Cry of the Peacock (40 page)

“You’re back to University,” David said to his brother. “Unless you’ve forgotten.”

“I’m not going anywhere. Not just yet.”

“How do you mean to accomplish that?”

“You did send for the doctor, after all. I might make the most of his expertise.”

“You have a bump on the head. What more of it do you expect him to make than that?”

“I have a bloody great gash! The man bludgeoned me with a rock or a brick. I don’t know what. I’ve had stitches!” James parted his hair to show him.

“Good Lord. You’re lucky you don’t have a concussion.”

Mr. Meredith looked at him pointedly. “I’m not sure he doesn’t, if you want to know,” and he nodded at a wobbly James, who sank down onto his bed in an effort to appear more steady than he felt. Yes, sitting was much better.

“So,” James he said, deflecting the attention from his ailment. “Will you come, Meredith, and help me run defense at the Dunstable do?”

“If you want me, I’ll be there.”

James looked then to David. “Can you accomplish your errand before then? If she knows the whole of it, it may inspire her to make the most of the opportunities before her.”

David looked at James a very long time.

“Well?”

“I’ll see what I can do,” David answered blankly.

“A
CONCUSSION!” LADY Crawford exclaimed, and not for the first time.

“Yes, my dear, it does seem so,” Sir Nicholas said, and tried not to be irritated with his wife, who always made much of little, and a great deal more of a lot. The doctor had come and gone an hour ago, and still James’ injury had not quite sunk in. Perhaps it was because no satisfactory explanation had yet been given as to how he had suffered it.

Soup was served, and yet Lady Crawford did not eat. She only wrung her handkerchief between her fingers and looked alternately between her husband and each of her sons as if one of them had the answer. Perhaps they did, after all. Although Ruskin seemed none too concerned with his youngest brother’s incapacitation, David appeared uncharacteristically preoccupied.

“He has been so well behaved of late,” Lady Crawford continued. “He was doing so well at home, and do you not think he was doing much better at University?”

Sir Nicholas resisted the temptation to sigh. “As he was there little more than a month, my good lady, I fear I cannot say.”

Lady Crawford went back to wringing her handkerchief. “When will he ever leave off with the drinking and gambling? How is he ever to find a respectable wife if he will not learn to control himself?”

“It isn’t like that, Mother,” David said. It was the first thing he’d said all evening.

“Perhaps you can tell us what it
is
like, then, David,” Sir Nicholas said to him.

“Benderby,” was all he said, and returned his attention to his soup bowl. He picked up his spoon and dipped it once or twice, but never raised it to his mouth.

“Benderby? That is your explanation?”

“He was lurking about,” David said with his attention still on his soup. “James confronted him. He’s dealt with.”

“And so, very nearly, was your brother!”

David looked up. “Yes,” he said very calmly. “I suppose he was.”

“That’s it? ‘Yes, I suppose he was?’ Your brother was nearly killed and that’s all you have to say?”

David dropped his spoon with a clatter. “What more do you want me to say? Benderby’s dealt with. Yes, now you mention it, I suppose James might have been injured more seriously than he was. But he will recover.”

“You’re sure of that, are you?” Sir Nicholas asked his son and really wanted to know.

David looked at him very pointedly. “I am, actually.”

Clearly it was not James’ infirmity that had David so worried. What was it, then?

Soup was replaced by the main course.

Lady Crawford poked her roast beef with her fork and set it down again. “I wonder if we should not have had the doctor examine Arabella as well,” she said.

“What need has she for a doctor?” Ruskin asked, setting down his wine glass. He appeared very concerned, almost alarmed, actually. “She cannot have been harmed on our ride. I’m sure of it. Not seriously, at any rate.”

David looked up from his plate to examine his elder brother with a look that was actually demanding.

“It’s just that she is not at table again,” Lady Crawford said, answering Ruskin’s question. “It’s the third time this week she has claimed a headache and taken her meal in her room. I do not like it. Of course if there is something truly wrong with her, I can hardly deny her. Perhaps Mr. Harrison can be prevailed upon to return.” She considered for a moment more. “Yes,” she said. “If you’ll excuse me, I think I had better send for him. And I would like to see James for myself.”

The gentlemen arose while Lady Crawford hoisted herself out of her seat and left the room, her spaniel following obediently behind.

The gentlemen sat again.

Sir Nicholas observed that Ruskin was looking anxiously toward the door, and that David was looking anxiously at Ruskin. He watched with great interest the volley that followed.

“Katherine mentioned something about your ride,” David said. “A dog, I believe. She said it startled the horses and almost caused a disaster. She made little of it, and so I had no reason to suppose I should do differently. But judging by the look on your face, I presume it was not quite nothing that happened. Just how
almost
was that disaster?”

“Arabella’s horse was spooked.”

David’s brow shot up.

“He bolted with her on its back, but I quickly had all in hand.”

“She did not fall?”

“No. She did not fall. She might have been jolted and jostled a bit, but I cannot see how she was injured.”

“You saved her?” David said and appeared to doubt it.

“Why do you look so surprised? Her mare took off. I of course chased it down and had it under control again before any harm should befall.”

“You?”

“Well, I certainly did a hell of a lot more when the opportunity arose than to hide behind a carriage door!”

David’s brow knotted and he bent his head forward, as if he meant offer some argument. He clenched his jaw tightly shut, however, and said nothing.

“Were you going to say something, David?” Ruskin pressed. He never could let the opportunity for argument pass him by.

“There’s nothing to say, really,” David answered dismissively. “I simply hope your heroics do not go unrecognized.”

“She was grateful, as she should be,” Ruskin answered, but Sir Nicholas no longer had any confidence in his son’s too oft declared self-certainty.

Neither did David. “She certainly did not seem too eager to repay you for your efforts when I happened upon you this afternoon.”

Ruskin was suddenly red.

“You interrupted them?” Sir Nicholas asked of his younger son. “What were you thinking?”

“I was thinking I’d like to come home,” David said with a measure of frustration that surprised him. “I was
not
thinking that my brother should be making declarations and love speeches in the entrance hall.”

Sir Nicholas was surprised by this. The entrance hall? It must have been an impromptu speech, then. Perhaps Ruskin might, after all, have accomplished a great deal by his morning’s outing with Miss Gray.

“You know, David,” sir Nicholas said, “you’ve never been supportive of this project. I have tried to persuade you that it is a good and honorable thing we are doing. I know very well you are aware of our obligation toward her.”

“Yes, of course, but why must—”

“And I know,” Sir Nicholas continued, determined to make his point, “that you know how necessary it is that she should accept him.”

David tapped his signet ring on the table. The cloth dulled the sound, but not enough to render it less irritating.

“And it must be Ruskin?”

“Are you stupid?” Ruskin said. “Are you drunk? Who else is she to marry if we are to have the money?”

David stopped his tapping and stared at his brother. “That’s all I needed to hear from you, Ruskin. I’ve been waiting for it. Thank you,” he said, and rose from the table.

“What?” Ruskin asked growing very red and then very pale. “That was not quite how I meant it. You know that. I do care for her very much. You know I do.”

David leaned forward against the table. “Then leave her free to make her choice. Stop hounding her!” David threw down his napkin, and turned to leave.

If this was to come off, something more was plainly needed than Ruskin’s attempts at chivalry and his too eager supplications to a woman who, for whatever reason, had not yet learned to be receptive to them. Perhaps, after all, some further incentive was necessary.

“It is time she knew,” Sir Nicholas said, stopping David in his tracks. “And you will be the one to tell her.”

Slowly David turned around to face him. He looked a little sick.

“Ruskin can’t do it. It would seem self-serving. You might, as her friend, encourage her to consider what she risks by not accepting your brother’s suit.”

David rolled his eyes and turned away.

“Do you have any idea what will happen if she does not accept what Ruskin has to offer?”

“Just what is it he has to offer, will you tell me? When once she is married and installed permanently at Holdaway, will he at last treat her with the dignity and respect she deserves? Will she be granted the freedom to serve the estate as she sees fit, or do you mean to hang her on the wall and admire her, Ruskin? Because I don’t think she’ll stand for it.”

“We will help each other, no doubt. In time she will learn to be guided by me and—”

“I won’t help you!”

“You will, though!” Sir Nicholas said. “This affects you as well as us. You are a part of this family whether you like it or not, and if she sinks us, you sink as well, remember. There will be no Katherine. There will be no townhouse to give you.”

“How does Miss Gray’s marrying Ruskin have anything to do with my marriage to Katherine?”

“Do you really think Lord Barnwell would allow his daughter to marry a penniless man from an embarrassed family?” Sir Nicholas returned.

David did not answer this. No doubt he understood his future father-in-law well enough to see that it was true, or might be.

“Arabella Gray will marry Ruskin, David. And she will agree to do it by Christmas or we stand to lose everything. Everything! Do you understand?”

“It can’t be as bad as that. I know the books—”

“You
knew
the books. Things have changed. Everything hinges on one word from her. The life you are used to living, all the plans you have looked forward to these many years, everything hangs in the balance.”

Sir Nicholas had made his point. David rubbed at his forehead with one hand.

“You’ll do it this evening.”

David looked up and met his gaze with a blank look. “I’m sorry?”

“She will know of the will this evening. Are you prepared to do what you know you must?”

It seemed an eternity before David answered. He spoke not a word, but with a shuttered look, he bowed his respect and quit the room.

“Do you trust him to do it?” Ruskin asked of him.

“He will tell her,” Sir Nicholas said. “I’ll see to it. She will be made to understand.”

*   *   *

Abbie, after leaving Ruskin for the second time that day, had found it necessary to retire to her room. She had a headache, yes, but more than that she was feeling utterly overwhelmed. They’d been in London for little over a fortnight, and in that time she had betrayed her sister’s secret, had been nearly run down by a madman, and had survived a mishap with a dog and a terrified mare. But it wasn’t the events themselves that troubled her so much as what each experience had come to mean. Her sister’s secret, on the brink of revelation, had taught her like nothing else had, that she must either make a success of herself, or give up the effort entirely. There was a chance that her example, should she prove her place amidst the influential of Society, might serve to change the way people looked at the types of charitable endeavors they claimed on the one hand to support, but feared to foster too close an association with on the other. If she should fail, however, if the weight of the association should prove too great, there would be no second chance. The opportunity once lost would be lost for good.

There was Mr. Meredith’s unexpected visit to consider, as well. He had something important to tell her. Only she could not imagine for the life of her what it might be. Had her aunt lost her senses and bequeathed some immense fortune to her? Of course that was quite impossible. Her aunt had no kind feeling toward her, and why should she? So what, then, had been Mr. Meredith’s purpose? And what difference might his news make for her now? Great or small, she wished for any knowledge that might make her decision easier. She did not believe she could marry Ruskin. She was not sure, on the other hand, that she could refuse him.

If only she could make up her mind, one way or the other, what she must do. But there was no answer, only the same questions and arguments, replaying themselves over and over again. She sought her book and found it lying open and face down upon her bed. She had begun to develop a sort of fear of this book. It held her in rapture but frightened her at the same time. Was not Ruskin a little like the cruel Mr. Grandcourt, after all? Would she marry him and learn to regret it as Gwendolyn had done? Would her Deronda come too late? Or would he come at all?

Deronda, in his suspense, watched this revolving of the days as he might have watched a wonderful clock, where the striking of the hours was made solemn with antique figures advancing and retreating in monitory procession…

It was that struggle for time. On the one hand there was not enough of it. Ruskin wanted an answer and she was not prepared to give it. Most courtships went on for months upon months. Engagements might last years. She had been with the Crawfords for eight weeks. Eight weeks, and she was expected to know her answer! Would she never be allowed that which she required? Time, gentleness, a feeling that this was her own plan and not someone else’s?

But time dragged on as well. She felt as though she was waiting, waiting, waiting for some release, some savior who might come any minute but would not. Who could not.