Lady Incognita (6 page)

“Really, your lordship,” protested Louisa, prodded by the memory of several occasions upon which Aunt Julia had analyzed the characters of Aunt Caroline’s friends only to have them leave in a huff.

“Nonsense!” His lordship’s mouth tightened in that thin line that she already knew meant his mind was set and immovable. “I have long wished to advance the cause of science,” said he. “And here is my golden opportunity.”

So saying, he handed Louisa his lemonade, bundled the kittens back in Aunt Caroline’s old shawl, delivered them to her, and strolled to the indicated window.

“It doesn’t hurt, sir,” volunteered little Harry cheerfully. “She just feels the lumps and tells you what to Restrain.”

This last word was uttered in such awesome tones that his lordship burst into a sudden fit of coughing.

“Indeed, Harry,” said he when he could speak again. “I’m rather sure I shall have to Restrain.”

“If you please. Viscount Atherton,” said Aunt Julia in most determined tones. “This science is not to be laughed at. With it we may detect the criminal and the weak and help them to improve.”

“By Restraining no doubt,” observed his lordship very gravely, his dancing black eyes meeting Louisa’s.

“There are four physical types,” said Aunt Julia, ignoring this unseemly levity. “Perhaps you have heard of them.”

Atherton shook his black locks. “No, Miss Pickering. I have been sadly deficient in scientific learning. Please enlighten me.”

  If Aunt Julia suspected Atherton of flummery she gave no sign of it. Rather, she took his request at face value. “The first type is nervous, with a large brain, delicate health, and an emaciated figure.”

“I take it I do not fit that category,” drawled his lordship.

“No, you do not. Most people are mixtures of several types. I collect you are largely bilious - harsh features and firm muscles...”

“Oh, he has bang-up muscles,” observed Harry.

His aunt gave him a disdainful glance. “Yes, bilious with a touch of sanguine - large lung capacity, though there’s certainly no sign of plumpness, even moderate.”

“And the fourth type?” inquired Atherton in suitably grave tones.

“Lymphatic with a rounded form and heavy countenance. Not you.”

“I now know the names of the four types, but I fail to understand what this has to do with the lumps on my head,” observed his lordship.

“The mind,” recited Aunt Julia, much as she might repeat the articles of some religious doctrine, “is not unitary but is composed of some thirty-seven independent faculties. Each of these is localized in a different ‘organ’ or region of the brain. The development of each organ affects the size and contour of the cranium. A well-developed region indicates a well-developed faculty.’’

“And this,” said his lordship with a dryness that was not lost on Louisa, “is a

science.”

“One of the newest and best,” declared Aunt Julia. “Mr. Gall and Mr. Spurzheim are great men of science. Why, I myself heard Mr. Spurzheim when he was here in London two springs ago. A great man - truly a great man.”

Aunt Julia’s eyes shone with a fervor that Louisa found frightening. When Aunt, who suspected everything male, spoke in such tones of a man, it was bound to be disconcerting, to say the least.

“And now to the bumps.” Aunt Julia began to move her fingers over Atherton’s skull.

Louisa, in the throes of embarrassment, realized that she still held the viscount’s lemonade glass and set it hurriedly on a sidetable. Then she bent for her needlework and busied herself with it. What a queer lot he must think them all!

No one spoke for some moments. The uneasy silence in the room was broken only by an occasional deep sigh from Aunt Julia. What those sighs portended Louisa did not dare to imagine. Oh why, she told herself, had she ever gone to the abbey in the first place?

Finally Aunt Julia removed her hands and stepped back. “I am finished.”

Atherton swung around to look at her. “The verdict. Miss Pickering. I must have the verdict. Am I a desperate character?”

Aunt Julia obviously did not find this attempt at humor very funny. “Most of your faculties are well-developed,” she observed gloomily. “But several are so large as to give rise to apprehension.”

The Viscount evidently did not share Aunt Julia’s serious view of the matter. Even she was not deceived by his, “Tell me, do tell me, so that I may Restrain.”

“Such levity is unseemly,” said Aunt Julia curtly. “But then, I suppose it’s to be expected of a man of your stamp.”

“Miss Pickering,” said his lordship with ill-concealed impatience, “I am waiting to learn what stamp that is.”

The old bluestocking seated herself primly in a straight-backed chair. “Your bumps of destructiveness - directly over your ear; and of secretiveness - above that; and of combativeness - behind the two - they are all
greatly
enlarged.”

“Restrain,” whispered little Harry, causing Louisa to send him a bitter glance.

  “Well,” said Atherton. “So I should restrain my destructiveness, my secretiveness, and my combativeness. I expect I do have such qualities somewhat in excess. Except perhaps secretiveness.”
As he said this his eye lighted on Louisa and he paused as though struck by a sudden thought.

“And if I should curb - Restrain,” he amended with a glance at Harry, “these excessive qualities, what then?”

“Have you a wife?” asked Aunt Julia in the same lecturing tone.

“Aunt!” protested Louisa. “Such a private question.”

“A man’s wife is generally rather public,” replied his lordship, the eyes under his heavy lids regarding her intently. “But I have no wife, Miss Pickering. What does that signify?”

Aunt Julia’s long aristocratic nose wrinkled faintly as though she found the whole subject distasteful. But obviously her devotion to science won out and she continued. “If your lordship
had
a wife,” said she, “your bump of amativeness would be of less danger.
It
is even larger than the others.”

His lordship seemed again to be caught in a fit of coughing. When he had stopped, he spoke with the utmost gravity. “Pray tell me where those bumps are located.”

  Aunt Julia sniffed audibly and it was apparent that, his skull now analyzed, his lordship had again joined the ranks of the males and become suspect.

“They are located behind the ear at the back of the base of the skull,” she said. “To either side of where the spine joins the head.”

“Thank you again, Miss Pickering. I promise you I shall do what I can to Restrain,” this last with another look to Harry.

Aunt Julia rose from her chair. “I am grateful to you for the chance to do your head,” she said in a tone that conveyed very little of that sentiment. “I shall record it in my book. I will do that now while my impressions are still fresh.” And with that she marched primly from the room.

The door had barely closed behind her when his lordship burst into laughter.

“Louisa,” asked Betsy with a puzzled frown. “I never heard of a bump of amativeness before. What does that mean?”

Louisa dropped the needlework into her basket. She had not taken more than a few stitches. A fortunate circumstance since the proceedings had caused her to make several errors even in those few. “Betsy, we shall talk about that later,” she said, indicating with a quick look at Harry that this was a subject not fit for tender ears. “Why don’t you find Aunt Caroline and help her feed the cats.”

“That would be fun,” said Betsy, who was fortunately quick in her under-standing. “Come on, Harry.”

“I want to stay with his lordship,” declared Harry. “I like him.”

Louisa was about to remonstrate with him when his lordship spoke quietly, but in a voice of great authority. “When a lady requests a gentleman’s help, it behooves him to give it. I shall be leaving soon at any rate, Harry. But when I call again, I shall be sure to ask for you.”

Harry, with nothing more than a “Thank you for the ride, sir. You’re a real trump, you are,” then dutifully followed his sister from the room.

Louisa, finding herself alone with his lordship, wished she had retained the needlework. The goings-on that this room had seen! Aunt Caroline’s kittens climbing all over his lordship’s fine clothes had been bad enough. But now Aunt Julia had impugned his character! It was all rather upsetting.

She could not bring herself to look at him, but the creak of the old chair by the window warned her that he had risen. In a moment he was beside her on the sofa. “Why don’t you look at me?” asked Atherton gently.

  “I am far too embarrassed,” replied Louisa truthfully. “You ... you must think we are more amusing than the creatures in a raree show. But ... but,” she added, finding herself suddenly gazing into those dark piercing eyes so close to her own. “I did try to stop her”

“Of course you did.” His lordship’s strong brown hand patted hers absently. “But I assure you, I have not been offended.” His eyes twinkled merrily. “Indeed, I have been vastly amused. You must find living here a great antidote for
ennui.”

“I do not have time be bored,” replied Louisa, rather more sharply than she had intended. Anything that brought to her mind the financial needs of the family seemed like probing a sore spot. “This family takes a great deal of caring.”

Atherton, apparently aware of the sharpness, tried rather unsuccessfully to curb the twinkle in his eye. “I am sure it has been difficult for you,” he said, pressing her hand. “Please remember my offer of assistance. I mean every word of it. I should be pleased to be able to repay in some small measure my father’s debt of honor.”

Louisa, thinking how strong and brown his fingers were, pulled her own away. “I do not need assistance.” She told the lie - or half-lie really - as firmly as she could.

  “Very well. But I expect Aunt Julia’s science is not so exact as it might be. For I collect that she missed my bump of stubbornness. Which, I assure you, is every bit as large as yours.”

His lordship, having delivered himself of this information in a tone of grave warning quite belied by the merriment still dancing in his eyes, rose to his feet. “I must be going now. Please feel free to visit Atherton Abbey whenever you please. And sketch all you like.”

Louisa, attempting to rise gracefully, forgot the sewing basket in her lap. Fortunately the lid did not open as it tumbled to the floor and she was not forced to watch Viscount Atherton on his hands and knees hunting out spools of thread. The picture, however, did bring a gleam of merriment to her own clear gray eyes.

His lordship put the basket on the sofa and bent low over her hand. She felt the merest pressure as his lips brushed her knuckles and the strangest sensation shot through her.

  As she accompanied him to the front door, she found herself trying to implant his picture in her mind. Every little detail of his appearance; the strong lines of his features, the way his hair curled around his collar, the tautness of his broad shoulders under the well-cut coat - every detail seemed of vital importance to her. It was only, she told herself abruptly, because he made such an excellent model for a hero.

She waited quietly at the door as Drimble returned his beaver and gloves. Then he turned to her once more. “Thank you again for a most pleasant afternoon,” Atherton said formally.

“You’re quite welcome,” replied Louisa. “And ... and thank you for permission to visit the abbey.”

The smile his lordship gave her then put warmth in the black eyes that could be so cold and stretched the thin mouth that could be so stubborn into a generous curve. “Good-bye.”

“Good-bye,” murmured Louisa in return, watching him stride down the steps and vault into the driver’s seat of the barouche where he took the reins in his own hands and tooled smartly off.

“I shall be in my room,” said Louisa to Drimble as she turned away from the door and mounted the stairs.

It was not until she had reached the safety of that room and locked the door behind her -that she allowed herself to realize the reason for the tears that had risen unbidden to her eyes. She sank into a chair and buried her face in her hands. Unlearned in the ways of the world she undoubtedly was. But her acquaintance with literature had given her a broad understanding.

Viscount Atherton was the first man ever to kiss her hand - and quite probably the last, she told herself, though that didn’t matter. What did matter was what Louisa was forced to recognize about her feelings as those lips brushed her knuckles. Try as she might to hide it from herself there was no evading the truth. That strange sensation that had shot through her at the touch of the Viscount’s lips, that had been the sort of feeling experienced by maidens in romances when they met their heroes.

It was unthinkable, but sane, sensible Louisa Penhope was feeling like a love-struck heroine in one of her own romances!

Chapter Five

  In the days that followed Louisa tried to banish Atherton from her mind. It was obvious that the day had been a pleasant one for him, an antidote for
ennui,
as he himself had observed. But because he had found the family amusing for one day was no reason to suppose that he would return. Louisa knew the beaux were notorious for seeking out new and different experiences.

Even the fact that the Viscount had promised to come back for a kitten put dismay into Louisa’s disbelieving heart. That in itself would be enough to keep him away. Overrun as she was with kittens and cats, Louisa could not imagine why a Viscount should wish to add such a creature to his establishment. No, he only meant to humor the children, she told herself firmly.

Everywhere she went in the old house she was aware of his absence. The drawing room was haunted by the thought of those dark piercing eyes; the little courtyard with its flowers recalled his comment. Even the rooms in which he had never been reminded her of him by their general shabbiness.

And in her own sitting room, behind the locked door, while she struggled with the romance she was endeavoring to produce, it was still worse. Every word that Reginald Haversham uttered seemed to bear the accents of Viscount Atherton’s, voice. Every look, every motion, of Reginald’s was a look or a motion she had observed in Atherton.