Althea (26 page)

Althea did not try to explain the dynamics of her sister to
her brother-in-law.

They sat down eight to dinner. Aside from the Laverhams,
there was, at Althea’s insistence, Edward Pendarly. Maria would have excluded
him for her sister’s sake, but Althea reminded her sternly that the man was
still Georgiana’s fiancé. John Wallingham had also been invited — altogether at
Maria’s instigation, since she had no idea of the plotting that had occurred
around her. The Bevans, Althea, and her brother made up the party. No one
seemed particularly at ease: Maria was wrought into a state of sublime frenzy
and insisted upon repeating her words
sotto voce
during the soup.
Georgiana, who was settled between Wallingham and Merrit Ervine, spent the meal
nervously turning aside the gallantries that assaulted her first from one side
and the other, while Edward Pendarly watched angrily and pretended to listen to
Mrs. Laverham’s comments upon a variety of insipid topics. Althea was too
dispirited to try to tease Pendarly; instead she focused her attention
somewhere on the middle of the table and tried not to think on anything more
than the quality of the soup. In all, when the last dish was removed and Maria
remembered that it was up to her to lead the ladies into the other room,
everyone breathed a little more freely.

Althea more than once exhorted herself to behave a little
more socially, no matter what the effort, but it was not until the party had
arrived safe at Lady Liverpool’s, and she, Maria, and Georgiana had gone up to
the tiring rooms, that she was able to affect enthusiasm. Even then it was a
peculiarly feverish sort of cheerfulness that she feared must be as transparent
as her sullens. Luckily her two companions were both taken up in their own
anxieties and did not notice anything in Althea’s manner that was out of the
way. When finally the headdress had been adjusted for the fourth time, the
skirts of the gown had been arranged to everyone’s satisfaction, and the
requisite number of compliments had been paid the gown and its wearer, Althea
and Georgiana left Maria on her own to recite her words over and over, while
they went down to join the throng of people who had come with the performers in
advance of the rest of the guests.

Georgiana, whose object for the evening was to cool
Wallingham’s affections and to try to regain Edward’s approval, was utterly at
a loss to know how to begin. Even this problem was destined to be complicated
by the fact that Merrit Ervine
would
hang about her, allowing her no
opportunity to speak with either Wallingham or Pendarly. She adopted with him
the same empty-headed manner she used with Wallingham, and laughed, rather
preoccupiedly, at his comments, while raking the crowd for Pendarly or Wallingham.
Her mother was nowhere to be seen, and Georgiana was not sure whether that was
a blessing or a curse. In the growing crowd she became surer and surer that she
would not see Pendarly all night, and without even Althea to torment him, how
would she ever know where he was or with whom he was consoling himself?

She need not have worried. Although she herself was paying
less than no attention to Merrit Ervine’s importunities, to the world at large
she appeared to be vastly entertained. Georgiana did not realize the picure she
made until Penderly himself, with the brow of a wrathful Apollo and a voice
tight through clenched teeth, approached her. She blanched and very quickly
dispatched Mr. Ervine for a cup of punch — or anything, so long as it was cool
and would take some time to fetch.

“So,” Pendarly said at length.

Georgiana looked up at him beseechingly, and almost, for a
moment, he was ready to relent. But only for a moment. Then full consciousness
of his abominable ill use came flooding back to him and he began again.

“It is not enough that you must let that — that dandy
gamester, that flash cull, that unscrupulous hound follow in your tacks, or
that you encourage him. No, now you work your wiles upon some new mark. Has no
one ever explained to you that a betrothal is supposed to imply some manner of
commitment between two people? Have you no more respect for yourself — not to
mention me — than to make yourself cheap by flirting with the first dashing
face that appears before you?” Pendarly continued wrathfully onward, altogether
unaware that he was convicting himself as he accused her.

“What has come over you, Georgiana?” he asked finally. “All
of the sudden you are grown out of my knowledge — so trivial, as if you were
any girl out to win a husband.” He abandoned his softened tones. “I owe myself
something better than a wife who will make me a spectacle before the world. I
give you warning. Either you abandon this path or we are quits and your mother
can direct a notice to the
Gazette
announcing so!”

Before Georgiana could speak a word in her own defense he
had stalked off, leaving her crushed and helpless in his wake.

After five minutes’ reflection Pendarly came to the
realization that perhaps he had not been quite fair in refusing to listen to
anything she could say in her own defense. After ten minutes more he considered
returning to her side — or possibly wresting her from the arms of Wallingham,
or Miss Ervine’s fatuous brother — and speaking more rationally to her, making
her understand his devotion to her. He had wondered in the last weeks whether
both Althea and Georgiana knew of his behavior during Georgiana’s illness: they
had been so often in each other’s company that he was sure they must have
pieced it all out: another five minutes’ deliberation decided him to seek her
out and beg
her
forgiveness — to see if she could not be persuaded to
forgive him and accept his devotion to her. As he started across the hallway to
the room where he had left her, a uniformed lackey impeded his progress and
inquired if he was not Mr. Pendarly. He replied impatiently that he was and
continued to look impatiently over the man’s shoulder for Georgiana.

“Sir,” the footman said carefully, “I have a note here for
you from a gentleman, sir.” He presented an envelope to Pendarly with a pompous
flourish. Pendarly took the note, thanked the man briefly, and continued his
way into the main room, where he searched for some fifteen minutes without
success for Miss Laverham. He then canvassed the rest of the public rooms,
going so far as to inquire of one of the ladies retreating from the tiring room
if she had seen Georgiana within. The music had started and much of the noise
of the gathering in the main room had quieted. He returned there, where most of
the occupants had found chairs and were listening with careless attention to
the program of music being served up. Again he searched the rows of chairs for
Georgiana’s face, and again he missed her.

At length he dropped into an empty chair and sat, dejected,
until the envelope he had pocketed, which was now jabbing him unpleasantly,
recalled him to the fact that he had received a message. He retrieved the
envelope and opened it. It was written in a bold untaught hand:

You may consider your arrangement with Miss Laverham at an end. I
have undertaken to ensure her happiness and my own. By the time this reaches
your hand we shall be in pursuit of the border, and will be married at Gretna.

Any attempt to stop our progress would be ill advised, as this
elopement is as much by her wish as by mine. Pray convey my compliments to Miss
Ervine. My own consolations go to the loser of the prize.

— J de MW

Pendarly stared at the missive for a few minutes in utter
shock. Then, without thinking what he did, he sought out Tracy Calendar.

o0o

When Edward left her, Georgiana stood, paralyzed, altogether
brokenhearted. She looked around the room sightlessly; Althea waved from across
the room and received no answering signal, but she was so situated that she
could not go and question her friend. After a moment of this unseeing search
Georgiana found that she had regained the limited use of her limbs, and sought
a chair somewhere out of the way. What she finally found was a settee
carelessly left behind a group of ornamental statuary and curtains, and there she
sat and waited for tears. She did not have long to wait before her solitude was
disturbed and Merrit Ervine discovered her. He had the appearance of a man
returned from a great battle — not altogether successful, but victorious at
last. In his hands were punch glasses, miraculously half full; minute stains on
his formerly reproachless inexpressibles testified to his struggles.

Georgiana did not take in this spectacle — after she had
identified the gentleman with a glance, her head dropped low again, and to all
his solicitous inquiries she replied with a whimper or a choke. Merrit
considered taking her in his arms and banishing her misery, but he had a
lurking suspicion that even in London that sort of behavior, if found out,
could have dire consequences. So he sat for some few minutes chatting about
various equally inane subjects, and finally, as Miss Laverham stubbornly
refused to be amused from her blue-devils, he asked her pardon and left.

Which left the area clear for Wallingham. He had been about
to accost Miss Laverham when Pendarly had swooped in like an avenging angel.
Now, with the fine judgment of an expert, he waited until he judged her ready
to listen to his suggestions. He had not planned originally to make such a
final move so early, but certain gentlemen in the City were becoming
increasingly impatient, and here was Miss Laverham, ripe, as the expression
went, for the plucking: considerably farther along to being under his spell
than any of the other women he had an interest in. So, with a little regret for
other fortunes lost, Wallingham decided to effect an elopement, since even with
Mrs. Laverham’s favor (which he, firmly believed he should eventually have), it
might be a little awkward to wed in London, at a church, with Pendarly frowning
over the proceedings.

He advanced upon Georgiana, and with practiced solicitude,
said nothing, but set himself down beside her and took her hand. Georgiana did
not want to speak to him — the cause of her misery — but years of training had
made it an article with her that one was not impolite to a gentleman; and in
any case, once he saw how distressed she was, he surely would not expect her to
speak with him.

His first assurance was that she need not speak if she did
not wish to; he knew enough not to tax her for words. But if he might speak —
and Georgiana merely listen — for the space of five minutes? Georgiana could
not begrudge him that, and besides, whatever he said, if she was not required
to answer, then she need not pay any attention at all, So while Wallingham
began to introduce the subject of marriage, his heartfelt admiration for her,
and elopement, Georgiana busied herself with cheering thoughts of how truly
miserable she was, and heard not a word of what he said. Had Wallingham tried
to besmirch Pendarly’s character, she might have awakened from her stupor, but
the man had too much sense, and so nothing called her away from her morbid
thoughts while he continued his declaration of love. He had gotten so far as
the elopement, and was describing their triumphant return to London, when a
word caught Georgiana’s ear.

“Home?” she repeated dully.

“Yes, Miss Laverham,” he said patiently. “But now?”

“Oh, yes, please.” Georgiana looked at him beseechingly.

Wallingham had a good idea of how Miss Laverham was thinking,
but any gentlemanly impulse he might have felt to explain to her what plans he
had been laying at her unnoticing feet was scotched by the memory of the fellow
who had promised to wait on him within the next week should he prove unable to
pay his debts.

“Stay here, my heart, while I procure your pelisse and tell
your mother. There is certainly no reason that she should disturb herself.”
Georgiana nodded listlessly and did as he instructed.

If it were possible to have shouted his relief in public, Wallingham
would have done so. All was working out splendidly. He even stopped to watch a
moment of the theatrical presentation now getting under way: Lady Bevan was, as
expected, bungling her words, but looked so pretty that it really made no
matter. He went first in search of paper and pen, and having found them, wrote
notes to Mrs. Laverham and Pendarly. The first was filled with overblown
phrases describing his burning love for the lady’s daughter; the second was an
insolent note to a rival. This duty discharged, he found Georgiana’s pelisse
and returned to her.

Now that she was resolved to go, Georgiana affected a
certain purposefulness of manner. She left her hiding place upon Wallingham’s
arm, looking for all the world as if there were nowhere she would rather be,
and walked with the gentleman to the door without a backward look. Once in the
hackney he had procured, however, she began to shiver and look pale again.

Wallingham had been faced with the problem of how to get his
captive willingly from the hack to a post chaise, so that they might effect as
speedy an exit as possible from the city. He knew that his note to Pendarly had
been ill advised, but he had never been a good winner, and the temptation to
rub his parsonical adversary’s beautifully chiseled nose in the dirt was too
strong. The hack they rode in was so drafty that Wallingham decided it would
serve as an excuse for changing carriages. From the first moment (after he had
instructed the driver of the hack to head for a certain posting inn where he
was well known) Wallingham complained loudly of the draft, and was equally loud
and indignant in his fears for Miss Laverham’s health. When he saw that they
were within a few houses of the inn, he instructed the driver to stop, and
explained to Georgiana that he could no longer countenance her riding in the
back in such chill. Georgiana paid no attention to where they were going, and
as he had made a remark about how slow the traffic was — “everyone of the
ton
must be out tonight” — Georgiana did not wonder that it was taking them
so long to go from Lady Liverpool’s to her home. Once the carriage had drawn to
a halt, Wallingham sprang from it with an assurance to Georgiana that he would
go only so far as to procure another hack for them. Then, leaving her alone to
consider her misery in cold and silence, he went around the corner to the inn
and demanded a chaise and four.