A Sisterly Regard (15 page)

As Lord Wilderlake swept her in to a gliding turn, Phaedra spied
Chloe and Lord Everingham slipping through a door. She stumbled.
"Excuse me, my lord," she said as she recovered. "I fear I am tiring. It has
been a long evening and I have never danced so much before."

The music went on and on. Desperate to discover what new
calamity loomed, Phaedra began to wonder if she was doomed to waltz
forever. At last the last notes dies away and the dancers spun to a halt. The
ball was over. Wilderlake escorted Phaedra back to her parents. Chloe
magically reappeared before Mama and Papa returned, slipping into a chair
beside Cousin Louisa, who was deep in a conversation. Phaedra wondered
where her sister had been.

Had anyone else noticed that she had been alone in Lord
Everingham's company again? All the way home Phaedra fretted, unsure
whether to tell her parents what she had seen. Chloe would surely view
such an action as a betrayal of sisterly allegiance.

How much did she owe her sister? If Chloe had been seen
waltzing with Lord Everingham, if tomorrow's most delicious
on
dit
was how the wayward Hazelbourne girl had compromised herself
at her own come out Ball... Should she wait and see, or warn Mama and
Papa of the brewing storm? Phaedra chewed her lip and did her best to
ignore the churning of her stomach.

What could their parents do to save Chloe from the price of her
willfulness? Would they take the whole family back to Gifford Court?
Phaedra found herself hoping they would not, for she was enjoying her
Season much more than she had anticipated. But if they did not return
home, how could they keep Chloe sequestered within the house in
London? And even more to the point, how would they all explain doing
so?

Lady Gifford bade her daughters a quiet good night as soon as
they had arrived at home. "It is very late and we are all tired You will each
go to your own room and retire. I do not wish to hear that you have
disobeyed me."

"Mama..." Chloe began.

"You heard your mother, pet. Now get you both to bed. We
will talk in the morning," Lord Gifford said firmly. The sisters went
quietly up the stairs.

Lord and Lady Gifford went into the parlor and shut the door.
"Would you like some brandy my love? You look as if you could use
it?"

"Yes, George, I think I would. Heaven knows, I need something
to calm me." She sank onto the sofa and kicked off her slippers. "How
could Chloe be so foolish, after all my warnings?" She accepted the glass
and sipped at its content.

"Are you certain she was seen, love? Might it not be possible
that no one spied her with Lord Everingham.."

"I wish it were so, but I know it is not. That wretched
Hermione Petersham was standing right beside Cousin Louisa when they
came back in from the corridor. She knows they were out there
unchaperoned. And you know what a busy tongue she has."

Her husband frowned into his glass, but said nothing.

"I fear Chloe's Season is at an end. Lady Mary might be able to
spurn the dictates of Society and get away with it, for her rank and
connections are high enough. We are neither so exalted nor so well
connected. It is possible Her Grace might be able to convince Sally Jersey
not to rescind the girls' vouchers, but she could never persuade any of the
other patronesses. And without them, we will have wasted the Season."
She heard her voice quaver on the last words. With a deep breath, she
fought against the need to bury her head on her husband's comforting
shoulder and weep her heart out. "I had such hopes," she whispered.
"Such hopes."

"Nonsense! We'll come about. Society knows us for respectable
folks. They'll know we'd never raise any but a lady."

"Even a lady may ruin herself. If Chloe has not, she has skirted
very close to it. Since our daughters' portions are not large, their manners
and social standing must be above reproach. A man might marry Chloe for
her good name and her social worth and never mind that her portion is
small. He would think twice if she shows that she thinks herself above
Society's conventions."

"The more fool he. I wish I had never agreed to this Season." He
scrubbed a hand across his chin. "I knew postponing Chloe's Season would
cause trouble. Damned inconvenient, your mother and grandfather dying
when they did." He clamped his mouth shut on the last word. An instant
later, her said, "Damme, love, I didn't mean--"

"I know you did not. It
was
inconvenient." She let her
sigh speak volumes. "Perhaps we should have taken them to Bath instead
of bringing them to London. It might have been a more appropriate
venue, for we both have many friends there who would assist in stemming
gossip. Here in London we are, unfortunately, not so widely
acquainted."

"I should have come up to Town with you. I could have
managed Chloe. You and she do set each other's backs up, don't
you?"

Lady Gifford sighed. "I am afraid we do. Even so I was certain
she would heed my advice and behave herself. She is determined to marry
well." She gave into temptation, and leaned against him. His arm pulled
her close, secure and safe. "Oh, George, I am so tired of constantly
fearing what she will do next."

"Well, if you want my advice, we'll just behave as if nothing has
happened. The gossip will pass. Mrs. Petersham is well know never to
have a good word for anyone."

"I am not so optimistic. Even if Sally Jersey were to ignore
Chloe's behavior, Lady Everingham will not. When the word gets out that
her son was the man with Chloe, she will add fuel to the fire. She has not
approved of Chloe since that day at her Venetian breakfast. Lord
Everingham has pulled himself from under her thumb and she does not
like it one bit."

"Well then, just forbid her to see him," Lord Gifford
suggested.

"That would not do, for then the odious woman would feel his
consequence had been slighted. No, I am afraid she will not rest until she
has completely ruined Chloe's reputation. We must do something that will
not seem as if we are attempting to separate them."

"Too bad she can't come down with the grippe or influenza or
something. That'd keep her out of circulation for a sennight or two.
Maybe give this whole thing time to die down."

"George, what a perfectly marvelous notion. She can come
down with influenza. Or seem to. That way I can keep her confined to the
house, a punishment she rightly deserves, and without causing any gossip
that would be detrimental to her reputation. Will you assist me in
convincing her just how irresponsible her behavior has been?"

"Anything, my love. When I've had a little talk with her, she'll
mend her manners, you can be sure. It's a pity she'll have to be confined to
her bedchamber, though. She's such a high spirited little thing. It goes hard
with me to be so unkind to her."

"She has earned a little unkindness. We cannot let her go
unpunished, can we?"

Lord Gifford shook his head slowly. "No. I just hope this
influenza notion will do the trick."

"So do I" Lady Gifford said, knowing she was wasting her
words. She had a dreadful premonition that the next days would be
difficult.

* * * *

At breakfast late the next morning, her mama informed Chloe
that she was sickening for influenza.

"I certainly am not. I am perfectly healthy."

"On the contrary, you will pretend to be ill for the next
fortnight. It will give the talk about your scandalous behavior time to die
away."

"But Mama," she wailed, "Lord Everingham was to take me
driving in the park today, and Mr. Martin said he would call and..."

"You will do nothing but remain in your chamber feigning
illness. Furthermore you will continue to do so for at least a fortnight, or
until I can be sure that you have learned to obey me," Mama said, in her
do-not-defy-me voice. "Louisa, I must ask that you assist us in this
deception. One of us will need to remain at home at all times, ostensibly
to nurse poor Chloe, but in reality to make sure that she does remain in
her bedchamber."

"Of course, Isabella," Cousin Louisa replied. She stirred her tea,
a thoughtful expression on her face. After a moment she said, "May I
suggest that the Duchess be told the truth. She may be of some
assistance."

"Of course. I will call upon Her Grace this afternoon and beg
her advice and assistance."

Chloe had listened to the exchange with growing disbelief and
anger. "I am not ill! And I won't stay in my room for two weeks!" She
burst into tears. "I will not be a prisoner in my own home. Oh, Papa, do
not let her do this horrible thing to me!" She flung herself around his neck
and sobbed into his cravat.

"Hush, pet. Two weeks won't seem so long. We'll get you all
manner of books to read. Hush, now." Wearing a helpless expression, he
patted her heaving shoulders.

"I cannot bear to be locked up and miss everything, Papa. Why
tonight is Mrs. Stanfield's musicale, and she has asked me to play. Oh,
please, Papa."

She felt his chest heave under her before he set her aside. "No,
pet, you will obey your mother in this. You've been rather a naughty puss,
and you must play least in sight until the talk dies down. But there, I'll
come and visit you often. Teach you to play piquet, or something. Dry
your tears now, do. Your pretty eyes are getting all red."

Chloe almost felt sorry for her papa, for she knew he was
excessively softhearted where she was concerned. In a last bid for
sympathy, she let her tears flow unchecked down her cheeks and managed
a small quiver of her chin.

Papa only shook his head sorrowfully.

"Very well, I will consent to be incarcerated like a common
criminal," she said in a broken, tragic voice. She stood and laid the back of
her hand against her brow. "I shall now go to my cell and await my next
meal of bread and water." She walked slowly out of the room, shoulders
drooping. Just outside the door, she gave one last pathetic sniffle.

As soon as she knew those in the breakfast parlor could no
longer see her, she stopped and stood quietly, straining her ears to hear
what was said.

"Well, Isabella, that was more than enough," Papa said. "I still
think you are being too hard on the chit, but you're her mama, so I
suppose you know best. Think I'll go to my club. No hysterics there." His
chair scraped across the floor as he rose.

Chloe dashed down the hall and up the stairs to her bedchamber.
Once there, she made sure that the sound of her door closing was loud
enough to be heard in the breakfast parlor. She didn't exactly slam
it.

Phaedra almost could pity her sister as she left the breakfast
room, dejection in every line of her body. Some of it was genuine, she was
sure, but she rather suspected that Chloe was over-dramatizing the
situation for her own benefit.

"Phaedra, would you mind receiving our callers this afternoon?"
Mama said, after Papa had departed. "I do not think I can maintain my
composure before what promises to be an excess of concern over my
poor, sick child today."

"Of course, Mama," she replied. "Cousin Louisa and I will
handle all the callers. Why do you not have a short nap before you go to
enlist the Duchess's aid?"

"I believe I shall. I did not sleep well last night." She pushed her
half full plate away and rose." Oh yes, please do not visit your sister. I
cannot forbid her father to visit her, but his sympathy is all she will
receive, if I have my say."

"I will cooperate in her incarceration, Mama." She left unsaid
her relief at being freed from Chloe's emotional outbursts for a while. At
the same time, she knew she would miss Chloe. They had been inseparable
for so long.

Mama squeezed her shoulder in passing. "I do realize, you
know, what you have to put up with from your sister. But if you will not
prevent it, Phaedra, how can I? You should not let her abuse your good
nature so, my dear."

"Mama, I have been witness to so many of Chloe's tantrums that
I hardly notice them. And my audience prevents you and Papa from having
them inflicted upon you. I do not mind, truly. At least not usually."
She is older than I; why can she not act her age?
Resolutely Phaedra
banished the unworthy thought.

She and Cousin Louisa settled themselves comfortably in the
sewing room after breakfast. "Do you believe Chloe's actions last night
will have serious repercussions?" Phaedra wondered aloud.

"I wish I knew. Her behavior will reflect negatively upon
you."

"Mama has always been strict with her, but Papa was lenient and
so indulgent. She could always get him to give her what she wished. I used
to be dreadfully jealous." She laid her embroidery in her lap and stared
sightlessly into the fire. "Now I am happy I was not so indulged. My
expectations are far more realistic than my sister's."

"I do not remember her so willful as a child."

Phaedra hesitated before replying. "I do not think she was, not
really. When we were small, she was always pleasing to be with. She was
generous to a fault. Oh, she always wanted her own way, but I could
usually cozen her into giving in when something was important to me. It
has only been the last year or two that she has become so determined to do
just as she pleases. She was dreadfully disappointed when her Season was
postponed twice."

"I'll warrant the change in her behavior first came about when
the young men in your neighborhood noticed she was no longer a child.
You did say she was the local belle, I believe. She must have been the
recipient of an abundance of flattery."

Phaedra nodded. "The experience must have given her such a
sense of her own importance that she now believes the world must revolve
around her,"

"If that is the case, then there is hope she will come to her
senses," Cousin Louisa said encouragingly. "Or she will not, and she will
continue to outrage Society and ruin her chances for a good marriage."
She paused, then went on, her tone less optimistic. "Perhaps this enforced
solitude will cause her to reconsider."