Joan Smith (16 page)

She turned to Nick in wrath. “Are you mad?” she asked.

In the heat of anger, her eyes sparkled dangerously. Her hair glistened like new copper in the lamplight. Heightened emotion lent a rosy blush to her cheeks and a fire to her voice. She looked like a highly incensed Venus. Not a pale Botticelli, but a flamboyant Titian or Giorgione.

Nick just gazed a moment, then said, “No, I rather think I am experiencing a belated bout of sanity. Come, Uncle wants to see the waltz.” He took her hand.

She wrenched her fingers free. “Ask your fiancée
,
” she said, and strode from the room.

Nick rushed after her. “Jane! Wait! We can’t disappoint Goderich.”

“Ask Aurelia to waltz with you. Why me?”

“Because she won’t come. She dislikes visiting Goderich. It is only a waltz,” he said persuasively.

“You know what Mrs. Huddleston will say.”

“Never mind Marie. What will Uncle think, if you refuse him this simple request? You didn’t even
look
at him, or say good evening. He has made a special toilette to impress you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Come and see for yourself.”

He led a reluctant Jane back into the bedchamber. “Oh, Lord Goderich!” she exclaimed, when she saw him all shaven and shorn, and wearing a jacket for the first time in years. “I hardly recognized you! When did you— Who— My, don’t you look fine!”

“By God!” he said, staring at her with the frank eye of childhood. “You are a beauty. I wish I could stand up with you myself. Give an old man a treat and show me this new dance Rogers has been telling me about.”

She found refusal hard when he asked her point-blank. “There is hardly room,” she said, looking about the chamber. Although it was spacious, it had the cluttered air a room takes on when it has become one’s only living space. Extra tables had been brought in to hold the various items Goderich used to fill his long days. Medications, books, games, cards, a magnifying glass, two or three shawls; there was a comfortable upholstered chair by the window for reading, with a table beside it to hold tea or lunch. He had his collection of butterflies—three large framed racks—placed against the wall at the foot of his bed so he could look at them while in bed. It would take an age to clear the room.

Nick, not to be thwarted, said, “Then we’ll waltz in the hallway. It is plenty wide enough. Rogers, draw Uncle’s chair up to the door so that he might see us.”

“That’s the spirit that defeated Boney!” Goderich said, rubbing his hands in anticipation.

Jane still felt it was a rash thing to do, but she could not disappoint Lord Goderich. It had been a long time since she had seen him looking so happy. She examined the hallway, which was as wide as a small room, and realized she could not use its size as an excuse.

Rogers drew the chair to the doorway. Nick said to him, “Let the music begin.” Then he bowed to Jane. “Miss Ramsey, will you give me the pleasure of standing up with me?”

“I will be honored, sir,” she replied with a curtsy.

They moved into the hallway, which stretched a clear fifty feet before turning a corner at either end. Rogers played his flute, which lent an eerie, plaintive air to the music. But when they began to waltz, she forgot all the odd circumstances of the dance and thought only of being in Nick’s arms. They danced in a golden glow, tinged with regret, or nostalgia. For Jane, it was a bittersweet moment that made her realize just what she had missed when she lost Nick. No, not lost. She had never won him. The mood became so pervasive that she felt she must speak, to break the spell of his dark eyes, gazing at her.

“You must have learned to waltz since returning from Spain,” she said in a calm, social voice.

Nick just smiled enigmatically, as if enjoying a secret. It was a long, slow smile that seemed to look into her very heart. At length he said, “Let us not spoil it with words, Jane. Words are what do the mischief. Some things are best enjoyed by just doing them.”

They moved together in perfect rhythm down the long length of the hall, circling and wheeling as if they were one, each step anticipated. It was a waltz like no other Jane had ever experienced. Nick’s arms tightened insensibly, until she could feel his strong chest pressing against her as they whirled up and down the hallway, past the gilt-framed ancestors on the wall, skirting the plant stands in front of the dark windows, past the grand staircase with the chandelier glowing like a magic waterfall of light below, oblivious to Lord Goderich, tapping his toe in time to the plaintive notes of the flute.

She wondered what were the words that Nick regretted. In this mood, she could almost imagine they were his offer to Aurelia. Surely he must feel this closeness, this sense of all being right with the world that was suffocating her. She wished the dance would never end, but all too soon the notes of the flute died, and they had to stop.

Nick held her hand tightly as they returned to Goderich’s doorway. “Thank you, Jane. You are a darling to oblige Uncle—and me. We shall do this again on New Year’s.”

She bobbed
a
playful curtsy, knowing it would not be the same at a public party, with crowds milling about. The best part of it had been the privacy.

Goderich clapped his hands. “That’s a caution,” he said. “I don’t know how you do it without walking all over each other. The pair of you move like a well-matched team. Made for each other! You have chosen your bride wisely, Ronald. That publican’s daughter is not the girl for you. What happened to her?”

Nick gave Jane a mischievous wink. “I am glad you enjoyed it, Uncle. And now we must let Rogers get you to bed, if you want to be in shape for the party on New Year’s.”

“I wouldn’t miss it, by gad. I just wish I were half a century younger and I would show you all the way. Good night, all. Thank you, my dear,” he said, taking Jane’s hand and raising it to his lips, with a mischievous look at Nick.

“Beating my time, Uncle?” Nick asked.

“No, lad, time has beaten me, but I have a few licks in me yet.”

He went laughing into his room, and Nick led Jane to the staircase.

“I thought he was much better, until he called you Ronald,” Jane said. She felt it behooved her to ignore Goderich’s notion that she was Nick’s fiancée
.

“What a discreet lady you are,” Nick said with a conspiratorial grin that told her he had read her mind.

“Does he really plan to attend the party?”

“Why not? It is his house. I, for one, should love to see him there.”

As they approached the bottom of the stairs, Jane cleared her throat nervously and said, “Nick—about Mrs. Huddleston. She will ask where we have been if we go into the saloon together. You go first.”

“Nonsense. We are a well-matched team, you and I. We shan’t let her break us up. If she asks where we were, we shall tell her. We wouldn’t want to lie.”

“You know what I mean,” she said with a
tsk.

“Indeed I do. But you must know it is your aunt who has set her cap for Uncle. You are innocent in that respect. We have been saying good night to Uncle.
C’est tout.”

“Aunt Emily setting her cap for Goderich? You cannot be serious! Did she say that?”

He gave a careless laugh, but with a touch of scorn to it. “You and Mrs. Lipton are such slow tops. You refuse to chase after a gentleman. That is no longer the way of the world. The times are changing, Jane, and we must change with them or be left behind. You are too nice—that is your problem. And before you tell me what my problem is, I suggest you say your good nights and retire to avoid the interrogation, if the prospect of it bothers you. You really ought to develop a temper to go with that red hair, you know.”

She thought perhaps all this was an oblique explanation of why he was marrying Aurelia. It was true the times were changing; many of the old aristocratic families were marrying into the newly rich merchant class. Nick’s bride would not be the only lady who was unsure of her footing in society. Jane had read that this was a good thing. The possibility of social advancement prevented the sort of revolution France had experienced.

She was saved any embarrassment from Mrs. Huddleston. That dame felt she had talked some sense into Nick and hardly glanced up when they entered. She had collared Willie and was sitting with him and Aurelia, discussing wedding plans, while Pel and Lady Elizabeth chatted quietly in a corner. Nick, Jane noticed, joined his aunt and Pel, after bowing to the others.

Jane said good night to everyone and made her escape without a single question. She went to say good night to Mrs. Lipton, then retired to her own room in a strangely lethargic mood. She had felt, while dancing with Nick, that something might come of it, but his remarks afterwards told her he was satisfied with the status quo.

She missed the battle that soon ensued below-stairs. When Nick strolled over to the grate, Mrs. Huddleston looked up sharply and said, “So there you are! What were you and Miss Ramsey up to?”

“We were abovestairs with my uncle. I am happy to tell you he is wonderfully improved, and will definitely be attending our New Year’s party.”

“You must be joking!” Mrs. Huddleston exclaimed. “He looks witless, with that hair streaming all over his face.”

“He has had his hair barbered, and his beard shaved off. He will attend the party.” He did not raise his voice, but there was an icy edge to it that his aunt, listening from her corner, recognized as spelling trouble.

She moved over to the grate to hear what was going forth, and lend Nick assistance if necessary.

Willie said, “You must not worry, Mrs. Huddleston. Goderich will only stay a moment. He will have a glass of wine, flirt with a few ladies, and go back to his room.”

“But Papa is coming all the way from Manchester,” Mrs. Huddleston said, bridling. “I am the one who arranged this match. I have been telling him what a grand one it is for ‘Relia. What will he think to see Goderich drooling into his collar, making a spectacle of himself in front of everyone? We will be laughingstocks. Tell him, Aurelia.”

Lady Elizabeth’s lips stretched into a villainous smile. “This decision is not for you and Aurelia to make, Mrs. Huddleston. This is my brother’s house,” she said. “Naturally he will attend his own party if he wishes.” She turned to Aurelia. “When you become the mistress of Clareview, you must learn to put our people first. Meanwhile, I am the hostess.”

“Not for long, old lady!” Mrs. Huddleston said, girding up for battle.

“Well, well,” Willie said, smiling uncertainly. “How quickly we have all become one ha— one big family. Here we are, squabbling amongst ourselves as if we had been kin forever. That is what happens when two strong personalities clash.” He turned a warning eye on Mrs. Huddleston. “But I fear you are in the wrong this time, Marie. Aunt Lizzie is right. The decision is hers to make. One never argues with her hostess.”

Mrs. Huddleston took Willie’s word for law in social matters. She felt this insistence on dragging Goderich to the party was Nick’s way of asserting his independence. Certainly she would have done no less, if she were in his position. And besides, everyone knew the aristocracy had some queer twists in them.

“Right, as usual, Willie,” she said, and added to Lady Elizabeth, “We shall hold our noses in the air and give a good setdown to anyone who laughs at Goderich.”

“I am sure none of
my
friends would be so underbred,” Lady Elizabeth replied demurely, accepting the olive branch, but none too securely. “And now would anyone like tea before retiring?”

“I would love a cup of tea, Lizzie,” Mrs. Huddleston said, and the matter was closed. “It seems so stiff to go on
ladying
you when we have had our first little tiff.”

Aurelia turned to Nick and said, “I won’t have to stand up with your uncle, will I, Nick?”

“I doubt he will dance.”

“Good.”

The squabble seemed to have the effect of clearing the air. Mrs. Huddleston became quite affable over the tea tray. There would
be
time to put Lady Elizabeth in her place after the wedding. Lady Elizabeth returned the affability—but she did not call Mrs. Huddleston Marie, nor did she forget that stinging “old lady.”

When the group dispersed some time later, Nick remained behind in the saloon with Pelham.

“I think you was pushing it a bit, Nick,” Pel said. “Not like you to be so rough with the ladies. You used to handle such matters more tactfully.”

“I blame it on Spain,” Nick replied, with a remote smile.

“I daresay that’s it. But these Spanish manners will lose you your bride, if you don’t watch it.”

“I shall bear it in mind.”

“It’s a rum thing, marriage, ain’t it? I doubt I’m cut out for it.”

“I think you offered for Jane?” He listened closely for the answer.

“Not as you might say offered. I mentioned it. She didn’t take me up on it. I am just as glad, to tell the truth. I am hoping she’s forgotten. She’s a nice girl, but I notice she’s got a little streak of Huddleston in her.”

“Jane?”
Nick exclaimed in astonishment.

“She’s been nagging at me, Nick. Suggesting I go for walks, and stop drinking so much. Keeps at me to learn the wedding ceremony for you and Aurelia. She wants to change me.”

“I daresay if you don’t mention marriage again, she will forget all about it.”

“I’m counting on it. Out of sight, out of mind—or out of hearing at least, if you know what I mean. A pity Aurelia wouldn’t forget you offered for her, but her sister won’t let her.” He peered to see how this hint went down.

After
a
moment, Nick said, “Is it that obvious?”

“Only to me. Known you forever. That’s it, then? You do want out?”

“Passionately.”

“Thought so. Good luck.” He peered around to see that Jane was not spying on him, then reached for the wine decanter.

An hour later, two fairly disguised gentlemen climbed the stairway to their beds.

Mrs. Huddleston, like her sister, was
a
devotee of shopping. No one, including Nick and certainly including Mr. Huddleston, offered the least objection when she announced the next morning at breakfast that she would like to go to Amberley. Willie offered to take her. It is not to be imagined that Aurelia would miss out on the trip. At ten o’clock Mrs. Huddleston’s magnificent carriage and team of blood bays were brought from the stable. As she had no crest to bedizen her door panel, she had added a branch of hop leaves, which passed at a glance for ducal strawberry leaves. Intertwined amidst the foliage the words “Townsend Brewery,” in small gilt Gothic script, might be read by a very sharp-eyed reader. The footmen, all three of them, wore livery in the golden hues of Oldham Ale.