Lady Elizabeth's Comet (10 page)

"In the pink. I restrained Kitty from flying to your side when she learned of your
mischance."

"You're too officious, ma'am. I'd enjoy repaying Lady Kinnaird's hospitality."

"Watching her turn to ice in the Brecon dining room? No, really, Clanross, she can't
have been that dreadful to you."

"Dreadful? Not at all. I'd break the ice on her soup for her myself."

We both began to laugh.

I said ruefully, "I don't think you'd find Kitty's affections half as amusing as her portrait
of Lady Disdain." I was willing to lay pounds to shillings that Kitty had snubbed him
unmercifully. "Willoughby Conway-Gore conveys his greetings and begs you will not break
your neck in the near future."

"Am I to be allowed to do so later?"

"He's pleased with his dissipations at the moment. Who knows what immortal yearnings
may come over him in a year or so?"

"I'll study to oblige him. Ah, Sims."

Sims set the tray on the table beside me. "There's chocolate for 'er ladyship, sir, and
coffee in case you was wanting something."

"Thank you."

"Hullo, Sims," I said.

Sims beamed. "Me lady. There now, din't I say you'd be safe as 'ouses? We was a bit
anxious-like when the storm blew up."

The merest flush tinged Clanross's cheekbones.

"I'm obliged for your concern, Sims," I said gravely. "Lady Jean wishes to be
remembered to you."

"Very kind of 'er ladyship, I'm sure." He trundled out with satisfaction writ on the back
of his massive neck.

I forbore to twist the knife. "Coffee or chocolate?"

"Both."

"What!"

"Try it."

I did and the combination was surprisingly pleasant. "And Bevis said you have no
palate."

"His is overnice."

"Has he writ you?" I trust my voice did not betray unmaidenly eagerness.

"Once. Dunarvon didn't eject him from the castle."

"Nor show him a damned disinheriting countenance?"

Clanross took a reflective sip of the mocha concoction. "I don't believe he can.
Primogeniture, my lady. A peculiarity of English law you have reason to be acquainted
with."

"And you."

"Just so."

I must confess I liked his sparring style. I said impulsively, "I daresay when you and
Bevis converse it's like a tennis match."

He smiled again. He had a pleasant smile. "We confine ourselves to primitive grunts. He
returns in March, by the way."

"So late!" I could have bit my tongue--no discretion.

"He wants to conciliate his father, and there's also the sale of his commission to attend
to."

"I'd forgot that." I searched for a subject to give a less gloomy turn to my thoughts. "Has
Dunarvon forgiven you?"

"I believe he had no reasonable cause for complaint. I left the books in order and trained
my replacement."

"Dunarvon has never been reasonable in his life. And speaking of books, I do not
approve your plan to turn Maggie into a bookkeeper."

"I thought you wouldn't." He set the cup on the tea table. "Miss Bluestone will be
disappointed, but she'll think of something else."

"I believe she has. Are you ready to sacrifice the map in the estate room?"

"It has no happy associations, but why?"

"Maggie is doing a three-colour topographical plan of the estate. I suspect Miss
Bluestone will desire you to praise it."

"I'll frame it if need be."

"That's not a bad idea. Maggie's nose is out of joint."

"Yes, I should have foreseen it."

"And warned Sims?"

"What? Oh, Sims. Yes, of course. I--that is, we did not then know Lady Margaret." He
took his crutches and rose again in stages, like a dromedary.

"Is that a signal for me to leave?"

"No." He balanced precariously and steadied himself. "Merely, I find standing less
awkward than sitting."

He meant less painful. I watched him lurch over to the window. Perhaps Charles
Wharton was right. Perhaps Clanross should not be exerting himself so soon. I restrained my
impulse to question him about his progress and said lightly, "What do you do to amuse
yourself?"

"This and that. Lady Elizabeth, is that lake frozen?"

"Solid."

"I wish..."

"You wish to skate on it. What a wonderful idea."

He grinned. "Do your sisters skate?"

"They swoop and circle like a pair of swallows, and if I don't return soon to restrain
them they'll be clearing the lake themselves and perishing of putrid sore throats."

"You could have your servants build a bonfire."

"On the ice?"

"By the ice. It promises a clear night."

"Night! Why night? Aha! I believe you're trying to stage an illumination you can watch
from your window."

"I believe I am. Don't let me press you, however, Lady Elizabeth. I can always amuse
myself by browsing among your father's collection of Latin sermons."

"My grandfather's. I believe you're cutting a wheedle."

He waited.

"Very well. We'll disport ourselves before your mocking eye. I'd intended to watch the
meteor shower that French observers have lately reported, but I'll make the sacrifice. Clear nights
are indispensable to my work and so rare in this climate."

"Now
you're
cutting the wheedle. Your eyepiece would freeze to your
brow."

I laughed. "So it would. You've found me out. I have no recourse but to leave you, with
burning ear and blushing cheek. Do you have the lake cleared, Clanross, and I'll set Jem and
Harris to supervise a bonfire."

"Tell them to roast potatoes in it."

"Potatoes! I fail to see the connection."

"For warming the hands. One to a pocket. Or do girls still carry muffs?"

"Muffs," I admitted, intrigued. "But it's an ingenious idea. Do you eat the potatoes
afterwards?"

"Only if you're hungry," he said mildly. "Speaking of which, bring the lot up here
afterwards. I daresay cook will rise to another pot of chocolate."

* * * *

Maggie and Jean responded with whoops of delight to his lordship's plan for their
entertainment and dashed off to the lumberoom to unearth two generations of skates.

I believe I enjoyed the outing as much as they did. To everyone's surprise, Alice proved
an accomplished skater, graceful and tireless, but I'm sure Miss Bluestone made Clanross's
evening. She wobbled and weaved and fell down every possible way, and if she had not laughed
so hard I must have urged her to rest, for she was not a child, after all. Fortunately, she did
herself no injury beyond a few bruises.

"I'll feel this tomorrow," she murmured to Clanross over her steaming chocolate.

He smiled but forbore teazing. "You made quite a creditable turn at the last, I
thought."

Her eyes shone. "I did, did I not?"

A remarkable woman not to betray embarrassment. I believe she felt none, and yet she
was certainly not without dignity. It seemed to me admirable that she should risk appearing
foolish before her charges. It was an index of the respect they gave her that neither of my sisters
indulged the sort of unkind mockery that would have withered their other governesses.

"You were splendid, Miss Bluestone," Maggie uttered through a mouthful of scone.
Cook had indeed risen to the occasion.

"I think Mrs. Finch was best," Jean said judiciously.

Alice fluttered.

"She's an accomplished performer," Clanross agreed, "but you mustn't hurt your sister's
feelings by leaving her out. What do you think was your finest moment, Lady Elizabeth?"

"When I ate the potato."

They all laughed.

I refrained from mentioning that I hadn't eaten the whole thing. It was half raw and half
charred and most unappetising. I daresay I'm incurably inquisitive.

I wrote Bevis a dramatic account of the skating party, but I avoided saying how much I
missed his company. There was no point in giving him a conceit of himself. I did miss him. I
suspected that Clanross did, too. Clanross and I sparred every time I called on him. That diverted
me temporarily from melancholic reflections, but I missed Bevis's easier style.

Clanross fell again, delaying his advancement to a stick. When he found his patient
walking--or stumping and wobbling--about the whole first floor of Brecon, Charles Wharton
flew into a tantrum. He was so furious that I believe he would have resigned the case had I not
flattered him into mere crossness. Finally, he agreed to continue to treat Clanross, and his
lordship slowly improved.

The snow melted, the sky lowered, and we entered that season of drizzle and drear I bear
least well. Bevis answered my first letter at once. He was dealing comfortably with his father. He
thought he would have to spend above a month in London arranging the complex process of his
resignation at the Horse Guards.

"Poltroons!" I was in the Brecon withdrawing room relaying the news. "Incompetents!
Feather-merchants!"

When I finished my tirade Clanross added helpfully, "Fleawits. Macaronis. Jobbing
clerks."

"It's exasperating. Poor Bevis."

"Poor? Nonsense. He'll realise a handsome profit."

"Money!"

"He's not out to give the commission away."

"You have the soul of a shop clerk." Or an estate agent. I glowered at him.

Clanross replied, with spirit, "If by that you mean not above money, you're right. They
owe me three months' arrears and the Peninsular prize. I daresay they owe Bevis six and
Water-loo. We should charge 'em interest. Compounded."

"If every one who served the Nation felt that way..."

Clanross shot me a satirical look. "Of course
you
have a soul above money--but
not, it appears, above intrigue."

"What can you possibly mean?"

He balanced on the crutches and drew a letter from the breast of his coat. "This is your
doing, I believe." He unfolded the stiff sheet.

"What is it?"

"Willoughby Conway-Gore," Clanross said tersely.

"He's paying you a visit? How thoughtful of Willoughby." I rose from my chair and
walked to the fire for a good toast. In February Brecon was almost uninhabitable.

Clanross scowled. "So he seems to think. He lays his inspiration at your door, Lady
Elizabeth, so I assume you spent your holidays pressing upon him the need to secure his
succession. Thank you very much."

"He is your heir."

"I'm aware of that. I wasn't aware I was required to offer him hospitality every time the
bailiffs are after him."

I recalled Bevis's description of Henry Conway. "Do you dislike propping up indigent
relations? How odd in your father's son." I confess the remark was ill-natured.

Clanross went still. "I'm sure you're the best judge of that, ma'am. No doubt your father
provided you with a model of lordly condescension. I fail to see why I should be obliged to bear
Mr. Gore's company, however. I prefer to prop him up at a distance."

"Conway-Gore. Do you dislike Willoughby? He has a claim on you."

"I make him the same allowance your father made him," he said coldly. "Did he sit in
your father's pocket, too?"

"Papa found Willoughby good company, and he also enjoyed playing host to his
kinsmen. Perhaps that seems strange to you." Abruptly, I was struck by the fact that of all our kin
Thomas Conway had emphatically not met with Papa's hospitality. I bit my tongue.

Either Clanross didn't notice my slip or didn't care. "I've no wish to surround myself
with men I have nothing in common with," he snarled. "If that's strange, so be it. Nor do I require
Gore to hang about licking my boots."

I stiffened. "If you imply that my father did..."

"How should I know what your father liked? I never met him." He took an incautious
step forward and wobbled, swearing under his breath.

I was now very angry. "You may not have met my father, but you met with his
benevolence. He bought your commission."

"Well, now, I wondered whither we were trending. Am I required to repay Lord
Clanross's tender concern for my well-being by putting up with Willoughby Conway-Gore at the
breakfast table? That seems excessive."

I did not like his tone. All the same I chose my words with greater care. "Papa wished
you to enjoy the advantages of a gentleman's son."

"I'm not a gentleman's son." He gave me a cool, grey, unsmiling gaze, very direct. "I'm
the son of a whoring cardsharper. Come, Lady Elizabeth, if you feel I've not repaid your father
for my creditable establishment, tell me what more I must do."

That struck me silent. He had, after all, nearly repaid my father with his life, however
involuntarily. Finally I said, "You're under no obligation, my lord, except perhaps that of natural
feeling."

He made a contemptuous noise and stumped back to his window. "I wonder you can
indulge such hypocrisy, ma'am. It suited your father's pride to educate me and his convenience to
stick me in the army. And none of this maundering explains why you busied yourself setting
Gore on the scent."

I had been moved by nothing more elevated than a desire to see Willoughby and
Clanross strike sparks off each other, but I did not like admitting to so base a motive. I said with
dignity, "I wished to promote your better understanding of one who, besides his close ties with
the Family, is a man of wide connexions in the fashionable world. I thought the two of you might
supply one another's defects. He has excellent manners, and you know how to keep accounts--a
fair exchange."

He ignored the gibe. "Had you considered the man's comfort, ma'am? A gentleman of
fashion must find himself at loose ends at Brecon, for I don't intend to fill the place with his
friends. I rather draw the line at his sister."

"Sister!" I stared.

"He proposes to join me in a week with Miss Gore, three servants, a travelling coach and
team, and two hacks." Clanross held the letter to the light. "He don't wish to put me to any
trouble for their entertainment. A simple evening of whist, a snug dinner, and he will rest
content. I hope you enjoy whist, ma'am. Since they come at your behest, you can undertake to
amuse the pair of 'em. I daresay Gore won't stand the quiet above a week."