The Miser's Sister (14 page)

“I wish I could remember her like this,” said Ruth wistfully.

“It is a long time since she died. Do you think of her often?”

“Oh, yes. She was the most wonderful person I have ever known.”

“Then the promise has been kept,” he muttered, adding, “Should you like a copy of the portrait?”

“I should like it of all things. Thank you, dear Uncle.”

“I will have one made for you. Go now, child. I have much work to do.”

Ruth looked back from the doorway. Sir John had sunk into a chair. One hand shaded his face, but she thought he looked old and unhappy. She ran back, dropped a light kiss on his thinning hair, then left him to his musing.

What promise kept, she wondered, could make him look so stricken?

* * * *

Rose made her appearance in Curzon Street on Wednesday morning as she had assured Ruth she would. Ruth was delighted, though disappointed that Oliver was not with her.

“Did he not return yet?” she asked anxiously, thinking of the dinner planned for that evening.

“He’s back, but he arrived very late last night and was still asleep when I left. I did not wait, as Papa wished to see him when he awoke. He will certainly be here tonight, do not worry.”

Ruth could not suppress a blush.

“I was only concerned because Sir John had waited on his return to invite you all. Rose, come to my chamber and see what Sir John has given me.”

She showed Rose the topaz on its thin gold chain.

“It will go perfectly with my gown, will it not? The one I wore at Christmas? I wanted to wear it tonight, only my aunt thinks it too dashing for a small party.”

“Never mind, I am sure you will have other occasions to show it off.”

“Rose, that is not
...
! Oh, you are teasing again! I fear I am growing quite unused to teasing since I left your house. Oliver will think me very slow and stupid.”

“Not if you are still willing to talk to him about his engines. It is next month, you know, that he goes down to Cornwall for the great balloon flight. I saw Mr Sadler’s ascension and it was monstrous exciting, but I should not wish to go up myself like Madame Blanchard. I daresay you would be quite happy to join Oliver in the skies.”

“I am not so venturesome, Rose, believe me, though I think there is little danger in a tethered balloon. I am simply interested in what makes a balloon rise, and had far rather your brother did not risk his life.”

“I doubt even you could dissuade him, my dear. Nay, do not blush. I am done teasing. I believe Oliver is wedded to his inventions and I should be sorry to raise hopes in anyone’s breast only because of a romantic rescue from smugglers. Mama is right, I read too many novels.”

Ruth was relieved that Rose apparently had no real suspicions of her feelings, even as she was disappointed with a sister’s candid view of her brother’s emotions. With a mental sigh, she turned the subject.

That evening she wore the amber merino that had been her first purchase in London. The addition of some lace trim, a lace fichu, and the prized topaz, turned it into an evening gown that her aunt found acceptable for that night’s indifferently regarded guests.

The first to arrive was Mr Peter Norwood, a Member of Parliament in his mid-thirties, whose bright-hued waistcoat and excessively high collar reminded Ruth of Mr Snaith. He had much the same effect on Letty, and he, having an eye to a pretty girl, immediately monopolised her attention. Having plenty of opportunity to exercise his eloquence in the House, he was able to compliment her in quite ordinary language and she seemed perfectly satisfied with his company.

The next arrival was Lord Theodore Barrington, a tall, shy young man. When Lady Hadrick discovered that her husband’s diplomat was the younger brother of a marquis, she visibly decided that after all the evening was not to be a complete waste of time. Her favourite niece already being deep in conversation, she introduced Lord Theodore to Ruth. He had time only to bow over her hand and stammer a few words when the Pardoes were announced.

Oliver followed his parents and his sister into the salon, shook hands with Sir John, bowed to his lady with coldness equal to her own, and nodded to Mr Norwood, with whom he was acquainted. Social obligations attended to, he came straight to Ruth.

She smiled up at him with eyes whose sparkle matched that of her jewel.

“Mr Pardoe,” she began, “I hope you are not over fatigued by your travels? Oh, excuse me, do you know Lord Theodore?”

She introduced them, fascinated to note a hint of a challenge in Oliver’s eyes. His lordship, however, was looking at Rose as he stumbled over his “how d’ye do’s.” Oliver followed his gaze.

“Let me present you to my sister, my lord,” he proposed affably. That done, he returned immediately to Ruth and remained at her side until dinner was announced.

It was as if they had never parted. Ruth enquired about his mission’s success, and they discussed the role of machines in making life a misery for the working classes. Oliver had to admit that that certainly seemed to be their effect, but he was convinced that in the end it would improve living conditions immeasurably. Being his father’s son, he blamed a great deal of their wretchedness on the Tory government’s policies.

Ruth agreed and pointed out that the country people were in even worse straits.

In general, they were in perfect agreement.

Lady Hadrick viewed with alarm the sight of her only worthwhile guest apparently mesmerised by Miss Pardoe, while her insubordinate niece hobnobbed with the banker’s son. As soon as dinner was announced, she sailed forward with a rustle of mulberry silks.

“Lord Theodore, you will take Lady Ruth in to dinner, will you not? So suitable, I’m sure.” His lordship cast a glance of dismay at Ruth and one of wistful longing at Rose. “And Miss Pardoe, you will go with Mr Norwood.” The MP looked up good-humouredly at his partner, who topped him by two or three inches. “Letty, I daresay Mr Pardoe will give you his arm, my dear. Sir John, you must take in Lady Pardoe.”

“Delighted, ma’am,” said her husband, the only gentleman pleased to follow her directions.

Sir Edward stifled a sigh as Lady Hadrick placed the tips of her plump, pink fingers on his sleeve.

“Allow me to escort my charming hostess,” he said nobly.

Lord Theodore spent the greater part of the meal gazing at Rose in tongue-tied admiration. Ruth wondered how he had ever obtained a diplomatic post. She had always thought diplomats to be silver-tongued gentlemen prepared to twist foreign dignitaries around their little fingers.

Fortunately, Sir Edward was on her left and they happily renewed their acquaintance. In fact, the party was small enough for conversation to become general, at least at each end of the table. A huge silver epergne in the centre obstructed Ruth’s view of her sister flirting with Mr Norwood.

Lady Hadrick’s presence did not allow Ruth and Oliver to continue their former free interchange of opinions. In spite of this, her ladyship observed with disapproval that they were on the easiest of terms. Determined that her niece should not throw herself away until and unless she were at her last prayers, she resolved to put a spoke in that wheel with all due dispatch.

The ladies rose and departed, leaving the gentlemen to circulate the port and brandy. In the drawing room, Ruth cornered Rose.

“I see you have made a conquest,” she said gravely. “I must beg you to surrender the key to the gentleman’s tongue, or he will surely lose his position in the foreign service.”

“He was not tongue-tied with me, you odious wretch.” smiled Rose. “He was charming and told the most amusing tales of King Louis’s court. He made me quite long to travel and see the customs of other lands.”

“What, Rose, have you fallen at last?” asked Ruth, no longer teasing. “You scarce know him!”

“Nor he me,” answered Rose soberly. “No, I’ll not fall with no more to land on than a half hour’s conversation, I assure you. Yet I should like to further the acquaintance. I daresay nothing will come of it.”

“If I can persuade him to speak to me, I shall invite him to call,” Ruth promised. “And you are always welcome, as you know. I shall be an interfering, match-making old maid, I vow.”

At last the gentlemen were heard in the passage. At once Lady Hadrick called Ruth to sit beside her. Pretending not to notice Oliver’s approach, she addressed her niece in a voice nicely calculated to reach his ear.

“My dear Ruth, I am so glad to hear that you are no longer betrothed to Walter Vane. A mere curate, and penniless, will not do for you at all. Why, even though he is related to his grace of Devonshire, he is but one step above a person engaged in trade. I know you understand me, child, for we always see eye to eye.”

Oliver turned away.

Ruth was furious with her aunt. How dared she deliberately interfere, and so rudely! She started up to go to Oliver and soothe his ruffled feelings, but already he was deep in a political discussion with the two baronets and the Member of Parliament.

She thought he deliberately avoided catching her eye, and some of her vexation spilled over onto him. Surely he knew her better than to believe that she agreed with Lady Hadrick. And, anyway, what right had he to assume that those words were directed at him? She had never given him reason to suppose that he might supplant Walter in her affections. But Aunt Hadrick appeared to think a warning necessary, and Rose had been teasing her on the subject. Perhaps she had, without knowing it, worn her heart on her sleeve.

Confused and humiliated, Ruth decided she must be on her guard. She would treat Oliver with cool friendliness in future. Her gratitude toward him allowed no less, her pride no more. Her aunt’s machinations were succeeding only too well.

Meanwhile, Lady Hadrick had quickly moved on to extract Rose from Lord Theodore’s orbit and substitute Letty. The unfortunate young gentleman was floundering like a fish out of water as Letty interrogated him about Parisian modes. Recalling her promise to Rose, Ruth went to his rescue.

“Letty, I do believe Lady Pardoe wishes for a word with you,” she said mendaciously. “I’m sure Lord Theodore will excuse you.”

“Happy to, Lady Laetitia.” In his relief, his lordship found his tongue.

After some searching, Ruth found a subject on which he was able to converse reasonably fluently. He was, it seemed, a connoisseur of art, and he told her about the paintings and sculptures that Napoleon had collected from all corners of Europe. Ruth was completely ignorant, and not particularly interested, but she managed to think up enough questions to keep the lecture going until Rose joined them.

She was amazed at the way his shyness vanished in Rose’s presence. Within a very short time they were both addressing him as Theo, and he did indeed have many amusing anecdotes about the court at Versailles.

Inevitably Lady Hadrick found another excuse for bearing Rose away. However, now that the ice was broken, Theo did not lose his tongue again, and he kept Ruth entertained until the arrival of the tea tray.

Ruth had been enjoying herself, but now, looking around, she realised that Oliver was missing, and at once her pleasure disappeared. True to her resolution, she would not ask where he had gone. Lady Pardoe, noting her long face, supplied the answer.

“Oliver was fagged to death after his journey,” she told Ruth kindly. “He has excused himself and gone home to bed.”

This brought Ruth no satisfaction. He had left without taking his leave of her, therefore he was still offended. And worse, Lady Pardoe believed she wished to know his whereabouts. Was there anyone at all who had not noticed her interest in him?

Never had the ritual of the tea table seemed so wearisome.

* * * *

Oliver had indeed been exhausted after a thoroughly unpleasant stay in Yorkshire and an endless drive south through snow, sleet, mud, and slush. Nor did several glasses of champagne and a couple of snifters of brandy add to the clarity of his mind. Had he been his normal assured self, he might have laughed away Lady Hadrick’s insult, especially as it had confirmed his suspicion of a breach with Walter.

As it was, his thoughts to some extent paralleled Ruth’s. He was loath to believe that she could be influenced by her aunt’s views. However, he had had similar misgivings on his own account, and so could not dismiss them out of hand. Unwilling to attempt to discover Ruth’s feelings in so public a situation, he had turned from her and immersed himself in politics, which usually was of minor interest to him.

The next time he had looked for her, she had been laughing heartily at something Lord Theodore had said, her small face lit up in a way he had thought reserved for him.

His immediate reaction was a totally uncharacteristic murderous rage. He could happily have shot down his lordship on the spot. This should have warned him, as a peaceable man, that he was too tired to think straight. Fortunately, he was also too tired to follow his next impulse, to plant his right fist on the fellow’s impudent grin.

It was not, of course, entirely Lord Theodore’s fault, he admitted. What did Ruth mean by encouraging him in that forward way? With that sweet, treacherous face laughing up at him like that, the poor man hadn’t a chance. So Ruth had decided to heed her aunt’s advice, had she? The son of a marquis was more to her liking than a tradesman, a failed inventor. Well, let her cast out her lures; he wished her luck!

Rather unsteadily, he took his leave of his host and hostess, pleading fatigue. It was a fine night, frosty, with a star-filled sky, and he half intended to walk home to clear his head. However, after one look, Jameson insisted on calling a hackney, and he fell asleep on the way home.

Chapter 14

The next morning, when Rose asked Oliver to accompany her to Curzon Street, he growled at her.

Rose scarcely noticed. She was wondering whether it was too much to expect that Theo would be there.

The night before, when Lord Theodore had departed, both Lady Hadrick and Ruth warmly pressed him to call again. Noting the blank look and stammer which promptly overcame him, Ruth whispered, out of her aunt’s hearing, “Miss Pardoe is a frequent visitor, Lord Theodore.”