The Admiral's Daughter (25 page)

The letter served to remind Maggie that there were other troubles in the world besides her own. She wished Miss Haversham all the happiness in the world, and thought the lady would have it, if there was any justice. She wondered once again what kind of help she could offer. With no knowledge of this world, in which Miss Haversham moved so easily (though at such a cost to her own peace of mind), and now without the benefit of her own cousin's support, Maggie could not see how she could be of any service to her friend. And yet she wished most heartily to do anything she could. Indeed, the resolution had been formed in the first day of quitting Essex that heretofore she should help anyone she could, that she should be altogether a kinder, calmer, and less impetuous being.

Nearly a fortnight after Lady Ramblay had opened up her house in Town, the first of the regular subscription balls at Almack's was held. Maggie had long looked forward to seeing this famed landmark of the fashionable world, and though her taste for balls and society in general had been somewhat diminished of late, she dressed with greater care than usual on this Wednesday evening. Her preparations were not all for the dowager patronesses of the cotillion, either; since that fateful day upon the road to Essex, she had eagerly anticipated meeting Captain Morrison again. With a little flush of shame at being so easily swayed from the path of strict virtue and puritanical conduct she had set for herself, she glanced into the glass, on the way out of her apartment, at a handsome young woman, prettily dressed, and with her eyes radiant with happy anticipation.

The assembly rooms were already full by the time Lady Ramblay and her charges ascended the marble steps into the central foyer. A stream of tonnish men and women passed them by, the ladies resplendent in satin and French silk, the men as proud as peacocks in waistcoats of every hue, or the newer style of stark black and white. Lady Ramblay instantly saw an acquaintance and moved off, leaving the young ladies to fend for themselves amid a crowd of young people. Miss Ramblay seemed to know them all, and her great pleasure at being surrounded in a moment by an admiring group of officers made Maggie smile. But there was only one officer who interested
her
,
and at length she began to fear he had not come. Captain Morrison had promised her the first set of country dances, but was it not very likely he had forgotten? The idea that he might even have forgotten
her
was too dreadful to think about. She was just beginning to give up all hope of seeing him when her eye lit on the figure of a tall, fair gentleman standing with his back to her. She could not mistake those shoulders, nor that happy, unconscious way of standing, with one foot linked about the other ankle. Though she could not see his face, and had only known him for about two hours altogether, her heart leaped up at the sight. The gentleman was deep in conversation with another man, a slighter, darker gentleman whom Maggie took at once to be a foreigner, an Italian perhaps. This last gentleman was standing facing in her direction, and as he talked, he kept glancing up, as if looking for someone. His eyes swept over the crowd in which Maggie and her cousin were standing and seemed to catch on Fanny Ramblay. There followed more conversation, and at last the Italian seemed to be nodding in her own direction. Now the fair gentleman turned around, and Maggie saw at once that she had not been mistaken. His glance met her own instantly, and his face lit up in a smile. In another moment he was by her side, bowing and smiling and hoping she had not forgotten that he had claimed her hand for the first set.

Maggie made no effort to hide her pleasure. Captain Morrison, she saw at once, was just as amiable, just as delightfully unconscious as he had struck her upon their first meeting. She went willingly ahead of him into the ballroom, and for the first time since she had been in the capital, felt completely at ease and at home, even amid this gala array of the cream of society. Captain Morrison was obviously happy to see her. His admiration was so evident, and his gaiety so genuine, that her own recent troubles seemed to fall away from her simply from being near him. With a laugh, he inquired how she liked the Great World and all its citizens? Were not they a very haphazard lot? Lady Jersey passed by just then, and he murmured, “There goes one of our most consequential ladies, Miss Trevor. Does not she exactly resemble a prune?” And Maggie could not control her mirth at this fitting description.

The music soon struck up, and having waited for the Princess Lieven and her husband, the Russian Ambassador, to take their places at the head of the line, the younger people followed suit. When they stood opposite each other, Captain Morrison wondered how she had found Ramblay Castle.

“Very grand, and very lonely,” she replied, smiling.

“And your cousin? Was my description of him justified?”

“If you mean, is he a man of duty above all, yes; but he was very kind to me, until I angered him. I wish most heartily now I had not been so quick to judge him.”

Captain Morrison was all eagerness to know what she meant, but Maggie could not tell him the whole history, feeling that to do so would entail divulging the same secret which had been kept from her so long. She said at last,

“I thought Lord Ramblay was driven only from a love of duty, as you yourself made me believe; but now I have an idea that he is more passionate than he seems, that he has deeper feelings than his cold exterior would suggest. In truth, I had the misfortune to see that passion revealed in a show of temper before I quit Essex, and unhappily, I cannot believe it was unjustified.”

Captain Morrison stared at her a moment. “I have had a taste of Ramblay's temper, too. I suppose you know nothing about that?”

“Only what you yourself have told me, and in truth,
your
account of my cousin is the only reason I have to believe he is anything other than thoroughly honorable. It was partly on account of taking your opinion of him too much to heart that I angered him.”

“What! I hope you did not make any mention of
me
!”

“Certainly not; you asked me not to mention our meeting.” Maggie noticed his look of relief, and continued, “But I
did
begin to imagine, from your tale of his marriage, that he was capable of all kinds of cruel things and, in the desire to prove what my imagination had let me fabricate, I made a thorough idiot of myself.”

“I hope you did not. Indeed, I cannot believe you are
capable
of making an idiot of yourself, Miss Trevor. But allow me to say, if it will not offend your natural loyalty to your cousin, that Lord Ramblay has a knack for making others seem foolish, if it will help to preserve his
own
dignity. He has precious little regard for human weakness.
I told you about his wife—but no doubt you have heard another version of the story from
him.
”

Maggie denied the fact, adding that so little mention had been made of either the marriage or the last Viscountess that she had begun to think there was some mystery attached to the business. “And, to my great shame, I actually imagined there might have been some really evil act committed!”

Captain Morrison stared at her without replying. “And no one
else
gave you reason to think otherwise?”

Surprised, Maggie shook her head. “No! But, sir, I cannot believe, having seen what I have of Lord Ramblay, and having some other testimony of his character to go upon—” here Maggie was thinking of Miss Haversham—“that he could be capable of anything really cruel. Perhaps a natural coolness of temperament, perhaps even the unconscious cruelty of aloofness, distance, from his wife; but more than that, I cannot conceive!”

The officer smiled. “You are very warm in his defense, Miss Trevor. And yet you say he was very angry at you. How do you forgive his temper so readily—for I must tell you that I have seen how violent that temper can be.
I
could not forget it so easily as you seem to have done. And I cannot believe that you deserved it any more than I did.”

The movements of the dance now drew them apart, and in the minutes it required to go down the line, curtsy to an elderly gentleman who smiled broadly back, and return to her partner, Maggie had made up her mind to tell the Captain the whole story of her encounter with little James. Whatever reason he might have to think ill of Lord Ramblay (and she surmised his dislike must arise chiefly out of resentment at the treatment of his friend, the late Viscountess), she could not let him believe that her cousin had been unfair in losing his temper against
her.
If Lord Ramblay never spoke to her again, she must yet have the satisfaction of knowing that her own conscience was clear upon the point of her honesty. Let him think what he might of
her
, she would defend
him
, even when his treatment of her was a reasonable justification for bitterness.

But Captain Morrison's thoughts seemed to be elsewhere when next she saw him. His eyes kept wandering to a corner of the ballroom, and Maggie, following his gaze,
was amazed to see Fanny Ramblay smiling into the face of the very gentleman Morrison had been speaking to earlier. The little fellow was bending over Miss Ramblay's hand and evidently complimenting her, for the young girl's cheeks were flushed pink and there was a look of immense gratification upon her face.

“Why!” exclaimed Maggie, “I see that my cousin Fanny is talking to your friend—I did not know they were acquainted.”

Captain Morrison nodded and smiled, still staring at the couple.

“I do not think they were, until this very moment. But Orsini has been admiring her since he set eyes upon her, and I see he has not lost any time in introducing himself.”

“Is he an old friend of yours?” inquired Maggie doubtfully, for she did not like the look of the little fellow particularly. Though handsome, his eyes were very black and darting, and his tongue seemed to flick out of the corner of his mouth as he spoke, much like a lizard.

“He is one of my greatest intimates,” replied the officer.

“In that case,” said Maggie in relief, “I suppose he is a respectable gentleman. I know that Italians are not—are not meant to be. What I mean to say is, my cousin is so very innocent that she does not have the least conception of caution with gentlemen, and if he might take advantage of a trusting nature——”

Maggie had spoken in some confusion, and now Captain Morrison cut her off with a laugh. “What you mean to ask, Miss Trevor, is if Count Orsini is a famous fortune hunter? Upon my word, ma'am, I protest! I admit he
does
rather have the look of a snake, but a better fellow I have never known, nor a more gentle one. His family is as old as Caesar, and nearly as rich. Italians have a most unfortunate reputation in our delightful country, but I promise you Orsini bears no resemblance to the old prototype of the poverty-stricken nobleman in constant search of innocent heiresses. Quite the contrary. I think his own fortune is five times that of Miss Ramblay's portion. She could do far worse than to marry him, and a dance or two—which is certainly all he desires—will not harm her.”

Much relieved, and feeling rather foolish, Maggie allowed herself to be teased a moment longer. The music subsiding soon afterward, and Captain Morrison led her
to an alcove where some chairs were arranged, saying he would go off in search of refreshment. Maggie watched him disappear through the crowd with a smile. In truth, there was no looking at that face and form without one; Captain Morrison could have charmed a snake from out of the very grass. Certainly he had done his work upon
her.
Maggie had not been in his company five minutes when she had begun to feel the unhappy thoughts of the last week roll off her shoulders. The merriment in his eyes denied every other trouble, and yet Maggie was very sensible of a more serious side to his character, and this combination of sense, feeling, and gaiety was more appealing to her than all the titles and fortunes of Europe. She thought he liked her own mind quite as well—his admiration was clearly written in his eyes, and she believed he admired her as much for her soul as for her beauty. It was just this kind of admiration she had always looked for in a man. She had always thought that when she should find herself attracted to a gentleman in such a way, she should have found her husband. It was with no less a serious idea than this that she now determined to be absolutely open with him. She would lay the whole truth before him, and trust his judgment. If he could persuade her that Lord Ramblay was still in the wrong, after what she told him, she should herself admit it. If, on the other hand, he concurred that she had been guilty, she should waste not a moment in trying to make up for her actions.

Looking up from her reverie, Maggie's eye lit upon the figure of Diana Montcrieff making her way toward the dance floor on Mr. Whiting's arm. They paused in their progress to speak to Fanny Ramblay, who still stood with the Italian count. She saw Miss Montcrieff's head go back in a laugh, and the Italian stare at her admiringly before bending down to kiss her hand. This kissing of hands seemed to please the ladies greatly, though it was in poor taste to do so when the ladies were neither married nor of royal blood, and once again a little flicker of uneasiness swept over Maggie. She quelled it instantly, but no matter how she tried, she could not like the appearance of the Count, who looked as oily as a fish, and about as slippery.

Now Captain Morrison, bearing two goblets of champagne, appeared in the entrance to the ballroom, and catching sight of the group around Miss Ramblay, made his
way over to them. There followed a little interchange, and Maggie could see that the officer was trying to bow without spilling the contents of the goblets, and that something he had said struck everyone as very amusing. Maggie began to grow impatient. It seemed to her the conversation was going on too long, and the keen interest Captain Morrison was paying her cousin began to irritate her. Miss Montcrieff and Mr. Whiting now moved off, but still Captain Morrison lingered with his friend and the young lady, whose glowing cheeks and radiant eyes spoke eloquently of her pleasure in these two gentlemen's company. Maggie scolded herself for this unreasonable tremor of jealousy. Had not Fanny as much right to Captain Morrison's attention as herself? And had not she, from youth and inexperience, even more reason to be flattered by it?