Putting on Airs (15 page)

     
Imogene brought herself to attention, realizing that in her eavesdropping, she had allowed her eyes to wander in Mr. Ashcroft's direction.  She flushed at being found out, and whispered, "That gentleman is Mr. Ashcroft, who is speaking of some history he has with Mr. Cole."

     
"Jane's husband?"

     
"No, Mr. Henry Cole."  She froze as she heard Mr. Ashcroft's conversation halt, as he briefly turned his head.  She made sure to stare down at her plate, hoping that he would not see her face.  She then continued to her cousin, voice as quiet as could be while discernable: "I will explain on the way home."

     
On the carriage ride back to her home in the country, Imogene divulged what limited information she had regarding the relationship between Mr. Ashcroft and Mr. Cole, including the mysterious letter she had found.  Although she felt like a gossip in doing so, it was yet another great burden to be relieved of—she no longer bore such knowledge alone, and Mr. Campbell had sworn discretion before she even began.

     
"I know little of Mr. Cole myself," Mr. Campbell confessed.  "Can you think what it might be about?"

     
"Mr. Cole is no doubt a peculiar man," Imogene remarked.  "He is not so amiable as gentleman his age are wont to be.  And I do confess that I have often held somewhat of a fear of his presence...and yet, he does not seem to me a vicious sort of man that would inflict any transgression on someone, at least not any so grave as Mr. Ashcroft makes out the offense to be."

     
"Perhaps he is altered since his acquaintance with Mr. Ashcroft."

     
"Perhaps.  And with so amiable as all the rest of the Cole family is, it would suggest that they know nothing of his transgression, whatever it may be.  Otherwise, it may be that they are aware of it, and Mr. Ashcroft takes it more into offense than the crime would warrant."

     
"Or they support their brother; perhaps Mr. Cole was doing right, and in so doing, wronged Mr. Ashcroft."

     
Imogene suddenly chuckled, thought somewhat bitterly.  "As though I have not enough matters of my own weighing on my mind, I do not see how I should so fret about someone else's.  I cannot help but be curious, though."

     
"And rightly so, I think.  It may be none of our business, and yet, seeing as he is an acquaintance, and living in the neighborhood, you would do well to be cautious."

     
"Exactly, yes."  She folded her hands in her lap.  "On one point today, we agree—that is a mercy."

     
Mr. Campbell merely nodded, then returned to the subject: "If ever you happen to visit the Cole family, or they visit you, let me know, and I will be sure to be present."

     
"That would be a comfort," Imogene said.  It nearly made her laugh—only a few weeks ago, Mr. Campbell was anything but a comfort to her.             

That following week, there was a ball in town, as such was done at least once every month for the community.  In recent months, Imogene had been negligent to attend, as her mother often found them as opportunities to introduce her—and with every candor—to any and all eligible young men.  No matter how appealing any of the men were, the meetings were always tainted by Imogene's growing embarrassment each time her mother introduced her as, "Imogene, my eldest unmarried child."  However, it had been some time since she attended a ball, and she was eager to dance and see new faces.  After all, since she became such good friends with her cousin Mr. Campbell, her mother had been much more sedate—perhaps thinking they were going to re-enter their engagement.  Imogene did not care what her mother thought—she was ecstatic to not be bothered with marital prospects.

     
Also present at the ball were the remainder of her family, Thomas and Emmeline, Phillip and Jane returned from Italy, and the Cole Family—including Mr. Henry.  Mr. Campbell escorted Imogene, and they immediately spied the recently web Mr. and Mrs. Cole, and eagerly approached.

     
"I received all your letters, and read them twice," Imogene said straight off.  "The first time, I read them consumed with envy; the second time, I read them with more generosity of spirit."

     
Jane laughed.  "It was a fantastic trip."

     
Phillip observed, "It is one thing to read about such places and view paintings of them, but it is another thing entirely to actually witness them and experience them for oneself."

     
"I have been to Italy," Mr. Campbell declared.

     
"You have never told me about that," Imogene said.  "When was this?"

     
"Once when I was five years old.  We only stayed three days because it would not stop raining.  My father was later informed by correspondence by his friend there that the rain let up not two days after we had gone, and the weather was fine for a full fortnight."

     
Imogene laughed.  "Is that true?"

     
"It really is.  I remember very little about that trip, but I do remember that."

     
"I made sure to visit the Trevi Fountain," Jane told Imogene, "to spend the coin you gave me."

     
Imogene remarked, "There is no better luck than Italian luck."  Gazing past her friend and across the room, she spied the Archers as they entered, and her face lit up.  "The Archers have come!  I must say hello; excuse me."

     
She immediately crossed the room to Mr. Archer and Clarice, and could see a smile cross Clarice's face as she approached.  The two women embraced upon meeting.

     
"It is so good that you came!" Imogene exclaimed.

     
"I have long been in want of a dance," Clarice said.  "And my brother has not left the house since we returned from Penzance."

     
"Is that so?  Then it is certainly good that you are come.  Everyone else is here, you see—there are all the Coles, and Mr. and Mrs. Butler."

     
Imogene had scarcely finished pointing them out, when her brother Anthony approached with a well-composed bow.  For a moment, his eyes would shift between Clarice and his feet, until he finally managed to say, "Ms. Archer...I was hoping...I was very much hoping you would oblige me by being my partner for the next dance."

     
Clarice's first reaction was to look to Mr. Archer for his approval.  Mr. Archer made no discerning expression—only looked to her to make the decision.  So she returned her gaze to Anthony and said, "I...would like to.  Thank you, sir."

     
Anthony smiled, something which Imogene had not seen for some time, as he took Clarice's hand to lead her into the dance.  Imogene hardly knew what to say of it, as she could not read whether or not Mr. Archer was upset by it.

     
"I have suspected for some time," she began, "that my brother has wanted to make amends."

     
"Do you have any understanding of his intentions?" Mr. Archer asked.

     
"None.  But...he has been inquiring after Clarice in a very genuine way."  Mr. Archer made no reply, and his expression showed no improvement, so Imogene added, "You may believe, sir, that Anthony never is so apologetic.  I have never known his manner to be so guilty, except when he is inquiring about Clarice.  I can imagine it would...be difficult for Clarice or yourself to forgive him.  But...I believe him to be truly sorry."

     
At that, Mr. Archer nodded.  "You may tell him that if he should desire it, I would permit him to see her at any time, so long as I am present."

     
Imogene smiled.  "I will tell him so."

     
Mr. Campbell approached from behind.  "Excuse me, sir," he began, "but I was hoping to request a dance from Ms. Cartwright."

     
Mr. Archer merely gestured that he was free to do so, and so Mr. Campbell offered his hand to Imogene, who took it and followed to the dance floor.  It was the first time Imogene ever truly enjoyed dancing with Mr. Campbell—with all the awkwardness removed, she could appreciate how well he moved with the music, and exchanging free smiles was much less frightening than trying to divert her eyes.  However, there were many times when she could not help but glance out of the corner of her eyes at Mr. Archer, who seemed to be watching their dance intently.  Imogene had always been discomforted by his strictly formal demeanor he had before, but since seeing him so at ease in Penzance, his formality was now rather imposing.

     
After her dance with Mr. Campbell, she had a brief interlude with Jane at the punch bowl.  Her friend had been surprised with how she and her cousin had reconciled, and shared her friend's relief in it.  Imogene had then planned on sitting out for a couple dances to talk with her sister and Nell, when Mr. Archer approached her.

     
"Would you do me the honor of the next dance, Ms. Cartwright?"

He had caught her just while she was finishing the last of the punch in her cup, and she coughed.  After a moment to recollect herself and calm her cough with the remaining punch, she said,
"Certainly, sir."

     
Mr. Archer then dismissed himself for a moment to have a brief word with Clarice before the next dance began, leaving Jane to remark, "He does not seem the man you wrote about in your letters from Penzance."

     
"Less formality in the sea air, I think," Imogene replied.

     
"Or..."  Jane waved her hand to dismiss what she was going to say.

     
"Or what?"

     
Jane shook her head.  "Only that perhaps your spending so much time with Mr. Campbell again, it might be presumed that there is an understanding between the both of you."

     
Imogene furrowed her brow.  "Why should that affect him?"

     
Before Jane could speculate further, Mr. Archer returned, and the next dance was beginning.  Almost as soon as the dance began, Imogene became determined to ease Mr. Archer's demeanor, for although his dancing was fine, he had an altogether too serious expression on his face that, since their acquaintance at Penzance, she could not stand to see.

     
So as they met at the crossing, she said, "You have twenty guesses.  Use them well."

     
At first, he appeared confused, but then something lit his eye.  "Is it found in the wintertime, by any chance?"

     
"Yes."

     
"Is it cold?"

     
"Yes."

     
"Is it snow?"

     
"No."

     
"Really?"

     
"Yes.  And that counts.  You have sixteen more."

     
He slightly quirked an eyebrow.  "Is it ice?"

     
"No."

     
"Has it anything to do with nature?"

     
"It has everything to do with nature."

     
All through the dance, they continued the game.  Mr. Archer used up all twenty questions without finding the answer.  As the dance concluded and he escorted her from the dance floor, she told him: "The answer is winter."

     
"Did I not guess winter?"

     
"You asked if it occurred during wintertime.  You did not ask if it
was
winter."

     
He smirked with a faint chuckle.  "Well played, Ms. Cartwright."  He then left her to rejoin Jane, who seemed eager to talk with her.

     
"What is it?" Imogene friend, seeing that her friend seemed agitated.

     
Jane did not speak until she was sure they were out of earshot of anyone else.  "While you were dancing with Mr. Archer," she began, her voice low, "Clarice came to talk to me.  She asked me about your situation with Mr. Campbell."

     
"Is that all?"

     
"Do you not see what could be going on?"

     
"What is it that I should see?  Her question seems normal enough; she is not the first to ask about my cousin and myself."

     
"When you first saw Mr. Archer when he returned from Penzance, was he so formal?"

     
"He seemed at ease at first, but spoke very little."

     
"Was Mr. Campbell there at the time?"

     
"Yes; we were planning to leave for luncheon...Do you believe he is antagonized against Mr. Campbell?"

     
"In a way.  What I am suggesting is that it is possible that Mr. Archer admires you."

     
All the blood rushed to Imogene's face at once, prying her eyes open wide.  "Mr. Archer?"  She scoffed.  "Why on earth would you tease me like that?"

     
"I am not teasing you.  I sincerely believe it to be true."

     
Imogene looked up at where Mr. Archer was standing across the room, speaking to Anthony.  He glanced for a moment in her direction, and she immediately diverted her eyes.  Again, she scoffed.  "Jane, you are rather fanciful with your judgments of people's character."

     
Jane looked her friend directly in the eye.  "When have I ever been wrong?"

     
Imogene was silent for a moment as she felt her breath catch in her chest.  "I need some air."  Without another word, she headed directly for the door, and went down the stairs to the foyer.  Trotting past a servant who was about to offer assistance, she made her way to one of the front windows and opened it wide, leaning on the sill and breathing in the fresh air deeply.  When she felt her wind return, she put her hands over her mouth to stifle a sudden laugh.