Anne Barbour (20 page)

“What!” bellowed Thorne. “Good God, is that your idea of a solution to this tangle?”

“Yes, it is,” replied Hester coolly. “At least, a temporary one. The thing is, I believe Chloe is at least half in love with John Wery, and even though she doesn’t understand her own feelings, it will not take much to push her over the precipice—so to speak. She has held for so long, buckle and thong, to her notion of a celibate life, that it is very difficult for her to—to realign her thinking. If you will all bear with me—and with Chloe—I believe we will still see her betrothed to John in the not-too-distant future.”

“You’re talking in circles,” growled Thorne. “I say it’s time I put my foot down on Miss Venable and all her foibles.”

“You have tried that, my lord, with a singular lack of success. Now, if you will just let me—

She was interrupted by the sound of the front door knocker, and all activity was suspended as the four conspirators waited with stilled breath. In a few moments, Hobart entered to announce that Mr. John Wery had come to call on Miss Chloe. At his words, acrimony broke out once more until Hester held up her hand, bringing it down with a slap on a small occasional table at her side. Once more, a startled silence fell on the room.

“Please,” she said in a low, fierce voice, “we do not have time for further discussion. I ask you to trust me in this.” She spoke to all of them, but her gaze went to Thorne, who stared back intently for some moments.

“Very well.” He stood. “What do you want us to do?”

“But, Thorne—!” exclaimed Gussie while Lady Lavinia contented herself with an unintelligible series of “Oh, dear me’s.”

“I asked Miss Blayne here to help me,” Thorne said to his afflicted relatives. “I see no alternative at this point but to let her get on with whatever she’s planning.”

He turned to Hester, his visage calm, but with a minatory look in his eyes. “What do you want us to do?” he repeated.

“Thank you, Thorne,” said Hester simply. “I would like to speak to Mr. Wery for a few minutes—alone. Then, I will call for Chloe to come down to receive him. I promise,” she added with a smile that was almost mischievous, “I will Explain All later.”

Thorne did not return the smile, but turned to usher his aunts from the room.

Hester sat down and folded her hands, and in a few moments John Wery was ushered into the room. If he was surprised to behold Miss Blayne awaiting him instead of his inamorata, he displayed no sign of it, but, greeting her courteously, he seated himself nearby.

“I know you have come to call on Chloe,” began Hester, and John nodded, his brows lifting quizzically.

“Yes, I was given to understand that she is at home to visitors.” The statement was almost in the form of a question.

“Oh yes,” said Hester, “but I wanted to have a word with you before she is apprised of your presence here.”

“Ah,” said John, his obvious puzzlement increasing.

“Mr. Wery, I realize we do not know each other well, but I have become friends with Chloe—and—and with Lord Bythorne. You already know that his lordship smiles upon your suit, as do I.” Hester drew in a deep breath. “In fact, the only person not in favor of the match is Chloe herself.”

“What?” exclaimed John. “But—I was given to understand—that is—

“Please, believe me, Mr.—may I call you John, please, for I feel that you and I are about to become much more closely acquainted.”

“Certainly,” John replied a little wildly. “But—

“Please, believe me,” said Hester again, for she had rehearsed this speech rather carefully. “Chloe holds you in the highest regard, and I am afraid it is my fault that she is prepared to refuse you this afternoon—if you should still care to declare yourself.”

“Your fault! But, I thought you said—” John ran trembling fingers through his mouse brown hair.

“My fault because I seem to have inspired Chloe to take up the feminist cause.”

“Well, yes, I have heard her speak of you most admiringly, but—

“I am afraid she misunderstood some of my writings to indicate a belief that women should not marry.”

“Uhh-hh,” said John, an expression of wary comprehension beginning to spread across his features.

“Yes,” said Hester. “She has apparently decided that she must devote her life to the cause, and plans to spend the rest of her days writing and lecturing.”

For a moment, John said nothing, and Hester watched him intently. After staring into space for a few seconds, John appeared to gather himself together.

“I must confess, Miss Blayne, your words come as a shock to me. It had not escaped my notice, of course, that Chl—Miss Venable’s sentiments toward me were, er, less than enthusiastic, but last night... Well, the carriage incident seemed to bring us together, and I thought—”

“John, why do you wish to marry Chloe?”

For a moment, he simply stared at her.

“W-what?”

“I said—

“Yes, I heard you,” John said hastily. “I mean, why? That is, why do you ask, Miss Blayne?”

Hester smiled. “As in, ‘What possible business is it of yours, Miss Blayne?’”

He flushed. “Well—er, yes.”

“I ask only because I think I can help you, but first I wish to ascertain your feelings for Chloe.”

John stiffened. “Well, naturally, I hold Miss Venable in the highest esteem.” Apparently perceiving that Miss Blayne required a little more exposition on his part, he rushed on. “She is lovely, and—and lively, and up until now, I had thought we would suit admirably as man and wife.”

Hester sighed. “Did you ever tell her that—the part about her being lovely and lively?”

He gave an affronted gasp. “Of course not! Do you take me for a complete here-and-thereian?”

“Absolutely not,” she replied dryly. “But, never mind that now. Do you love her, John?” she asked gently.

John blanched visibly, as though he had been accused of planning to sell Miss Venable into white slavery.

“I—I just told you, I hold her—”

“Yes, yes.” Hester waved an impatient hand. “But, that is not the same thing, is it? I want to know how you really feel about her.”

“I—I do not wish to contemplate my life without her,” said John gruffly. “I like being with her, and I feel—oh, empty when I am not. I like just looking at her, but I like it even more when I can hold her in my arms during the dance.”

“And—?”

“Yes,” he said miserably. “I do love her. But what has that to do with anything if she does not return my affection?” He rose, his expression bleak. “I really believe I should leave. Miss Blayne. I see no point in distressing her with my declaration if it is unwelcome to her, nor do I wish to subject myself to the humiliation of her rejection.”

Hester’s eyes glinted with satisfaction. “Sit down, John. All is not lost. Trust me, for I have a plan.”

John sank slowly back into his chair, his aspect dubious and his demeanor unwilling.

“In a few moments, I shall notify Chloe that you are here, and when she comes down, you will make your proposal.”

At this, John leaped to his feet again as though bitten. Hester merely held up an admonitory hand, and as she continued to speak, his attitude lightened considerably. When she finally paused to draw breath, a slow, wary smile lit his eyes.

“I think one of us must be a little mad, Miss Blayne, and at this point I am not willing to hazard a guess as to which one it is. However, I shall do as you wish. I, too, it appears am about to join the ranks of your adherents—whether for good or ill, we shall have to see.”

Chapter Fourteen

A few moments later, when Chloe entered the drawing room, John awaited her alone. Chloe was pale and still obviously distraught, but Pinkham had managed to obliterate most of the tearstains from her cheeks. She smiled wanly when John brushed her fingertips with his lips, and allowed herself to be drawn to a small settee near the window.

“Miss Venable,” began John. He spoke softly, searching her face intently, “I trust you have recovered from our adventure yesterday afternoon.”

Chloe started and glanced down at her hands, one of which still lay in John’s grasp. “Oh, yes, of course. Although, of course, the whole thing will forever remain in my memory.” She assayed a quick glance at him through her lashes and blushed at the expression she found there.

“Miss Venable,” said John again, “dear Miss Venable, I believe you are aware by now that I have spoken to Lord Bythorne and—

“Goodness!” exclaimed Chloe. “Has no one rung for tea? How very remiss of Hobart not to have seen to it.”

Pulling her hand from his, she rose abruptly and went to the bellpull. On her return, she seated herself a little way away from him. Hobart entered the room almost immediately, leading anyone to suppose he had been lurking immediately outside the door. Chloe, in a trembling voice, ordered refreshments, and when Hobart had bowed himself from the room, she turned to John and spoke brightly.

“I must send a note around to Sophy Salburt to inquire about her mother. The poor lady was in such a sad state when we arrived home, that I’m sure she must have gone into severe palpitations.”

“Yes, she did seem overset. Miss Venable—

“I must own I was surprised when it came on to rain yesterday, for I do not think there was any forecast. And today the sun—”

“Miss Venable,” said John gently. “Chloe. I did not come here today to discuss the weather conditions in southern England.” He picked up a small, straight-backed chair and placing it directly in front of her, sat down. This time, he took both of her hands in his. “I do not mean to distress you, my dear girl, but I have come to ask you to be my wife.”

“Oh-hh-h!” moaned Chloe in dismay. She bit her lip. “Mr. Wery, this is so very sudden, I—” She glanced up to catch his gaze on her. “Well, no, I guess I cannot say that, can I?” She tugged at her hands, and he released them without a struggle. Chloe took a deep breath.

“Mr. Wery, I am conscious of the deep honor you do me, but I fear we should not suit. I have elected to devote my life to the cause of feminism and equality for women.” She uttered the words in a rush and stared apprehensively at him.

John pushed back his chair and stood. For a moment, he looked down at her. “And you do not think you could fit a husband and family into your program?” he asked with a smile.

“No! That is—I must tell you Mr. Wery, that I view the institution of marriage as little more than a form of slavery.”

“Ah.” John moved the chair back a little and reseated himself. “Perhaps, if—

At this inopportune moment, Hobart entered the room, followed by a footman, who carried an ornate tea tray. An awkward silence prevailed as the footman arranged cups, saucers, and a plate of biscuits on a table, After the two men withdrew, the delicate Meissen clattered loudly as Chloe poured tea and offered John a biscuit, which he refused.

“I am sorry—”

John looked up quickly at Chloe’s almost hysterical tone.

“I seem to be inordinately clumsy this afternoon. It’s just that—” She gasped a little and uttered a high-pitched burst of laughter. “I do not think I have ever been alone with a man for such an extended period of time. And I know my aunts are upstairs waiting to pounce on me after you’ve left. They will want to know how our interview went, and when I tell them—” She burst into tears, and John, a look of consternation on his face, put down his cup and sank to his knees before her.

“Don’t,” he said, patting her hand ineffectually. “Don’t do that. I never meant to discommode you. Oh, Chloe—” Gently, he put an arm about her and drew her head onto his shoulder. “I shall not importune you. If you do not wish to marry, I—I shall respect your wishes.”

Startled, Chloe drew back, her eyes wide and her tears studding the long sweep of her lashes. “You mean—?” she asked breathlessly.

John withdrew a handkerchief from his pocket and began drying her eyes. His gesture was so avuncular—not at all lover-like—that Chloe relaxed against him.

“All I want is for you to be happy, Chloe. I am sorry that the idea of marrying me does not fulfill that wish, but I will respect your decision.”

He rose. “I shall not stay for tea, I think. I will leave you now, Chloe—my dearest Chloe.”

Chloe’s pink mouth made an O of astonishment.

“But, I want you to know that if you should change your mind, I—I will be waiting.”

He stooped to pick up her hand and once more kissed her fingers lightly. He turned then, but stopped abruptly when he got to the door. He whirled about. “I forgot—you look lovely today—as always.”

Then, he was gone.

Chloe fell back into her chair. “Ohh-hhh-hh,” she said softly, pressing her fingertips to her lips, and it was many minutes before she rose to leave the room herself.

To her surprise, there was no pouncing. In fact, neither of her aunts seemed to be on the premises, nor was Uncle Thorne. She ran lightly up the stairs and tapped on Hester’s door. Upon receiving permission to enter, she fairly flung herself into the room, where Hester sat at her desk, writing.

“Oh, Hester,” she cried, “this has been the most wretched day of my life!”

“Come, now,” Hester replied briskly. “It could not have been that bad. Tell me what transpired.”

“It was awful! I refused his suit, and he was s-so noble— so brave! He s-said,” she wailed, “that he wished only for my happiness!”

“Well, now, there is nothing in that to turn you into a watering pot, my dear. You see, I told you that all you had to do was refuse him.”

“But, I have broken his heart!”

“Nonsense. Hearts do not break so easily. I’ll warrant that by this time next month he will have formed an attachment to some other pretty young miss and will have a hard time recalling your name. So, you see how well it has all turned out.”

“How can you be so unfeeling, Hester?” Chloe fairly gasped in her indignation. “He said he will be waiting for me if I change my mind.”

“Oh, they all say that,” replied Hester prosaically. With a bright smile, she turned back to her desk. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, my dear, I must get back to work. If I do not finish this chapter today, I shall become woefully behind schedule. I hope you don’t mind?” she added, her eyes already on her page.