she any interest in him except as a preceptor for young Tony? His smile twisted further. “You are not a flatterer, are you, Miss Elham?” he said.

“I beg pardon?”

“Nothing. Are you occupied then? Shall we have to put off our expedition once again?”

“Oh, no, I should like to go. If you will only sit down a moment while I get my hat.”

On their drive, she told him about her new book, excusing her forgetfulness by extolling its virtues, and he expressed interest. “One seldom finds a really good new novel,” he said. “I must try this one, if you recommend it so highly.”

“Oh, I’m not sure you would care for it,” faltered Elisabeth. “Gentlemen wouldn’t be interested in it, I think.”

“Is it so improper?” replied her companion, his eyes twinkling.

“Of course it is not improper!” She laughed. “But it is, well, not precisely a romance, but a story of young ladies. You may try it, certainly, but don’t blame me if you’re disappointed.”

“I promise,” he said. “And I protest I am very fond of young ladies.”

Elisabeth laughed again. “Read it and welcome, then. I may never finish it myself, and you can tell me how it comes out.”

“Is it slow going?”

“Oh, no, but I’m constantly interrupted. I never have time to read any more.”

“Is this aimed at me?” asked Mr. Wincannon. “Perhaps I should turn the horses immediately and leave you to your book?”

Elisabeth looked sheepish. “Not at all. I must apologize. I had a…a rather annoying caller this morning, and I’m punishing you. Inexcusable.”

“You’ve removed a great weight from my mind,” said Derek, smiling down at her. “Who was this visitor who awakened your wrath?”

“Lady Darnell, Lord James’s mother. I’m not angry with her, really. I was berating myself when you came in. I couldn’t manage to avoid a dinner invitation she pressed on me, and I was annoyed at my ineptitude. She’s so eager for me to marry her son it’s ridiculous. She actually asked me whether my drawing room curtains were very dear.” As Mr. Wincannon gave a shout of laughter, Elisabeth hung her head. “Oh, dear, I shouldn’t have said that. But she’s such an odd creature, she quite put me out.”

“I have never met the lady,” he said. “How is she odd?”

“I shall say no more,” replied Elisabeth. “You must already think me a spiteful gossip. Let us simply say that I wish I’d avoided her invitation.”

“Why not cry off?” he suggested.

“I’d do so immediately if I weren’t convinced it would leave me open to even more unpleasant recriminations. The lady has already told me that I am not to criticize myself in her presence.”

“You’re giving me a strong desire to meet Lady Darnell,” said Derek. “Do you suppose she would ask me to dinner also?”

“She has three daughters on her hands, two of them out. You’d be welcomed with strewn roses.”

He laughed again. “You are the most interesting girl in London.”

Elisabeth blushed and hastened to say, “You haven’t met Jane Taunton, I imagine, if you can say that honestly.”

His eyes dancing, Mr. Wincannon shook his head. “I don’t believe I have.”

“Ah. Well, she’s much more interesting than I. It was she who gave me the book.” She paused as a thought occurred to her; her eyes lit. “I shall introduce you.” She paused again and turned to him with a look of irrepressible mischief. “In fact, I believe I shall give an evening party and introduce all my odd friends to one another.”

He smiled down at her. “Have you so many odd friends?” he asked. “I confess to some apprehension. And do you include me among them?”

“All of my friends are odd,” she replied. “I don’t count mere acquaintances. But all the really interesting people I’ve met in London are a bit eccentric. Don’t you find it so?”

“I must refuse to answer lest I compromise myself. But let me entreat you to invite my father to your party. He would be enchanted.”

“Is he fond of odd people?”

“Immensely.”

“I shall, then. You don’t think I really mean to do it?”

“I’m only afraid you will,” he answered. At that moment, they heard someone calling to them. Mr. Wincannon slowed his team to allow several carriages to pass, and Lord James Darnell rode from behind them on a showy bay hack.

“Hello,” he cried. “Well met indeed. I was going in search of you this afternoon, Miss Elham.” He nodded a greeting to Wincannon, who returned it.

“In search of me?” asked Elisabeth.

“To apologize,” replied Lord Darnell. “Did my mother lay it on too thick this morning? I expect she extolled my virtues the whole time she was with you.”

Elisabeth shook her head. “I can’t recall any mention of your virtues,” she said. “Perhaps you should remind your mother of them. I did discover that you have three sisters, however. You never told me that.”

“Of course, I didn’t. Do you take me for a flat? It’s just like Mother to put me out that way.”

“She asked me to dinner to meet them,” added Elisabeth.

Lord Darnell struck his forehead. “Trust m’mother. The worst possible move.”

Elisabeth laughed outright. “Is this a way to talk of your sisters?”

“Wait until you’ve met them, then I will answer you.” Seeing Elisabeth’s questioning look, he went on, “Oh, I don’t say they aren’t good enough girls, especially Augusta, but Mother has trained them to think only of catching rich husbands. Makes them prodigious boring.”

“Ah,” said Elisabeth. “I see what you mean. A person who thought only of making a great match might become tiresome.” Her eyes sparkled.

“A facer,” cried Lord Darnell. “You are a paragon of wit, Miss Elham.”

Mr. Wincannon said, “I do not like to keep my horses standing so long.” His voice sounded rather flat.

“Of course,” answered Elisabeth. “I’m sorry. Goodbye, Lord Darnell. I shall see you on Thursday, I expect.”

“You may count on it,” replied that gentleman, bowing slightly in his saddle.

The phaeton moved forward slowly. Derek said nothing for some time, and Elisabeth eyed him speculatively. He looked annoyed. “I’m sorry we kept you waiting,” she put in finally.

“It is of no consequence. I wouldn’t wish to spoil your enjoyment.”

Her lips turned up a bit. “You’re very kind,” she said.

“I admit,” he continued after a pause, “that I find rattles like Darnell rather a bore. His conversation seems pointless.”

“Ah,” was Elisabeth’s only reply to this.

“However, you may do as you please, I suppose.”

“Thank you,” she said. “There is your sister. And Belinda with her.” She waved.

“I shall not stop to talk to them,” he replied.

“No, I think we need not do so. I should be getting back in any case.”

Mr. Wincannon turned his horses without comment, and they started home again.

As Elisabeth walked in the door, Ames stopped her. “I beg your pardon, Miss Elisabeth,” he said, “but a gentleman has called. He’s in the library. I told him you were out, but he insisted on waiting.” Ames’s usually impassive face showed distaste briefly. “He said, miss, that it was a matter of life and death.”

“Really?” answered Elisabeth. “I expect I had better see him then. He didn’t say what it was about?”

“No, miss. I inquired about members of the family, fearing that Mr. Tony might have overturned his curricle, but he said it didn’t concern any such thing.” He hesitated, then lowered his voice. “I think that he may be a foreigner of some kind.”

“Ah. Well, you may tell him that I shall be with him directly.”

A short time later, Elisabeth entered the library, to find herself confronted by a total stranger. The man was small and very dark, with black hair and snapping black eyes. His coat and pantaloons were well cut but not in the first stare of fashion, and the design of his waistcoat was a trifle florid. When he replied to Elisabeth’s cool greeting, his voice showed a very slight accent. Elisabeth could not identify it. “Will you sit down?” she asked, seating herself behind the desk.

“Thank you,” he replied, taking the chair in front of it. “I know you’re surprised to find me here. You do not know me. I thank you for seeing me.” Elisabeth inclined her head, still puzzled, and the stranger went on. “I’ve come because I fear you may be in danger. I wish to speak to you about George Jarrett.”

“Mr. Jarrett?” echoed Elisabeth wonderingly.

“Yes, he is a friend of yours, I believe?”

Elisabeth shrugged slightly. “I have met him.”

The small man became excited. “He is a fiend,” he said. “I am come here to warn you.” Elisabeth raised her eyebrows, and this appeared to rouse the man further. “You must stay away from him,” he cried, waving his arms.

As he gestured, something caught Elisabeth’s attention. She realized suddenly that this was the man she’d seen arguing with Mr. Jarrett in the street. “You,” she said.

He cocked his head. “Your pardon?”

“Nothing, nothing,” said Elisabeth, recovering from her surprise. “You have the advantage of me. You seem to know me, but I have no idea who you are.”

Her cool tone seemed to calm him a little. “I am sorry. When I think of that man, I am enraged, you see. My name would mean nothing to you. I come from Martinique. You have heard of it?” As Elisabeth nodded, he went on, “I am a Creole. You do not know what that means, perhaps?” Elisabeth shook her head, and his eyes lighted fiercely. “It means my honor is more to me than life. When I saw that Jarrett comes here, I could not let you go blindly to destruction, knowing what I know. I must tell you to satisfy my honor.”

“Ah,” said Elisabeth. She didn’t particularly like this excitable gentleman who refused to tell her his name, but her curiosity was roused. “But so far you have told me nothing.”

He bowed his head. “That is true. It is a difficult matter. It involves the person who was dearest to me in all the world, you see, my sister. And I will not spread her folly through the world. Though she had no fault in it, I cannot tell her story to a stranger.”

Elisabeth frowned. “I’m not sure I see why you’ve come here in that case,” she said.

“To warn you,” he responded quickly. “To tell you not to trust this man of no honor and no scruples. He is not a man to be allowed near ladies.”

“But if you give me no reasons for what you say, Mr.…how then can I accept your warning?” asked Elisabeth a little impatiently.

“Bah, you English! Always you must have the reasons and the laws. You will not move without them.” His accent became more pronounced as he said this, and the man appeared to be struggling with himself. “I…I cannot tell you all,” he said finally. “It would be cruel to Desirée’s memory. But I will say that this Jarrett drove my sister, the sweetest, loveliest girl on Martinique, to her grave. If you allow him to approach you, he will ruin you. He is a fiend.”

Elisabeth rose. “I assure you that I hardly know Mr. Jarrett. He is the most distant of acquaintances. I think you’ve come on an unnecessary errand.” She held up a hand as he started to speak. “It was kind of you, I suppose, to attempt to warn me of someone you distrust, but now that you’ve done so, we can have no more to say, I think.” She rang for Ames.

The man sighed. “You have not listened to me. Perhaps I have made a mistake coming here.” His shoulders sagged, and he looked defeated for a moment. “Perhaps it was a mistake to come to England.” Ames entered the room as he spoke and eyed him with distinct disapproval.

Elisabeth said only, “Our guest is just leaving, Ames.”

The man executed a sweeping bow, turned, and strode out of the room.

Elisabeth sat down again, a frown wrinkling her brow. She was irresistibly reminded of Lord Byron once again. “I seem to have stumbled into a melodrama,” she said aloud to herself.