Winterwood (23 page)

“What a frivolous idea! Who are you planning to impress?”

“Well—Simon will be home. He imagines himself so grand. And”—Flora blushed violently, “I had thought Mr. Bush looked at me with a little admiration. If I could look older—” Flora saw Lavinia’s smile and finished in her old belligerent style, “Well, he is too young and bashful for you, but for me—he could be a
beginning!”

“Why, Flora, what secrets! By all means let us have Mr. Bush expiring of love for you. It will be good for you both.”

“Miss Hurst! I only meant to practice on him. One must have some experience with the opposite sex.”

“That is very true.”

“He wanted to see my sketches. Perhaps tomorrow, if the sun is shining, we could go down to the lake with our sketchbooks.”

“By all means. Let us plan how to ravish Mr. Bush!”

Although Flora had not again had any movement in her toes, and no one was certain whether or not she had imagined it, her father still decided that she was to go and see the London specialists.

The journey was made just three weeks before Christmas. Eliza came to give assistance in lifting Flora, and Mary because it pleased Flora to take her.

Mary had never been on a train in her life. She squealed with apprehension and excitement. She thought she would be sick and then she thought she would not. Eliza scolded her, and Flora smiled indulgently, as if she were twenty years Mary’s senior.

“You’ll be no use to me if you’re going to jump about like this all the time we’re in London,” she said severely.

Mary subsided, trying to be meek.

“Yes, miss. I’ll keep still.” She caught Daniel’s eye, was not sure whether he was angry or not, and whispered abashedly, “I do declare I never went so fast in my life.”

Daniel had not caught the prevailing high spirits. He was aloof and unsmiling. Lavinia supposed he was thinking of Charlotte left behind, insisting that London tired her too much and she would be perfectly happy with Edward for company. Or perhaps he was thinking how sad it was that Mary, the daughter of one of his farm laborers, should be able to skip from window to window while his own daughter was a prisoner in her chair. Or was he wondering how often Jonathon Peate would call on his “dear cousin” while they were away?

The visit to the doctor, an eminent bone specialist in Harley Street, was reasonably hopeful. He pronounced a great improvement in Flora’s general health and spirits, and was sure that this was the most important factor toward her recovery.

Daniel insisted that Lavinia be there while the doctor gave his verdict since the care of Flora was hers.

“She’s a different child, Mr. Meryon. I warned you that the shock of the accident, or perhaps the state of mind of the patient before she had the accident—I don’t pretend to know what that was—would take a long time to pass. But now that seems to have happened. I find your daughter much less nervous and much less inclined to hysterical behavior. I don’t know what has effected this change—time, her travels abroad, which must have proved an agreeable diversion, the right companionship. Whatever the reason, my prognostications for the future are hopeful. Keep her happy and calm, Mr. Meryon. The trauma will pass. I believe I can promise you that she will be leading an active life before too long.” His eyes twinkled kindly. “At least before the time comes for her to put her hair up and go to her first ball. Take a positive line with her, Mr. Meryon. Don’t allow her to believe anything but what I have said.”

Daniel looked at Lavinia.

“It is Miss Hurst who does that. I think there you find the reason for Flora’s improvement.”

The doctor regarded Lavinia keenly.

“Then you have been fortunate, Mr. Meryon. My advice would be to hold on to your good fortune.”

“Thank you, doctor. But the advice is not needed.”

Daniel had at last caught the high spirits of his little party, and insisted on a long shopping excursion that afternoon to the shops that had the most beguiling window displays. And that was when a highly embarrassing situation arose.

It began with Flora insisting on buying Lavinia another gown as her Christmas present. It was no use for Lavinia to protest that she already had the one Eliza had made. Flora dismissed that with a shrug.

“It is very well in its way, but still it is homemade. Things are different now that I have so much money. Besides, you must have more than one good gown. Mamma has more than she can count.”

“I am not in your mamma’s position. When am I to wear such an elegant gown?”

“If you have it, you will find opportunities to wear it. Please don’t argue with me, Miss Hurst. I find you very tiresome when you argue.”

Daniel, with a sober face, said, “Remember what the doctor said, Miss Hurst. Flora is to be kept calm. So I think we must go on this shopping expedition. You look disturbed, Miss Hurst. Do you find it so hard to accept things?”

“That is quite irrelevant, Mr. Meryon. The practical aspect is that it will be money wasted.”

Flora continued to be infuriatingly smug. “Come, Miss Hurst. Mary is not complaining about having a new bonnet, nor Eliza a shawl. I even intend to take poor Mr. Bush a gift, so why must you be so stubborn and spoil my enjoyment?”

So there was nothing to do but capitulate, with as much grace as possible. In the shop she allowed herself to be whisked away to a fitting room by a black-clad impressively busted shop woman while Daniel sat on a couch, his expression impassive, and Flora, in her chair, showed a tendency to giggle with pleasure and excitement.

The sea-green or the brown velvet or the yellow taffeta? Lavinia let herself be laced into the different gowns, the efficient saleswoman prodding and twitching and coaxing the snug waists and full skirts into place. She made sounds of extravagant admiration; then, before Lavinia was aware what was happening, she had propelled Lavinia out into the little salon where Daniel and Flora sat.

“Madam, let your husband decide. Now, sir! Have you ever seen your wife look more beautiful? Observe the way the lace falls here.” She flicked the fichu that delicately concealed the low-cut bodice. “Observe the tiny waist, the way the neckline is cut to display the shoulders to best advantage.”

In her enthusiasm she failed to notice Lavinia’s embarrassment. She went on busily, “If I may take the liberty to express my opinion, your wife looks extremely well in everything she has tried on, but the yellow taffeta, which you have not yet seen, is the piece de resistance.” The woman’s French accent was peculiarly her own. “So few can wear that lovely color. But with a skin like madam’s, it is quite ravishing. Come and put it on, madam.”

Lavinia had managed to find her voice.

“No. This was not—You are making a mistake—”

“Let me be the judge of that,” said Daniel with deliberate misunderstanding. “Pray put on the yellow taffeta, my dear.”

“Yes, do, Mamma,” said Flora, eagerly playing the infuriating game.

Lavinia could have slapped both their faces. Hopelessly caught in the misunderstanding, scarlet in the face, she had to submit to being hooked into the new dress.

“Madam has such a sympathetic husband. You would scarcely believe how few of my customers have their husbands accompany them to buy a new gown.”

“He is not—” Lavinia began, stopped, and amended her remark, “often able to be with me.” Would she have this woman think Daniel her lover instead? And what was Daniel up to, encouraging her to be paraded in yet more gowns? It seemed to be amusing him. He knew she was trapped and must play this absurd charade to its end.

Yet the yellow taffeta did look well. The shopwoman guided her into the salon like a sleepwalker.

“That’s the one,” said Daniel in a sure voice. “Don’t you agree, Flora?”

“Oh, yes, Papa!” Flora was proving to be a diabolically good actress. “Mamma looks quite exquisite in that. Really you do, Mamma. So make up your mind at once that it is to be the yellow.”

Out in the street, walking beside Daniel as he pushed Flora’s chair, Lavinia exploded.

“Of all the things to do! Did you
enjoy
embarrassing me?”

“Oh, Miss Hurst!” Flora was still enjoying herself immensely. “If you could have seen your face! You were so angry. You looked as if you might catch fire. Didn’t she, Papa?”

“And still does,” said Daniel with a sidelong glance. “Perhaps the situation didn’t amuse Miss Hurst as much as it did us, my pet.”

“It certainly didn’t!” Lavinia exclaimed. “And when will I ever wear that most extravagant and beautiful gown? It’s quite nonsense spending your money like that, Flora. I
am
angry.” She was indeed brushing away tears. She almost collided with a stout gentleman, and felt Daniel’s steadying hand on her arm.

“You will wear the gown this evening,” he said imperturbably. “If Flora isn’t too tired, we are going out to dinner and the theater. That was intended to be a surprise, but since your thrifty soul needs reassuring, Miss Hurst—” He was still laughing at her. Even in the murky light of a London street at dusk she could see how bright his eyes were. “Don’t tell me you’re not the kind of person who feels that a gown for one occasion only is well justified.”

He must be thinking of that night at the opera in Venice. Then she had worn borrowed finery. Tonight she would wear what she was compelled to accept from charity. Yes, charity, even though it was Flora’s.

“Once—” she began impulsively, then had to stop. Of what use relating hers and Robin’s happy improvidence which had had so sad an end?

Ever since Daniel had broached the question of the trip to London, Lavinia had cherished one desire—to find the opportunity to visit Robin in Pentonville prison. She had not known what kind of excuse to make for being absent for several hours, but as it happened everything was very simple. The morning’s excursion had exhausted Flora. She fell sound asleep after luncheon and looked as if she would not stir for hours. Daniel had gone out on business and Mary promised solemnly not to leave Flora’s side.

“I’d be scairt to go out alone,” she said. “You go and do your shopping, miss.”

Even that was easy, for Mary had assumed she had no other intention than to stroll about the shops.

A hansom cab would take her to Pentonville in an hour or less. Then she must persuade the governor to allow her to see Robin. She must say she had come a long journey and would not be in London again for many months.

The scheme worked. She could not believe her good fortune—except that the governor had a certain susceptibility to good-looking young women, for there had been a look in his eye that was not entirely paternal.

Robin was brought from his cell. She had to talk to him through bars, it was true, and a warder watched from the end of the dismal room. But Robin was there, thin, emaciated, overjoyed to see her.

“Lavinia! You look so well. Are you happy? You must be to look as you do.”

“Yes, I am happy. I have a very good position. Have you had my letters?”

“Yes. I’m glad you came because they’re moving me to Dartmoor next week.”

“Oh, Robin! Is it terrible in here?”

He gave his old careless shrug, infinitely pitiable because his shoulders were so thin.

“It’s not a picnic. I suppose it could be worse. At least I haven’t had jail fever. But you, Lavinia. Have I harmed your whole life? I can take imprisonment. When I come out, I’ll emigrate. A man can start again. But you, your chances of marriage—are they ruined forever?”

She had to reassure him. He was so gaunt, so anxious.

“Goodness me, no. I have already had one offer.”

“Really! A suitable offer? Do you love him?”

“No, and that’s why I refused him. I don’t intend to be in a hurry. You wouldn’t want me to marry someone I didn’t love, would you?”

He winced, remembering what he had done to her.

“Have you ever forgiven me?”

“But of course. We were both to blame. We had lived too recklessly.”

His fingers came through the bars to grip hers. The warder was approaching, rattling his keys. The precious interview was almost over.

“Lavinia, promise me! Marry only for love.”

“I promise. Even if I have to wait forever.”

The length of Charlotte’s life… And that would be forever.

Although he was thin and gaunt, Robin’s health had not appeared to be too bad. That had been reassuring. But the whole visit had been so harrowing that all the way back in the cab Lavinia had had to set her face rigidly against tears. If Daniel were to see her come in weeping and distressed, the secret would be out. As it was, she wondered how she could restore her spirits sufficiently to dress and enjoy the theater.

But again, perhaps fortunately, things were made easy for her. Although Flora had aroused herself, she had found the exciting day too arduous for her and could scarcely hold her head upright. She only wanted to rest, but Miss Hurst was not to spoil her own evening.

Lavinia said that she would be glad to rest, too. Naturally she would not go out without Flora.

“Oh, yes, you are to,” Flora insisted. “Papa said the theater could be postponed, but you and he would dine quietly, and you were to wear your new gown.”

“He can’t have said that!”

Flora’s eyes dropped. “Well, not exactly, perhaps. He said you were to dine, but I added the piece about the new gown. Because I want to see you in it, and Papa will be disappointed if you don’t look well.”

There was a tap at the door, and Daniel, obviously having overheard Flora’s remark, walked in.

“That is true, Miss Hurst. But don’t look so alarmed. I am only proposing that we eat downstairs. I suggest seven o’clock. That will give you a little time to rest beforehand. You look as if your expedition this afternoon has tired you.”

She flushed guiltily.

“I only went—to window gaze.”

“I hope you found that a pleasant diversion,” he replied imperturbably, and she was sure he did not believe her. The visit to Robin had brought back the past so vividly that it must be written on her face.

In spite of this all her good sense could not bring her to make the excuse of a headache or weariness to evade the meal this evening. She could not change, and become resigned to fate, as Robin seemed to have done. She was still wildly impetuous, running headlong to disaster.