The Aim of a Lady (10 page)

“You’re sure? Can you walk?”

She took several steps to prove that she could, bent and unbent her arms and wagged her head back and forth. “You see? Quite whole and undamaged.”

“It’s no joking matter,” he retorted, still upset. “If you were not so small you would not have been flung out like that.”

She laughed at him. “Well, you can hardly blame me for being small, Alma. I trust no harm came to the horses.”

“I doubt they even realized you were thrown,” he responded exasperatedly. The absurdity of their argument occurred to him then and they stood on the lane laughing until Jenkins arrived to reprove them for their behavior.

Diana adopted a mock solemnity immediately. “I am perfectly all right, Jenkins, and if the horses are likewise there is no need for any further remonstrances. Alma touched against my wheel and has been scolding me for being so small as to fly out of the carriage.” She could not repress a gurgle of laughter, and the groom shook his head indulgently.

“Just so long as you’re all right, Miss Diana,” he grumbled and trudged off toward the stables.

“I think we are even now,” Alma said, gazing down at her amused eyes.

“Not precisely,” she said impishly, “but close enough.”

“Careful, you wretched girl. You will make me blush,” he rejoined as they started to walk down the lane. “You seem well accustomed to taking spills.”

“I have had any number of them. George was wont to call me Disaster Diana when I was a child, but he dropped it when I actually hurt myself one time. That hardly makes sense, does it?”

“It makes perfect sense, Diana. I wonder, though, that George taught you so many sports if you were continually being tossed about by every light breeze.”

Diana indignantly drew herself up to her fullest height. “I will have you know that I am the accredited woman archer of the area,” she proclaimed haughtily.

“Then I can only suppose that you intended to shoot me,” he rejoined, laughing.

“Mock me if you will, Alma. I am proud of being able to ride and drive and shoot a bow and arrow and fence and fish, and play billiards and dance and shoot a gun. I am grateful to George for teaching me.”

“So am I,” he admitted with a rueful grin. “And for letting you read about road surfacing and birds and plants and chariots.”

“Actually, I haven’t read much about chariots,” she said thoughtfully, forgetting to be on her dignity. “Josh asked me if the Romans used them for transportation and I could not be sure. I only know that they used them for racing.”

“You will have to read up on it,” he suggested, his eyes merry.

“Perhaps I shall.”

Before heading for the house they checked at the stables to be sure that no harm had come to the horses. Reassured on that score Alma proposed a quiet game of billiards, since their race had ended so abruptly. He had nothing to complain of in George’s pupil.

* * * *

George left the inn in Lymington early that morning and set off for Franston Hall with only a further ten miles to cover. His driving coat with its several capes was acceptable if not immaculate, and he arrived at Franston Hall with rising spirits. These had time to diminish as the minutes lengthened before there was an answer at the door.

The elderly butler who eventually responded to his summons assured him that the family was away from home.

George offered his card and asked if Miss Alonna Franston was expected there. He thought perhaps the rain had delayed her as well as himself and that he might have arrived before her, though with a day’s start it was highly unlikely.

“No, sir, we have had no word of her impending arrival. She and her father should be in London for the season.”

A comic look of dismay stole over George’s face. He had spent better than two days on a wild goose chase. “She has left London,” he explained to the patient butler, “and I had thought she might be coming here.”

The butler took pity on him. “Her sister near Colchester is expecting a child soon, sir. It may be that she has gone to her.”

George's spirits lifted. “Near Colchester, you say?” He felt ludicrously grateful to the old man in spite of the fact that Colchester must be a good forty miles on the other side of London.

“Yes, sir, Trafford Hall it is.”

“I thank you.” George expressed his gratitude financially as well as in words and immediately took himself off. Without further delay; he started back for London, but did not arrive at his house until late at night, exhausted, and beginning to think better of his unprecedented impetuous behavior.

* * * *

Allison and Walter Dodge arrived at the Park before Diana and her companions had finished luncheon. They were invited to partake of the meal and gladly accepted.

As she was seating herself, Allison explained, “We have been riding about the neighborhood all morning trying to dredge up every available person to come to dinner tonight. Mama has just heard from Aunt Louisa that she is arriving with her son and daughter this afternoon on their way to London.”

This explanation clarified all for Diana but meant nothing to Mrs. Lewis or Alma, so she turned to them to expand on her friend’s words. “Allison and Walter’s Aunt Louisa is the Countess of Langley and she expects to be entertained like royalty whenever she chooses to arrive at someone’s house. Mrs. Dodge usually has more notice, though.” She frowned. “Are they only spending the one night, Allison?”

“So we believe. The message was intolerably brief,” her friend remarked dryly. “Will you come? Mrs. Lewis and Lord Alma, too, of course. There will be dancing after.”

Mrs. Lewis had not had such an opportunity in years and beamed her pleasure at the idea. Lord Alma looked skeptical but asked, “Is her son Carson Barsett?”

Walter spoke for the first time. “Yes, do you know him?”

“I’ve met him several times in London. A very good fellow.”

"Then you will come?” Allison asked pleadingly.

When Alma continued to hesitate, Diana said, “If you will place an inconspicuous cushion on his dining chair, I am sure he can be convinced.” She smiled pertly at her guest, who raised an eyebrow in mock censure.

“I should be delighted,” he replied.

Allison giggled and said she would see to it personally. The brother and sister then rose to take their leave, since they had two more calls to make and still be at their home to receive their honored guests. “And, Diana,” Allison said, “Mama said I must especially tell you to look your best.”

With a slight flush Diana murmured, “You may assure her that I shall do so, Allison.” Her friend nodded and left.

Alma had overheard this interchange and considered it either extremely rude or highly mysterious. Since he found it difficult to imagine Allison Dodge deliberately being rude to her older friend, he decided that the customs prevailing in Cambridgeshire must be very different from those in his native Northampton.

During the afternoon Diana left Alma to his own devices, as she had much to do if she were to obey Mrs. Dodge’s instruction. George had several times brought her gowns from London, and she must look one out and have it ready to wear. She chose a striped poplin with a quilted petticoat in shades of blue and white. George had brought her long gloves of the same shade of blue which would reach to the elbow where the dress sleeve extended. It was necessary to look out matching slippers and reticule, as well as the ivory fan she kept for special occasions. The butler was instructed to retrieve the diamond necklace, diadem and earring set she had inherited from her mother. Her hair style was the most difficult change.

For the last five years Diana had purposely played down her looks. On special occasions such as this she obediently rigged herself out in the height of fashion, but she had learned that she did not really wish to attract the kind of attention she received when she dressed stylishly. Not that there was anything wrong with her daily outfits. They were acceptable garments in themselves, but were never fitted to her figure. Being small it was easy to allow for some growth, which would never take place now that she was almost three-and-twenty. Her usual hair style was a severe drawing back of her hair, tied with a ribbon. She always looked neat and clean—and uninspired. That was precisely what she wished.

George had discouraged this deliberate game of hers. He understood the reasons for it and sympathized with her but could not like it. However, there were few times when George was insistent with Diana about anything, and though he continued a gentle prodding at her about her attire, and brought her fashionable garments from London, he allowed her to go her own way.

Her maid’s assistance was necessary to achieve a decent hair style. Diana chose to have it combed up in back with a profusion of locks clustered about her face and a ringlet pulled down to rest on her left shoulder. The brown hair glowed from the brushing and made an enchanting frame for her face. Diana made an annoyed smirk at herself in the mirror; the hair style was very flattering. Her maid set the diadem carefully amidst the locks, its diamonds sparkling wildly in the late afternoon sunlight. Diana sighed.

When it was time to join Mrs. Lewis and Alma in the parlor she walked there nervously toying with her fan. A footman leaped to open the door for her and, with the memory of George’s instructions on elegance running through her head, drifted regally into the room. Mrs. Lewis turned to smile cheerfully at her and exclaimed, “My, how lovely you look, Miss Diana.” Alma stood, stunned. When Diana curtsied to him, murmuring, “Lord Alma,” he managed a bow with a startled, “Miss Savile.” They had drifted during the day into calling each other more familiarly, but the formality of the evening made a decided change.

Diana spoke with Mrs. Lewis for a few moments to assure her anxious friend that the gown she had brought from her cottage was charming and very appropriate for the evening. “You will find the Countess very stuffy no doubt, Mrs. Lewis, but do not let her put you out of countenance. She will try; she does with everyone she meets.”

“Oh.” Mrs. Lewis sighed with fallen hopes. “I dare say I shall not be able to say a word to her then. Anyone who wishes to is able to put me out of countenance.”

Diana gave a gurgle of laughter. “Well, I shall protect you from the dragon then, and Lord Alma will, won’t you, sir?”

Only vaguely aware of their discussion, Alma immediately agreed. He had decided that it was not Diana’s suitors who were lunatics, but she herself. If she possessed such stunning beauty she should not be hiding behind a dowdy hair style and uninteresting clothes. Dressed modishly she was a perfect miniature, delicately exquisite, almost fragile. He could think of nothing to say to her and found himself unaccountably awkward with her.

Taking no notice of his silence as they drove to the Dodges’, she spent the time attempting to put Mrs. Lewis at ease by regaling her with anecdotes of the Countess’s previous visits to the neighborhood. When they arrived and Lord Alma had been introduced to Mr. and Mrs. Dodge, the latter took Diana aside and nodded approvingly. “Thank you, my dear. I know it is never your wish, but I find Louisa rather intimidating on these visits and you always put me in heart.”

“Dear ma’am, it is no trouble for me, and George would be delighted.” Diana grinned at her hostess. “Does Mr. Dodge’s sister stay only the one night?”

“So she says. I am always pleased to see my niece and nephew and wish they would stay longer, but...”

“I understand perfectly, ma’am. Shall I introduce my companions to the Countess? You have more guests arriving.”

“Thank you, Diana, I should appreciate it.”

Diana beckoned to Mrs. Lewis and Lord Alma and approached the Countess of Langley without the least hesitation. Having met the woman on a dozen occasions, she was not a bit in awe of her. Allison was standing behind her aunt’s chair and said, “You will remember Miss Savile, Aunt Louisa.”

"Certainly I remember her,” the Countess replied, her sharp eyes regarding Diana suspiciously. “I see you are in your usual looks, Miss Savile. I cannot imagine what is wrong with the young men hereabouts that you are not wed yet, at your age.”

“It is a mystery to me, my lady,” Diana replied, her mouth twitching. “May I present my friend Mrs. Lewis, who is a resident of Linton?”

The countess did not take a moment to survey the old woman’s outmoded gown and remarked, “So I should suppose. How do you do, Mrs. Lewis?”

Mrs. Lewis curtsied slightly and murmured something unintelligible. Diana turned to Lord Alma and he stepped forward, elegant in his formal attire. “Lord Alma is a friend of my brother’s, Lady Langley. He is acquainted with your son.”

The countess raked Alma with piercing eyes. “Indeed. How do you do, Lord Alma?”

Alma bowed and replied politely, making some remark about having met Carson in London on several occasions. The countess appeared unimpressed with this knowledge but would have questioned him further had not Mrs. Dodge arrived to present other guests, and Diana was able to remove her guests from the lady’s presence.

When Diana had led Mrs. Lewis to a chair near Lady Edwards, and the two women had fallen into animated conversation, she took Alma across the room to where Walter stood with his cousins. Jenette remembered her from previous visits and her brother obviously did also. He clasped her hand firmly and murmured, “A pleasure, Miss Savile. It is too long between our meetings. Do you never come to London?”

“Very seldom, my lord. I believe you are acquainted with Lord Alma?” she asked, indicating her companion. While the two men acknowledged each other and discussed mutual friends, Diana took the opportunity to escape and greet her neighborhood friends as they arrived. She was soon the center of a group of young men and felt thankful when dinner was announced, only to find herself seated between Frank Edwards and Carson Barsett, both of whom were intent on attracting her attention.

During the soup she spoke politely with Frank, shifting her head toward Carson for the ragout of breast of veal. Frank once again claimed her while she picked at the boiled leg of Iamb with cauliflower. Diana refused the side dishes of jugged hare and marrow pudding but accepted a serving of roast pig at Carson’s urging. The second course consisted largely of fish and game, with apricot fritters and almond cheesecakes. Diana’s appetite, never large, deserted her long before her neighbors had completed their repast. Her neck had begun to ache from switching constantly back and forth between them and she gratefully followed Mrs. Dodge when the women retired.