But Kitty knew it.
Clarissa heard her own voice before she was aware of speaking. “Alas, as it happens, your sister has already accepted my invitation to accompany me to London as my guest.”
SIX
The brilliant look of gratitude Kitty cast Clarissa must be her reward, for as soon as the words were out, Clarissa felt the inevitable reaction of dismay engendered by a reflection on what her family might say.
St. Tarval did not miss Kitty’s look, Clarissa was certain, but he only bowed and said politely, “Then no more must be said, beyond you should send an answer to the Bouldestons, and thank them for their kindness.”
Kitty exclaimed, “So I shall, and you may be certain that I’ll say everything that is proper.” She bit her lip, then turned to Clarissa. “Perhaps we should leave my brothers to their luncheon. Should you like to step up to my bedchamber with me?”
Clarissa bowed slightly to the gentleman, and passed through the door, wondering at her own motivation. She, who so rarely gave in to impulse! And this was no small thing. For a short time she wished she could take the words back, as she considered what her aunt would say, but then Kitty shut the door, and turned to Clarissa, gripping her fingers tightly.
“I thank you for speaking up as you did,” she began in a low voice, for she’d seen the contraction of Clarissa’s brows, the flicker of dismay hard on the astonishing invitation. “They did not understand how horrid it would be... well, it’s of no consequence. But of course you did not mean it, and we can forget it. I can tell my brother something—”
Clarissa understood a part of her motivation. She had wished to see surprise, even gratification in the marquess’s face. But instead, she’d seen it in Kitty’s.
She must not fail Kitty now.
“I should have liked to invite you anyway,” Clarissa spoke as soon as Kitty paused to draw breath. She smiled. “It is little enough return for your kind rescue. My father loves order, and I should have wished to write home first. But truly, after a small bustle, there will be no difficulty. My step-mother is kindness herself, and you will adore my sisters. Everybody does.”
“Oh!” Kitty clapped in excitement, and her eyes filled with tears. “Oh, thank you.” She dashed her hand impatiently at the tears. “I have never been anywhere, other than a single disastrous visit to Tunbridge Wells. This time, I intend to be properly prepared. If you would be so good as to come up with me, and help me go through my mother’s gowns, and choose out what is suitable to be made over?”
Remembering that Kitty’s mother had died many years ago, Clarissa was dubious, but she said, “I am happy to be of service.”
Soon they were kneeling on the cold floor of Kitty’s dressing room. The bedchamber was large, with two south-facing windows. New hangings and a fire would’ve made it very cheerful. Clarissa pulled her shawl around her tightly, marveling how Kitty did not seem to heed the bitter chill.
As Kitty flung open one of the three large, battered trunks at least a century old, she said without a trace of self-pity, “My Papa was quite odd, and very selfish. He had no interest in ordering clothes for me until I should — somehow — attract an eligible husband, so I have been wearing my mother’s clothes since I first put up my hair. With great good luck, he had enjoyed seeing her in the very best, so I have had much to choose from. I have discovered that many of the fabrics are dreadfully outmoded. My brothers have fared rather better, as Papa never stinted for himself, either, and he only died a little over a year ago.”
A powerful aroma of lavender pervaded the room as, with careful hands, Kitty spread one gown after another over the other trunks. “When I first sorted through her things, I saved out what I thought might be turned. Most were those great, stiff-bosomed things with the wide skirts. And the tall wigs she preserved, oh how they would make you laugh. She, with the most beautiful hair.”
Kitty fingered the folds of a heavy silk sacque embroidered over with rosebuds as Clarissa asked, “Are there any more?”
“Oh yes. Here are the ball gowns.”
Kitty opened a second trunk, and pulled forth glorious lengths of laced and embroidered taffeta, velvet, and silk. Some still retained their beauty, others were faded or spotted. All were quite hopelessly outmoded.
“You can imagine many of these were my models for Andromeda, on her adventures,” Kitty said shyly as she smoothed the heavy lace on a sky-blue caracao jacket. “She is wearing this, for instance, when the Duke spies her through the window of the house where she is imprisoned. And this one,” she breathed with reverence as she unfolded silver paper.
From the nest of paper she lifted out a magnificent ball gown white satin with seed pearls and tiny diamonds sewn down the front of the bodice and across the over skirt, and bunches of velvet ribbons on the underskirt and at the richly lace trimmed sleeves. “Andromeda wears this gown at the masquerade she attends under an assumed name, and the Duke dances with her. But before they can discover one another’s true names, the villainous Count Scorbini abducts her.”
“From the ballroom floor?” Clarissa blinked in surprise.
“Why, yes.” Kitty sat up, smiling brightly.
“And no one comes to her aid?”
“Well, they don’t know who she is. She doesn’t struggle, for he puts a potion in her glass of orgeat, and she feels faint, so he says he will carry her to a sofa, but instead takes her out to his carriage.”
With careful hands, Kitty folded the gown back into its protective silver paper and laid it in the trunk. “Ned thinks it a preposterous dress, but all he cares about is sporting, and war, that is, if the French were to start it up again. Carl has been much too busy to go into society, but when I showed him this gown, he said if I ever wore it anywhere, he would go just to see me beat the other young ladies all to flinders. Not that I should wish to go to go just to shine down others, but oh, to catch the eye of a duke! Or it doesn’t have to be a duke. I know there are not all that many of them, and it is highly unlikely that I would be put in a place to meet one, if there were. But some gentlemen who is highly romantic, and ever so handsome, and rich enough to help Carlisle out of his straits, who would see me across the ballroom floor, and love would instantly dart into his heart. And mine, too, of course.”
She looked up at Clarissa, appeal in her gaze.
“A romantical vision, and I hope it comes to pass,” Clarissa said, shifting uncomfortably on the chilly floor. “What is in the third trunk?”
“Three velvet riding habits, a couple of redingotes, shoes with great paste buckles, and accoutrements like lace caps, and sashes, fans and the like. The preposterous headdresses and so forth are up in the attic still.” Kitty’s excitement dimmed a little, and she cocked her head to one side. “What is amiss? Are they none of them suitable?”
“Are there any other day dresses aside from this white gauze?”
“I have been using them these seven or eight years. So Mama’s things are hopeless, then?”
“The gauze could be turned. I suppose. Though I do not see how, as its neck is so wide and the waist so low. The remainder... The ones closer to the modes of today are the materials customarily worn by married ladies.”
“That I learned to my cost once,” Kitty said grimly, and turned her face away as she busied herself with weighing the old finery back in the trunks.
Clarissa took a deep breath, wanting somehow to help this generous, kind-hearted, romantical girl. “I think... Yes. I do believe I have a way to resolve the difficulty.”
Kitty’s head turned, as she hastily daubed at the revealing tears on her eyelids. “What? How?”
Clarissa betrayed a blush as she gazed upward. Then her lips pressed as though she wish to hide a smile. “You shall see, I promise. Soon.”
Kitty clasped her hands. “You would not be playing a trick on me?”
“Never.” Clarissa shook her head emphatically.
“Oh, thank you. How kind you are. Not only for myself, as of course I shall e
njoy myself beyond anything, but in London, I might be able to help Carl. I am determined that I shall find and marry a rich man. London must be full of them, however few dukes there may be, for I must not be thinking solely of myself. If he is rich, nothing else matters, save that he is not cruel.”
Clarissa, thinking of Lord Wilburfolde, reflected that there was a vast range of possibilities betwixt handsome and cruel. Ordinary men without the villainous proclivities of a Count Scorbini could be just as vexing in a thousand small ways from which there might be little escape.
o0o
At the end of that evening, Clarissa could see the tiredness and preoccupation in her hosts’ faces, though they strove for politeness. Being conscientious, she rose far earlier than she might have, and professed herself ready to retire.
Edward promptly rose with her, yawning behind his hand. “Lord! I trust you will forgive me, Miss Harlowe, but I am asleep on my feet. We were up and riding long before the sun chose to rouse itself. Here, I will light the way for you.”
He picked up a waiting branch of candles and led the way out.
Kitty was not tired, either, but she had a great deal to think about. She could see it her elder brother’s countenance that he wished to talk to her. “Are you going upstairs, Kit?”
“Not immediately.”
“I had hoped to find a chance to talk to you.”
She puckered her brow. “Oh, Carl, I do hope and trust that you are not going to tell me I cannot go, for some horrid reason.”
St. Tarval did not speak immediately. Kitty’s consternation altered to surprise as her brother took a turn about the room, then stopped at the fireplace to stare down into the flames. His profile was pensive as he said, “I take it, then, you wish to accompany Miss Harlowe to London?”
“Above anything.”
He remained silent for a time, his long fingers so much like Papa’s absently toying with the fire tongs. Seeing his profile bent so seriously, his gaze distant from the employment of his hands, Kitty said quickly, “You are thinking perhaps it will not answer, my going to stay with someone so recently a stranger to us. But recollect Clarissa and I spent all this time solely in one another’s company, and I know she feels grateful for the rescue. And oh, she is so easy to talk to, and though she is ever so well read, she is kind.”
“Miss Harlowe’s manners are particularly good,” he said, still staring down at the fire.
Kitty’s eyes widened. “You do not think she only pretends to like me?”
“No, Kitty. That is, not precisely. But she does not know you, and you cannot say you know her after a mere day’s acquaintance.”
“But I have formed a very good impression of her. What inspires your doubt, Carl? Do you think her invitation insincere? Surely you do not believe she is the sort of heartless fashionable that you despised in London on your one visit?”
“I do not. Yet we know so little about her or her family, beyond the title, the family name, and that they live in Hampshire. We do not know what kind of welcome you might meet.”
“Though I have never been to London, please credit me with some sense,” Kitty exclaimed indignantly. “Do you think I would wish to go if I thought they were all like that horrid aunt?”
“I think there is very little you would not tolerate if you thought you were to go to London.” He smiled.
Kitty pressed her lips on a retort that a kind invitation would have been for the two weeks following Easter, one would think.
Aloud, she said only, “Clarissa has spoken a little of her family. I do not believe that I will find unwelcome there. Except perhaps from Mrs. Latchmore. The things she said to Alice and Mrs. Finn! But that is neither here nor there.”
“Why is she not married?”
“Who? Mrs. Latchmore? She is a widow.”
“No. Miss Harlowe,” he said, walking to the window. He stood thus, looking out, though the darkness must have precluded his seeing much.
Kitty gazed at him in astonishment. “I can scarcely ask her that, not unless we had known one another for ages. Though I own, it seems odd to me, too.” Kitty’s eyes narrowed reflectively. Her interest in people caused her to consider her guest. “She did mention offers, but delicacy forbids me to ask more. Perhaps she has no wish to marry. Why these questions, and the long face? Do you mislike Clarissa?”
“I have scarcely exchanged a hundred words with your guest. I cannot claim to be any more than acquainted.”
“Then,” Kitty waved her hands, “you must sit down with her and converse. She is as well read as you are. You shall find her interesting, I vow and declare.” She peered into her brother’s face. His expression was somber, and so she said in a very different tone, “Carl? Do you really fear that my going to London is a mistake?”
He dropped into his chair and forced a smile. “Not at all. Merely, I wish circumstances were such that I might be taking you to London. I am failing you in that I am not.”
She flew up out of her chair and gave him a quick embrace. “Absurd creature! As if it were duty to waste time and money on such a thing. I regard Clarissa’s invitation as an unlooked-for treat, a reward for our good offices when their yacht strayed so horribly into our path. Let us hear no more of duty. And,” she said earnestly, her cheeks red, her gaze determined, “I would be less than honest if I did not assure you that there are things I would as lief give the go-bye, even to get to London.”
He looked up sharply, and she took a deep breath. “I did not wish to go with Lucretia. And not just because I knew I would be sitting in their house listening to them plan balls, and talk of their invitations, or watching Lucretia and Lucasta while they are visiting milliners and dressmakers. The truth is, I always feel so countrified in her company. I did not become aware of it until I spent this time with Clarissa, with whom I never felt it, not for a moment.”
St. Tarval looked uneasy. “Lucretia has said countless times that she feels for your lack of a mother or a sister, and I know she looks out ways to help you to the mode with her suggestions.”
Kitty sensed the question underlying these words, and she knew that delicacy forbade her from entering into a discussion from which either of them might not be able to extricate themselves creditably. “It is very kind in her, I am sure,” Kitty said in a subdued manner, and bade her brother a good night.
SEVEN
After breakfast the next morning, unprecedented noise reverberated through the windows.
Clarissa and Kitty rose to look out in time to see an impressive cavalcade of three carriages bump up the drive, and vanish beyond the hedgerow dividing the house from the stable yard, the horses in snow up to their fetlocks.
Leading the way was the ancient berline belonging to the Decourcey family. The second bore the Chadwick arms, and all three were piled high with luggage.
Kitty said, “Perhaps we should go to the drawing room?”
The young ladies were standing in the chilly room, in which a housemaid was just laying a fire, when the butler announced Lord Chadwick’s steward. Mr. Bede greeted Miss Harlowe, and then handed her a sealed letter.
Clarissa had assumed as soon as she saw the mountain of baggage that her aunt had equated Tarval Hall with the Antipodes. The letter and the huge sum of money it said had been entrusted to Mr. Bede confirmed her speculations.
Mr. Bede said, “If you are wishful to set out today, Miss, if I may be permitted to say, it’s coming on gray. We’d be best to start out as soon as may be, but I smell snow on the wind.”
Clarissa glanced from him to Kitty’s pale face, then said firmly, “We will depart on the morrow, for Lady Catherine will accompany us. Did you bring Oliver along, Mr. Bede?”
“Yes ma’am.”
“Then we shall send him on ahead with a letter to Lady Chadwick. Will you see to it that he has something to eat, while I pen this letter? Thank you, Mr. Bede.”
As soon as the steward had left the room, Kitty danced around the cold room, far too ecstatic for mere words
.
o0o
Oliver the footman departed just after midday, under lowering steel-gray clouds. Having been issued a generous sum to see him back into Hampshire, he left in sanguine spirits. If the weather forced him to halt, it would mean a snug night at an inn.
Up in the house, Clarissa watched him go, her spirits uncertain. She moved about the room, absently picking up and setting down a little China shepherdess. The truth was, she was ambivalent about quitting Tarval Hall. She knew why she was ambivalent, which meant she must depart as soon as they were ready.
She had begun her stay disapproving of a man in St. Tarval’s position indulging in unlawful acts like smuggling, but from little things she had overheard, she had gained a better understanding of burden of debt that the marquess had inherited, with little prospect of getting his neglected, heavily mortgaged lands in good heart once again. She could understand his following a course of action his father had once established.
“Pray, is something amiss, Clarissa?” Kitty’s voice broke into her thoughts.
Clarissa set down the shepherdess, her face warming. “I beg your pardon. I was woolgathering. By now they should have carried those trunks to my bedchamber. Might I beg you to step upstairs with me? I wish to show you something.”
The two were crossing the great, marble-floored front hall, when the door opened, and they were met by the marquess. Snowflakes dotted his glossy black curls, the shoulders of his greatcoat and his riding boots.
After he greeted the young ladies, he smiled at Kitty. “Forgive me for casting a damper on your quite understandable desire to flee your home, but it looks to me like it is coming on to blow.”
“I have already spoken to Mr. Bede,” Clarissa said. “I have only to apologize for saddling you with all these extra people to house.”