Letters to a Lady (13 page)

“Tomorrow? You forget Harrup has asked us to stay a week. I thought you were looking forward to it.”

“I’ve quarreled with him. I’d really like to leave.”

“Can you never behave properly? What happened?” Peabody demanded.

“It’s his marrying Selena. I cannot like it. He shouldn’t marry her.”

“It’s a match made in heaven,” Peabody replied.

“No, made in the House of Lords. I’m afraid I’ve put Harrup in a pelter.”

“Pshaw. It will have blown over by the morning.”

Diana didn’t think the quarrel would dissipate so quickly, but she hoped the earache would. She went back downstairs with Mrs. Dunaway’s laudanum, and as she approached the stairs to return to her room, Harrup came into the hall.

“I’d like to speak to you for a moment, Diana,” he said.

His mood was milder now. Not only had the anger vanished, but a shadow of apology colored his voice. “What is it?” she asked curtly.

He showed her into his office, and they both sat down. “I have behaved poorly to a guest and dear friend. I want to apologize, and urge you not to go darting off before your visit is completed.”

Diana compared the conciliating words with the stiff face that was speaking them and chose a moderate course. “I may have to remain another day. Peabody has one of her earaches. I was just returning Mrs. Dunaway’s laudanum.”

He gave a rueful smile. “Here I thought you were making an excuse to come downstairs to patch up our quarrel.”

“No, but I daresay I said more than I ought, and I am sorry I said it. Which doesn’t mean I take it back.”

“If that is an apology,” he said doubtfully, “you are forgiven. I’m not such an ogre as you think, you know. I had no idea Selena actively disliked me. ‘Hate’ is a strong word. I must know if it came from Selena herself.”

“It’s Ronald’s word, actually. ‘Fear’ and ‘revulsion’ were a couple of others. I do think the girl is afraid of you.”

 He shrugged. “There’s no reason for her to be. I’ve never said a cross word to her in my life.”

“Have you taken the time and trouble to say any kind ones?” she asked gently. “She’s young, Harrup. Naturally she’s frightened to be pitched into marriage with an older gentleman she scarcely knows from Adam.”

“If she doesn’t marry me, she’ll marry someone like me. I know she has always feared her father, and perhaps I’ve fallen under his shadow. Groden would never permit Selena to marry Ronald. He’s ambitious. He married all his daughters off to noblemen. He won’t permit her to jilt me at all, and a gentleman can hardly call off the match. I want you to know I intend to allay Selena’s fear, hatred, and revulsion before the wedding. I shall make a marked effort in that direction. You’ll see.” He smiled. “I’ll bring her round my thumb. It’s not only lightskirts I can charm. A woman is a woman.”

“Then I’m happy I spoke to you. It was worth it if it makes Selena’s future life a little easier. Her mama would be happy with me. Already I’m looking out for her daughter. I find satisfaction in it, too,” she mused.

“Take care, or you’ll end up a maiden aunt, Di, mothering everyone else’s children. What you ought to do is get busy and have some of your own.”

“What I ought to do is go to bed,” she said wearily.

A satirical gleam shone in Harrup’s eyes and he replied, “That is the first step, certainly.”

Diana shook her head. “You’re incorrigible, Harrup.”

“I’m not, you know. I just never found a stern lady to correct my evil ways. No one ever ripped up at me so violently before.”

An image of Selena’s mild face flashed into Diana’s mind. “And never will again,” she said.

“What, have you given up on me? I think I might be tamed with a little persistence.”

She remembered Selena and her kittens. “You’re not my tiger, thank goodness.”

When Diana glanced up, Harrup was gazing at her steadily. There was a peculiar, concentrated look in his eyes. An air of surprise, somehow. Her glass was empty, and she refilled it, still with his dark eyes following her, making her self-conscious. She swished the wine around in the glass, watching the reflected light swirl. “Selena likes kittens, Harrup. Did you know that? She has no use for tigers. Why don’t you give her a kitten? She’d love it.”

He hesitated a moment before speaking, and when he spoke, his voice was low. “A leopard can’t change his spots, and I expect a tiger doesn’t lose his stripes without a good deal of effort, but I shall try. I’ll buy Selena a kitten. What color would she like?”

“Need you ask? White, of course.”

“Of course.”

“If it has lost an ear or eye, so much the better.”

“A collector of strays, is she? No wonder Ronald appeals to her. Speaking of Ronald, what position is it he wants?”

Ronald’s working for Harrup no longer appeared feasible, given the circumstances of Selena’s being forever between them. “Something that will keep his nose in a book. He’s intelligent, Harrup. He would make an abominable M.P. or anything that requires public appearances, but as a speech writer or research man for policy decisions, he would be ideal.”

“I thought he would take over the Willows.”

“Papa’s only fifty,” she pointed out. “After the expense of a university education, Ronald is expected to add a few baubles to the family tree. Anything you could do would be appreciated.”

He looked at her askance. “For that you had to ingratiate me? That’s not an extraordinary request from a neighbor.”

“Well, to tell the truth, it was your special assistant we had in our eye, but now that he’s decided he loves Selena, it’s not a good idea for him to be too much in your pocket.”

Harrup rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Very true. That would provide a dangerous proximity to my fiancée. Lady Groden is not entirely pleased with the match, I think you intimated?”

“She seemed worried. You will be kind to Selena, won’t you, Harrup? I think if Selena is happy, Ronald won’t do anything foolish. He mentioned Gretna Green, but really he is much too passive to try anything of the sort. He’d end up asking me to hire the carriage and come along to chaperon them.”

Diana finished her wine and left, happy to have made it up with Harrup and relieved that he wasn’t really so bad. Harrup sat drumming his fingers on his desk, wearing a pensive expression. What had gotten into him to tell Di his vagrant thoughts about returning to Laura? It was no more than that, a passing thought. He was treating Di as if she were one of his cronies—he must remember she was a young lady, and one with a temper that didn’t balk at tackling a tiger.

Chapter Seven

Diana did not awaken early in the morning. It wanted only ten minutes of eight when she opened her eyes. It immediately darted into her head that if she hurried, she might catch Harrup before he left for the office. She bounded from bed and scrambled into her gown. It was while she sat in front of the mirror brushing her hair that she asked herself why she was in such a panic to see him before he left. She had nothing in particular to say to him. They had had a long cose the night before. All the little wrinkles between them were once more ironed out to their mutual satisfaction, yet something in her was eager to run downstairs with her hair still in tangles and see him.

She could find no cause for her eagerness. It was just a vague feeling that she wanted to see him again before—what? She would see him at dinner. Her hasty departure was no longer spoken of. But at dinner they would not be alone—possibly they would not even be together. Harrup might dine out with Lady Selena and the Grodens. She hastened to the head of the stairs and was about to set her foot on the first step when she heard Harrup taking his leave of the butler.

“I’m off, Stoker. Say good morning to Miss Beecham for me. Tell her—oh, never mind. I’m not sure I’ll be able to return for luncheon. Make sure that she and Miss Peabody are comfortable and have whatever they desire.”

Stoker mumbled a reply, and Harrup left. Diana returned to her room feeling cheated. She had missed him—he would probably not be home for luncheon. She wouldn’t see him till evening. A whole long day to be got in, somehow. At least, Harrup had left a secondhand “good morning” for her. He had been thinking of her. Diana was reluctant to look into her reasons for the feeling of emptiness that was within her.

She went to see how Peabody’s earache was progressing, only to learn her chaperon was still afflicted with some pain.

“I shan’t stay in bed all day, Diana,” Peabody told her, “but pray do not expect me to go out of doors, with that hard London wind blowing. It is the nasty Thames that fills the air with moisture and does the mischief. I pray Ronald escapes it. You must send a note off and ask him to take you about the city.”

Diana made sympathetic sounds, but she found no pleasure in a contemplation of seeing London with Ronald. Again she asked herself why. Her occasional trips to London were the highlights of a dull life. This one was proving more interesting than usual. Life was sumptuous under Harrup’s roof, despite their quarrels. A quarrel was not something Diana ever dreaded. And still she hesitated to look into the cause for her gloom.

Her mind skated around the issue while she took breakfast alone. Unhappiness with Harrup’s coming marriage to Lady Selena certainly accounted for a part of her mood. It was an ineligible match in all but rank and wealth. With the best of intentions and some effort on his part, it might be a decent marriage, but it would never be a good one. Two more unsuited persons would be difficult to find, and Ronald would suffer into the bargain. Had she become a philanthropist over night, permitting the potential grief of others to cast her into the dismals? She was too honest to accept such an edifying picture of herself. She was just jealous of Lady Selena. She wanted to be Harrup’s bride herself, to stand beside the attorney general and share in some small degree his honors, his work.

This interpretation didn’t sit easily, either. If she were prey to a hankering for rank and riches, she would have been aware of it before her twenty-fifth year. No, the dreadful truth was that she was jealous of Laura Whitby. It wasn’t Harrup’s title and money she wanted; it was his admiration, his company when he was at leisure, his love. She had enjoyed their private meetings, their arguments, had felt the sting of jealousy before this moment. It wasn’t for Lady Selena that she had taken him to task about his postmarital plans for Mrs. Whitby. Last night she had been angry for herself—that was why she’d attacked so violently. He must think she was an interfering shrew.

When had it happened? When had she been fool enough to fall in love with a man who was in love with a lightskirt, and engaged to another lady besides? Either circumstance should have been enough to open her eyes. It had sneaked up and caught her unawares. It was the fact of Harrup’s being already attached that had brought down their defenses. Neither had bothered to put on the polite face of courting, and in the ensuing free-for-all, she had come to love a man with all his human weaknesses laid bare.

Harrup was no hero. He was arrogant, ambitious, addicted to the fair sex. Lady Selena would not have an easy life with him—but she would have an interesting life. Except that the silly chit wouldn’t know enough to realize it was interesting. She wouldn’t know how to control Harrup’s vices, or even want to try. And they could be controlled if his wife wielded a firm hand. Harrup wasn’t completely incorrigible; he just needed someone to nag him into rectitude.

While these thoughts filled Diana’s head, the door knocker sounded and Ronald was shown in.

“I don’t suppose you spoke to Harrup about a position for me?” he asked.

“The subject arose, but nothing definite has been settled. He’ll certainly find something for you, Ronald. I did take him to task about Lady Selena, however. He has agreed to show her every kindness in the future. I’m sure he can conciliate her if he puts his mind to it.”

This speech didn’t have the expected result. Rather than thanking her, Ronald looked displeased at her interference. “She will never be happy married to that old man,” he said firmly. “They haven’t a single thing in common. ‘To like and dislike the same things, that is indeed true friendship.’ I would add ‘and true love’ to the quotation.”

“But she will be married to him, Ronald, and at least she will not be made unhappy.”

Ronald accepted a cup of coffee, and while he was nursing it, Stoker appeared at the door.

“Lady Groden and Lady Selena are waiting in the saloon, Miss Beecham,” he said.

Diana looked startled. “Did you not tell them Lord Harrup is out?” she asked.

“They are calling on yourself, ma’am.”

“Oh, dear!” she exclaimed, and looked to Ronald for assistance.

She didn’t know whether the pink flush rising up from his collar denoted simple pleasure or a guilty foreknowledge of this visit. Had he arranged it the day before? How had he got Lady Groden to connive with him? Diana was in a quandary. She had warned Ronald, she had warned Harrup; must she now go so far as to warn Lady Selena’s mama? While she silently debated this, Ronald rose and flew off to the saloon. When Diana arrived a few paces behind him, he had already detached Lady Selena and was leading her to a loveseat away from her mama.

Diana welcomed the callers, waiting expectantly to hear what had occasioned this unexpected visit. “You have heard the news?” Lady Groden asked. A broad smile sat on the dame’s face.

For one absurd moment, Diana thought she was going to say Lady Selena had called off the wedding. She was trembling like a
blanc-manger
when she replied, “No, ma’am. I don’t know what you are talking about.”

“Harrup has received his appointment. Groden wrote me a note from Westminster this morning. It is being announced as soon as the House sits today.”

Diana was happy for Harrup, but her overall reaction was one of disappointment. “I am so happy to hear it,” she said. Her eyes turned to Lady Selena to see how that young lady was taking the news. Selena was gazing silently at Ronald. No conversation passed between them, but their eyes said much.
Now they will surely make me have him
, Diana interpreted from the strained face that stared imploringly at her brother.