Althea (25 page)

Althea could not laugh: it all seemed eminently probable to
her. “I suppose I ought to return home for a little while at least — if naught
else than to engage a housekeeper for Papa.”

“A housekeeper! Ally, you know that Father would rather live
in a sty than pay an extra salary when it wasn’t needed.”

“Merrit, has it never occurred to you that I may not always
be there to keep house for Papa, and much respect as I owe him” — a derisive
noise from Merritt — “and much love as I have for him, that I may not want to
spend the rest of my life soothing Cook and luring Papa away from the stables
and implementing Doctor Phillips physics?”

“Why not?” Merrit asked obtusely.

Althea laughed in despair. “Merrit! If you have courtesy,
you might at least affect some! Has it never ocurred to you — or my father, for
the matter of that — that someday I might follow Maria’s example and set up in
an establishment of my own?”

“No,” Merrit answered simply.

“Merrit!”

“I can’t see you setting up as a bountiful lady and visiting
the poor with baskets and that sort of nonsense. With all the books you’ve read
I used to think you might make a fair don, but that certainly wouldn’t do. Even
if they’d take you, Father would never permit it.”

“Merrit, has it never occurred to you or Papa that I might
marry?”

“No,” Merritt said interestedly. “Never thought you very
partial to any of the bumpkins round Hooking, and I
never
thought of you
setting up housekeeping with one of them.”

Althea made an effort to control her temper. “You and Papa
have a delightful picture of me dwindling in my declining years at Hook Well
keeping house for Papa, and then for you, until you displace me with a wife and
I am relegated to the position of helpful maiden aunt. Good God, I’m of a mind
not to return there ever. Even here there are some people who think I am worth
more than that!” A thought of Calendar, up to now a thorn in her flesh, came to
her as a vast comfort. She dwelt on the thought for a minute until her temper
was cooler.

“I suppose I cannot expect much more from my father’s son,”
she said at last. “I had some hopes that you would not be quite so silly as
Papa, but — oh well, I suppose I might as well return to Hook Well anyway. Who
knows,” she added darkly, “but what it might serve my purpose to do so. A quick
escape might be indicated — after the mess I have made of my affairs here.” She
made herself smile. “All right, Brother, I will return home — and perhaps I
shall wind up setting up as a lady bountiful despite your doubts. That’s not to
worry about now. I will need a few days to settle my affairs here, though,” she
said, thinking of Georgiana.

“Did I not say to take as much time as you like? I didn’t
travel over some of the worst roads in the kingdom — remind me to tell my
father that that chaise needs new springs — well, I haven’t come to London just
to drag you back home. Where is Francis anyway? I want him to tell me where I
may find the man who makes his boots.”

Althea sighed and released her brother to search for Lord
Bevan, suggesting that he might try the office in the rear of the house. “But
beware his temper. He’s doing accounts today, and I doubt he’ll be in a good
frame of mind.” Not, she thought, with the debt to Calendar still hanging over
his head.

Merrit stood in the doorway. “That little thing is promised,
is she? Damn shame — she’s quite a taking little article.”

“Merrit!” his outraged sister cried as he escaped the room.
She reflected that she would have to warn Georgiana of her new admirer before
they met again. She then returned to
Tristram Shandy
, with rather less
attention than that book deserved.

It was as well that she was not able to go far with her
reading. Five minutes after he had gone, Merrit returned with Francis, who was
without doubt relieved to have any excuse to take him from the accounts. Merrit
announced that they were off to see a bootmaker and a haberdasher and anyone
else Francis could recommend who was prepared to make a young gentleman into a
Tulip of the ton. Althea reserved her doubts on that score and merely reminded
them that they dined at home tonight, and earlier than usual because of Maria’s
theatrical debut. Five minutes after they were gone, arguing what color Merrit’s
new coat should be, Georgiana came down to ask Althea’s opinion of the costume.
Althea dropped her book with a sigh and followed her friend up the stairs.

One of the back bedrooms had been converted to a sewing
room, and two round-faced young women sat in one corner appraising their
handiwork with critical but approving airs, In the center of the room Maria
stood, resplendent in white crepe almost wholly covered in blue pailettes,
padded shoulders, and three filmy overskirts that gave the impression she had
wings. Atop her curls was perched a delicate headdress of white feathers and
one or two peacock feathers, skillfully placed on a slender band of silver that
circled Maria’s head.

“It is beautiful,” Althea said reverently. “Georgiana, I had
no idea you had such talent! Mary, if only you will contrive to remember your
words, you will have all the audience at your feet, and Lady Liverpool will not
need to bother with the rest of the program.”

“My lines!” Maria said in some alarm. “I have forgot them already,
I’m sure. Miss Laverham, I am more grateful than words can say, but now I
simply must rest and try to recall my part. Oooo!” Heedless of the management
of her skirts Maria started distractedly across the room, and was only stopped
by Althea and one of the maids, who anticipated disaster.

“Here, then, Miss, you just let us take that dress and the
bead thing and keep ’em fresh for tonight, and then you go along.” As she
spoke, the maid coaxed the feathered diadem from Maria’s head and Althea began
to unfasten the dress. When Maria was safely out of the garment and into a
dressing saque, Althea sent her off to her room to rest for the night’s
excitement.

“Poor Mary,” she murmured to Georgiana. “I misdoubt that she
will be able to remember above half her words, but she will be gloriously
pretty, thanks to you, and that should make it easier for her. How did you
learn to design so?”

“I never learned it,” Georgiana admitted. “It started when I
was in the schoolroom: I think my governess found it easier to let me play with
paints and stuffs rather than to try to teach me anything.”

“This is a craft,” Althea admired. “You could even keep
yourself with it — I have nothing that would support me if my circumstances
were reduced — except my wits.”

“I should never have the daring,” Georgiana said sadly. “I
am not at all a daring person, you know.”

“I suppose not.” Althea smiled. “Oh, listen, I wanted to
warn you — my odious brother has decided that he is smitten with you, and will
probably try to make you the object of some of his heavy-handed gallantry. You
know best how to deal with such a thing, but I felt it only fair to warn you.
He is a nice boy,” she said thoughtfully. “He is good-hearted, but I am afraid
that he really hasn’t two thoughts to rub together, and I begin to have the
awful notion that he will be just like Father when he grows a little older.”

“Althea,” Georgiana said hurriedly, “I am going to end the
charade tonight. I really cannot be civil to Mr. Wallingham another day, and I
miss
Edward....” Her voice broke. “He scolded me for being so much in Wallingham’s
company the other day.”

Well, thought Althea, it was just as well that Georgiana
came out of the scrape with success. After she had scotched her own hopes so
abysmally, what right had she to suggest anything to Georgiana? She had not
seen Tracy in almost a week, had not heard a word from him, and was, all the
time, thinking of him. Francis, when he had caught her in private about the
house, had taken a moment to tell her that it did not do to prolong lovers’
quarrels, and at first she had staunchly denied to herself that love had
anything to do with it — just that odious insufferable man trying to put her in
her place. But she was too honest not to feel the justice in what he had said,
and she was too honest to deny that the lack of Tracy’s company made her angry,
sullen, and miserable by turns. Deprived of it, she found herself reviewing
every word he had spoken to her, every meeting they had had, and found herself,
when she admitted it, loving him as much for the times when he had been most
irritating as for his moments of compassion and gravity. There was no reason
for him to forgive her, to reinstate her in his good graces, or to treat her
with any respect at all, she thought bitterly. He had offered for her to
provide himself with an heir, with a suitable hostess for his home, to make up
to her what he thought was the loss of Pendarly. (Which was not so deep as a
ditch, Althea thought wryly; how could she have been so stupid? And poor
Georgiana, she wanted to marry that man.) He had offered for her because he had
thought they could deal together, and now she had proved to everyone’s
satisfaction that they could not.

For a moment Althea recalled the kiss he had given her under
his aunt’s supervision.

Mere amusement. He had had for her perhaps a friendly
regard, and she had shattered even that. Thank heavens I never allowed the
announcement of our engagement to be published, she thought. Georgiana might
suspect, but Maria and Lady Boskingram were the only ones who really knew that
it existed. She could cut her losses and break off the betrothal without anyone
being the wiser, and go back to Hook Well without a trace of scandal. And grow
old and miserable in just the bleak future she had detailed to Merrit earlier.
Delightful.

She made herself smile. “I don’t know if there has been any
purpose to all this,” Gcorgiana was saying, “except that I don’t mind so much
being out in company anymore. Why, if I can amuse Wallingham, I must be a
better prevaricator than I thought. But now I only want to make all right
between Edward and me and to go back to being a little white mouse — for a
while at least. Who knows but that I have become used to my dissipations.”

“Hardly dissipations.” Althea laughed a little unsteadily.
“A little frivolity, perhaps, but not dissipations.”

Georgiana looked at her friend. Over the past week she had
seen a shadow — cunningly hidden but a shadow nonetheless — over Althea’s face.
“Don’t fret so, love. I am sure he will come around soon, whatever your quarrel
was.”

Althea was suddenly too exhausted to feign ignorance. “It
makes no matter,” she said quietly. “My brother is come to take me home. Did I
not tell you? My father is at his wit’s end, and has sent Merrit to fetch me
home before the cook leaves and the gardener prunes the roses to extinction and
the housemaids forget their duties altogether. I am sure I’ll have a busy time
of it when I first return to Lancashire. So whether I am forgiven or no, it
makes little difference. Besides, I have had my gaiety! Had I not taken it into
my head to run away in the first place, I should have wasted away at Hook Well
and never known what it is like to dance with the Prince or be confronted by
the Patronesses at Almack’s or see the Botanical Gardens, or any of the mad
dissipations
that have come my way.” She laughed a little hysterically.

“When do you return home?” Georgiana asked solemnly.

“I shall not leave until I know that all is well between you
and Pendarly,” Althea promised. “If he is difficult, even if I have to shake
him myself, I shall make him understand what is what. But I doubt you will have
any trouble, Georgiana. Then I shall collect Merrit, who I hope will not have
had enough time to get greatly into debt, and I shall be off for home. And you
will invite me to your wedding, and I will come and weep a little, and go home
again and rule my family with an iron hand and write dissertations on Greek
poetry,” she finished brightly. Georgiana was not in the mood to be amused.

“I don’t like it that you should be unhappy, Ally.”

“Nor shall I be,” Althea insisted stoutly. “I am used to
have the ordering of things at home, and I shall have the house to run and the
estate to watch over, and my studies to attend to. I can imagine the messes I shall
have to unsnarl when I get back. It is exactly what I am used to, and I shall
be quite content with it. I forbid you to worry over me. And tonight we end the
game and you and Edward will be as happy as if I never had come into your lives
at all.”

“You are the first person I ever could talk with this way. I
shall miss it.”

“Then you must school Edward to talk with you more. I’ve a
notion he will prove very good at it when he understands the idea of it.”
Althea bent to pick up a pincushion from the floor. “You and your mother dine
here tonight, am I correct? Then I collect you will want to go home and get
away from the Ervines and the Bevans and rest yourself a little. We dine early.
Maria informed Lady Liverpool that our party would arrive early on account of
her participation. Lord, what with twelve people in her cast, I think half of
London will appear there in the wake of the performers before the doors are
even officially open.”

Together the girls left the sewing room, talking of the
party as if there were no weightier matters in the world to be discussed, quite
as if their hearts were whole and unbreakable.

Dinner that evening might have been a lively affair had it
not been for the exceedingly sober and virtuous presence of Mrs. Laverham. But,
as Maria remarked petulantly to Francis, there had been no help for it:
Georgiana had to be there to help with final adjustments to the costume, and
one could hardly invite the girl without inviting her loathsome mother.
Francis, in his turn, told Althea that he was sure he had not seen Maria so
done up over anything since the day of her presentation at court: “And a fine
thing that was! Went through the whole ceremony without a fault, then came home
and fainted in the butler’s arms. Don’t understand why women get so upset about
these things.”