Eight

At nine the following evening, all Elisabeth’s cousins stood before her in the drawing room, ready to set out for the Wincannons’ evening party. Elisabeth surveyed them with some pride as they waited for the carriage to be brought round. Great changes had been wrought in the past few weeks. Anthony’s tall rangy frame was clothed in a dark blue coat from Weston which fitted him admirably and complemented his fair coloring. His pantaloons were fawn-colored and also fitted him well. If his shirt points were a trifle crumpled and his waistcoat a bit too arresting for Elisabeth’s taste, she knew better than to mention it. And in any case, he’d done very well for a young gentleman thrown on his own resources in the matter of dress.

Belinda looked dazzling in a gown of the palest possible blue muslin. The delicacy of the color and the simple style she’d created set off her beauty to perfection. Her blond hair was dressed in ringlets about her face, and she carried a filmy wrap. The overall impression was of pastel fragility; Elisabeth thought, a bit guiltily, that she looked exactly like a Dresden shepherdess Miss Creedy had kept in her drawing room. Cousin Lavinia wore one of her new dresses, a lavender crepe, and she had produced a stunning cameo brooch and a pair of silver bracelets from her jewel box. She looked very well and extremely pleased with herself.

When Ames came in to tell them the carriage was ready, Elisabeth glanced quickly at her own reflection in the drawing room mirror. She had chosen a peach-colored crepe which complemented her honey-toned hair and warm complexion. Its tiny puffed sleeves showed her arms to advantage, and she’d had Ketchem do her hair in a knot on top of her head once again. She wore a string of pearls as her only jewelry. All in all, she thought to herself as they descended the stairs, a rather fine-looking group.

An elegant crowd already filled the Wincannons’ drawing room when they arrived. Belinda joined Amelia and a circle of her young friends, and after a moment Tony followed her. Elisabeth saw that they were being introduced, then turned to find the viscountess approaching. She greeted her warmly and presented Lavinia.

“I see Belinda and the young man I assume must be her brother have taken care of themselves,” said Lady Larenby. “Come, I want to introduce you to some of my guests.”

The two cousins followed her across the room, and the viscountess began presenting them to a number of ladies who sat there. Elisabeth soon realized that her hostess was seeing to it that she met all the mothers who were bringing daughters out this season. She smiled to herself; they would certainly receive as many invitations as they could wish after this. She was then presented to the Viscount Larenby and was left to chat with him. The viscount was a tall dark man, like his son, though somewhat more slender. His hair was touched with gray here and there, and his eyes were more green than blue, but otherwise he much resembled Derek. He smiled at Elisabeth admiringly and with what she thought was curiosity. “So you are to be our new neighbor at Willowmere?” he said. “We must congratulate ourselves on gaining such a fair addition.”

“I perceive you are a flatterer, sir,” laughed Elisabeth.

“Not I. I leave that to the young men.” He looked at her. “Like my son,” he added.

Elisabeth felt her cheeks grow slightly hot. “Your son doesn’t seem a man who pays compliments,” she answered.

“Well, no,” he agreed amiably, “he never has been. Quite the contrary, in fact. But there’s no saying when he might change.”

Elisabeth could think of no reply, and in a moment, the viscount turned the conversation into easier channels. “You’re having work done on Willowmere, I understand?” he asked her.

Elisabeth nodded. “Though I fear it will be some time before I can officially take up residence.”

“I can readily believe it. Your uncle neglected the place shockingly. I spoke to him about it once. But I made no impression, except to anger him.”

“Did you know him, then?” asked Elisabeth interestedly. “You’re the first person I’ve met who was actually acquainted with him. Except my father, of course, and he rarely spoke of his family.”

The viscount smiled. “I knew him to bow to in the street,” he answered. “But Anthony Elham did not encourage any of his fellow men to know him. He was an odd creature.”

“So I have heard. But I wish I’d met him in spite of that.”

“You might feel differently if you’d been unceremoniously put out of his house. Yes, and had a pitcher of milk hurled after you.”

Amusement lit Elisabeth’s violet eyes, and they sparkled irresistibly. She raised her eyebrows in a question.

“Yes, that happened to me,” continued Lord Larenby. “I admit it was the second time I called. He evidently did not approve of me on the occasion of my first visit.” His eyes twinkled. “I’d told him that if he didn’t do something about Willowmere a neighborhood committee would take him to law. But nothing ever came of it.”

Elisabeth laughed aloud. “Oh, how I wish I might have seen it.”

At that moment, a voice behind her said, “If you set yourself to charm all the pretty girls, Father, we younger men may as well give over. We’ll never be able to cut you out.”

Elisabeth turned to greet Derek Wincannon, who smiled down at her warmly. He met his father’s eyes with an echo of the twinkle in them.

“What do you say?” continued Derek. “Will you not retire from the field and give the next generation a chance?”

The viscount laughed. “Indeed. I know that none of you young here-and-there-ians are up to my weight.” He turned back to Elisabeth. “I’m delighted to have met you, Miss Elham. I hope we can talk again later in the evening.” He bowed slightly and walked away.

Elisabeth looked up at Derek Wincannon. “I was quite enjoying my conversation with your father,” she told him.

“I could see that,” he said. “But I couldn’t allow him to monopolize you. I’m too selfish.”

“London is certainly a very odd sort of place,” Elisabeth replied. “People begin detailing their faults on the slightest pretext.”

Her companion laughed. “What makes you say that?”

“Why, you have already told me that you are selfish and intolerant of bores,” she answered. “And without my showing the slightest inclination to accuse you of such things, I think. And only yesterday I met a young man who confessed to being a fortune hunter before I had talked to him five minutes.”

He frowned. “Who might that have been?”

“Lord James Darnell,” she replied.

“Ah. Well, it is true, the Darnells are all to pieces. But I didn’t know James went about proclaiming it.”

“Oh, indeed. He first made sure that I was truly an heiress, then he promptly made me an offer.”

Mr. Wincannon appeared to be torn between amusement and outrage. “He did not?”

“Oh, yes,” Elisabeth assured him airily. “He told me that he often does so.”

“What a ramshackle young coxcomb he must be.”

“Is he not a friend of yours?”

“No,” he replied, surprised. “I hardly know him. Did he say so?”

“Oh, no, it was my own notion. You see, Lord Darnell is one of the least boring men I have ever met. I thought you must have sought him out here now.”

“Perhaps I should,” responded Derek with a frown. “You seem quite taken with him.”

“I found him outrageously amusing. He is certainly most unlike his friend the Duke of Sherbourne. Can it be true, do you think, that his father lost five thousand pounds betting on a duck?”

Her companion gave a crack of laughter. “What, the old duke? Absolutely not. He was as much of a slowtop as John.”

“No, no. Lord Darnell’s father. Or was it his grandfather? I’ve forgotten.”

“It might have been either. All the Darnells are gamesters. Did James tell you of it?”

She nodded. “He said they called his father, I’m certain it was his father this time, ‘Black Jack.’”

“I can see you’re quite fascinated by Lord Darnell,” he answered dryly. ‘I should advise you to take care. He would game away your fortune in a year.”

“What a shabby thing to say! I was merely repeating some amusing stories, and you take me up quite ruthlessly. I see how it is now. You may say what you please to me, even call my cousin a ninny if you like. But when I respond in kind, you fly up into the boughs. How unfair.”

He was looking down at her appreciatively. “Does it seem so to you? I must apologize, then. The two things do not appear at all the same to me.”

“I think I should go and see how Belinda and Tony are getting on,” was Elisabeth’s only reply.

His eyes twinkled. “I’m not to be forgiven all at once, I see. Very well. I’ll take you to them.” He offered his arm. “Young Tony has done rather well for himself thus far. Shall I put his name up for my club, do you think?”

Forgetting that she was supposed to be angry, Elisabeth stopped and turned to him. “Oh, could you do so?” she asked eagerly. “I’ve been rather worried about Tony. I don’t know what is the best way for him to go on, and he has no one else to give him a hint. If you would befriend him, why then…” She remembered her annoyance suddenly. “But I daresay you would find that excessively boring.”

Mr. Wincannon’s eyes continued to register amusement. “I might,” he conceded, “though he seems a bright enough lad. I’ll keep an eye out to see that he doesn’t come a cropper, if you like.”

They’d nearly reached the group including Tony, and Elisabeth had only time to say “thank you.” But her anger had disappeared, and she felt quite kindly disposed toward her companion.

Mr. Wincannon excused himself from joining the younger group, and Elisabeth could soon see why. Belinda and Anthony eagerly introduced her to a number of very young persons of both sexes, and made every effort to include her in their conversation. But the talk was exceedingly dull, limited to the parties they had attended, horses, and juvenile flirtation. Elisabeth was soon looking about for some means of escape. She saw Cousin Lavinia talking to a gentleman across the room, and she excused herself to join them, though no one appeared to take the least notice.

Lavinia received her excitedly. “Only fancy, Elisabeth,” she said. “Mr. Jarrett was a friend of my brother William. Is that not astringent? They were in the same regiment. Though Mr. Jarrett was not at Salamanca. I thought, you know, that he might tell me…but of course no one can blame him for selling out. If only William had done so, indeed, he might be here with us tonight. He never did care for parties, but I daresay he might have changed a great deal as he grew older.” She caught Elisabeth’s eye. “Oh, Mr. Jarrett, this is my cousin, Elisabeth Elham. Mr. George Jarrett, my dear.”

Elisabeth inclined her head. Mr. Jarrett appeared to be between thirty and forty years of age. Though not more than an inch taller than Elisabeth, he was stocky, and powerful arms and shoulders showed beneath his coat. His complexion was vivid, apparently burned by the sun rather than naturally ruddy, and his hair sandy red. His upper lip boasted a small neat mustache, unusual in a time when clean-shaven faces were the rule, and his eyes, looking out from under thick sandy brows, were sharp but peculiarly colorless, of a gray so pale as to be almost white. They stood out boldly against his skin. His dress was quiet, not at all shabby but with no pretensions to elegance or fashion. His face showed deep lines about the mouth and around the eyes, reflecting, Elisabeth imagined, past hardship and an ironic temper.

He suffered Elisabeth’s examination with no change of expression. Indeed, it seemed to her that he allowed her time to weigh him before speaking. Then he said, “How do you do. I’ve just been telling your cousin that William and I were at Oxford together and did later join the same regiment. I left the army soon after, however, to pursue my fortunes abroad, and was thus luckier than he.”

“Indeed?” replied Elisabeth. “I’m sorry to say I never met my cousin William.”

Lavinia nodded. “Yes. It is very sad. William was younger than I, of course, and he was still at school when I made my few visits to Elisabeth’s family. Then her mother died and William went into the army, so there was no further opportunity. I told him of you, Elisabeth, several times. But you know what boys are, I daresay he wouldn’t have reminisced. And then, well…well, I simply lost touch. I should not have done so.”

Smiling slightly, Elisabeth looked up and met a twinkle in the eyes of Mr. Jarrett. In spite of their paleness, she noticed, they compelled one’s attention.

“I should have come more often,” continued Lavinia. “I knew it even then. But Father began to be ill, you know, and there was no one else to look after him. Nursing an invalid takes so much of one’s time. But I blame myself still. I could have visited you, and I should have.”

With just a shade of difficulty, Elisabeth disengaged her gaze from Mr. Jarrett’s. “Well, it wasn’t entirely your fault, Cousin Lavinia,” she said. “My father hardly encouraged visitors after my mother’s death.”

“Yes, dear, I know,” responded Lavinia, “but that doesn’t really excuse me.”

Elisabeth thought it best to abandon this subject. “You’ve been living abroad, Mr. Jarrett?” she asked, looking briefly into his face once again, then turning her eyes to the floor.

“Yes, chiefly in the West Indies, though I also spent some months in New Orleans.”

“The West Indies,” echoed Elisabeth. “I’ve heard that it is very beautiful there.”

He shrugged. “There is beauty, right enough,” he replied, in a curious, almost grim tone. “But there is also much that is not beautiful. It’s an uncivilized part of the world, Miss Elham, whatever the planters may pretend.”

He said this with no hint of boastfulness. Elisabeth was frankly intrigued. “And did you, that is, were you a planter yourself?” she asked.

“I?” He smiled at her, his teeth very white against his sunburned skin. “Oh, yes, I tried my hand at raising sugar cane. I tried many professions.”

“Sugar cane?” put in Lavinia eagerly. “I have read of it. It seems quite mysterious to me. I can never get, you see, how it looks. It is the silliest thing, but I always visualize fields full of peppermint candy sticks.” Her companions laughed. “So foolish of me,” she murmured.

“I fear the reality is not nearly so romantic,” Jarrett told her. “The plants are tall and thin indeed, but they are green and not particularly appealing. They’re chiefly good for making rum.”

“Oh, rum,” answered Lavinia wisely, “such a nasty drink, I believe.”

Elisabeth and Jarrett shared a smile. “Have you returned to England recently?” she asked him.

He nodded. “A matter of weeks. I feel very much a stranger here yet.”

“It must be very different.” Elisabeth’s eyes held a faraway look. She was imagining to herself the difference.

“Yes,” he said rather curtly, “it is.”

His stern expression quickened Elisabeth’s interest and made her wish to explore this subject, but Lavinia had other ideas. “Mr. Jarrett, you simply must tell me all you know of my brother,” she said. “I saw so little of him after he left home, and I’m interested in all the details, you know.”

Mr. Jarrett bowed. “I should be delighted. But unfortunately, I’m forced to leave rather early this evening, as I’m engaged to a party of friends. Perhaps you will allow me to call one day this week?” His eyes turned toward Elisabeth as he said this.

“Oh, certainly,” fluttered Lavinia. “No question. A friend of William’s. We shall have so much to discuss.”

Mr. Jarrett seemed not quite satisfied. “If Miss Elham agrees,” he put in smoothly.

Elisabeth inclined her head.

“Thank you,” he continued. “I shall look forward to it. And now I must take my leave.” He bowed formally.

They said goodbye, and Mr. Jarrett turned and walked away. Elisabeth noticed that he didn’t stop to bid his host and hostess good night, even though the viscountess was walking toward them, but went directly out of the drawing room. She shrugged, but later she mentioned him to Lady Larenby.

“Jarrett,” repeated the other, frowning and putting her finger to her lips. “I can’t recall…wait, I believe Maria Coatsworth mentioned his name to me. She’s old Lady Brandon’s companion, you know. Such a poor cowed creature; I always feel so sorry for her. She asked if she might invite an acquaintance of hers; I’m sure the name is the same. She said he was recently back from the tropics and knew no one in London. And so he has turned out to be a friend of your family as well?” She looked about the room.

“He has gone,” said Elisabeth. “He said he had another appointment.”

The viscountess smiled. “Well, this is hardly likely to endear him to me. A hostess never appreciates a guest who rushes off to another party. But how strange that I didn’t meet him at all. I’ll make a point of doing so another time, so that I may scold him.”

“Yes,” said Elisabeth. “I thought it strange that he did not bid you good night.”

“Well, perhaps he’s shy,” suggested Lady Larenby. “He knew no one here. I’m sure he felt somewhat uncomfortable.”

Just then a group of guests came up to say good night to their hostess, and Elisabeth excused herself. She went to gather her party, for it was getting late. Lavinia was agreeable, but Elisabeth had some trouble pulling Belinda and Tony away from their new friends. They insisted that it was terribly early to leave, but when Elisabeth pointed out that more than half the guests had done so, they reluctantly consented.

When Elisabeth reached her bedroom later that night, she sat down in the armchair wearily. She had never realized how very exhausting a life of leisure could be. She’d rarely been so tired when she was earning her own living.