Lady Elizabeth's Comet (12 page)

I can't say it was a pleasant meal, though the occasional word I had with Charles pleased
me. The courses were long and the room, despite a valiant fire, remained chilly. Willoughby
regarded the menu with disbelief, but it seemed to suit Mr. Chacton down to the ground, for he
ingested enormous quantities of everything between pronouncements. I had no idea what
Clanross thought. Mrs. Chacton and Alice seemed content.

Just as I was about to signal to the ladies to leave, Jenkins and the footmen entered with
champagne and served it out. Clanross rose. Smoothly, considering the length of time he had
been sitting.

"Before the ladies withdraw I have something to announce which will not be news to
most of you, but which deserves to be marked with a toast."

He spoke gravely, with perfect composure. I don't know why I expected him to mumble
and stutter.

"Some weeks ago it was proposed to me that I see to the establishment of a surgery in
Chacton for the aid of injured workers at the manufactory there, and that Mr. Wharton of
Hazeldell might serve it as chief surgeon." He smiled at Charles or perhaps at me. "As I have
reason to know Mr. Wharton's skill, I thought it a good notion. My agent, Mr. Moore, told me
the idea was not new. When it was mooted before neither my predecessor nor Mr. Chacton
accepted the plan."

Mr. Chacton shifted in his place, as well he might.

"Obviously," Clanross said with a straight face, "the plan was at fault. I was unable to
call on Mr. Chacton myself, so I writ him, and he very kindly called at Brecon. Several times, in
fact, for which I thank him--I know he's a busy man."

I watched Mr. Chacton puff up his wattles.

Clanross continued in the same composed voice, "The upshot is that we have come up
with an acceptable site nearer the mill and a new design for the building, the cornerstone of
which will be laid this summer."

Clanross's ironical grey gaze rested on Willoughby, fiddling with his champagne glass.
"It has been Mrs. Chacton's particular interest for some months now to establish an infant school
in memory of her son, Robert, who was killed at Water-loo and whom I had the honour of
knowing in the Peninsula. It seemed to us, er, efficient to combine a modern infirmary and
surgery with a well-lit, handsome school that will teach some thirty infants their letters. I hope
you will join me in saluting Mr. and Mrs. Chacton and the Robert Jones Chacton Memorial
Infirmary and Infant School." He said the absurd title without blinking and raised his glass to Mr.
Chacton.

Chacton went purple with pleasure. Mrs. Chacton, at Clanross's right hand, dabbed at
her eyes. The rest of us quaffed our wine and made congratulatory noises, and Clanross subsided
into his seat in graceful stages. I heard an anxious grumble from Charles, who was watching him
with medical keenness.

The glory was insufficient for Mr. Chacton. He had to respond. "Very kind in you, my
lord. Mrs. Chacton and I thank you. It was a blow to us, losing our youngest, and we searched
our mind for some fitting memorial. A plaque in the church isn't...that is, nobody reads the
things, and he was a good lad, was Robert. I don't favor newfangled notions about coddling my
workers, but there, Mrs. Chacton was set on her school and when his lordship showed me the
figures I couldn't hold out against the infirmary either."

Willoughby made a strangled noise.

Chacton shot Charles a jovial glance. "You see, Wharton? If you'd showed me my
interest we'd have had the place in running order years ago, for I can't think his late lordship
would have held out. He was a reasonable man."

This time
I
choked but managed to convert my incredulity into a ladylike
cough. Mr. Chacton was gesturing to Jenkins to fill our glasses again, and Jenkins did so with
stately imperturbability and only a few waverings. The champagne, Bevis notwithstanding, was
good.

Mr. Chacton beamed largely. "I return the compliment, my lord. To you and to our
surgeon, Mr. Wharton."

We all saluted gracefully and drank. Clanross didn't turn a hair, really his composure
was startling, but Charles blushed scarlet, and bowed and mumbled a gratified, inaudible
response.

I collected the ladies quickly after that. We whisked up to the withdrawing room where
a large fire, steaming coffee, and the afterglow of the champagne thawed us in no time. Mrs.
Chacton looked pink about the eyelids but showed no tendency to cowardice.

I led her to tell me about her school whilst Alice and Cecilia exclaimed and fluttered and
exchanged inaccurate descriptions of hospitals, surgeries, infirmaries, contagious hospitals,
schools for orphans, homes for fallen women, lunatic asylums, and St. George's, Hanover
Square. How that entered the picture I don't know, for I listened to Mrs. Chacton in spite of
myself.

She was surprisingly firm in her belief in the education of the lower classes and definite
as to how it should be done. Ere I knew it I was volunteering a prize for the cyphering champion.
I think I was a trifle foxed.

Clanross brought the gentlemen from their libations in short order; notwithstanding, Mr.
Chacton and Willoughby looked as if they had managed to down a bumper or two. Charles
continued slightly addled and very happy, and Clanross looked tired. It was a pity his ill-health
prevented him from enjoying Willoughby's chagrin to the full.

Not that he had routed Willoughby. I could see my cousin soaking up the details in his
capacious memory whence they would issue, satirically transformed, the next time a suitable
audience presented itself. "Like an alderman's banquet, my dears. The earl and his greengrocer
friend thick as thieves. I could scarce keep my countenance."

At the moment, though, Willoughby was far from laughter. His eyes glittered
unpleasantly as he watched Charles gallanting his sister. I could have told him Charles's birth
was as good as his own, but I rather thought Willoughby deserved discomfiture.

When the Chactons got up to leave, I determined to go down to the foyer with them.
Clanross was obviously loathe to try the formidable stairs again.

As I trotted back up, I rehearsed several charming speeches of congratulation. I thought
Clanross expected it. He waited at the head of the staircase, but when I drew nearer and saw he
was clinging to the newell, eyes closed, my polished phrases dried up on my tongue.

"You should be in bed."

"Nonsense. I'm merely gaining my second wind. Has he gone?" He opened his
eyes.

"Chacton? Yes."

Clanross straightened experimentally and wriggled his shoulders.

"How did you bring it off?" I asked, curious.

"I think you can puzzle that out, Lady Elizabeth." He gave a faint grin. "Chacton
reminds me of my first colonel, who was kept from egregious blunders by the combined flattery
of his adjutant, two silver-tongued majors, and the colour sergeant. So long as they convinced
him that any small regimental accomplishment had been his brilliant idea from the first he was
perfectly tractable."

"I see. The Robert Jones Chacton Infirmary and Infant School." In spite of myself I
laughed softly. "Did you really know Robert Chacton?"

He shrugged and winced at the incautious movement. "Ow. Not very well. He was with
one of the cavalry regiments. Bevis knew him better than I did. When is Bevis coming, by the
bye?"

"You heard of it?" I clucked my tongue. "And I meant to surprise you."

"Then you shouldn't have told Miss Conway-Gore."

"I had to say something to her. I expected Bevis today, as a matter of fact. Tomorrow at
the latest."

"Thank God for the Middlesex Militia," Clanross muttered.

"Coward."

He acknowledged the hit. "One more day of this will roll me up, foot and horse."

"I'll take Willoughby and Cecilia off your hands tomorrow if you like."

"How?"

"I engage to drag them off to Aunt Whitby at Briarlea. You've met her, have you
not?"

"Whitby? Parrot-faced dowager upholstered in diamonds?"

"That's the one."

"I accept. I hope she may eat him. Them."

"Alas, Willoughby is her favourite relation."

"De gustibus non disputandum."

"There is, of course, a price."

"You wish me to endow an observatory. Very well. Two."

I laughed. "Worse than that. Miss Bluestone, Jean, and Maggie mean to take tea with
you."

He groaned theatrically. "To reproach me for excluding them from the love feast? Yes,
of course. Tell them they may eat all the tea cakes. Now I think we ought to return before Gore
calls Charles Wharton out." With that he ushered me back into the withdrawing room.

"Ah, there you are, Clanross," Willoughby said brightly. "I must felicitate you on the
variety of your dinner guests. Such a change from monotone Ton gatherings where one is forever
bumping into the same people. Whom may we expect tomorrow?"

"A conventicle of Luddites," Clanross replied. "Do you sing, Miss Conway-Gore?"

Fortunately, Cecilia sang. So did I. And Charles and Alice. And all four of us together,
Alice accompanying on the spinet. I thought Willoughby would strangle in his cravat.

As Charles, still aglow with musical and medical fervour, took his leave of us,
Willoughby murmured in my ear, "The court physician. Will Clanross recommend him to
Prinny?"

I smiled but refused the bait.

Balked, Willoughby turned to Clanross. "What say you to a rubber of whist?"

"I don't play." Clanross rang for Jenkins. "You've enough for a table without me,
however. I understand Mrs. Finch is a superior player. Ah, Jenkins, the card table, if you
please."

"Beg pardon, my lord. Lord Bevis is come."

We all pointed like setters.

"Show him in, man." Clanross took a step forward.

"He presents his compliments, my lord, and will join you shortly, having gone to his
room to remove the traces of his journey." Jenkins bowed and began to wobble about setting up
the card table.

Clanross said abruptly, "If you will pardon me, I'd best see whether Bevis has dined.
Pray enjoy your game." He went out, leaning heavily on his stick. I felt a strong if unmaidenly
wish to follow him. Thank God for Bevis.

"Well, thank God for Bevis," Willoughby snapped. "I had begun to believe I must retire
at eleven with a milk posset. Shall we play, ladies?"

We obeyed. Willoughby and Alice trounced Cecilia and me. Cecilia was one of those
exasperating players who don't recall the suit or what their partners have laid--or perhaps her
mind was on other things. Mine certainly was. All the same I don't believe I'd have trumped
her
ace.

I won't say my heart turned over as Bevis entered, but I was very glad to see him. He
was alone, his manner a trifle subdued at first, but he complimented Alice on her new cap, which
I had failed to notice, gave Cecilia a look so melting she flushed and preened, and kissed all my
fingers without in any way calling attention to the gesture. Superb address.

He greeted Willoughby affably. "Dashed good to see you, Willoughby. Share a noggin
with you when the ladies have retired. Speaking of which, Tom's compliments. I packed him off
to bed. Looked a trifle seedy. I don't know what you're about, Liz, keeping a sick man up with
aldermen's speeches and champagne. It ain't like you."

"He brought it on himself." I suppressed a grin. Clearly, Clanross had already given
Bevis an account of his strategy. Poor Willoughby. I hoped he appreciated how thoroughly and
deliberately he had been outmaneuvered.

Willoughby did realise his defeat, though nothing would have compelled him to admit it
to me. All the way to Aunt Whitby's next day and all the way back he sparkled with epigrams,
and I must say he diverted me. Whether Cecilia was amused I can't say. She remained largely
mute.

Toward the end of the drive Willoughby's cleverness wore thin. Or perhaps I was just
weary of it.

"Very good." I applauded his last shaft. "But you know, Willoughby, all this is wasted
on your sister and me. You should be taking on Clanross directly."

"You're all about in your head, my dear. He holds the purse strings."

Oddly enough I had forgot that. Perhaps I do have a soul above money. "Are you under
the hatches?"

"Until quarter day. It's the devil to be poor."

I laughed. "It must be, but neither you nor I have the least cause to know. Between the
tidy income from your estate and the allowance Clanross makes you, I daresay you're in no
danger of starving to death. What was it this time--faro, vingt-un, or the horses?" I broke off,
assailed with discomfortable reflections.

The hairline of ill-temper engraved Willoughby's mouth. "I see I have landed myself in
quite a nest of Methodists."

I winced but said nothing. No wonder Clanross regarded Willoughby with total want of
sympathy. If my father, in the approving spirit with which he assisted Willoughby's revels, had
made half Willoughby's allowance to Thomas Conway, my father's heir could have sought out
the best surgeons directly he returned to England. After he succeeded to my father's lands and
wealth, he must have sought the opinions of the London doctors and--I thought of his visit to my
sister Kitty--of those Edinburgh savants Charles praised. Only to hear from them all, "too
late."

What an appalling irony. That they had later been proven wrong, that Charles had been
brash enough to ignore caution, had not prevented Clanross from enduring months of what must
have been flat despair. And here was Willoughby--Papa's fair-haired boy, as well as Aunt
Whitby's--chattering about the pangs of poverty. I had no doubt Clanross regarded him with
contempt as well as dislike.

Why had I lightheartedly created this unpleasant farce, which must expose Clanross to
Willoughby's malice? Fear. Was that it? My initial response to Clanross had been fear, not
derision. Despite the ill-timed witticisms I had written Bevis about Clanross's appearance, I had
not found Clanross an object of laughter. I had been fearful of him. That feeling was now largely
dispelled. It had been real enough to begin with, however, and that baffled me. I told myself I
was growing gothick in my old age.