Lady Elizabeth's Comet (23 page)

"I don't believe that," Bevis said miserably.

"Bevis, my dear, you do believe it, or you will when you have time to think." You
believe it, I added to myself, or you wouldn't have laid down the law on the one thing I care
about.

When he did not respond I said in rallying tones, "Come, it's not so dreadful. How
fortunate we didn't announce it."

He looked sullen. "You had no intention of going through with it from the first."

"I assure you I was mentally choosing my bridesmaids at your sister's wedding. And
decking them with jonquil ribbons."

"Liz!" It was a cry from the heart, and I could not but be moved.

My eyes filled, and I said shakily, "You'd best leave, Bevis. Now. I won't change my
mind again."

He extended his hand to me, pleading, and indeed he was very beautiful, with his glossy
brown hair tossed in a Windswept and his kind blue eyes sad.

"You've said you love me."

Suddenly it was more than I could bear. I sprang up and made for the door. "I do. You're
lovable. I can't help myself. But I won't marry you, Bevis. I was wrong to think I might.
Goodbye." I fled the room in disorder, cannoning into Anne and Alice in the hall. I didn't stop to
explain.

Indeed, as I found later, I couldn't explain to Anne. She consoled Bevis, who told her
everything. In Alice's presence, worse luck. Whilst I was up in my chamber weeping for my lost
womanhood, Anne and Alice were below lamenting my lost wits.

I need not recount the tedious scene Anne enacted me. I told her I meant to go back to
Brecon as soon as possible to observe a meteor shower. The meteors would not commence to fall
before the end of July, but she needn't know that.

It was not the sort of argument to calm her. It made her so furious she could think of
nothing more to say and flounced off to complain to Featherstonehaugh of my fecklessness.

When Alice came in just before dinner, I had passed from fury to self-pity and back to
fury. I took one look at her face and said dangerously, "If you utter one word of reproach,
Alice..."

"Who am I to reproach you, Lady Elizabeth?"

"Oh, good God, my friend, as I supposed."

"If I were," she said with dignity, "I'd have known of your agreement with Lord
Bevis."

That was true. I couldn't very well say, "I'd have told you, but I was sure you'd write the
wonderful news to both my married sisters and half my acquaintances, and blab to Aunt
Whitby."

* * * *

Aunt Whitby. Horrors.

All my tragedies are followed by farce, a major flaw in my character. I had no sooner
patched up a truce with Alice but I must prepare to do combat with Aunt over a snug family
dinner. There was no hope at all of keeping my heinous crime from Aunt.

The dinner party consisted of my brother-in-law, Clanross, and three of
Featherstonehaugh's political cronies on the male side. On the distaff, Anne, Alice, Aunt, and
Aunt's spinster niece, Miss Whitby, who was forty and faded and showed me whither I was
trending.

Dinner began at a fine impersonal level. The talk consisted largely in Featherstonehaugh
and allies, Anne, and Aunt, calling loudly for sterner and yet sterner measures of coercion in the
manufacturing towns, whilst Alice and Miss Whitby addressed themselves to the roast
mutton.

Clanross listened to the cry for blood with an expression of faint distaste on his
otherwise unrevealing features. He sat opposite me and down one--if that is clear--on Anne's
right, as befitted his station.

I was in disgrace between two of the placemen. I never did distinguish among them. A,
B, C, and my brother-in-law, D. D for Dog. Grrrrrr. My mood, needless to say, was vile. I did not
look forward to the massacre of which, after we had withdrawn, the ladies would make me the
centerpiece.

In the midst of her clarion calls for a stout defence of the Propertied Classes, my aunt
kept darting glances at me that boded ill. Well, I would give as good as I got. I stabbed an
inoffensive morsel of mutton savagely and looked up to find Clanross watching me across the
rim of the épergne. His eyes were grave. I contrived a feeble smile. After all, I was not
angry with him unless he, too, meant to reproach me. I lowered my gaze to my plate and
continued to push my meat about. He
was
Bevis's friend.

Featherstonehaugh was defending suspension of Habeas Corpus in peacetime. I closed
my ears. They were all such bores with their pompous justifications of self-interest. They must, it
seemed, suspend the constitution in order to save it. Wonderful logic. Surely Clanross found it as
absurd as I did.

I stole another glance at him, but he listened courteously to that and to my aunt
describing the Gordon Riots in gruesome detail and to my brother-in-law dwelling on an election
fracas in his constituency. Neither asked Clanross's opinion. They took his assent as a matter of
course. I longed to kick him under the table. He was altogether too tame-spirited.

As I formulated that judgement he belied me.

One of the cronies--A, B, or C, I don't recall which--concluded a monologue on the uses
of mounted fencibles in putting down mobs and, in a fit of generosity, asked whether Clanross
thought mounted troops superior to infantry.

"In crowd dispersal?" He took a sip of wine. "If by superior you mean bloodier-minded,
I should say yes."

"You disapprove the cavalry, my lord?"

"Not at all. I thought you were looking for slaughter, sir. A mounted man with a sabre
has a natural advantage over an unarmed opponent on foot that a mere infantryman can't hope to
match, even with a bayonet. I daresay an agile fencible could spit half a dozen citizens in the
time it would take a line of infantry to charge."

Aunt Whitby cackled. "Go to it, boy!"

Clanross regarded her without enthusiasm. "I'd rather not, ma'am. The bloodthirstiness
of the civilian mind never ceases to amaze me."

Aunt gave a surprised snort. Featherstonehaugh cleared his throat. "Well, well, my lord,
you can have little experience of the mob, after all."

"On the contrary, I was in the north for nearly two years and in Ireland for one." He
looked from one placeman to the other, frowning. "I think my experience is comparable to that
of any serving officer in garrison. I saw several near riots in Lancashire, too. In no case was the
temper of the people improved by the sight of a scarlet coat."

Featherstonehaugh's jaw dropped. "Upon my word."

Clanross raised his brows.

"You're a dashed Radical," my brother-in-law uttered, more shocked than angry. "Good
God, Clanross, what would you have, anarchy?"

"Peel's civil police sound a sensible solution."

Featherstonehaugh choked.

"Of course, the obvious cure is to give the rioters a bit of land and a cottage. It's
surprising how owning windows undercuts one's impulse to throw brickbats." There was an edge
to his tone that I had not heard him employ even against Willoughby. The others shifted
uncomfortably.

Featherstonehaugh, ever the politician, waffled and took the conversation off in another
direction. He had imagined himself Clanross's political mentor. I daresay Clanross may even
have deferred to him in the past over the practical details of dispensing my father's patronage.
Why Clanross had chosen this evening to air opinions he must know would draw my relations'
fury on himself I could not at first imagine.

We left the gentlemen to their libations, and I entered the withdrawing room with dread.
I was too unnerved to fight off Aunt and Anne. To my astonishment they did not immediately set
upon me. Instead, they began at once to speculate about Clanross's Jacobin leanings with a
horrified relish that showed me where their hearts really lay.

Anne's interest in politics is unfeigned. Indeed, she is a distinguished political hostess, as
Aunt Whitby had been in her day. Clanross's challenge was to them as the trumpet to the
war-horse. They charged to the fray uttering cries of delighted anguish. What if he were to air his
appalling sentiments in the Lords? Oh, my dears.

I listened with amusement to their eager stratagems for showing Clanross the Error of
his Ways, then excused myself, saying I wished to go to bed with a draught of hartshorn. They
honoured my departure with no more than two or three shafts that fell wide of the mark. I was
relieved to escape so easily.

* * * *

I slept heavily. Sometime in the middle of the night I woke and sat bolt upright.

I had had a dream, a very strange one. I grasped for it but it was gone. I could not even
remember what I had been dreaming of--something of childhood? No. It was lost. I gave it up
and let my mind drift.

I thought about the Dower House and my sisters, wondering, as I leaned back against
the pillows and started to drowse again, if Tom-the-dog had eaten anything vital in the past few
days. From there my thoughts strayed to Jean's calf love for Clanross and whether absence had
made the heart fonder. It must have been trying to him to have her blushing and adoring him like
a spaniel, but he dealt gently with her. Tactfully. Tact. Good God.

My eyes opened. Of course. I remembered how gravely Clanross had regarded me at
dinner. He had taken one long look at my miserable face and decided I needed a rescue--just as
he had known my need in Hyde Park. He had turned their wrath from me to himself. Tact and
kindness. I did not suppose he cared sufficiently for their good opinion for his gesture to
represent a great sacrifice. Nevertheless, it had been kind in him--and clever, too. Even Aunt
Whitby had been thrown off the scent.

I lay back, smiling. What a long day. I felt the smile die. Bevis. I thought about Bevis
for a long time--with regret. I hoped his heart was not broken and was rather surprised to find
mine wasn't.

I began to go in circles again. The headache nibbled at my temples and sleep weighted
my eyelids. If only Bevis could have taken me as I was, telescope, crotchets, and all. No, I didn't
really wish to be Bevis's wife. What I wanted, I thought drowsily, was to marry Clanross, to live
comfortably with him at Brecon, to tell him about my comet and my sisters, and to play chess
with him and watch his grave grey eyes light as they did when something interested or amused
him. Good God. I sat up again, wide awake.

Clanross? Impossible. Ridiculous. Surely my wishes and Aunt Whitby's could not be in
such exact accord.

It was true, however. I was possessed of complete certainty for the first time in my life. I
was also very happy. I hugged my happiness to me and did not even feel the chill air.

Clanross. Tom-the-earl, not Tom-the-dog. My patient, my kinsman, my chess master.
The victim, all too often, of my incautious tongue. Bevis's best friend. There are times when an
analytical mind is an absolute curse.

How came I to feel so strongly? I had not loved Clanross when I poured laudanum down
his throat. My feeling for Clanross was not an overnight flower. It had been growing for some
time. When was it planted?

It happened, I reflected, after he started walking the grounds and bathing in the lake and
began to feel better and look less wan and sleepless. It is a dreadful thing for a woman of
intellect to admit so physical a criterion for love. I wanted to evade the fact but there it was. I
was a mere animal after all, drawn by a bright eye and a healthy complexion. Alas. I knew that I
had persuaded myself to love Bevis the better because he was beautiful. Clanross was not, but he
was now far from being an antidote, and he had very fine eyes. And excellent shoulders and
well-shaped, long-fingered hands, and a pleasant voice, too.

Of course I had liked him for a long time--since he had organised the dinner for the
Chactons and put Willoughby's nose out of joint. Clanross was a generous, civilised man with a
lively sense of humour and a sharp mind. I liked him enormously.

But he thinks of you as a combination of Galileo and his nanny, I told myself,
suppressing a strong wish to howl, and he is consulting Aunt Whitby about suitable brides.

With a stab I recalled making up my mind to find him a wife. "Not Cecilia." Of all the
wrongheaded, arrogant, blind, feebleminded nitwits. Oh, wretched, wretched woman. Complete
ninnyhammer. Goat. I abused myself roundly. At least Cecilia knew her own feelings.

As I lay staring up at the blonde satin bedhangings it crossed my mind that I might as
well be at the bottom of the ornamental lake at Brecon. It is a curious fact that if one weeps while
lying on one's back the tears eventually trickle into one's ears.

There was no doubt that I loved Clanross. Like, love, lust--I was deep in all three with
very little idea how I had come to such a predicament. I believed Clanross liked me, at least
sufficiently to enjoy our exchanges and chess games. Try as I might, however, I could not push
the evidence beyond that.

As Bevis's friend he had shown no dismay at our betrothal--no blenchings or sighs or
speaking looks. He had fallen cheerfully into Aunt Whitby's scheme to find him a wife. Clearly,
he was not languishing after me.

I wondered if I could make him love me. I even wondered, I blush to confess, whether I
might not seduce him, but the idea was too humiliating. Let alone I had never seduced anyone in
my life and hadn't the least notion of how to go about it, Clanross was Bevis's friend. He would
not poach on Bevis's territory even if he wanted to. No, I'd have to endure my madness and hope
that in time it would fade. I did not think it would.

My sentiments in December had been correct and cousinly. I had felt compassion for his
suffering. No, that was not quite right. Pity and fright and exasperation. Grudging admiration for
his stoicism. Relief that, after all, he would make a presentable earl. And fear. I had feared
Clanross.

I was not a green girl. I loved Thomas Conway with my whole being, body and mind.
Every fragment of love of every kind that my experience had gained me focussed on him. An
emotion that powerful was indeed something to fear. I prized my liberty, but my heart had
betrayed me into a kind of enslavement, for there is surely nothing less like freedom than a
fruitless passion.