Indiscretion (8 page)

‘I can’t see much amiss with it, ma’am,’ Caroline said, primping, ‘and Mr Downey has made a much better job than I would of a man’s riding-coat.’

‘Well, upon my word, I tried my best,’ Matthew Downey said, fuming and frowning as if she had said something against him instead of for him: whilst Maria only yawned.

I shall not try any more, Caroline thought, if they are so resolved upon enmity: I shall just not try. Still, it was disheartening. When Mrs Catling, on parting, invited the Downeys to come later and dine at West Street, Caroline greeted the prospect with inward dismay. She felt she had been hated enough for one day; nor could she relish the thought of being unnaturally made much of by her employer all evening, no matter what Mr Leabrook said about not minding it.

What made her feel differently was when Mrs Catling turned to Mr Leabrook, and cordially invited him too.

‘That is an invitation I would gladly accept,’ he answered, ‘if I did not fear that I would be intruding on a family party.’

‘Oh, my dear sir, we are not that sort of family, believe me
—
you see us in one of our rare intervals of not quarrelling
—
is it not so, Matthew?’ Mrs Catling chuckled, to her nephew’s obvious discomfiture.

‘That I cannot credit, for there is too much amiability on either side. But I shall certainly come if you will have me — it will be a great pleasure,’ Mr Leabrook said. His glance rested on Caroline as he said it.

If she was a chief part of that pleasure, Caroline was far from proof against feeling gratified by the compliment; but she hoped she was in no danger of overestimating it either. Mr Leabrook was after all a single gentleman at a loose end, and a good dinner offered him with an unattached young woman to flirt with. However, the evening brought further demonstrations of his regard, of a kind to weigh more heavily with Caroline than any amount of pretty flattery. Mr Richard Leabrook understood her position; and it was a relief to be understood.

If there was a general feeling about her being companion to Mrs Catling, it was that she had fallen on her feet. Even her father supposed that attending a rich widow and waiting for her to die was a comfortable berth. Mr Leabrook, through numerous instances of tact and delicacy, showed his perception of the other side: that though Caroline might eat the best
turbot
and truffles, she had no freedom to say she did not like them; that though Mrs Catling might reprove a snub to her companion, as wanting in respect for herself, Caroline could never take any offence on her own account. And the strongest proof of his understanding was that he did not make it too obvious. He was not about to get her into trouble with her employer by attentions that were too marked and particular.

To Mr Leabrook’s presence also she felt she owed such ease as was established between herself and Mrs Catling’s devoted nephew. For while Mr Leabrook set an example of unstinting civility to her, Matthew Downey could hardly refuse to follow it without declaring himself an irredeemable boor; and it was plain that the young man looked up to his new friend, and set some store by his opinion. Matthew’s softened manner towards Caroline at dinner was the less surprising, however, after her encounter with Maria, which took place before they even went in.

Maria, on arrival, declared that she wanted the use of a mirror, and slipping her arm through Caroline’s, and saying that the one in her room would do very well, impelled her upstairs; where, once alone, she gave Caroline’s cheek a kiss, and sat down with a yawn and a sigh on her bed.

‘And so you are the terrible creature who is to cut us out of the will!’ she said. ‘And yet you have but the one head, and no horns that I can see. And I shall take it on trust that those pretty kid shoes contain no cloven hoofs
—
or hooves
—
or can it even be hooven? They must be from Bond Street, by the by. Well, you wicked minx, turning the feeble mind of our frail old aunt, what have you to say for yourself?’

‘I must confess,’ Caroline said, laughing, ‘that I have been fearing you believe these things in earnest.’

‘Lord! Well,
I
don’t. And the kiss is meant to say so
—
and also, if they do force us into falling out in the end, as a sort of making-up in advance. Because I know them:
she
is a shocking make-mischief, and my poor brother is so easily caught in her toils. He’s so succeptible, and so rash-headed, and he
will
work himself up into a pother, though that’s the very thing she relishes. So it’s no wonder there’s always a quarrel at the end of it. Dear, dear
—
you must think us a sad set!’

There is no beautifier like sympathy, and under its influence Caroline perceived that Maria Downey’s mouth was not sulky at all, but rather charmingly indolent. Her whole demeanour indeed was that of someone just awoken from a refreshing sleep but wondering whether to doze for another half-hour.

‘I thought you must hate me,’ Caroline said. ‘And all I want is to keep my position
—
and, oh, Lord, how soapy
that
sounds! You see? There is no winning with such a hand!’

They laughed, which felt like an enormous relief to Caroline: laughter in Mrs Catling’s company tending only to be a pungent extract of malice.

‘Then the best thing, my dear, is to forget all about it. My brother suspects
everyone
of coming between him and his aunt, while I do not give a hang, so it doesn’t signify how you behave. But how
do
you come to want such a position? You are neither pruny old maid nor country vicar’s clumsy daughter. Though I fancy I can make a
guess. Esteemed parents somehow omitted to set you up as esteemed parents are supposed to? Ah, I have smoked it, because I am
—
well, not in the same boat, but in a vessel very like it. Poky and leaky and liable to sink at the first wave. You’ve heard Aunt Sophia speak of my papa and mama, no doubt?’

‘I
—
yes, just incidentally.’

‘Ah, is that a new word for “with scathing contempt”? She despises ‘em. Mama, who’s her sister, went and married Papa for love, which Aunt Sophia can never approve to begin with. Then Papa, who was a lawyer and a middling successful one, set himself to changing the world instead of feathering his nest. He wanted to get into Parliament and reform it, and when that didn’t answer, he devoted himself to getting other men in, which all cost him a deal of effort and money. So when he sank into the grave, as the poets have it, there wasn’t much left for us. But what vexes Aunt Sophia about my mama is that she obstinately refuses to regret marrying Papa, ever: still wears a lock of his hair at her breast, if you please. And yet where Mama, who’s pretty much an invalid, will always rouse herself to energy is in calling on Aunt Sophia to
do something
for us. Poor Mama! I don’t
think
she means any harm; but when she pens a letter to her sister, brazenly remarking that Sophia has far more money than she can ever know what to do with, and no children to consider, which she thank heaven
has
to gladden her autumn years
—
well, let us just say Mama doesn’t help matters.’

‘I begin to see a little more clearly now. It is all a sad pity
—
and really, would it not be better if Mrs Catling would simply say what she intends, instead of keeping you
—
’
Caroline nearly said
dangling
‘—
forever in suspense?’

‘It certainly would be better. But then she would not have the enjoyment of power. Oh, she has taken Matthew under her wing to some degree. He is studying for the Bar like Papa, and she has contributed an allowance until he is qualified, and I think he is as close to her heart as anyone. I use the word “heart”,’ Maria added, with a droll glance, ‘in the very loosest sense possible.’

‘But surely’ Caroline faltered, ‘to favour one and not the other
—’

‘Not me, you mean? Well, you have probably observed, my dear, that Aunt Sophia likes
men
best. But as for favour, I am not shut out
—
dear me, no: when she is displeased with Matthew,
I
am the one who is going to get everything,
I
am the one who has always been more sensible, deserving,
et
cetera and so on.’ Maria chuckled and lifted her willowy limbs from the bed. ‘I was meant to be using the mirror, wasn’t I? I had better look. Ugh. I see a freckle. That tedious sun
—
always shine, shine. No, my dear, if I were to found all my hopes of felicity on
her,
I would be
—
well, just such a desperate high-strung creature as poor Matthew is turning into. Luckily I have another resource. I think this face of mine as bland as butter
—
but I have found that it
can
captivate. This is all very unofficial and in a way secret, but there is a gentleman I met at the beginning of the season, who intends making me what he quaintly terms
his own,
just as soon as he is able.’

‘Oh, I’m so very pleased for you! That is
—
if he is a
nice
gentleman.’ ‘He has the requisite number of eyes and teeth,’ Maria said, laughing, ‘and is good-natured and pleasant, and if he is six-and-thirty I don’t mind it. Best of all, he is very comfortably off; and so what my aunt chooses to do with her fortune is up to her
—
I am thankful to be spared the fatigue of caring any more about it. All I must do is wait: he is gone to the West Indies, where he has property from an uncle that must be seen to before he can settle his affairs, and I cannot look for his return at least until the beginning of next year.’ ‘So long
—
that must be a sore trial of patience for you.’ ‘I dare say it would, if I were very much in love,’ answered Maria, smiling at her in the mirror, ‘but my regard for him is quite manageable, believe me, and hence so is the anxiety.’

This was said with the lightness that Caroline already recognized as characteristic of Miss Downey, and that did not necessarily preclude true feeling: it was Caroline’s own habit to speak lightly of what touched her most deeply. Still, she found herself wondering for a moment whether the years of being played on their wealthy aunt’s hook had not had a more demoralizing effect on both the young Downeys than they realized.

But she for her own part was simply happy to have made a friend where she had feared an enemy. And with Matthew managing to be polite to her, and Mr Leabrook being rather more than that, Caroline found nothing but enjoyment in the dinner. Her employer too was in mellowest mood: on moving to the drawing room, while the men sat on, she did not seize the cards as was usual and order Caroline to an immediate hand of piquet, but let her do as she would, and even mentioned that if Caroline chose to open the pianoforte later, she would have no objection. This was certainly out of the common: for on previous evenings when there had been guests, Mrs Catling had forewarned her with some such remark as, ‘Mrs Smith fancies herself musical, and will no doubt want you to play
—
give her two short pieces and then if she croaks for more plead indisposition, for I can’t endure to hear you jangling away all night.’

The gentlemen were not long over their wine, but long enough, it seemed, for Mr Matthew Downey to take a good deal of it. His colour, always high, was quite fiery, and his gait was a little unsteady, which misled Caroline for a moment. He could not surely be coming to sit by her.

But he was; and between mastering her disappointment that he was not Mr Leabrook, who had joined his hostess, and her apprehension that Matthew was going to be unpleasant to her, Caroline was so discomposed as not to be able to say anything at first. He seemed tongue-tied, and so they stared at one another. There was much intelligence in those dark eyes, she decided, for all his dogged clenched look; and he was one of the few men she had seen who suited the fashionable Windswept style that his thick black hair was dressed in
—
perhaps because he seemed always caught in a gust of emotion.

‘Miss Fortune, I must apologize to you,’ he said abruptly: then went no further.

‘Is it for something specific,’ she gently asked, ‘or are you meaning to be apologetic generally? No need for either. Though I can see where the second might be useful. I’m sure in the future I shall say and do many things I shall be sorry for, and it would be agreeable if one could do the apologizing for them all now. A sort of washday of regrets. But I interrupt you.’

Matthew, after some lip-biting and staring, gave a gasp. ‘Why, yes

—
it would be
—
a washday of regrets
—
an excellent notion
—’
and he laughed loud, even excessively. He was, she saw, one of those people who must first make sure a joke is not against them, before they will consent to be amused. ‘But no
—
it is for something very specific. We have met before, in London
—
you remember it, of course
—
at Dover Street. And I fear on that occasion I was deficient in courtesy. Indeed, I believe I was thoroughly rude.’