A Change of Fortune (16 page)

He searched her urgent face. “Miss Conyngham, is my niece happy here now?” he asked suddenly.

The change of direction startled her. “Happy? She…she will only be happy when she’s with you again.”

“Apart from that consideration, is she happy here?”

“She’s happy when she’s with me.”

“I note the qualification.” He smiled unexpectedly. “And I can well believe that she is happy with you, for it would be a very strange soul who would not be, but I am left with the fact that at all other times she is presumably not at all happy. Am I right?”

“Yes, but she endures it because she believes her reformed behavior will ensure an early return to you.” She held his gaze. “She is everything you could wish, Sir Guy, and when she does leave I shall miss her very much. I like her a great deal.”

He nodded. “I wish that I could hear those words on Imogen’s lips,” he said softly, “but I suppose I must acknowledge that Stella’s past conduct didn’t in the least encourage feelings of affection.”

She lowered her eyes. Affection? Imogen wasn’t capable of any. “Miss Conyngham, please forgive me if I’ve given the impression of disbelieving what you say about Stella. The truth is that I don’t find Miss Hart at all to my liking, and indeed had it not been for your presence here, I would have removed my niece and placed her in another similar establishment.” He smiled at the look of astonishment in her eyes. “The night Stella ran away and you tried to stop her, I saw then that there was a certain rapport between you. She responded to you in a way which made me very hopeful that an improvement in her conduct would not be long forthcoming. I love her very much indeed, but sweet reason was achieving nothing, and it seemed that the shock of being sent away was the only solution. I decided upon that course very reluctantly, for I have to admit that I disagreed with Imogen on the point, but due to your presence, Miss Conyngham, it seems that it was the right decision after all, and so I will be forever grateful to you.”

She didn’t quite know what to say, and she smiled in some embarrassment. “You…you have nothing to thank me for, Sir Guy.”

“Oh, but I think I have. Now, it’s time for me to see Stella herself.”

“I will leave you, then—”

“No, please, I would like you to stay.” He went to the bell and rang for Joseph, who immediately went to find Stella.

She came straightaway, and in such delight that she completely forgot Miss Hart’s stern strictures about the inelegance of running. She virtually burst into the visitors’ room, and without seeing Leonie, ran to her uncle, her arms outstretched and the white sash of her new green school dress flapping wildly behind her. “Uncle Guy!” she cried. “I thought you’d forgotten all about me!”

He laughed and swung her into the air. “Forget a minx like you? There’ve been times of late when I’ve dearly wished I could!”

“Don’t be beastly!” She laughed, slipping her arms around his neck and burying her face in his shoulder for a moment. “I’m sorry for having been so dreadful. I’m going to be good from now on, I promise.”

He lowered her gently to the floor. “I trust you mean that, for if you do, then you will soon be able to come home again.”

“Take me with you today. Please, Uncle Guy.”

“No, for I need to be convinced that this change for the better is a permanent thing, and not some temporary expedient you’ve decided upon in order to have your own way.”

“Oh, Uncle Guy, as if I’d do such a thing,” she replied, looking hurt.

“But you would, you minx, I know you only too well. So I shall require another good report from Miss Conyngham here before I definitely make up my mind.” He smiled across at Leonie.

Stella turned quickly. “Oh, I didn’t know you were here, Leonie,” she said, smiling. There was something about the smile which warned Leonie that whatever it was that had been on the girl’s mind for the past week was about to be brought out into the open.

Stella searched in the large pocket of her dress and took out a rather crumpled, sealed letter. “Uncle Guy, I would like you to give this to Imogen. It’s a letter of apology for having been so odious toward her.” Her voice was sweet and her eyes wide and innocent.

Slowly he took it. “Is it really a letter of apology?”

“Oh, yes, truly it is. I want to start all over again.” She paused, her eyes sliding momentarily toward Leonie. “Actually, Uncle Guy,” she went on, “I was hoping that you’d let me
prove
how genuinely sorry I am.”

“Prove it? How?” His dark eyes rested quizzically on her, for such an overwhelming change was too much to believe entirely.

“Well, I know that she likes Shakespeare, doesn’t she?”

“Yes,” he replied guardedly. “I also know that you loathe him.”

“But I want to try to like him, for her sake, so that in the future, when she is your wife, I will be able to go to the theater with her—as her companion.”

He seemed dumbfounded for a moment, and then an irrepressible gleam of humor shone in his eyes. “Forgive me if I seem dubious, Stella, but the thought of you and Imogen toddling off to the theater together to watch Shakespeare is simply too much to take seriously.”

“But I’m changed, Uncle Guy,” she protested. “I really thought that if I could show her how much I mean to be good…. I mean, she knows I loathe Shakespeare, but she’d have to believe I was trying to do the right thing if I went to such lengths just for her. Wouldn’t she? I thought that we could get to like each other. After all, I won’t be just twelve forever, will I?” She gave a wistful sigh. “Still, if you think it’s a foolish idea, then of course I won’t say anything more about it.”

“I didn’t say that,” he said quickly. “I was merely taken a little by surprise. If you really would like to embark upon this, then of course I would be only too pleased to assist. What do you wish me to do? Provide you with volumes of his works?”

Stella studiously avoided Leonie’s suspicious eyes. “No, actually I’d like you to take me to the theater tomorrow night.”

He stared at her. “Take you to the theater?”

“Yes,
The Merchant of Venice
is going to be on at the Theater Royal, Drury Lane, and I
know
that it’s one of Imogen’s favorites. You told me that she played the part of Portia during the theatricals at Chatsworth—”

“Yes, she did,” he said quickly, not wanting to recall the occasion, for Imogen had displayed a singular talent for overacting which had left everyone writhing in embarrassment.

Stella was intent upon pressing her point home. “I thought that it would be an ideal opportunity, Uncle Guy, because if I’m allowed to go to Poyntons for the house party, then I’d have something to talk to her about. Look, there was an notice in the
Times
, and I cut it out to show you.” She searched in her pocket again and took out the piece of newspaper.

Leonie watched as she handed it to him. So that was what the business with the newspaper had been about!

Guy read it out. “ ‘On Wednesday, January the twenty-sixth, Mr. Kean of the Theater Royal, Exeter, will make his first appearance at the Theater Royal, Drury Lane, in the part of Shylock in
The Merchant of Venice
. To be followed by the farce,
The Apprentice
, with Mr. Bannister in the leading part.’ ” He glanced at Stella. “Who is this Mr. Kean? I thought at the very least that you’d be wanting to see Kemble in the role.”

“I just want to see the play, Uncle Guy,” she replied meekly.

He smiled a little. “So you’d have me believe.”

“But I do!” she protested. “Please take me, Uncle Guy, because I do so want to please Imogen.” The insertion of Imogen’s name was very deliberate.

He nodded. “Very well, Miss Slyboots, I’ll take you.”

“Oh, Uncle Guy!” she cried in delight, hugging him. She drew back then. “There’s something else….”

“I hardly dare ask what it is,” he replied dryly.

“Oh, it’s nothing dreadful, truly it isn’t. I was wondering…. Well, I was wondering if Leonie could come too.”

Leonie was thunderstruck, color rushing to her cheeks. “Oh, Stella, you mustn’t ask such a thing!”

“Please, Uncle Guy,” pressed the girl. “I would so like it if she could.”

He smiled across at Leonie. “Of course you must join us, Miss Conyngham.”

“You must not feel obliged to invite me, Sir Guy,” she said, greatly embarrassed. “Of course I cannot accept.”

“Please, Leonie!” begged Stella, going to her and taking her hand. “I do so want you to be there. Tell her, Uncle Guy.”

“My niece is right to ask you, Miss Conyngham, and I would have invited you anyway, even had I not been prompted. Please say that you will join us.”

The hot color still burned on Leonie’s cheeks. “You’re very kind, Sir Guy, but truly it’s impossible for me to accept.”

“Because of your position here? Do you think Miss Hart might object?”

“Yes.” Of course Miss Hart would object, she’d be angry, and she’d be alarmed at the thought of what Dorothea Lieven and her cousin might have to say.

“I’ll speak to Miss Hart before I leave,” he said firmly. He paused then studying her face. “There’s some other reason for turning down the invitation, isn’t there?”

“There are two, Sir Guy. First, I don’t think Lady Imogen would be best pleased. She and I have never got on, and I believe she would be much put out if I accompanied you and Stella.” Much put out? That was putting it mildly!

“I’m hardly embarking upon a pursuit, Miss Conyngham, I’m merely asking you to join us for the evening. Stella is only twelve, and I believe it’s considered proper for such young girls to be accompanied by a lady on such occasions.”

“Yes, but—”

“No buts, Miss Conyngham. I’m sure Imogen will understand the situation. So, we are left with your last reason.”

She took a deep breath. “It may sound lame, Sir Guy, but it’s simply that I don’t have anything to wear, anything suitable for the theater, that is. My clothes and jewels were stolen just before Christmas.”

Stella’s eyes shone. “But you do have something to wear, Leonie, you have the white silk gown the thief dropped. Oh, you
can
come with us!”

There was nothing more Leonie could say. Still feeling very embarrassed, and cross with Stella for putting her into such a position, she accepted the invitation.

When Guy left shortly afterward, he kept his word and first spoke with Miss Hart. The headmistress was dismayed, and at first put up a number of implausible objections, each one of which Guy demolished with ease. Eventually she had no option but to give in and grudgingly consent to Leonie’s being allowed to go to the theater. Angry at being put in a very difficult position, Miss Hart then retired to her private parlor and the solace of the golden sofa, where she sat disconsolately wondering what the outcome of this latest development would be. She glanced up at Dorothea Lieven’s portrait. Oh dear, life was becoming difficult. Dorothea and Nadia would be absolutely furious to discover that Leonie, far from being completely shunned by society, was now to sally forth to the theater with one of London’s most handsome and eligible men! Imogen would be equally furious, both because she loathed Leonie and because Stella was somehow still in her uncle’s good books, in spite of all that had been done to the contrary. Miss Hart gave a weary sigh. One tried one’s best to please everyone, and one ended up pleasing no one. What should she do now? Should she send word to the embassy and to Imogen about what was about to happen? Or should she prudently stay silent and hope that the event came and went without anyone’s ever being the wiser? Even as she thought this last, she knew that it was far too hazardous a course. No, she would have to send word and thus rest in the knowledge that at least she had done all that could be humanly expected, for it was hardly her fault if a gentleman of Guy de Lacey’s standing
insisted
upon having his own way! With another weary sigh the headmistress got up and went to her escritoire, sitting down to compose two suitable communications.

* * *

In the vestibule, meanwhile, a rather cross Leonie was waiting for Stella to come in from saying farewell to Guy. She heard him riding away down Park Lane toward Piccadilly, and then Stella was hurrying in, shivering with the cold. As Joseph closed the door and withdrew, the girl held her cold hands out to the fire, unaware as yet of how displeased Leonie was with her. “Oh, it’s so
cold
out there,” she cried, “but I really do think it’s going to thaw! The icicles on the balconies are beginning to drip and—” She broke off as she caught Leonie’s eye. “You’re cross with me, aren’t you?”

“Yes. By asking if I could join you, you placed both me and your uncle in a most difficult and embarrassing position.”

“Uncle Guy wasn’t embarrassed.”

“I don’t profess to know how he felt, but
I
most certainly felt embarrassed. How could you have asked such a thing, Stella?”

The girl’s face fell. “Oh, please don’t be angry. Uncle Guy doesn’t mind, honestly he doesn’t. In fact he….” Her voice died away on a guilty note.

“In fact he what?” demanded Leonie suspiciously, by now aware that Stella was capable of anything.

“Well….”

“I’m waiting.”

Stella took a deep breath. “I told him I thought pink and white flowers for your hair and wrist would “go absolutely perfectly with your white silk dress.” She edged slowly away toward the staircase as Leonie’s eyes widened with more angry disbelief, “And he said that he agreed and he’d send you some tomorrow,” finished the girl in a rush. Then she gathered her skirts and made a dash for the staircase, not stopping or looking back as Leonie’s voice echoed after her.

“Stella de Lacey! How
could
you!”

Neither of Miss Hart’s communications reached its proper destination. Not knowing Imogen’s address in Oxfordshire, the headmistress directed the note to Curzon Street, trusting that it would be forwarded, but as Imogen was expected back in two days anyway, the note remained in the silver dish in the grand entrance hall of Longhurst House. The note to Dorothea was delivered to the embassy, where it fell into Count Lieven’s jealous hands. By now aware of his wife’s infidelity with Lord Palmerston, the count was already suspicious about a stay with “friends” that she intended to make immediately after the following night’s subscription ball at Almack’s, and he was convinced that the note was connected with this. Trusting that not receiving the note would cause Dorothea some embarrassment, or at least inconvenience, he consigned it unopened into the fire, and said nothing at all about it.