Her Heart's Captain (19 page)

“No, you're out there,” Toby said, keeping his eyes on his work. “As the man of the party, I should have been firm, no matter what you and Andrea said. The captain made me see that quite clearly. He made me realize that I've much to learn before I can call myself a man.”

“Did he say that? It wasn't kind. He can sometimes be quite cruel, I believe.”

“Don't move your head, Jenny,
please
! Cruel? Not at all. Only honest. And he was harder on Andrea than on me, you know.”

“On Andrea? But why?”

“I don't know. He said she treats Lumpkin with more attention than she does you.”

“Did he? I wish he hadn't. He knows nothing of my relationship with Andrea. Don't you think if was a bit presumptious of him?”

“
Jenny
, you're putting up your chin! Can't you sit still a few moments more? If you ask me, the captain was quite right. Much as I care for Andrea (and you know that for years now I've been asking her to have me) I must admit that she sometimes behaves like the Queen of All the Britons. It worries me more than I care to admit.”

“Really? Why? It's only her ‘air,' you know. She's quite good-hearted underneath.”

“Yes, but how would such an air suit the wife of an impecunious son of a country vicar, eh?”

“But you won't always be the impecunious son of the vicar. You'll be Sir Tobias Boyce, portrait painter royal, with commissions from the Regent and all the peerage. Then your wife can wear all the airs she wants.”

He laughed, wrapped up his charcoal sticks and gave his sketch one last look of approval. “There, it's finished,” he said, wiping his fingers. “Come and look.”

Jenny jumped up and ran to look over his shoulder. The sketch was quite different from anything she'd seen him do before. It was suffused with light and shadow. The face, turned more than halfway from the sunlit window, was shadowed except where the sun struck on the curves of Up and cheek. Little tendrils of hair seemed to wave in the sunlight, and a bit of braid could just be discerned at the edge of the neck. The girl in the picture was thoughtful, dreamy and very slightly smiling. Yet there was an air of sadness, too, that was somehow emphasized by the little icicles that edged the window-frame. “Why,
Toby
! It's … almost
moving
. Do I really look like that? No, of course not. I can see that it's much idealized.”

“Is it? I didn't intend …” He looked it over critically. “I think the likeness rather good, myself.”

“Let
me
see,” came Andrea's voice from the doorway, and she came in without waiting to be asked.

Jenny ran to welcome her. “Let me have your bonnet, love,” she said, kissing her friend's cheek. “I didn't expect you until after luncheon.”

“Has Toby told you all? You caused the greatest to-do at our house, you widgeon. You'd never credit what a scene there was.”

“I'm sorry, love. I never meant—”

“I know. Never mind that now. Let's see Toby's sketch. We can talk of this later.”

Without removing her bonnet or shawl, she crossed the room, took the drawing from Toby's hold and turned so that the light fell on the pad. Her eye ran quickly over the sketch as Toby came up behind her. “It's called
Girl With Icicles
,” he said proudly. “What do you think?”

Andrea's face seemed to stiffen. “It's … lovely. Quite lovely.” Her voice revealed a hint of restraint. “He's made you look beautiful, Jenny.”

“Idealized, I think,” Jenny said.

Andrea thrust the sketch pad back into Toby's hand. “How is it you never sketched
me
that way?” she demanded. “With the light so … so … misty?”

He threw her a quick look and flipped the cover of the pad closed. “I don't know. It was a new idea.” Andrea was jealous … he could see the signs. But he was in no mood to fend off one of her tantrums. “I'll do one of you in this style if you like,” he said, packing up his things, “as soon as we can find the time. Meanwhile, I'd best be off. I haven't yet been home.”

Andrea remained standing in the window, staring out at the garden, while Jenny went to see Toby out. She turned when Jenny reentered and pulled off her bonnet with an impatient abruptness. “You've been quite the center of attention of late, haven't you?” she accused. “The Damsel in Distress yesterday and the Girl with Icicles today.”

Jenny giggled. “Yes, I suppose I have. Here, let me take your things.”

“Don't bother. I can't stay long.”

Jenny looked at her friend closely. Andrea's face still had a tight, wary look. “You're not going to be jealous, are you, you noddy? You've held the center of attention for so long that you can't really begrudge me a shall share.” She gave Andrea a wide grin. “After all, you've shared attention with Lumpkin, so why not with me?”

Andrea gave a reluctant laugh. “So Toby's told you what Cousin Tris said to me. I'm a selfish beast, I know.” She tossed her bonnet on a chair and wandered abjectly to the sofa. “And if I didn't know, a houseful of people back at the Hall are ready and willing to tell me so.”

“Come now, love, you can't mean it,” Jenny said soothingly, drawing her friend down beside her on the sofa. “I'm sure that not one of them has called you a selfish beast.”

“Not in so many words, perhaps. But it's true. I'm dreadfully sorry about yesterday, Jenny. Did you have a very frightful time?”

“For a while it was rather nightmarish.” Her smile faded, and she gave a little shudder. “Did Captain Allenby tell you about the … the man?”

Andrea nodded. “It must have been horrid. I'm so sorry, Jenny.”

Jenny shrugged. “It wasn't your fault.
I
was the one who told you to go on to Cheltenham without waiting.”

“No, you are being kind. I should have waited no matter what you said. Please tell me that you forgive me. I shan't be able to face myself if you don't.”

“Of course I forgive you, you goose,” Jenny assured her with a hug. “And after all, no real harm was done.”

“No thanks to me, however,” Andrea admitted, breaking from Jenny's embrace and twisting her hands in her lap in shame. “Did the man really
molest
you?” she asked, awed.

“I think he meant to. Thank goodness I remembered Gammer Boyce's jam in my muff. All the fellow managed was a kiss.”

“A kiss? Ugh! Poor Jenny! How can you bear remembering it?”

“I don't refine on it, you know. Captain Allenby said that a kiss has no real significance.”

“Did he? How very interesting.” Her apology made, her spirit was beginning to recover its usual self-confidence. She leaned back against the sofa cushions and stretched her arms out along the back. “I wonder if he'd say that about
my
kisses.”

“Yours?” Jenny's eyes opened wide. “
Have
you ever—?”

“Kissed my cousin Tris? Not yet. But I mean to.”

Jenny felt herself color up, and she turned away awkwardly. “You don't … have
designs
on him, do you, Andrea?” she asked, her heart beginning to jump about in her breast quite disturbingly.
So I'm as subject to attacks of jealousy as Andrea is
, she thought in self-disgust.

“Designs on him? Yes, I do. Mama says he's an excellent catch, even if he is a second son. She puts his income at five thousand a year
at least
, and since his brother is unmarried, he may yet inherit the title and the Rowcliffe fortune. I know you don't like him, Jenny, because of all the things Robbie wrote (and even
I
had a taste of his tyrannical side last night) but even so I find him fascinating.”

Jenny, painfully aware of the dissipation of her happy mood, turned slowly back to her friend. “I don't dislike him, Andrea,” she admitted. “Not any more.”

Andrea smiled and squeezed her hand. “I
am
glad. I shouldn't wish us to become estranged because of my attachment to him.”

“
Attachment
?” Jenny almost gasped. “Surely matters between you and Captain Allenby haven't reached the stage where you can call it an attachment, have they?”

“Perhaps not yet,” Andrea said complacently, rising gracefully to her feet, “but I think, at the ball tomorrow night, I shall permit him to kiss me.” She smiled dreamily as she picked up her hat and sauntered to the door. “And then we shall see what we shall see.”

After Andrea had gone, Jenny returned to the sitting room window and sat gazing out on the wintry landscape. The glow that had sustained her through last night and this morning was now gone, and the reason for her despond was as clear as the window glass. She'd fallen in love with Captain Tristram Allenby.

Perhaps she'd tumbled at their very first meeting. The possibility was very likely, for she'd been aware of an unaccustomed depression ever since. Even Robbie's letters had upset her more than they would have if she'd had no personal interest in the captain he was so vehemently disparaging. Every clue he'd revealed about his captain's brutishness had cut her like a knife. She must have cared a great deal even then.

But the moment when she'd actually tumbled into love was not important. What counted was that she loved him now … and that she could see nothing ahead but painful consequences. In the first place, there was no sign (except for a kiss which he himself indicated might not be significant) that he returned her feeling. All his kindnesses to her might be nothing more than social grace and superficial charm. In the second place, Andrea wanted him, and Andrea, past experience had proved, had never had the least difficulty winning any man she'd set her heart on. And in the third place, the Tristram Allenby who had charmed her was also the tyrannical captain who brought miscreants to heel by cruel and inhuman punishment. Even if her other doubts were swept away, that last one threatened the future with implacable doom.
How could she love a man whose character she despised?

The only sensible solution for her would be to keep away from Captain Allenby until he left Wyndham. In time, she supposed, her feeling for him would wither away, especially when he was too far away for his magnetism to affect her. But before she could cut him out of her life, she had one last obligation to him. She'd promised him two dances and a private interview.
I want an opportunity to talk to you … and alone
, he'd said. I
have your word? Whatever happens
? She'd given that word, and it would not be right to renege.

She would go to the ball. She would dance with him and talk to him. And when it was over, she would never see him again. She would bury herself in her music, her family's interests and her normal daily life, and one day she'd get over him. Just one more day, and she would be done with him forever. Let Andrea have him.

Chapter Sixteen

The chandelier that ornamented the center of the large ballroom of Clement Hall shed twinkling darts on the one hundred and fifty guests who milled about below. It was a decoration that one might travel miles to admire; a “fire-lustre” of English leaded crystal, it was three tiers high, the brass branches completely covered with diamond-cut, pear-shaped crystal drops. The first tier alone held six hundred and twenty-five candles (there were over a thousand, all told), and Lord Clement was fond of bragging that the thing weighed a quarter of a ton. It glittered and gleamed like a multifaceted jewel belonging to a God of Olympus and shed a shimmering glow over the entire assemblage.

Nine musicians occupied the galleried platform at the far end of the room, and directly before them an area had been marked off for the dancing. Some thirty couples were thus occupied, while the rest strolled about the room, talking, laughing and drinking champagne. The party had been in progress only about an hour, but already everyone agreed that it was the finest ball that Wyndham had ever seen—and they'd not yet even sampled the elegancies which awaited them at the supper to be served at midnight.

On the dance floor, Tris was circling his partner uneasily. Jenny had readily acquiesced to his solicitation for her hand for the dance, but there was something in her manner which gave him pause. Her mouth was tight, her eyes wary, and her answers to his remarks monosyllabic. She'd made a retreat from her position of friendly openness which had marked her manner when he'd left her the night before last. What on earth had made the girl withdraw again?

For Jenny the dance was a difficult ordeal. Her decision to make this evening the very last time she would see him was, in itself, painful enough, but when she'd taken her first glimpse of him her heart had sunk. He was in full uniform tonight, and the blue coat and gold braid made him the most splendid-looking man in the room. Every eye was on them, she knew, for he'd not attempted to dance at all until this dance with her, in spite of the very obvious lures that the marriageable girls and their parents had sent out to him. She could see the heads turn as he'd led her on the floor. Even Andrea, on the arm of Geoffrey Vesey, had turned and stared.

“Your dress is very becoming,” the captain remarked during the promenade. “What is that wine-colored hue called?”

“Your description is quite apt, Captain. It's called burgundy.”

“
Captain
, ma'am? I thought we'd agreed to abandon all this unnecessary formality. Once a couple has kissed, you know—”

She felt herself succumb to her annoying habit of blushing. That tendency to redden at the least suggestion of embarrassment did not make the situation any easier. “And
I
thought we'd agreed to forget about that incident,” she reminded him.

“No, my dear, you're mistaken. I never made such an agreement. I knew it would be impossible to carry out.”

But it was time to turn to opposite corners of the set, and she couldn't reply. By the time they came together again it seemed foolish to bring up the subject. The dance passed with only commonplace exchanges, and she sighed in relief when the music ceased. As they walked off the floor, he took her arm. “May I claim the other part of my reward now, ma'am? If we stroll just a little way down the hall, I think we may find the library unoccupied.”