Indiscretion (28 page)

‘The school is at Brighton, is it not?’ Aunt Selina went on.’Where you and Caroline met, of course.’

‘At Brighton,’ Mr Leabrook said. ‘Just so.’

And then she came to us,’ Aunt Selina said brightly and fondly. ‘It’s almost like fate, is it not? If one believed in such pagan notions, of course,’ she added, with a glance at her husband.

Stephen, who had been gazing gloomily into his wine-glass, suddenly stirred and said: ‘Talking of pagan notions, and matrimonial choices, there are many places in the world now, just as in antiquity, where bride and groom never set eyes on each other before the wedding day. And yet they go along famously’

‘I do not see how they can,’ cried Fanny. ‘It is monstrous.’

‘Oh, it is because, since they bring no expectations to the match, there is no risk of disappointment.’

‘Come, Milner, you are cynical,’ Mr Leabrook said, laughing. ‘Where there is a true and sincere attachment, there can be no question of disappointment
—
that suggests neither party is serious.’

‘Unless things should come to light about either party,’ Caroline suggested, ‘that were not known before the marriage.’

‘It is hard to see what they could be,’ Mr Leabrook said, slightly smiling, and addressing a spot just a few inches to the left of Caroline’s face, ‘where there has been frankness and confidence, which I take as the mark of the true attachment. Unless you mean mere idle gossip and tale-telling, from which no one is secure. But I suppose there is always the legendary sailor with a wife in every port
—
eh, Captain?’

‘Legendary, as you say, sir, for I never met with such a case in my life,’ returned Captain Brunton, with some sharpness.

‘Well, Milner, if you would have us adopt barbarian customs,’ Mr Leabrook went on, unruffled, ‘there’s a prime one for you: what say you to polygamous practices
—
multiple wives, like your Turk with his harem?’

‘A deplorable custom,’
Dr Langland
said heatedly, ‘treating women as mere possessions.’

‘And a custom, Uncle John, that would be eagerly embraced by the average Englishman,’ Caroline said, to a general murmur. ‘Oh, I think it would, you know
—
for there are so many who do not appreciate what they have and, like greedy little boys, would grab another sweetmeat even while they clutch one in their hands.’

Isabella, laughing, appealed to her
fiancé:
‘Oh, this is shocking
—
come, Richard, you must defend your sex, else all the men will be quite beaten down.’

Mr Leabrook shook his head. ‘To do so would be to contradict a lady,’ he said, in his softest accents, ‘who must, I presume, have grounds for this peculiar knowledge.’

‘Ask Stephen,’ Fanny said. ‘He could find a defence for the devil himself.’

‘Thank you, Fanny, but this time I must disappoint you, because I happen to believe that what Miss Fortune says is entirely true.’

‘About men with many wives?’ cried Isabella. ‘But, Stephen, you don’t even want one!’

‘True: but that is because I admit that what I
would
want from a wife is an impossibility. This fantastical creature would not mind any of my follies and inconsistencies
—
she would be my warmest friend
—
she would drink too much wine with me
—
laugh at society instead
of courting it — never talk in the morning until at least half past ten — happily stay indoors for days at a time not seeing a soul, and then on a whim go a journey of twenty miles — and all this time remain naturally elegant, clever, and good-tempered.’

‘My dear nephew,’ Aunt Selina said, smiling, ‘I think you would as soon find a mermaid.’

‘Precisely — and yet most men, if they are honest, are quite as unreasonable in their requirements of a wife: and that is why I say that three or four wives, all different, would be most men’s secret ideal.’

‘I think this subject is rather improper,’ Lady Milner notified them. ‘If I did not know you better, Milner, I would think you one of those men who seek to win the favour of the other sex by denigrating their own,’ Mr Leabrook said.

‘But, as you say, sir, one knows Mr Milner better than that,’ Caroline put in. ‘Because the one thing I will say for you, Mr Milner, is that you do not have the art of dissembling to flatter your present company.’ I must be careful, she thought: but she could not help noticing with pleasure that Mr Leabrook’s hand, reaching for his wine-glass, was not quite steady.

‘Do you mean I’m generally rude?’ Stephen enquired earnestly. ‘Yes, of course.’

‘Oh! good — I wanted to make sure.’

‘Stephen makes a great deal of being awkward and hard to please,’ Isabella said, with teasing affection, ‘and yet when it comes to the tenants, and the servants, and that poor young girl who came to the door and said she was the sister of our old nurse, even though she very oddly could not remember her name, why then he is all liberality and indulgence.’

‘Quite plausible,’ Stephen retorted, ‘forgetting your sister’s name. I forget yours all the time, Anastasia.’

‘Well, Milner, having found my own mermaid, I can only wish you the same luck in your fishing as I have had,’ Mr Leabrook said. ‘Thank you, Leabrook — that is, if I ever should decide to
go
fishing, which is highly unlikely.’

‘What is this?’ cried
Dr Langland,
in bewilderment. ‘Never go fishing? But I have seen you do so, Stephen, down at the Staunch, on more than one occasion
—
I could swear to it
...’

Aunt Selina having patiently explained that the fishing was metaphorical, a proceeding that lasted through the taking away of the first course and the laying of the second,
Dr
Langland at last gave a hoot of understanding. ‘Ah. You are using a metaphor, you see. The subject of the metaphor is courtship. But come! This determination against matrimony will never do. We must throw temptation in your way. Now if some creditable person were to hold a ball, with a good deal of company
—
I beg your pardon? You are, Mr Leabrook? Lord, bless my soul, I had no idea. Well, then there is our opportunity. I was like you, my boy, until I first laid eyes on Mrs Langland at a firework-party for the victory of Ushant: not that she was Mrs Langland then, you understand, that would have been most peculiar
—’

‘Uncle John, if you absolutely insist on matchmaking for me, then I cannot prevent you,’ Stephen pronounced firmly, ‘but I would urge you to take up some easier pursuit, such as catching moonbeams in a net.’

There was more talk of the ball, a subject on which Caroline became increasingly uneasy as it developed: for Mr Leabrook was soon proposing further entertainments, such as a picnic expedition the day after, if fine enough, or billiards and cards indoors
—
making, indeed, a regular house-party of it. She was sure to be included in these invitations, as whatever might be Mr Leabrook’s private feelings about her, he could scarcely afford to betray himself by so pointed an omission; but she would gladly have escaped such pleasures, which must be extending the discomfort of
this
occasion to the point of excruciation. The retirement of the ladies brought other subjects of conversation, to her relief; and on the gentlemen’s rejoining them, Mr Leabrook, not at all altered by the port, begged Isabella to go to the pianoforte. Isabella played and sang with taste and purity, if little of the flourishing manner that was generally interpreted as brilliance in the performance of young ladies. She was warmly applauded
—
most loudly by Captain Brunton, who seemed in an odd prickly mood, and on whom the effects of the port were clearly visible; and at Fanny’s urging, Mr Leabrook sang a duet with his
fiancée
which revealed him to be the possessor of an agreeable voice, in which expression made up for lack of polish.

Indeed, watching the two of them, observing the soft words and glances that passed continually between them, the reciprocity of gesture and manner, Caroline could not but conclude them to be an admirably well-matched couple. There seemed no want of warmth, affection or respect in Mr Leabrook’s attentions to Isabella, and plainly these were what she was accustomed to, and not a sort of show put on by him to confound Caroline. Helped, perhaps, by Stephen Milner’s good wine, Caroline found herself actually entertaining some slender hopes. Isabella seemed very happy with him now: who was to say she would ever be otherwise? Who could be so rash as to foretell the future? Was it not possible that Mr Leabrook felt a sincere regret and repentance for what had happened at Brighton? And was not the wisest of all courses, in any circumstance, to let sleeping dogs lie?

Slender as these hopes were
—
spindly, knock-kneed specimens indeed
—
they were the best she had; and Caroline dearly longed for some peace of mind at almost any price. They even supported her through the moments of sharp misgiving at the breaking up of the party, when Isabella drawing Mr Leabrook’s arm to hers on one side and Caroline’s on the other, said radiantly: ‘Now this is what I wished for
—
all friends together!’

The ball at Mr Leabrook’s house was soon a settled thing. Invitations, quickly extended, were as quickly accepted in a neighbourhood not over-supplied with such entertainments at this season; and now there was nothing to do but prepare in happy anticipation
—
or, in Caroline’s case, to dread, and wish for a way of not going to Hethersett at all.

It was nearly worse: for Mr Leabrook, in the flush of hospitality, talked of the whole Wythorpe party sleeping overnight at Hethersett as his guests, so they need not leave the ball so early to ride home; and the whole Wythorpe party must mean both Manor and Rectory families. But fortunately Lady Milner expressed some finicking doubt about the propriety of Isabella staying under the same roof as her
fiancé
before the marriage; and Isabella herself raised the more practical question of how so many people were to be comfortably accommodated at Hethersett, large as it was, when Mr Leabrook already had company staying for that week. So Caroline was thankful to find that idea dropped
—
though it did raise another idea that had been plucking at her, and which at last she had confirmed by Isabella: just who were these people from London that Mr Leabrook had to stay?

‘A young couple named Downey. He invited them to come and see him a good while ago, when he was at Brighton, I believe. Oh, Caro, perhaps you know them too, then, from that time?’

‘Yes
—
yes, I met them
—
they are not a couple, by the by, but brother and sister
—
relatives of my late employer. Well, well, how nice.’

‘I almost begin to envy you that time at Brighton, my dear, for you have quite stolen a march on me
—
I don’t know them at all
—
but they are very agreeable, according to Richard. Though men say that about everybody in any case
—
so tell me, what do
you
say?’

Caroline, still rather pained at finding herself using the phrase
how nice
—
not just in response to this news, but in any context whatever
—
struggled a moment and said: ‘Yes
—
certainly, they are agreeable people from what I knew of them. Now, have you decided yet what you shall wear?’

So, the company from London was none other than Matthew and Maria! The thought had hardly occurred to her when Mr Leabrook had first mentioned his expected visitors, but then everything connected with that time seemed to Caroline to lie on the other side of a great gulf; only afterwards had she begun to ponder, and to remember that invitation he had urged upon them at Brighton. It was another jolt of surprise in the placid surface of her new life
—
if not one that should occasion any such disquiet as the reappearance of Mr Leabrook. After all, no bitter memory attached to the Downeys: no present difficulty was presented by their past association. Still, they were in themselves reminders of that unhappy period
—
and what was worse, when they met her again they were likely to reminisce, in all innocence, and to talk of those evening-parties and outings with their aunt, at which both Caroline and Richard Leabrook had been present. Such talk must reveal that Caroline had known Mr Leabrook much better than her casual references to their acquaintance would suggest, which would mean more awkwardness; and thus, her best way out of the whole tangle would be to stay away from Hethersett altogether.

The difficulty was, no one would hear of such a thing. Her first tentative suggestion, to Isabella, that they might perhaps do without her, was met with such hurt surprise she hardly knew how to go on.

‘I should not enjoy it half so much without you there,’ Isabella said. ‘That is a selfish reason, I know. And I do so want you to see the place where I shall be living
—
and
that
sounds as if I want to show it off
—
what I mean is, the place where you will always be welcome, and where we can have such pleasant times.’

‘Oh, I should like to see it, indeed
—
in due course
—
but as to the ball, you know I am quite a newcomer here, and you are all old acquaintances
—’

‘Dear Caro, it is a ball, not a private club!’ Isabella said, laughing. ‘And besides, you and Richard
are
old acquaintances, as it turns out. No, truly, I will not have you feel like this
—
a newcomer, as you put it — and neither would Richard.’

‘Has he said so?’

‘Oh, no, but I know him, you see, through and through.’

Caroline found it so difficult to conjure a reply to this that the pause became noticeable; and Isabella, touching her arm, said timidly: ‘I’m afraid I’m a great bore about Richard and the wedding and all. I do beg your pardon, if that is it. You are such a polite listener
—’

‘No, I am not, and no, you are not. I do not listen politely, but in true friendship: and you are not a bore, my dear, because, believe me, I have experience of those, and can detect them across a crowded room at fifty paces. And though I’m very sure your ball could do without me
—’

‘What’s this?’ cried Fanny, who entered the parlour at that moment with a yawning Stephen following. ‘Caroline, if you do not come to my ball, I warn you I shall be deeply offended.’

‘Richard will be interested to learn that it has become your ball, Fanny,’ Isabella said.

‘Well, there would be none if I had not plagued him into it. Now the ball cannot do without you, Caro, and I must have your reasons for thinking that it could.’

‘Usually when young ladies decline to attend such an occasion,’ Stephen said taking up the newspaper, ‘it is through envy.’

‘It is nothing of the kind!’ declared Fanny, hotly, before Caroline could speak.

‘I said
usually’
Stephen said, with his sleepiest glance. ‘And Miss Fortune is, Lord knows, rarely usual.’

‘Absolutely,’ Fanny said, with a toss of her head. ‘And as for envy, I’ll wager Caroline could have had a dozen matches equal to Bella’s
—
has probably turned down a dozen such, indeed
—
I mean no offence to you or Richard, Bella.’

‘I’m just working out whether to take any,’ Isabella laughed.

‘I know what it is,’ Fanny pursued. ‘You are afraid it will all be dreadfully dull and stuffy and provincial, compared to what you are used to
—’
here Caroline tried to protest, but Fanny rode over her
‘—
and that I can quite understand, but you needn’t fear, because Richard is not your average country booby. He has taste, and knows how to lay on an entertainment with style. So you see, Caro, you have no excuse.’

Caroline, with an inward sigh of resignation, smiled and said: ‘Of course. I have no excuse.’

‘Besides,
I
will be there, and I am a sovereign specific against boredom,’ Fanny went on, ‘and Mr Carraway too
—
now
he
is out of the common run. Do you know, when he first saw those marble sculptures Lord Elgin brought back from Greece, he fainted dead away with the ecstasy of it?’

‘I did not know it, and I am surprised at you knowing it, Fanny’ Stephen said, from behind his newspaper, ‘unless you have been meeting him again, perchance?’

‘Certainly, once or twice, at the Hampsons’,’ Fanny replied airily.

‘Hm. Where, of course, you talk only of Greek marbles. Of course you do,’ said Stephen, and deftly dodged the cushion Fanny threw at him.

So, the ball at Hethersett must be borne. After all, Caroline told herself, it was only an evening’s entertainment
—
nothing more terrifying than a set of dances, commonplace chat, and minced chicken patties. She was able, with a very little reflection, to pin down exactly what it was that gave her such a particular distaste for the event. First, it revived memories of that ball at the Castle in Brighton, where Richard Leabrook had tried to seduce her: second, it would mean being on his home ground, actually in his house
—
and
that,
as his disposable mistress, she would never have been meant to see. These were the rankling thoughts she must somehow accommodate throughout the evening, whilst maintaining the cheerful demeanour appropriate to the occasion. She reminded herself that life with her father had put her spirits to many such tests; and by degrees was able to contemplate the approach of Thursday with equanimity, if without much pleasure.

In the meantime preparations for the wedding went on apace. It was now fixed for Christmas, and everyone agreed there could not be a nicer season for it. ‘Aye, nothing could be more apt,’ Stephen commented, ‘as Christmas is really a pagan midwinter festival, when you always sacrificed a maiden or two.’ He was in his most capricious and unapproachable humour: talk of lace veils and wedding-favours was liable to make him groan aloud, and he spent much time outdoors, riding or walking about the estate, and was even to be seen in shirt sleeves helping to mend a fence or clear a pond, with an air of much greater ease than he wore in the drawing room of the Manor. As for Caroline, she was naturally much with Isabella, at the Manor and at the dressmakers’ and milliners’ shops of Huntingdon, talking over and choosing the trousseau
—
naturally, for this was the very stuff of friendship and, under other circumstances, would have been delightful: as it was, Caroline could not quite enter into the spirit without a certain strain, which she hoped her friend did not perceive.

Thursday was a fine dry evening, and so well lit by the moon that even Aunt Selina’s habitual anxiety about carriage-driving was diminished, and she only clutched the straps in white-lipped alarm at every third or fourth jolt. The drive, short as it was, took them into an appreciably different sort of country, rolling, clayey, and well wooded; and Hethersett itself came splendidly into view on a ridge of high ground above a negligible village
—
a proper turreted Tudor mansion, much improved, but retaining such satisfactorily picturesque elements as a crenellated roof, mullioned windows, and a lodge-gate giving admittance to the park. Mr Leabrook, as Fanny had said, was wont to entertain in fine style: menservants were at once on hand to see to the stabling, maidservants whisked away their wraps in the galleried hall, and a hundred candles welcomed them to the ballroom, where a score of people were already gathered. The Manor party had followed directly after their own carriage
—
this as a further insurance for Aunt Selina, who could console herself that if they went into the ditch, their friends behind might effect a rescue
—
and it was with looks divided between bashfulness and pride that Isabella took the arm of their host, whose fine figure showed at its most elegant in narrow-waisted coat and pantaloons.

‘This has been all new fitted-out, I believe,’ Aunt Selina said, whispering in admiration. ‘Just look at that ornamented ceiling!’

‘A pretty penny it must have cost,’ said Stephen, unimpressibly. ‘Just worth it, I suppose, if you were to spend all your time lying flat on the floor looking up at it.’ And he walked off in search of the negus, whose spicy smell wafted from an adjoining supper room.

There was no music yet from the quartet of musicians tuning up at the far end of the long, panelled room: the evening was at the standing-about stage, in which dresses were scrutinized, introductions offered, insincerities exchanged, and alliances and enmities silently plotted. Caroline, looking about at the spaciousness, the card room with tables ready, the company swiftly growing in number and noise, began to feel that the evening might not be so difficult after all: it was on such a large scale that one might easily melt unnoticed into the background, and quietly get by until it was time for the carriages to be brought round. Still nursing this pleasant hope, she turned to find her name being loudly cried across the length of the ballroom.

‘Caroline Fortune! It really is you! I thought Mr Leabrook was funning when he said you were here. Lord!’

Maria Downey’s tone was unusually animated, though it was with the old feline languor that she made her way across the room and took Caroline’s hand bonelessly in hers.

‘Miss Downey. I heard you were coming to stay. It — it is all a great surprise, is it not?’

‘Great? My dear, I’m positively overpowered with it, and you know it takes a great deal to rouse me to any emotion beyond mild boredom. But pray tell, what
is
the story? Mr Leabrook is as vague as most men, and merely says you have family hereabouts.’

‘So I do: my mother’s family. I am living with my aunt, who is the kindest and best — but first I had better hear what story
your
aunt has told, about how we came to part.’

‘Oh, an absolutely unfair one, no doubt, knowing Aunt Sophia. She informed us that her companion, having lost her father, had so shamelessly capitalized on this entirely natural event as to become quite ungovernable in temper, and so there was no choice but to dispense with her services.’