Marjorie Farrell (6 page)

Celia did not try to make excuses, for this had happened before and her comments on those occasions, which had been to the effect that her friends were a bit younger than Arden, would only seem repetitive.

“I am surprised not to find Lord Heronwood next to you, Celia,” said Arden, who was genuinely trying to banish her irreverent mental picture of that young man, since he seemed interested in her cousin. She had spoken of him respectfully at all times after her first witticism, but Celia still felt self-conscious and was anxious for her cousin’s approval.

“He is at the refreshment table, getting me something to drink. Who was that you were just dancing with, Arden? It doesn’t look right, you know, to leave someone in the middle of the dance floor.”

“Yes, my dear, I know.” With anyone else, Arden would have answered sarcastically, but she knew Celia’s gentle admonition came from concern for her, not the proprieties. “But he made me furious,” she explained.

“How?” Celia was surprised that any man had managed to get such a warm reaction from her cousin.

“He actually dared to refer to that ridiculous title. But it was not so much that he did so, as how he did it. He was intent upon provoking me, I am sure.”

“You didn’t say anything insulting, did you?” asked Celia anxiously.

“If you mean did I manage to make some apt comparison to bird or beast?” said Arden with a smile. “No, I did not. In fact,” she went on, eyebrows drawn together, “I couldn’t manage to think of one,” she said. “Well, never mind. He is beyond rapier wit—it would take a bludgeon to affect a fellow like him.”

“Oh, dear, here comes Lord Heronwood,” said Celia, watching him approach with two glasses of orgeat.

“Do you want me to go, Celia? If this attraction proves serious, we will have to meet someday.”

“I suppose so,” sighed Celia. “Do stay.”

Lord Heronwood had been dreading the inevitable meeting with Lady Arden. Inevitable, because he was in love with Celia and intended to offer for her before the Season was over, as soon as he was sure of her feelings. He knew she had begun by pitying his discomfort and humiliation. Celia had risked her reputation and approached him without a formal introduction in order to apologize for Arden’s ridicule. She had been so sweet and shy that he was able to forget his own wounded sensibilities. After thanking her for her concern and trying to reassure her, he had gone to Lady Broadhurst later that evening and had himself formally introduced. Celia had blushed prettily, and he had found himself in the unusual position of the one drawing out, rather than the one being drawn into, conversation.

He knew that he loved her after the first week of their acquaintance. He felt less awkward around her, and much less self-conscious about his height and chin than he would have believed, given the beginning of their acquaintance. He found himself looking at family portraits, especially his father’s, and realized he had much to be grateful for! His own chin was much more noticeable than his sire’s.

Oddly enough, he had reason to be grateful to Arden, he thought, as he approached the two ladies. After a day or two of feeling utterly humiliated, he had decided to prove to himself and others that extreme height and slender form did not preclude manliness, and had managed to act as though nothing had been said.

He was , therefore, able to hand Arden and Celia the orgeat and explain that he had had a glass at the table and could easily spare this one to Arden.

Arden made a genuine effort to keep the conversation going. It was strained, but it was slowly progressing when she became aware of someone’s approach. Celia’s eyes widened in surprise and Arden turned to find herself looking at Captain Richmond.

“Good evening, Miss Denbeigh, Lady Arden,” said Gareth. Offering his hand to Heronwood, he said, “Captain Richmond, my lord.”

Heronwood bowed, grateful for another man’s presence, and completely oblivious to the tension between Arden and the captain.

“You are newly arrived in England, sir?” asked Heronwood.

“Only two days ago, my lord.”

“You’ve been in Spain and Portugal, then?”

“For the last two years.”

“Then you must have been at Talavera? What was it really like? We only get short newspaper accounts.”

“I would rather not speak of it before the ladies, my lord,” said Gareth shortly.

Heronwood flushed and Gareth cursed himself for his own reaction. But he always had a hard time when civilians wanted exciting descriptions of battles. They did not, he knew, want to know about the boredom of waiting around for days for the enemy to attack, or about the limbs blown off, or the stench after a battle. Nor did he want to speak of it.

“My father has always been closemouthed about his experiences,” Arden offered, amazing herself with her remark, which offered a sort of apology for Captain Richmond’s rudeness. She put it down to her unwillingness to see Heronwood discomfited.

Gareth was also surprised at her remark, and looked at her inquiringly.

“I used to want him to tell me stories of heroic deeds when he was home on leave,” she explained. “I finally realized that what he had seen was quite different from what I imagined, and I quit plaguing him.”

“I am surprised, my lady,” said Gareth.

“How so, Captain Richmond?”

“I would not have guessed you to have so much sensibility.” Gareth had spoken without thinking, and only realized after the words left his mouth, how insulting they were.

Celia’s mouth opened in a surprised “O”. No one had ever spoken to her cousin that frankly. Lord Heronwood tried to rescue the situation by making a rather muddled statement about how all young ladies, of course, had tender hearts, no matter their reputation. He only realized after he had finished that he had unwittingly referred to her notoriety and was ready to sink into the floor, when Arden, amused as well as angry with Gareth, decided she had better live up to her reputation and coolly suggested that they move away from such a distressing topic as the reality of war. She said it ironically, and Gareth’s impression that she might possess some deeper feeling was shaken. After a few minutes chatter about the latest farce playing at the Drury Lane, Arden moved off, claiming that Aunt Ellen was beckoning to her, leaving behind an uncomfortable threesome until the next dance was struck. Gareth avoided her for the rest of the evening, having done his duty for that night. He relaxed and enjoyed himself, since he had accomplished what he had set out to do: bring himself to Lady Arden’s attention.

During the next week, Gareth continued to make himself very present in Lady Arden’s social life. He always made sure to ask for a dance or her company at supper in the presence of others, so she could not turn him down easily. After losing her temper with him once again, she decided to call upon all her so-called insufferability and attempted to freeze him. But he would not be frozen, not by her icy glances, nor by her holding herself like a block of ice when they were dancing. She could not understand why he kept corning.

Even with his promise to the earl, Gareth himself could not understand why he pursued her so assiduously. He could not say that he enjoyed her company, for she gave nothing of herself away, and for all he knew there was nothing to give away underneath that cool facade. And he had recently seen one example of her wit in action and felt like shaking her for her unthinking bit of cruelty toward the young Duke of Sutton, Simon Ballance, who tripped on a loose carpet edge and spilled his champagne all over the Duchess of Crewe. “Ballance? Ballance?” Arden was heard to say. “Surely Imballance would be more appropriate.” Luckily the young duke had more poise and self-assurance than Heronwood, and merely laughed good-naturedly at Arden’s witticism. Gareth himself did not feel as tolerant. He wished to take her over his knee and give her the spanking she had obviously never received as a child. He was rather horrified, for he did not consider himself a violent man, despite, or perhaps because of, his years of soldiering. And yet there was an attraction there, which he was convinced was mutual, that went beyond all reason.

Arden was aware of something between them but, having had no experience, was unable to put a name to the feelings of anxious anticipation that shook her when he approached. She considered him at fault for her not particularly witty comments on the duke, for Gareth had been nearby and she had felt irrationally driven to say something that would antagonize him and get rid of him forever. Immediately after, she was worrying that it had indeed given him a disgust of her. But how could she want to both drive him away and draw him near? she wondered, furious at her own ambivalence.

* * * *

The earl, who was spending long days at the War Office and arrived late to every social gathering, watched his daughter and Gareth whenever he had the chance. He could see her strong reaction to Captain Richmond’s initiatives, and was happy that at least she was not indifferent. It would not be an easy match, especially in the beginning, but he was more and more determined that it would be a match. Gareth was the only man he could see who remained unmoved by Arden’s arrogance. She did not need a man like Heronwood, who had overdeveloped sensibilities, although he would be fine for Celia. Arden needed the cool strength of Richmond, and thank God, he was available and home for good.

* * * *

The earl was faced with Heronwood’s sensibilities at the end of the week. Unable to wait any longer, the young man had decided to approach the head of Celia’s family and gain permission to address her. When Huntly heard him announced, he straightaway summoned Ellen into the drawing room. “For I am sure that this visit concerns you as well, my dear,” said the earl when she arrived and asked what was needed of her. “All I need to know is whether you would approve Celia’s betrothal to young Heronwood, who is no doubt waiting in agony in the morning room.”

“He seems truly fond of Celia, James. The only thing I worry about is Arden. I had so hoped for a match for both of them this Season. I know Celia will be happy, but what of her cousin?”

“There is no need for you to worry anymore about Arden. I have made arrangements for her so that you can concentrate only on Celia.”

“Arrangements? Surely she will not return to Stalbridge without me?”

“No, you have given enough of your energy to the girl, Ellen. It is Celia’s time to receive your undivided attention. I assume that you do give your permission?”

“Oh, yes.”

“Then you will be kept busy putting a trousseau together and visiting relatives. Celia will have a generous dowry to bring to this marriage.”

“James, you are too kind,” protested Mrs. Denbeigh.

“Don’t be absurd, Ellen. You have acted as a mother to my daughter. It is the least I can do. No, Arden will not be returning to Stalbridge,” he continued. “She will be with my sister Millicent or in Yorkshire.”

‘James,” Mrs. Denbeigh protested, “you couldn’t mean to send her to your sister. She would be miserable.”

“It is not my first choice, I admit, but I may need your help in bringing her round.”

“To what? And what is in Yorkshire?”

“I am hoping that when I leave she will be on her way to Yorkshire as Mrs. Gareth Richmond.”

“What!” exclaimed his sister-in-law, truly shocked. “Why she hardly knows Captain Richmond. And doesn’t like him, I am sure.”

“Oh, I think there is a spark of interest there, Ellen. But like all fires, it needs enough air. I think Yorkshire is just the place to let it flame.”

“Does Captain Richmond care for Arden?”

“I don’t think either has a
tendre
for the other right now, Ellen. I think they strike sparks off one another, however, and he is the first man I have seen who will not give in to her, nor be hurt by her. No, if he can convince her, she will be married by a special license before I leave. Will you add your arguments to mine when the time comes?”

“Yes, I suppose so,” replied Mrs. Denbeigh thoughtfully. “I would rather see Arden with someone like Captain Richmond than with Millicent,” she concluded vehemently. “Oh, I beg your pardon, James,” she said, embarrassed by her implied insult.

“No need to apologize, Ellen,” he replied with a smile. “I can’t stand my sister myself, you know.”

“But how can you let your daughter marry a mere soldier, James? The captain seems a fine man, but…”

“He is the heir to the Marquess of Thorne,” replied the earl.

“How can this be true? Why does no one know?”

“The Richmonds are a family of eccentrics, my dear, and have been out of the public eye for years. And his aunt and uncle do not spend much time socializing when they are in London. His aunt is known as the ‘Methodist Marchioness,” said the earl with a twinkle in his eye.

“Oh, my goodness, James, she goes around giving out some sort of religious tracts to…to…”

“To whores? Yes, I know,” said the earl with a smile. “Actually, I think they are pamphlets of a more practical nature. Information on the prevention of disease.”

Mrs. Denbeigh blushed a deep red. “Does Arden know about this?”

“That her future aunt gives out pamphlets to ladies of the night?”

“No, no, that Captain Richmond will be a marquess.”

“I don’t believe so. And I don’t want her to know until after the wedding.”

“But why?”

“I want her to have a taste of real life, Ellen. Her rank and her pride and you, I might add, much as I appreciate your care, have protected her from her own humanity. We are all the same when we are dying, after all. I have seen enough of death to know that.”

“Perhaps you are right, James. I have seen no one else who could match her this Season. The young men laugh with her and encourage her or are unable to look her in the eye. Someone like Heronwood, wonderful as he is for Celia, would never do for Arden.”

“Speaking of young Heronwood, he is probably ready for Bedlam, we have been keeping him waiting so long. Go and get Celia, Ellen, so we can put him out of his misery.”

Arden returned from a shopping trip that morning to find her aunt and cousin ecstatically planning a wedding. Heronwood had requested Celia’s presence immediately after he received the earl’s consent, and the earl and Mrs. Denbeigh had left them alone to seal their betrothal with a kiss. More than one kiss, actually, for though shy, neither Celia nor Heronwood suffered any lack of ardor, and their betrothal began very satisfactorily for both of them.