The Aim of a Lady (3 page)

Alonna had not meant to laugh, and could have throttled herself for having done so, but he had looked too ridiculous. “I assure you I do understand, Lord Vallert, and I am honored by your offer. Though our acquaintance has not been of long duration, I do not believe we would suit.”

His eyes had grown furious at her laugh, which he considered the ultimate in insults. “We should become better acquainted during our engagement,” he said stiffly.

“That is putting the cart before the horse,” she answered sensibly, with an attempt at a conciliating smile.

“Your father has given his permission.”

“That is hardly enough to ensure a successful marriage,” Alonna said quietly. “In this case it means merely that he would not forbid me to marry you, not that I must. Please understand, Lord Vallert, that I hold you in esteem and do not wish to offend you, but I cannot marry you.”

“We shall see,” he had muttered as he bowed and left the room.

Alonna had not expected any repercussions from this proposal. It had taken place two days previously and she had not seen Lord Vallert in the meantime. His placement of the announcement had been done in a fit of pique, she imagined, but it would nonetheless cause her great embarrassment. An immediate retraction was obligatory, and even that would cause a great deal of talk in London. When a footman came to announce callers, she had them denied. The headache which she used as an excuse was fast becoming a reality.

There had been no hesitation in refusing Lord Vallert. It was not that she really supposed that she had made any impression on George Savile, though that was her fondest wish. He was much older than she, some fifteen years, but she had enjoyed his company so much that she found Lord Vallert and his contemporaries dull in comparison. Nevertheless, she knew she must appear inexperienced and unsophisticated to Savile, who had spent the greater part of his adult years in London and at the country seats of his numerous aristocratic friends. She had not seen him so very many times, at that, though she treasured each encounter and replayed it in her mind often enough. Now what would he think of her when her engagement was announced one day and withdrawn the next.

* * * *

George took leave of his sister and friend in the morning, which was the day the announcement of Alonna’s betrothal appeared in London. He continued to feel the sense of urgency which had been generated by his friend’s letter and covered the sixty miles to the capital in less than seven hours.

Behind him he left a sister determined to entertain his friend to the best of her ability, since she still suffered a certain amount of guilt in relation to the incident, and a friend determined to avoid any further contact with his sister, since she had provided him with sufficient pain and embarrassment to last his dignified self a lifetime. It was not a propitious beginning.

When Alma responded to a light tap on his door Diana stood in the doorway and bid him good morning. “I hope you are not still in pain, my lord,” she said when she met his unwelcoming scowl. “I can send for Mr. Thatcher if you wish.”

“That will not be necessary, as my man assures me the wound is healing well enough,” he replied stiffly.

“I’m glad to hear it. Do you plan to stay in bed today?” she asked curiously.

“I had not decided as yet.”

“If you should like to get up now, I shall wait for you and you can walk with me to Linton to speak with Mrs. Lewis. George would like her to stay while you are here,” she explained, a mischievous smile playing about her lips. “Are you so dangerous?”

He choked quietly where he lay on his stomach in the fourposter. “Not in the least, Miss Savile, and especially when I am wounded.”

“Then come. It will do you more good to walk with me than to lie about your bed. If you are tired later, I will read to you.”

Alma cast her a malignant glance and said stonily, “I am quite able to read, Miss Savile.”

“Excellent, Lord Alma. I’ll send your man to help you and will wait for you in the music room.” Before he had time to protest she softly closed the door.

He entered the music room nearly a half hour later to hear her play the concluding notes of a song which she hummed in accompaniment of herself. She looked up with a smile and he hesitantly returned it. “It does feel better to be up,” he admitted grudgingly. “I fell asleep while you and George were singing last night.”

“How flattering! Perhaps you will sing with me this evening.”

“Perhaps.”

“Lord Alma,” Diana said, as she rose from her seat at the harpsichord and came around to him, “was George wrong when he told me you would not hold a grudge for the accident?”

“No, of course not. It was as much my fault as yours.’’

“Then you are still upset that I took out the arrow,” she surmised. “You should not be. We all find ourselves in undignified positions at times and it is better to laugh at them than to suffer from them. I assure you, it did not damage your consequence in my eyes or George’s, so you must be the only one to regard it so.” She extended her hand to him, her eyes smiling kindly.

Alma gave a rueful grin and shook her hand. “As you say, Miss Savile. Let us forget it.”

Diana nodded. “I think you will like Linton. The River Granta flows by and then through the Park, and there are the most fascinating old buildings—a timbered inn, a gabled house with raised plaster work and thatched cottages. The Guildhall and the church are both worthy, too.” She continued to enlighten him concerning local history as they passed into the park and through an ancient clapper stile with bars that fell at a touch to let them pass over and then slipped back again. Diana led him first to the thatched cottage where Mrs. Lewis lived and disappeared inside when he chose to walk about alone.

Mrs. Lewis, the widow of a naval officer, welcomed the young woman warmly and offered her a cup of tea. The widow had resided in Linton for most all the years of Diana’s life and was a fixture in the village. She was short and round, with apple-bright cheeks only slightly wrinkled by age.

“Such a lovely day, Miss Diana, and I hear your brother has returned to the Park,” she chirped happily as she prepared the tea for them.

“Been and gone,” Diana laughed. “He hastened to London this morning.”

“But he had only just arrived! I know you were looking forward to seeing him.”

“Yes, but his business was urgent. He had invited a friend to stay and I have come to ask if you will join me at the Park for a few weeks, Mrs. Lewis. Lord Alma has been injured and George thought it would be best if you could come to stay, since his lordship cannot very well leave.”

“Is that he?” Mrs. Lewis asked as she watched a stranger stroll down the street. “He does not appear to be ill.”

“No, he is feeling well enough, but the injury necessitates his remaining. He cannot ride or drive for a while.”

“I see,” her companion said, though she obviously did not. “Well, Miss Diana, there is nothing I would enjoy more than to stay with you. When shall I come?”

“I will send the carriage for you and your luggage after luncheon, if you can be ready by then.”

The two women sat for a while and drank their tea, discussing the village and its recent happenings, before Diana excused herself to join Alma. “We are saved,” she grinned at him. “Mrs. Lewis can come.”

“I am grateful,” he sighed comically. As he walked along beside her, a bit of a limp appeared when he tired, though he was enjoying the warm sunshine.

‘‘Let me show you the church,’’ she offered when she noted his limp. It was frustrating that he could not sit down to rest hut he could lean against the arches resting on their Norman pillars. He hesitated to do so, determined not to show his weakness, but followed her lead when she rested against the cold stone. She pointed out the brass portrait of Nicholas Paris (“when we were children we called him Nick”) done in 1427 in armor with a lion and a sword. There was also the curious last-century family group in marble depicting a man holding his wife’s hand over a skull. The wife leaned on an hourglass, with a daughter in black and white above, and below there were eleven children kneeling in rows, five of them plump figures in nightdress and six in ghostly drapes. “I find that most unsettling,” she admitted, her finger pointed to the latter.

“Is there no legend hereabouts to explain it?”

“Dozens of them, and I find none of them acceptable.” She gave a shudder. “Shall we start for home?” When they emerged from the church they were greeted by Allison and Walter Dodge, a brother and sister whom Diana had known since her childhood.

Alma watched the meeting curiously, for there was that in Walter Dodge’s expression when he gazed on Diana which intrigued him. It was not difficult to see that Dodge was in love with Diana; and although Diana spoke warmly to him and teased the two with the ease of long affection, it was just as obvious that she did not return his regard. He heard Diana issue an invitation to her friends, “For we will need company, with George scurrying off for London the day after he arrived, and Lord Alma unable to ride due to an accident. Will you come tomorrow? Mrs. Lewis is arriving this afternoon to stay with me and I should not like to throw her into a fret her first afternoon."

After the Dodges agreed to present themselves the following morning, the two groups diverged. Diana set an easy pace, but Alma’s limp became more pronounced when they had still a half-mile to walk. “I am sorry you’re in pain, Lord Alma,” she said suddenly. “I have underestimated how fatiguing the walk to the village is.”

She did not like the drawn look about his face, but she knew that he was determined to continue until he dropped. Abruptly she drew the shawl from about her shoulders and laid it on the path. They could not be seen because of the dense growth of the trees, newly coming into leaf, and she seated herself on an edge of the shawl.

Alma gazed at her in astonishment and his mouth tightened. “I am perfectly capable of continuing our walk, Miss Savile.”

“Oh, don’t be a gudgeon! What do you think it will prove to me or you if you continue to walk until you fall on your face? Do you want me to see that happen?”

“It will not happen.”

“Certainly not, because you are going to lie down right now.” When he continued to regard her obstinately she continued, “I have no intention of leaving this spot until you have rested. Please?”

Exasperated, he gazed at her for a moment and then abruptly stretched himself full-length on his stomach on the shawl. He refused to look at her, and she began to hum a song softly, accompanied by the bird calls about them. His exhaustion overcame him and it was an hour before he awoke, refreshed and angry.

“Why did you let me sleep?” he protested.

“Why not? Are we in a hurry to be back?” She folded the damp shawl and tucked it under her arm as they continued their walk. “Shall I tell you what I think about when I sit quietly for a while?”

"If you wish," he grumbled, caught between curiosity and annoyance.

“I think about all the things I don’t know, and the things that I don’t even know I don’t know,” she said with a laugh. “And then I decide what I shall concentrate on learning next, and I wonder whether there will be anything about it in our library. George has a marvelous library, of course, but it cannot begin to satisfy my curiosity on certain subjects. Then I have to go to Cambridge to see what I can find. Do you like to wander through stores where they have old books? It is quite a hobby of mine.”

Alma looked rather startled. “What sorts of things are you curious about, Miss Savile?”

“Different things at different times. When I was younger I wanted to know the names of all the trees and plants that grew in the Park. Then I started to help Mr. Thatcher and I became very interested in medicine. Once, when we had an accident on the road, I wished to learn about road repair. There is a blind gentleman in Yorkshire, a Mr. John Metcalf, who is especially noted for his construction of roads and bridges. Imagine being sightless and knowing how to build roads over marshes!”

“How thoroughly do you study each of the subjects you choose, Miss Savile?”

“Oh, not so much as you probably suppose. I know

a tiny bit about many things, but I never seem to finish

studying something before a new interest crops up and

I have abandoned my previous one. I am rather shatter-

brained about it, I fear, but I enjoy it all the same.”

“Did you decide on something new to study while you waited for me to wake up?” he asked, a note of bitterness creeping into his voice.

“I did not wait for you, Lord Alma. I could have gone on to the Park had I wished. Actually, when I am thinking about all those possibilities for learning something new, I quite forget where I am. Did you picture me sitting there impatient to be on my way and annoyed with you for holding me back?” When he did not answer her, she smiled shyly at him and said, “I hope you will forgive me, but I forgot all about you until you spoke to me.”

Alma laughed, then said, “Oh, I believe you, Miss Savile, and you are forgiven, but you did not answer my question. Have you decided on something new to study?”

“Well, I cannot decide between the birds or the times when Nicholas Paris lived,” she said thoughtfully. “I’ve never finished my study of birds, but I am intrigued by what life was like in 1427. Do you know anything about that period?”

“Yes, more than I wish to,” he confessed. “Shall I send to Stillings for some books for you? I studied the period when I was up at Oxford.”

“Did you? And you would send for some of your books?”

“Certainly. You could study birds until they arrive,” he said, laughter dancing in his eyes.

“You are as bad as George, Lord Alma,” she sighed. “Are you not curious about things? George translates Greek and Latin sometimes, but I must confess that I would rather simply read the same works in my own language for I have never mastered another.”

“Not even French?” he asked, surprised.

“I can speak a few phrases, but my governess despaired of me and settled for globes instead. I have a solid knowledge of geography.”

“Thank heaven. How would one survive without a knowledge of geography?” he teased. “What a strange combination you are—an archer, a student of geography, a fencer, an assistant apothecary..."