The Fifth Kiss (9 page)

They made their way down to the second floor toward their bedrooms to dress for dinner. While they strolled down the long hallway, Olivia took the opportunity to ask her sister if all was well with her.

“Why do you ask?” Clara countered, throwing her sister a quick look and then dropping her eyes.

“You are becoming quite thin,” Olivia said, aware of a sudden sting of alarm.

“Yes, isn't it delightful? One or two more months of my diet and I shall be as slim in the waist as I was when Miles and I were married,” Clara said, giving her sister a bright smile.

Olivia studied her sister sharply. “I don't see why you should find it necessary to reduce your waist. I find you quite satisfactory just as you are.”

“But
you
, my love, are not a man,” her sister said, slipping an affectionate arm around Olivia's slim waist.

“Are you starving yourself to please
Strickland
?” Olivia demanded in irritation.

“Now, who
else
would I wish to please?” Clara retorted promptly.

Olivia stopped in her tracks and faced her sister angrily. “Did he dare to call
you fat
?”

Clara laughed. “No, of course not.” She continued down the hall, leaving her sister frowning after her. “It was entirely my own idea. But do come along, Livie. I've given you the corner room down at the end of the hall. It has a view of the garden, and you'll be able to gaze down on all the spring flowers. Here we are. Mrs. Joliffe has unpacked your things, so you won't have anything to do but change your dress. Do hurry. All this talk of dieting has made me feel completely famished.”

Olivia could sense that her sister was being evasive, but she did not press her further. They had always respected each other's privacy. However, as the days went by, it became increasingly clear that Clara was ill. Sometimes Olivia noticed that she would suddenly stiffen, as if seized with pain. Some mornings she did not get out of bed, and Olivia would notice that Mrs. Joliffe ran in and out of her mistress's bedroom bearing teapots and medicines and looking long in the face. But if Olivia dropped in to see her sister as such times, Clara would sit up in bed with a smile and say, “It's only the headache, my love. I'll be up and about in an hour or two.”

Olivia's days were spent with the children. In the mornings she often took Amy riding while Perry attended to his lessons. In the afternoons, she and Perry would immerse themselves in a game of pretense. He was King Othar with a round table of knights, among whom Sir Budgidore was the favorite. Olivia took the role of Gorgana, the wicked enchantress whose evil designs for the overthrow of King Othar's court Perry would ingeniously outwit. Sometimes, Clara would carry her embroidery frame up to the nursery and sit with her sewing as she smiled indulgently at their foolishness. And Amy would perch on her little chair and listen to their dramatics with the fascination of a completely uncritical, worshipful playgoer.

Clara's plans for traveling about to see the nearby sites of historical interest, for visiting neighbors and for holding ceremonial teas in her sister's honor were for the most part abandoned as the days took on a pleasantly lazy contentment. Olivia found the peace and tranquility of the days surprisingly to her liking. She did not miss the bustling stimulation of London nearly as much as she thought she would. She suddenly understood why her sister disliked being away from her home for long. There was a great deal to be said, she realized, for the joys of domestic life.

But then Lord Strickland unexpectedly arrived. Olivia could hear, even from the third-floor nursery where she was ensconced at the time of his arrival, the great bustle of servants, the shouts of the grooms, her sister's squeal of pleasure as his lordship's carriage drew up to the door. Tremors of excitement spread through the household from the kitchen to the stables as special menus were planned, formal uniforms were donned, horses were groomed, the second largest dining room opened, his lordship's suite of rooms aired, and the children washed and brushed and dressed to greet him. Olivia was convinced that there would not have been a greater fuss if
royalty
had descended on the house.

Even Clara's normal placidity was affected by her husband's arrival. She became more animated and energetic than Olivia had ever seen her, bustling about the house making certain that his lordship's breakfast was kept warm, that his shirts were immaculately laundered, that the children were ready for him whenever he asked to see them, and that his every wish was instantly and flawlessly granted. Her extraordinary efforts in his behalf, surprisingly, did not seem to tire her. Her eyes shone, her step was light, she dressed herself with more than her usual care, and, Olivia noted, she even rouged her cheeks—an artifice which Olivia had never before known her to use.

It was plain that Strickland was far from delighted to see his sister-in-law on the premises, and since Olivia was equally discomfitted by
his
presence, she went to her sister's bedroom and announced that she would return to London the next day.

“I won't hear of it,” Clara said firmly, jumping up from her dressing table. “You promised to give me a
month
, and you've been here less than a fortnight.”

Olivia sighed. “But surely you don't want me
now
, with Strickland at home.”

“Of
course
I do! It is not often that I have my
dearest
ones around me. Having you all here together is what I love above anything.”

“Strickland would not agree with you,” Olivia said frankly. “You
know
we don't get on at all well.”

“Yes, I know. But I think it's foolish on both your parts to hold one another in dislike when you would each find much to admire in the other if only you would open your minds.”

“Well, we won't, so there's little use in forcing us to live under the same roof. I really prefer to go, Clara.”

Clara seemed to droop as she turned and walked back to her dressing table. “Please don't go,” she said quietly. “I … I
need
you here.”

“
Need
me? I don't understand.”

Clara stared at the reflection of her sister in her mirror. “Please, Livie … I don't want to explain it all just now. But Miles will be staying for no longer than a week. That is not too much to endure, is it? And when he's gone … I shall tell you all.”

“Tell me
what
, Clara?” Olivia asked. The alarm she'd felt when she'd first arrived returned in full measure. “Is something wrong?” She came up behind her sister and put a hand on her arm. “Are you ill?”

Clara patted her hand and turned to face her again. “Let's not talk about it now. Only promise me you'll stay.”

There was nothing Olivia could do but agree. To please her sister, she asked no more questions and endeavored to put the problem out of her mind. Her sister evidently wanted to enjoy her family's proximity, and Olivia didn't wish to detract from her happiness. Whatever it was that troubled her could wait for another week.

For the next two days, Strickland treated his wife's guest with cold but meticulous politeness. He inquired about her health, asked if she found her room satisfactory and requested that she send his best wishes to her family when she wrote to them. Beyond that, they said little to each other but “good morning” and “good evening,” and they took care to stay out of each other's way. The most unendurable times occurred during their dinners together. Clara tried valiantly to keep a stream of conversation flowing, but her husband's monosyllabic answers and her sister's lowered eyes and occasional sarcastic comments made her attempts pitiful failures. They all would then lapse into awkward silence and were glad to escape from the table as early as possible. Olivia always took herself off to bed soon after dinner, hoping that Clara and her husband would then be able to enjoy what was left of the evenings in their own company.

Three days after his lordship's arrival, Olivia returned from a walk through the gardens to discover Miss Elspeth crouched on a ledge behind the stairs leading to the nursery, weeping bitterly. “Good heavens, Miss Elspeth,” she asked in consternation, “whatever is amiss?”

“Oh, M-Miss Olivia,” the young woman sniffed, trying to control her sobs by dabbing at her cheeks with her soaking handkerchief, “I'm afraid I … I … shall be given my notice … although his lordship didn't actually
say
I shall be given the sack, but …”

“The sack? Why? What have you done?”

“His l-lordship s-says … I'm not fit to … instruct M-Master P-Perry …”

“Oh, dear!” Olivia sank down beside the distraught governess and put an arm around her shoulders. Elspeth Deering was a sweet-faced, soft-spoken, gentle young woman of twenty-six or -seven who, now that Olivia thought about it, was just the sort to drive her short-tempered brother-in-law to distraction. For Elspeth Deering could be described in one word—wispy. Her hair, her clothes, even her manner of speech seemed to trail off behind her in little, left-behind wisps. A strand of hair would always slip free of its pins and need tucking in, or her sash would come undone and trail along behind her. Even her sentences would peter out in a lost direction or a mire of contradiction.

Elspeth was the daughter of a now-deceased country vicar and had been quietly reared and properly educated, but her character had no force. Her knowledge of literature was only adequate, but her mastery of the pianoforte commendable and her talent for drawing almost remarkable. Clara was quite satisfied with her devotion to her charges, and the children, in their turn, were very fond of her. But Olivia had to admit that her background, while suitable to educate a girl, was inadequate for a boy who would be entering Eton in a few years. She studied the governess's bent head worriedly. Given Strickland's impatience with weakness and vacillation, and his desire to see his son properly prepared for his future schooling, it was not surprising that he'd wish to dispense with her services. She could quite understand Miss Elspeth's alarm. “But his lordship didn't actually
say
he would sack you, you say?”

“N-No, not in so many words … but he was highly d-displeased by the course of study Perry is c-currently embarked upon. No L-Latin, you know … and no his-history …”

“But Perry is only
seven
. Surely it's a bit early for Latin and history. Perhaps in two or three years, his lordship can hire a tutor to drill the boy in those subjects—”

“Yes, that's just what L-Lady Strickland t-told him. But he
insisted.
..”

“Insisted that she find a tutor
now
?”

“Y-Yes! Oh, Miss Olivia, what am I to … I mean … where am I to turn, that is, if …?” Her voice grew faint and trailed off in its usual wispy way.

Olivia thought for a moment and then got to her feet. “You are to wipe your eyes and go about your business. I don't think you'll be sacked at all. If I know anything of my sister, she intends to keep you on, tutor or not tutor. After all, there is still Amy to be educated. And
both
children still need you, even if Perry will be having lessons from a tutor as well. So stop reddening your pretty eyes.”

The governess wiped her eyes with trembling fingers. Olivia noticed that the fingers were long and finely shaped and that her face had a sensitive delicacy. She was obviously a young woman of deep feelings, and Strickland was a
boor
to have handled her so thoughtlessly. For the thousandth time in three days she wondered why her sister had fallen in love with—and married—such a blackguard. She tucked up a fallen lock of Miss Elspeth's hair with sympathetic gentleness.

Elspeth looked at her gratefully. “Are you certain they will k-keep me on, Miss Olivia? After all, his lordship may not
wish
to have two of …”

“I am
fairly
certain that his lordship has no intention of giving you notice. But I shall speak to Lady Strickland on the matter at once. Promise me you'll try not to worry until I speak to you again.”

Olivia found her sister in the front hallway, handing her shawl to Fincher as she smiled up at her husband lovingly. The pair had evidently just returned from a stroll. Clara's cheeks glowed from the touch of the spring breezes, and her eyes looked happier than they'd been since Olivia had arrived. Amazed at the effect love had upon her sister, Olivia realized once again how ignorant she was of the mysteries of marital affection. Strickland was away from home most of the time, was arrogant and demanding when he
was
at home, and yet a mere afternoon in his company had given his wife this inner glow! What
was
the magic that love produced that could so transform a woman?

She was about to steal away when Strickland saw her. Hastily excusing himself, he quickly vanished into the library. Clara came up to her sister with a smile. “You look as if you've a weighty problem on your mind,” she said airily.

Olivia hesitated. She hated to dispel her sister's happy mood, but she'd given Miss Elspeth her word. “It's the governess, Clara. You're not going to give her the sack, are you?”

Clara's brows rose in surprise. “Give her the
sack
? Of course not! What gave you such a ridiculous idea? Why, Miss Elspeth is like one of the family.”

Relieved, Olivia took her sister's arm and walked with her to the stairs. “But will you be hiring a tutor for Perry? I think he's too young to be forced into serious study, don't you?”

Clara sighed. “Yes, I think so, too. But Miles is quite adamant. He said that
he
had a tutor at the age of
six
. Besides, he says that Perry's head is too full of whimsicalities and nonsense. He's probably quite right about that.”

“I don't know,” Olivia demurred. “I remember having a head full of phantoms and fairy stories when I was his age. I don't see the harm …” But Perry was not
her
son, she realized. It was not her place to interfere, and she stopped herself abruptly. Clara could handle the problem of her son's education without her sister's help. But at least she could go back and tell Miss Elspeth that her position was secure.