The
Ampleforth Girl
Part One
Eric D'Aubrey, Lord Clairmont,
entered Lady Tervington's ballroom and almost immediately everyone's eyes were
on him. The hostess, fully aware of the honour bestowed on her, hurried towards
him and spent a good five minutes fawning over him. Bored, Lord Clairmont
looked around to see whether there were any friends of his present so he could
make his escape. The only one he was able to discern, however, was his
brother-in-law, Mr. Hartwell, who was dancing with Miss Theodora Ampleforth.
Lord Clairmont grinned. Hartwell had, very cautiously, explained to him that
now, two years after his wife's demise, he meant to remarry, but he had not
told him just how desperate he was to do so. He had to be pretty desperate;
otherwise he would not have wasted his time on the likes of the Ampleforth
girl.
It was not that Miss Ampleforth
was ugly -- her figure was pleasing, and her face, though nothing out of the
ordinary, was pretty enough. But Miss Ampleforth was a bluestocking if ever
there had been one. If Dr Johnson had known Theodora Ampleforth, his
explanation for the word "bluestocking" would have been a picture of her
printed next to the word in his Dictionary. According to rumour, she had taught
herself the Latin language when only seven years of age, and since her father
had been a notable scholar he had encouraged her to learn Greek as well. She
had a well-founded knowledge of all the Classics, and a razor-sharp intellect.
At one occasion, when only twelve years old, she had informed her brother's
tutor -- the local clergyman -- that she found his translation of a Latin text
sadly inaccurate. Though her Latin might even have improved since then, her
manners had not.
No one had any problems with
clever women, Lord Clairmont thought. Well, he for one hadn't. The thing was
that Theodora Ampleforth made every man feel like an idiot in her presence. She
found fault with everything one said, and did not hesitate to give her decided
opinion on a man's views, character, and intellect -- not a favourable one,
usually. Her intelligence had made her insufferably conceited, and none but her
own opinions had any value to her.
Clairmont was surprised to find
her in London still. One would have thought that Lady Ampleforth, after four
unsuccessful Seasons, would have brought out her younger girl and left her
eldest at home to enjoy her father's library in solitude. But to all
appearances Lady Ampleforth had not lost her hopes yet. Miss Theodora
Ampleforth was embarking on her fifth Season in London, and it would be
interesting to watch, Lord Clairmont thought.
As the dance ended, Clairmont
excused himself and made his way through the crowd to meet his brother-in-law,
who was taking Miss Ampleforth back to her mother. Lady Ampleforth greeted him
affably, casting a quick look at the dowagers around her to see whether they
had noticed who was coming to talk to her and whether they were suitably
impressed. It was not very often that a leader of fashion took notice of her or
her daughter.
Miss Ampleforth acknowledged his
polite greeting with a nod. She had never been particularly fond of him -- early
in her first Season, she had given him a blistering set-down and informed him
that she did not approve of the dandy-set. Men who wasted their entire
intellectual capacity on ridiculous fashions, she had said, were not worthy of
her respect, and she did not understand why they seemed to have such infinite
power over London society. Lord Clairmont, who would have been well able to
ruin her chances in Society forever with a mere whisper, had taken this rebuke
with unusual good humour and had from then on watched her progress with some
amusement. He knew of three suitors whom she had scared away with her
schoolmistress ways -- correcting half of what one said, and smiling disdainfully
at the other half - , and was wondering who would be this year's victim. He did
hope it would not be Hartwell, however. The poor man had suffered quite enough
of late.
Tired of exchanging smalltalk
with Lady Ampleforth, Clairmont finally asked her daughter for the next two
dances. Miss Ampleforth accepted, though nothing in her countenance betrayed
any wish to be in his company, and he led her to the set.
"So you are to enjoy another
season in London, Miss Ampleforth?" he asked. It was not the most original
conversational gambit, but he knew it was no more than what Theodora Ampleforth
expected of him. He was a prominent member of the dandy -- set, and hardly
anyone suspected him of being capable of deep thought or serious conversation.
His Oxford acquaintances might have pointed out the mistake, but they had long
ago decided that if Clairmont chose to behave like an empty-headed fop, so be
it. Therefore his well-equipped library remained a secret to most members of
the Ton, as did his academic achievements. He had not been on the Town for long
when he had realised that his rank and fortune weighed more with people than
his character or learning, and had acted accordingly. His only claim to fame
now was his attire, which even the fastidious Mr. Brummell could find no fault
with, and the fact that he was one of the wealthiest peers in England.
Miss Ampleforth turned her eyes
heavenwards, as if to ask the Lord to grant her patience. She did try to humour
him, however.
"Quite so, sir. I tried to convince
my mother that I take no interest in society life, but she chose not to believe
me. Maybe next year I will be allowed to stay at home, since at that time my
sister will have reached a suitable age to be thrown onto the market."
"I thought she had already
reached it," Clairmont said, ignoring the derisive tone of her answer. As it
seemed, Miss Ampleforth wished to shock him, or to discuss the evils of the
London marriage mart with him. He was not going to do her either favour.
"Melissa is seventeen," Miss
Ampleforth said. "If my mother waits for much longer, she will turn out too old
to make a respectable match -- or, even worse, she will have developed opinions
of her own."
"A great fault, indeed,"
Clairmont said sweetly. "It should be avoided at all cost. I understand Lady
Ampleforth is not aware of the risk she is taking?"
Miss Ampleforth gave him a
disapproving glare. Apparently she was quite capable of recognising when
someone was giving her a dose of her own medicine -- and did not like it when anyone
did.
"You do not think females are
capable of having opinions, I daresay," she said coldly.
"If they were not capable of
having any, Miss Ampleforth, it would hardly be necessary to prevent them from
getting any," he replied, pointing out a fault in her logic. "Besides how could
I be so rude as to say so to your face, even if I believed that? I have often
witnessed you expressing very strong opinions on various subjects -- they are
your own, are they not?"
Miss Ampleforth reddened, but
did not rise to the bait.
"So you are hoping you may be
allowed to stay in the country next year, Miss Ampleforth?"
"My mother was very positive
about that," Miss Ampleforth said. "This is my fifth Season -- and unless I am
married by the end of it, it will also be my last."
"You must strive to be married
by the end of it then," Lord Clairmont said with a smile. "What would London be
without you? Mrs. Richardson's salons would be unbearable, and I know of
several booksellers who will have to shut down their shops if they are to lose
your patronage. Such evils as that must outweigh your own inclination, surely."
Miss Ampleforth gave him a
surprised look -- she had probably never suspected him of knowing that such
things as bookshops were in existence, or of an acquaintance with the famous
Mrs. Richardson, whose circle of friends included many notable scholars and
writers. She did not mention the matter, however.
"Are you going to stay in
London during the entire season, sir?" she merely asked. Her tone
indicated that she didn't much care where he was or how long he was going to
stay. Her question had merely been a matter of form.
"I think so," he said.
"It will be a dead bore, but better than staying in the country, I
believe."
"It has always been my
opinion that being bored is one's own fault, for being unable to think of
rational employment," she said.
"You are not made for boredom,
then?"
"I never allow myself to get
bored," Miss Ampleforth said. "There is plenty for me to do."
Lord Clairmont did not allow
himself to get bored either -- it just happened to him very often. Functions
like this, where one was forced to talk meaningless nonsense at people who did
not care about what he had to say, were among the things that bored him most.
Closely followed by visits at his aunt's, and the homilies his mother sometimes
read him. Miss Ampleforth's behaviour that evening closely resembled them. Her
remarks, whenever they were not downright rude, sounded like the kind of thing
one heard in church on Sundays. In short, she was not at her best that evening.
He had seen her in a much better mood, and sometimes she had been most
entertaining, even though she had never liked him very much.
Tonight, however, things were
different, and he was quite relieved when the dance was over and he could get
rid of her. Luckily, she did not ask him to procure a drink for her, and so he
could seek out his brother-in-law, inform him that he was going to White's,
take his leave of the hostess, and escape. That this course of action gave rise
to gossip did not even enter his mind, until his brother-in-law called on him
the next day.
Mr. Hartwell came to Lord
Clairmont's house at noon -- they were planning to go to Tattersall's together.
Hartwell wanted to buy a hunter, and his brother-in-law had promised his
assistance in the venture. No one in their right mind disputed Lord Clairmont's
judgement in matters of horseflesh.
Having accomplished the task to
both Mr. Hartwell and Lord Clairmont's satisfaction, they were on their way to
White's when Hartwell finally asked, "What are you up to with the Ampleforth
girl, Clairmont?"
The matter had been weighing
heavily on Mr. Hartwell's mind ever since he had heard some dowagers discuss it
at the ball the evening before.
"I am not up to anything," Clairmont
replied calmly. "Not with the Ampleforth girl, at any rate," he added with a
grin.
"Then I think you made a mistake
in coming to the Tervington ball, dancing with her, and leaving almost
immediately afterwards."
"The mistake was coming to the
Tervington ball," Clairmont said. "I should not have, and had it not been for
my mother's sake I would not have bothered. She so wanted her bosom-bow to make
a hit, there was nothing I could do."
Mr. Hartwell laughed. He knew
his mother-in-law well -- it was just like her to send her son on such an errand
of mercy. He should have known Clairmont had not come to Lady Tervington's ball
because he had wished to. Still, Clairmont's unaccountable behaviour there
puzzled him.
"But what have I done to Miss
Ampleforth?" Clairmont asked. "How did I manage to get the tongues wagging?"
"As I said -- you came to the
ball, you danced with her, and you left. That is all."
"Indeed. And we were flirting
outrageously, weren't we? It was plain and for everyone to see," Lord Clairmont
said caustically. "We are clearly an issue. Did someone write to the Gazette?"
Mr. Hartwell grinned. "Perhaps
they thought you were having a lovers' tiff," he said.
"Naturally. Since we are so
often seen in each other's company it could only be that," Lord Clairmont said.
"They will see their mistake soon, never mind."
Fate would have it, though, that Lord Clairmont and Miss Ampleforth were thrown into each other's company very often in the following weeks, and so the rumours did not simply go away.
Part Two
The first occasion was at one of
Mrs. Richardson's soirees. Mr. Richardson was a Member of Parliament, and his
wife had established herself as London's great intellectual hostess. Her
drawing-room had become the meeting point of writers, scientists and scholars,
and her parties usually consisted of people who could be considered the
intellectual elite of the country. Miss Ampleforth had soon recognised her as a
lady after her own heart, and they had struck up a friendship. So Miss
Ampleforth was a regular guest in Mrs. Richardson's house -- it was one of the
few places in London where she felt entirely at home, as she had often pointed
out.
Lord Clairmont had been invited
to her house sometimes -- Mrs. Richardson had, unfortunately, got wind of his
successful academic career -- but he had kept his visits to a tolerable minimum,
not wishing to be recognised as a scholar. "Clever coves" were not the fashion
among the young crowd of the Ton. He had received another invitation from Mrs.
Richardson, however, informing him that Mr. Simms, Fellow of Magdalen College,
was about to give a lecture on Aeschylus at one of her parties, and this piece
of news made a visit at her house inevitable.
Simms had been Lord Clairmont's
tutor in Oxford, and had done a great deal to support his academic efforts.
Even after Clairmont had left university, they had been regular correspondents,
even though they had not met for years. It was therefore hardly surprising when
a letter from Mr. Simms arrived, in which Simms asked Clairmont to attend the
soiree for "moral support", and Clairmont, feeling that he owed it to his
friend, accepted Mrs. Richardson's invitation for his sake. He even had to
admit that he was looking forward to the soiree -- it would do him good to stop
playing the clown for one evening, he thought.
The expression in Miss
Ampleforth's face when he made his appearance in Mrs. Richardson's drawing room
was priceless. He was probably the last man in the world she would have
expected to see there, and she took no pains to conceal her surprise. When she
noticed the obvious friendship between him and the evening's guest of honour,
she even seemed to regard him with some new-found though reluctant respect. But
the dispute after Mr. Simms lecture was the final straw, as far as Miss
Ampleforth was concerned.
It was Mr. Simms' fault. He was
the one who, once he had finished his speech, suggested that anyone who wished
to share their opinions with him was welcome to do so. Clairmont had noticed
several things in Mr. Simms' lecture he wished discuss at length with him, and
within five minutes they were conversing on the subject of Greek poets in
general and Aeschylus in particular as had been their wont during the years
Clairmont had spent at Magdalen College. The rest of the company was, more or
less, restricted to being onlookers, only Miss Ampleforth was undaunted and
managed to let fall some -- admittedly very clever -- remarks. But the sidelong
glances she cast at Clairmont were illuminating. She had always despised him as
a member of the fashionable set, and had never even suspected that there might
be more to him than the foppish creature she sometimes met at society
functions. A whole world was probably going to pieces that evening, Clairmont
thought with a grin. Good. The Ampleforth girl could do with a set-down.
Later in the evening, Mr. Simms
was busy being polite to his hostess and Lord Clairmont found himself sitting
next to Miss Ampleforth.
"This was an amazing evening,
don't you think, Lord Clairmont?" she asked.
"Oh, Mr. Simms is an
extraordinary lecturer," Clairmont said.
"Mr. Simms said you made his
acquaintance in Oxford," she said lightly.
"Quite so."
"He said you were the most
brilliant student he ever had," she said, sounding almost indignant.
"He was exaggerating, Miss
Ampleforth," Clairmont said. "As far as I know, there are many brilliant men in
Oxford. I never felt I was in any way extraordinary, but Mr. Simms chooses to
disagree. I say he is biased in my favour -- he is a good friend of mine."
"Why did you never mention that
you were so..." She broke off.
"So...?" Lord Clairmont prompted.
"Well-read," she said, really
indignant this time.
"I usually try to match my
conversation to my company, Miss Ampleforth. Correct me if I am wrong, but the
average debutante is not interested in the comparative merits of Aeschylus and
Euripides."
Miss Ampleforth nodded. "Too
true," she sighed.
"Nor does it please me to show
off my learning at every opportunity," he continued. "What good would it do
me?"
Miss Ampleforth blushed. "I feel
such a fool," she said quietly.
"A novel experience, I daresay,"
Lord Clairmont said.
"After the way I treated you,
and the things I said to you, you cannot wonder at my embarrassment," she said.
It almost sounded like an apology, and her rueful smile made her look quite
appealing, Clairmont thought.
"I never took offence at any of
the things you said to me, Miss Ampleforth, rest assured," he replied.
"But why ... why does an
intelligent man like you choose to make people believe he only cares for
clothes?"
"Miss Ampleforth, I must
protest," Clairmont said laughingly. "I do not care for clothes only. My
interests include horses, and ... er ... modern drama."
Miss Ampleforth smiled.
"Actresses, I have heard," she said. "But this adds weight to my argument, sir.
Why do you choose to give people such an unfavourable impression? Why not
impress people with your well-informed mind rather than with a new way of tying
your neckcloth?"
"Well-informed minds are not the
fashion, Miss Ampleforth. Neatly tied neckcloths are. I am more likely to
impress people with these."
He saw Miss Ampleforth's
disappointed look, and added, "It took me some time to learn this, and though I
admit it is a pity that a man is not respected in this town for his intelligence
and character rather than his appearance and his fortune, it is the way of the
world and one must come to terms with the way things are. I am merely adopting
the Ton's ways as long as it pleases me to do so. In private, I continue my
studies because it would not do to stagnate."
"I am glad you do not let your
potential go to waste then," Miss Ampleforth said.
"Oh no, there is hope for me
yet. I need not tell you that this is a well-kept secret of mine, Miss
Ampleforth," he said. "I'd rather not have anyone find out I have unsuspected
depth. Apart from the people who do know, that is, but there are not many."
"But don't you think people will
find out, once it becomes known that you were having a scholarly dispute with
the famous Mr. Simms?" Miss Ampleforth pointed out. "There were enough people
here to witness it."
There was that possibility, of
course, and Clairmont admitted that he had taken the risk into account. Miss
Ampleforth smiled.
"You make it sound as if this
was a bad thing," she said.
"Oh, it is. Only think what you
felt this evening when you realised I was not the man I'd appeared to be, and
imagine it is not you but my friends making that startling discovery. I would
not be able to show my face at White's for a fortnight."
"How unfortunate."
"Indeed. It would quite spoil my
fun -- you must know that my main concern is finding out just how far I can push
people to follow my example. I have not reached my limits yet, I suppose,
though I might reach them if I tried to induce the young set to serious study."
"It would be worth a try,
though," Miss Ampleforth said.
Lord Clairmont laughed. "No, it
would not," he said. "It is much more amusing to see how many people are going
to wear dandelions on their hats within twenty-four hours of me doing so."
"Dandelions on a gentleman's
hat? How odd!"
"I am sure they will look
striking," Lord Clairmont said with a mischievous glint in his eyes.
"But surely people would not
follow your example if you ... you wore such outrageous things as that."
"Believe me, Miss Ampleforth,
they would. Even if I chose to wear my pantaloons on my head tomorrow, there
would be someone declaring it was a capital idea and trying to copy the exact
way I was doing it."
Miss Ampleforth laughed. "You
had better not put that to the test, sir," she said. "You would end up in a
lunatic asylum."
"Probably. But I would not be
the only one."
"I suppose being a gentleman of
fashion requires a great deal of profound thought," she said mockingly.
"It does. It is a science in
itself," Clairmont said.
"A science beyond my
comprehension, I am sorry to say. I still think it is a waste of time when one
could be doing much more useful things."
"I know you think so," Lord
Clairmont said. "A pity. You were showing promise when you came to London, you
know? You have a good eye for colour, for a start."
"But it takes more to be
fashionable?"
"It is much the same as with
every science -- only hard work will see you through. Whether you think the
effort worth your while is something you must decide for yourself. But it would
be a real shame if you were to rot in the country, Miss Ampleforth."
"You think if I dressed more
fashionably I'd be able to catch myself a husband? What if I told you that I do
not wish to marry? Most men I have met do not want a wife who ... a wife like me.
I would have to make things that do not interest me in the least my main
concerns, and I'd have a husband who'd order me about as he pleases without
thinking of me as a rational creature. I'd be dead within a year, I am sure. I
am going to remain single, my lord. It is the only way I can imagine which
would allow me to retain my self-respect as well as my sanity. Besides there is
a very likely chance of me rotting in the country even if I married -- that
would depend on my husband, of course."
"You have a strange idea of
marriage, Miss Ampleforth," Lord Clairmont said. "I agree that there are some
men who feel threatened by a clever woman -- and with them, I suppose, a woman
would be well advised to hide her intelligence. But not all of us want silly
wives. How could a man choose to be tied to a female who will make him cringe
whenever she opens her mouth?"
"It does sound unreasonable, I
admit," Miss Ampleforth said.
"The way I see it -- though it is
no concern of mine, obviously," Lord Clairmont continued, "the problem does not
lie with your intelligence and learning. If you will pardon my saying so, you
are being very ... ostentatious about it, that is the trouble."
"In other words, a lady may be
intelligent but she should not show it?"
"No, you misunderstand me, Miss
Ampleforth. What I meant was that a lady, if she has the good fortune of being
clever and well-read, should restrict her learned discourse to circles where
being clever and well-read is prevalent. Almack's is the place for dancing and
gossip. Mrs. Richardson's house is the place for learned discourse. What you
need to do is learn the difference."
"I see," Miss Ampleforth said.
"You think I put people off with my schoolmistress ways."
"The thought did enter my mind
occasionally, I must admit."
Miss Ampleforth sagged visibly.
"I never intended such a thing," she said quietly. "It is only -- my education
is the only thing I ever had to be proud of. There is nothing remarkable about
me otherwise."
"This is not true, Miss
Ampleforth."
"Yes it is, and I know it. I
have heard it said often enough. This was why I developed a disgust of London
and most of the people I met here. Including you, my lord -- you seemed to
represent everything I despised about Town. And now I realise that you are not
the kind of man I thought you were, and ... and I do not know what to think."
"Even a genius can be wrong
sometimes," Lord Clairmont said. Her frankness surprised him, but although the
things she said were not exactly flattering it also pleased him. She might not
like him, but at least she was taking him seriously. One could call it
progress, in a way.
"You are very generous, sir,"
she said slowly. "I snubbed you so often -- you must be quite tired of me."
"To say the truth, Miss
Ampleforth, being snubbed was a new experience. I quite enjoyed it." He
grinned. "Besides I am not resentful as a rule."
"Thank you," Miss Ampleforth
said. "You have ... you have given me something to think about tonight, for which
I ought to be grateful, only ..." She broke off.
"Only it is too painful to
contemplate the things I said," he finished the sentence for her. "I quite
understand. I had no right to say them to you, and I apologise for having
caused you distress."
"But I asked for them to be
said," Miss Ampleforth pointed out. "Besides it seems I really needed to be
informed about the picture people have of me. You have been very kind about it,
too." She smiled. "At least now I know that whenever we meet at a society event
I will have someone with whom I can talk about interesting things. That's a
good start for my fifth season, isn't it?"
"Undoubtedly, Miss Ampleforth."
"Only I suppose I will not meet
you very often, will I?" She sounded almost pleading -- as if she wanted to meet
him more frequently but was too shy to say so.
"It is hard to say, Miss
Ampleforth. One never can tell." He certainly would not make any promises, he
decided. It might well give her ideas if he did.
She sighed. "I would not blame
you if you never wanted to see me again, sir," she said. "But I will strive to
follow your advice, I really will."
"Do not tell me that no one has
given you that piece of advice before," Clairmont said.
"No one whose judgement I
respected," she merely said. "I suppose I was so puffed up in my own conceit
that I did not credit anyone but myself with a functioning brain. What an awful
person I must have appeared to everyone!"
Lord Clairmont refrained from agreeing with her. She had been an awful person very often, but it seemed as if she had never even realised just how unpleasant she had been. Now that her eyes had been opened to the fact, there was a reasonable chance that she would mend her ways. If she did stick to his advice, and she was clever enough to do so, she might well be married before the end of the Season, and that would be a good thing. It would not do for someone like the Ampleforth girl to be locked up in some place in the country. There were simply not enough girls of the kind to allow such waste to happen.
Part Three
When it became known among the
Ton that Lord Clairmont had been seen at Mrs. Richardson's soiree, there were
many who attributed this fact to Miss Ampleforth's presence there. For what
else could draw a man like his lordship into a set like Mrs. Richardson's?
"The man is clearly besotted,"
Lady Tervington declared, sipping her tea and taking a bite of a scone. The
Dowager Viscountess Clairmont gave her friend a worried look. She did not go
into society very often and therefore she did not know much about Miss
Ampleforth. But she had heard on one occasion that she had a worrying tendency
to shrewishness, and that kind of girl, Lady Clairmont thought, would not do
for her son. But knowing him, she doubted he had gone to Mrs. Richardson's
merely to meet Miss Ampleforth, and so she informed her friend. Lady Tervington
did not believe her, however.
"You should have seen him at my
ball. He came in, barely listened to a word I said, and the moment he saw where
she was he set off to meet her. Then they danced, talking most animatedly, and
when the dance had finished, he was off without even casting a glance in
another girl's direction. So do not tell me he is not head over ears in love
with her, for I will not believe it if you do." Lady Tervington scanned the plate
of refreshments for another scone.
"Well, I did ask him to go to
your ball, my dear," Lady Clairmont pointed out. "He did not look too happy
about it, either."
"Perhaps he did not know he
would meet her there," Lady Tervington insisted, daintily spreading jam on
another scone.
"But then why did he leave in
such a hurry?" Lady Clairmont asked. "Can you explain that? If he were indeed
so fond of the Ampleforth girl, why did he not stay near her for as long as he
could? This does not sound like a man in love to me."
Lady Tervington shrugged. "A
quarrel, perhaps. I do not know -- but there is something going on between
Clairmont and the Ampleforth girl, mark my words. I would not be surprised if
he made her an offer before the Season is out."
This intelligence from her
friend made Lady Clairmont seriously consider inviting the Ampleforths to her
next dinner party. Even though she had not heard anything in Miss Ampleforth's
favour, she was willing to give her a chance. Her son would not ask for her
approval when he chose his bride, and she did not expect him to. But it would
ease her mind considerably if she had an opportunity to get to know her, and
form her own opinion of her. If her son wished to marry Miss Ampleforth, no one
should be able to say that she, his mother, had not done her best to be on good
terms with her future daughter-in-law.
Unaware of his mother's plans,
Lord Clairmont was riding to Richmond with Mr. Hartwell, who wanted to look in
on his daughters and try the paces of his new horse en route to doing so.
"I must see how this governess
of theirs is doing," Hartwell said. "The last one didn't stay for longer than a
fortnight. I do not know what to do with the girls; they have scared away each
female I hired to look after them."
"How about employing a governess
they will like?" Clairmont suggested.
"The thing is they do not like
governesses, as a rule," Hartwell said and sighed. "What they need is a
mother."
"And you think they would like a
new mother better than a governess?"
"Perhaps not, but they would
find it harder to get rid of her," Hartwell said grimly.
"I know you do not need my
advice," Clairmont said, "but I do not think it is a good idea to marry just
because you fail to control your daughters. It would not be fair on either of
you."
"I do miss Harriet, you know,"
Hartwell said after a pause. "But life goes on, and I do need help with the
girls. Desperately."
"Hire a good governess, then, if
you think this one won't be able to handle them," Clairmont said. "Do not marry
for their sake but for your own. You owe it to yourself -- and to whoever is
going to be your wife."
"I was thinking about asking
Miss Ampleforth," Hartwell said.
"I know you did," Clairmont
said. "But, if you care to hear my opinion, I would not advise it. The
Ampleforth girl is not for you."
"She is no longer a girl,"
Hartwell pointed out. "She must be five-and-twenty if she's a day. Old enough
to be content with marrying a widower with three daughters like myself."
"What makes you think so?"
Clairmont burst out. "What makes you assume that just because she is older than
the average debutante she will be grateful for any offer?"
"I do not assume she will be
grateful for any offer," Hartwell said calmly. "I think better of her than
that. I know she has turned down several offers in her time. The only thing
that makes me think she might accept me is that we seem to get along tolerably
well, and she does not take the trouble to make me feel like a complete idiot.
That in itself is encouraging, considering whom we are talking about, don't you
think?"
Clairmont agreed. Miss
Ampleforth would have made it quite clear to Hartwell, had she been averse to
his company. Perhaps he stood a real chance to win her. But why did this upset
him so much? He would have liked to think that it was because he did not wish
to see his sister replaced, but he knew this was not so. No one could ever
replace Harriet, and even Hartwell had openly confessed to him that he did not
think that was possible. Nor was he worried about Hartwell being rejected. To
be honest, this was what Clairmont wanted to happen.
As they rode on, Clairmont
realised that there was something odd about the whole affair. He knew that
there were three men who had been seriously interested in Theodora Ampleforth so
far. Two of them had actually come up to scratch and offered for her, only to
be rejected, while the third one had never been able to summon up the nerve to
ask her. Clairmont had been greatly amused on these occasions -- but probably
that had only been because he had never thought of any of those men as
potential husbands for Miss Ampleforth. Neither of them had had the
intellectual powers or determination to be able to stand up to her, and none of
them had really appreciated her for what she was -- a beautiful, clever,
educated woman, one who would be a very demanding wife but was also able to
offer her husband a great deal in return. Being married to her would be a
constant challenge, and none of these men had been equal to it. Miss Ampleforth
had probably realised that, and had acted accordingly.
But Hartwell was different. He
had been married to Clairmont's sister, who had also been a very clever and
well-educated woman, and their marriage had been a very happy one. There was no
doubt that, if Miss Ampleforth accepted him, they would deal very well
together. Miss Ampleforth took pride in her own good sense, and she would see
the advantages of the match. A husband who was willing to accept her for what
she was, and who was going to treat her as an equal partner, was what she
wanted -- Clairmont had realised that when he had talked to her at Mrs.
Richardson's. In order to get that she might even overlook the lack of romance
in Hartwell's offer. She had always trusted her head more than her heart, after
all. In other words, Hartwell had become his rival for Miss Ampleforth's
affection, a rival to be reckoned with ... What the hell was he thinking? When
had he fallen in love with Theodora?
"What do you say, Clairmont?"
Hartwell asked, and Lord Clairmont realised his brother-in-law had been talking
to him all the time.
"I beg your pardon," he said,
distractedly. "I am afraid I was wool-gathering. You were saying?"
Hartwell repeated his request,
which included spending the evening in his house in Richmond before returning
to London the next day, and Clairmont replied that he was looking forward to
doing so. But Mr. Hartwell found his brother-in-law to be very dull company
that evening. Something seemed to worry him, and though Hartwell would have
dearly liked to help, Clairmont did not admit him to his confidence.
Back in London, Clairmont met
Miss Ampleforth outside Hookham's Library. Aware that many pairs of eyes were
on them, he accosted her, asking her whether he might take her home in his
curricle.
"Thank you, sir, this is very
kind of you," Miss Ampleforth replied, and Clairmont climbed down from his
vehicle to hand her into the carriage. She dismissed the maid who had been
walking with her, and with Clairmont's assistance got into the curricle.
Clairmont got in next to her, casting a glance at the books she was carrying.
"Romance of the Forest,
Miss Ampleforth?" he asked her with a laugh.
"And similar stories, I am
told," Miss Ampleforth said. "My mother says I am not to read an improving book
in a fortnight. So I am providing myself with ludicrous novels to pass the time
until I can read something proper again."
"Poor Miss Ampleforth. To be
forced to merely enjoy herself," Lord Clairmont said. "It is positively
inhumane."
"So I informed my mother, but
she told me not to be ridiculous," Miss Ampleforth said.
"She deserves having all those
absurd novels read to her," Lord Clairmont said laughingly.
Miss Ampleforth laughed. "I
might do that, you know," she said. "Though I daresay she will not mind, once I
have shown her the bonnet I bought on the way here. She will think there is
hope for me yet."
"You bought a bonnet, Miss
Ampleforth? There is hope, indeed -- but I will only believe there is once you
have bought a gown to go with it."
Miss Ampleforth laughed. "I
bought three new gowns of late," she said. "Though none of them goes with the
new bonnet, I am afraid."
"You will turn into a fashion
plate if you are not careful, Miss Ampleforth," he said with a grin.
"It has been worrying me for
quite some time," Miss Ampleforth replied. "There is nothing for it -- I will
have to sneak the Iliad into my bedroom to prevent myself from turning myself
into a fashion doll."
"Sometimes desperate measures
are needed," Lord Clairmont agreed. By that time, they had reached Sir Peter
Ampleforth's town house, and Clairmont had to stop the carriage.
"If you need any help with
smuggling improving books into the house, Miss Ampleforth, just say the word,"
he said, getting down to help her alight from the curricle.
She laughed. "'Thank you, my
lord, but I think my father is quite capable of flooding the house with
improving literature," she said. "The best thing about it is that my mother
cannot stop him."
She thanked him for having taken
her home and Lord Clairmont, after escorting her to the door and asking her to
give his respects to her mother and father, left. It occurred to him that he
would have to make it his business to find out which society functions she
would attend next, and to attend them too. She seemed to be better disposed
towards him now than she had been before she had found out about his scholarly
accomplishments -- that was a good start, but Clairmont did not delude himself
as far as to believe that there was not a great deal of work before him if he did
want to win her. The prize was worth the effort, however, and therefore he did
not mind.
Lady Filmore was more than
surprised to see that Lord Clairmont had not only favoured her invitation to a
musicale at her house with a gracious reply, but had even taken the trouble to
come. Her surprise diminished, however, when Sir Peter and Lady Ampleforth
arrived with their daughter within ten minutes of Lord Clairmont making his
appearance in her drawing room. There had to be something to those rumours
regarding him and the Ampleforth girl after all. Lady Filmore decided to keep
an eye on the two, and to regale her friends with a description of this evening
as soon as she could.
It had not been an easy task to
find out about Miss Ampleforth's social schedule without asking her direct
questions, but Lord Clairmont had tackled it with the help of Stevens, his
valet. It had been Stevens who had suggested striking up a friendship with Miss
Ampleforth's maid -- not without ulterior motive, Lord Clairmont suspected -- and
had used his considerable address in his master's service. Within a couple of
days, enough confidence had been established between the estimable Stevens and
Miss Pratt, and so Lord Clairmont had been informed that Miss Ampleforth was to
attend Lady Filmore's musicale on Thursday, and the theatre on Friday.
Before Lord Clairmont could
approach Miss Ampleforth and secure the seat next to her for himself, however,
Mr. Hartwell arrived and engaged Miss Ampleforth in a conversation. Silently
cursing his brother-in-law for this piece of impudence, Lord Clairmont talked
to the host and hoped Hartwell would not choose this of all evenings to fix his
interest with Miss Ampleforth. He could not prevent him sitting down next to
her, however, and since there was nothing Clairmont could do to lure his
brother-in-law away from her, he was forced to take a seat next to one of Lady
Filmore's daughters. During the concert, he noticed Miss Ampleforth's eyes on
him and gave her a smile. She blushed and turned away.
Lord Clairmont had to wait until
the musical performance was over before he could approach Miss Ampleforth. She
was looking stunning that evening, he noted. Her dress was of the first stare,
and she seemed to have taken more pains than usual with her hair. When she saw
him walk towards her, she gave him a smile that almost took his breath away. He
wondered how he could have been so blind -- why had he not realised before that
he was in love with her? For all he knew, he might already be happily married
to her ... no, he would not. Miss Ampleforth had only just begun to see him in a
different light. She herself had once told him that she abhorred the dandy set,
and had made it quite clear that she had taken him for an empty-headed fribble.
She would never have accepted an offer from him. He was not even certain she
would do so now.
He greeted Sir Peter and Lady
Ampleforth, and then sat down in the chair his brother-in-law had just vacated.
"How did you like the concert,
Miss Ampleforth?" he asked.
"Oh, it was well enough," she
said. "Though I have to admit that I am not overly fond of Handel and therefore
could have done without the last two pieces."
"What kind of music do you
prefer, then?" Clairmont asked.
"I quite like Haydn," Miss
Ampleforth said. "But I confess I am not a very musical person. I enjoy
listening to music, but I have always been a poor hand at playing an
instrument. I was a great disappointment to my mother."
"I cannot believe that, Miss
Ampleforth."
"It is true that she has always
bemoaned my lack of musical talent," Miss Ampleforth said. "She feels that a
harp or pianoforte is a vital accessory for a young lady of quality."
"Really? I never believed that
fashion would catch on," Lord Clairmont said, grinning. "Too bulky by half."
"What fashion?" Lady Ampleforth
demanded, having overheard Clairmont's statement. She was more than ready to
accept his authority on anything related to style.
"The fashion of using musical
instruments as accessories," Lord Clairmont said. "You must admit that a pianoforte
is a somewhat unwieldy object."
Lady Ampleforth gave him a sharp
look, and then turned away.
"I hope I have not offended your
mother," Clairmont whispered in Miss Ampleforth's direction.
"Oh no, she is much too happy
seeing you talk to me," Miss Ampleforth said. "When you took me home the other
day, she could talk of little else all day."
"Poor Miss Ampleforth. Was it
very bad?"
"Not really. I am used to that
kind of thing." She gave him an uncertain smile. "But she did say there was
talk about us. Can you imagine? Why should people talk about us?"
"Because their own business does
not interest them half as much as other people's does," Clairmont said. "Does
it bother you?"
Miss Ampleforth thought for a
moment. "No," she finally said. "It does not. It just seems so absurd."
"That people should talk about
us?"
"No, but that they would assume
there is something between us worth talking about," she replied. "Don't you
agree?"
"Absolutely," Lord Clairmont agreed. "Completely absurd."
Part Four
Even though Miss Ampleforth's
words at Lady Filmore's musicale had not been overly encouraging, her behaviour
had. In comparison to their former encounters, Lord Clairmont thought, she had
even been uncommonly friendly. He had, therefore, some expectations regarding
the evening at the theatre.
While getting dressed, he asked
his valet what he had been able to discover, apart from Miss Ampleforth's plans
for tonight. Not everything Stevens told him was to his taste, however.
Apparently, Hartwell had invited
Miss Ampleforth and her mother to Vauxhall Gardens, and Clairmont,
well-acquainted with the place, surmised that he had invited them there for a
purpose. There was hardly a better place or time in London to "lose" an
unwanted chaperone than Vauxhall Gardens in the evening, during the fireworks
display. His brother-in-law was not going to lose any time it seemed. He wished
to get riveted as quickly as possible, and he had determined upon Miss
Ampleforth to be the new mother for his daughters. Something had to be done.
Another piece of news quite
surprised him too, though it did not startle him as much as Hartwell's plans
regarding Miss Ampleforth. His mother had invited the Ampleforths to dine with
her on Tuesday. Since she was not acquainted with them, there could be only one
explanation for this -- Hartwell had taken her into his confidence and Lady
Clairmont wished to inspect the young lady who was about to take her daughter's
place. It was strange, though, that she had not told him about it. Coming to
think of it, it was not quite as strange as that -- Clairmont had not seen her
in a while. He decided to call on her the next morning.
"Miss Ampleforth is to wear a
new gown this evening," Stevens said. "Miss Pratt has been full of praise -- it
appears that the young lady has discovered her taste for finery at last, and is
in her best looks."
"That must be a great comfort to
Miss Pratt." Clairmont could not but agree with Miss Ampleforth's maid.
Theodora's looks had improved lately.
"Undoubtedly, my lord. It is a
satisfactory feeling if one's employer is doing one credit, if I may be
permitted to say so."
"Permission granted," Clairmont
said with a grin. "Unless you mean to tell me that I am not doing you much
credit."
"I am unlikely to say that, my
lord," Stevens said with the blankest expression ever achieved by a gentleman's
gentleman. "If I had ever had reason to doubt your lordship's ability to show
off my work to the best advantage, I would have sought a position elsewhere."
"You would not desert me,
Stevens," Clairmont said, matter-of-factly. "I pay you fantastic wages."
Without saying a word in reply
to this, Stevens was able to convey to him that though money might be an
incentive for some people, it did not weigh with him when his
professional honour was at stake.
While Clairmont arranged his
neckcloth, nothing more was said. The problem was too complicated to be
disturbed with idle chatter. Stevens could usually tell his master's mood by
the number of neckcloths needed until the effect met with his lordship's
approval. Tonight, he seemed to be in an excellent mood -- his lordship leant
back with a satisfied sigh after no more than three attempts.
When Lord Clairmont had found
out that Miss Ampleforth was to see a play on Friday, he had quickly reviewed
his list of friends to see which one of them would be the most likely to accept
an invitation from him at such short notice. He had chosen Mr. Berkeley, one of
the select set of friends who had known him in Oxford and would therefore not
be surprised if Clairmont had something intelligent to say. Besides Berkeley
was a married man, and his wife was fond of watching a play occasionally. So
Clairmont would be able to do a friend a good turn and pursue his own interests
at the same time. He felt almost saintly when contemplating the topic.
Mrs. Berkeley was in transports.
During the entire journey from her home to the theatre she sang Lord
Clairmont's praises -- he was the most generous friend imaginable, she said, and
one on whom she could always depend. Her husband listened to her eulogies with
a wry smile, sometimes giving Clairmont a wink. Mrs. Berkeley was very grateful
for the treat Clairmont had offered her, and anxious to express her gratitude
in a becoming way, unaware that her excessive thanks were likely to put
Clairmont off her company in the future.
Luckily, the journey to the
theatre did not take long, and once they had arrived there Mrs. Berkeley had
something else to do. She took her seat in the box Clairmont had hired for the
evening, declined her host's offer of refreshment, and took out her opera glass
to give the ladies in the other boxes and their toilettes a thorough
inspection.
Clairmont and Berkeley sat down
too, and passed their time until the play commenced by discussing their
respective exploits since they had last met.
"I heard you saw old Simms at
Mrs. Richardson's," Mr. Berkeley remarked. "It caused some sensation,
apparently. I wish I had been there."
"Why weren't you?" Clairmont
asked.
"Because my wife had a prior
engagement, that is why," Berkeley said, and added, in a murmur, "She usually
has, when Mrs. Richardson is concerned."
"Doesn't she like her?"
"Not really. She finds the
company there a trifle intimidating," Berkeley said. "She does not think she is
clever enough for that set. Complete nonsense, of course."
"Of course," Clairmont politely
agreed. He admitted that Mrs. Berkeley was not really a silly woman, but he had
yet to find her intelligent.
"I would have dearly liked to
see the Ampleforth girl routed, though," Mr. Berkeley said with a grin.
"You won't," Clairmont said. "It
takes more to scare Miss Ampleforth than me turning out to be a scholar. She
took it rather hard at first, but I believe she regards me with something
approaching respect now." Clairmont tried to look unconcerned. This was hard to
do, since Sir Peter Ampleforth and his family chose that moment to enter their
box, which was quite coincidentally situated opposite his own.
His friend gave him a searching
look but refrained from making any further remarks concerning Miss Ampleforth.
He knew Clairmont well enough to know when further inquiry would turn out to be
in vain. But he did note the looks Clairmont cast at his brother-in-law, who
had just appeared in the opposite box with the Ampleforths, and decided that it
might be interesting to keep one's eye on the further developments in the case.
Hartwell noticed his
brother-in-law in the opposite box, and greeted him with a nod. Clairmont
returned the greeting, and bowed to Lady and Miss Ampleforth, who were also
looking into his direction. Lady Ampleforth gave him a polite nod, while her
daughter greeted him with a shy smile that warmed his heart. He decided to
visit Sir Peter's box during the intermission, and to steal a couple of minutes
of conversation with Theodora.
It was difficult to concentrate
on the play that evening. Clairmont could not help but watch the opposite box
whenever he thought no one would notice. He tried to think of a suitable excuse
for intruding on Sir Peter and his family, and decided he would simply go there
and introduce his friends. So when the curtain closed after the first act, he
turned to his friend and asked whether they would like to meet Mrs.
Richardson's friend, Miss Ampleforth.
"I do not know," Mrs. Berkeley
faltered. "She has always seemed so ... aloof. I never had the impression she
wanted to be acquainted with anyone."
"Miss Ampleforth does improve on
closer acquaintance, Mrs. Berkeley," Lord Clairmont said.
"Indeed? Well, in that case I
daresay I would like to meet her," Mrs. Berkeley said, willing to humour the
man to whom she felt greatly obliged for the treat she was enjoying that
evening.
Unfortunately, at that moment a
close friend of Mrs. Berkeley's arrived in Lord Clairmont's box and showed no
intention of leaving in a hurry. Mrs. Berkeley was therefore unable to follow
Clairmont to Sir Peter Ampleforth's box. She did make a most welcome
suggestion, however -- if Miss Ampleforth agreed to the scheme, would it be very
impertinent of her to ask her to come and see her during the next intermission?
Clairmont, realising that this would mean he'd get a couple of minutes of
private talk with Miss Ampleforth, said that he would inquire, and immediately
went to Sir Peter's box to ask Theodora what she thought about it.
She was talking to Hartwell when
Clairmont arrived there, but greeted him with a brilliant, unaffected smile.
Clairmont bowed, scowled at his brother-in-law, and turned to Miss Ampleforth.
"I had no idea you would be here
this evening, Miss Ampleforth," he lied. "What a pleasant surprise!"
"Did you think I did not share
your interest for modern drama?" she asked him teasingly.
"Do you, then?" he retorted.
"Perhaps not quite," she
admitted. "But I love watching a play now and then."
"So does Mrs. Berkeley -- one of
the friends who are giving me the pleasure of their company tonight," he said.
"I have come here on a mission, in fact. Mrs. Berkeley said she would dearly
like to make your acquaintance, and hopes you will come and see her during the
next intermission."
"Certainly. I would very much
like to meet your friends, my lord," Miss Ampleforth said.
"Excellent! I will come and pick
you up at the end of the next act and convey you to Mrs. Berkeley, then."
He stayed for another couple of
minutes to exchange pleasantries with Sir Peter and Lady Ampleforth, and then
returned to his own box to endure another hour of indifferent acting before he
could fix his interest with Theodora.
"How did you like the play so
far, my lord?" she asked him, when he had finally come to pick her up.
"To say the truth, I hardly
watched," Clairmont admitted.
"Oh, and why is that?" Miss
Ampleforth asked. "Since you take such interest in ... er ... modern drama?"
"Apparently none of the fair Thespians
on the stage managed to capture my interest, Miss Ampleforth," he said
laughingly.
"And none of the dark ones
either," Miss Ampleforth chuckled.
"Miss Ampleforth!" Clairmont
stopped and looked at her, pretending to be shocked.
"I am sorry, sir. I know it is
highly unbecoming for me to talk in such a way, but I could not resist."
"I hardly know what to say. -- I
did come to see ... someone, Miss Ampleforth," Lord Clairmont said.
"A lady?" She gave him a curious
look.
"It might be a lady," Clairmont
said, delighting in the interest this announcement seemed to rouse in her.
"A lady in the audience?"
"She might be among the
audience," Clairmont said.
"May I inquire into the lady's
identity?" She was definitely interested, Clairmont thought.
"You may, Miss Ampleforth, as
long as I may keep her identity to myself," he replied, deciding to stir the
coals.
"You are not going to tell me?"
"You do not expect me to, do
you?" he asked. "As a gentleman I am not supposed to bandy a lady's name
about."
"Of course. I was being
indiscreet. I am sorry. I will have to try and find out for myself then."
She gave him a challenging smile. "Or do you think this is beyond my rational
faculties?"
"I do not think anything is
beyond your intellectual powers. -- You know, Miss Ampleforth, I will be
sporting. I will give you a hint."
Miss Ampleforth laughed. "Well?"
"She is extraordinary, Miss
Ampleforth."
"Of course she is. What else?
What does she look like?"
Clairmont laughed. "She has the
finest eyes I have ever seen," he said. "They have robbed me of my sleep for
the past week or so. Her eyes can sparkle with laughter, yet if the lady
chooses to glare she can strike terror into the hearts of men. She is precious
and beautiful -- God's gift to me, I hope."
"You sound almost like a
romantic, my lord." Miss Ampleforth said, giving him a sidelong glance. "What
is she wearing?"
Clairmont grinned and shook his
head. "No more, Miss Ampleforth," he said. "That would make it too easy for you
to find out. You like a challenge, don't you? I need to make the challenge
worthy of your intelligence."
"Very well," she said. "I will
give the matter some thought, certainly, though I do not intend to lose any
sleep over it."
"Oh no, do not," Lord Clairmont
said, opening the door to his box for her to enter. "I would not want you to."
While she was talking to Mrs.
Berkeley, Clairmont had no chance to converse with Miss Ampleforth any more,
and when he took her back to her father's box towards the end of the
intermission she did not talk much. She did subject every woman he greeted to
some scrutiny, however, and if he was not mistaken the identity of his unknown
love did intrigue her.
He took his leave of her, wondering how long it would take her to figure out that "God's Gift" was the meaning of her own name.
Part Five
To all intents and purposes he
had declared himself, Lord Clairmont was fully aware of that. Theodora might
not have realised it yet, but it was only a question of time until she would.
So it was about time he went to see Sir Peter Ampleforth, Clairmont decided. No
one should be able to say that he had not acted with the utmost propriety while
courting his future wife. But before going to see Sir Peter, Lord Clairmont had
to call on his mother.
The Dowager Viscountess
Clairmont was delighted to see her son. Having heard some new gossip about
Clairmont being seen in the theatre, escorting Miss Ampleforth to her father's
box, she had decided it was about time to broach the subject with him, and had
been about to write him a note summoning him to her house. She was not going to
put up with being the last one to know.
There were other visitors with
her when Clairmont arrived, and so she had to restrain her curiosity until they
had left. Only then she turned to him.
"Well, Eric? What brings you
here?"
"Cannot I come and see my mother
without having some hidden purpose?" Clairmont asked.
"You can, I grant you that, only
it happens very rarely," Lady Clairmont said. "You have been up to some
mischief, I have been told."
"Oh no, Mother, you wrong me.
This time I am as far from mischief as one can get."
"How much truth, if any, is in
those rumours about you and the Ampleforth girl?" Lady Clairmont demanded. She
had never been one to beat about the bush when dealing with her son -- not in
important matters, anyway.
"That depends on which rumour
you are referring to," Clairmont said with a grin.
"There are some people who say
you are showing uncommon interest in the lady."
Clairmont nodded. "This is
true."
"Why? Is it because Hartwell
wants to marry her?"
"No, it is because I want
to marry her," Clairmont said calmly.
For a moment, his mother stared
at him in surprise. This was clearly not the reply she had expected. Clairmont
looked at her with an amused smile.
"Is it so hard for you to
believe, mother?" he asked. "Did you think I would stay single
forever?"
"No ... no, I knew you would marry
one day -- it is just that I never thought you would marry a girl who..." She
broke off. "It does make sense, though, when one thinks about it," she
admitted.
"Perfect sense," Clairmont said.
"You never believed I would marry a girl without a brain, did you? If I had
wanted to do so, I could have married years ago."
Lady Clairmont laughed. "I would
not have wanted you to," she said. "I have not heard much about Miss
Ampleforth, and I am afraid the few things I have heard are not really in her
favour. What made you fall in love with her? I assume you are in love."
"I am," Clairmont admitted,
blushing a little. "Though I do not know how it happened. I only realised, when
Hartwell told me he meant to marry her, that I could not allow him to do so
because it would break my heart to see her married to a man who does not love
her. Or anyone but myself, for that matter. She is one in a million, Mother, I
cannot allow anyone to take her away from me."
"Hartwell does not love her?"
Lady Clairmont asked, smiling at her son's last remark.
"I do not think so. He kept
talking about the girls needing a new mother, and how he thinks Miss Ampleforth
is the kind of woman who will be able to handle them, but there was not one
word about his feelings for her."
"Perhaps he thought it would be
indelicate to mention his feelings for Miss Ampleforth to you -- that it might
hurt you to hear how easily he had found someone to replace Harriet."
"Good point, Mother, but I do
not think this is it. He is trying to justify his wedding plans, true, but the
way he spoke about his plans with Miss Ampleforth rather sounded like some
business arrangement he was contemplating. It's my belief that such a marriage
would not work. Seeing things that way, I am even doing him a favour by
marrying Miss Ampleforth."
"Quite possibly," Lady Clairmont
agreed. "Well, you had better ask her before Hartwell does, then."
Clairmont smiled. "I am not
going to do anything behind Hartwell's back," he said. "I will talk to him
before I propose to her -- I think that once he knows I am in love with her, he
will give up his pretensions to Miss Ampleforth's hand. He is indifferent to her,
after all -- it will be an easy thing for him to do."
Lady Clairmont agreed. "I am
really looking forward to meeting Miss Ampleforth on Tuesday," she said. "Once
I heard about the rumours concerning you and her, I thought it would be a good
thing to invite her and her parents to dine with me. You must come, too. Maybe
we will already be able to talk about your engagement?"
"No, I am afraid we will not be
able to do so." Clairmont smiled. "You know, I thought you had invited the
Ampleforths because you wished to see the future Mrs. Hartwell."
Lady Clairmont laughed. "How
could you?" she asked. "Did you think I was frothing at the mouth to see my
daughter so slighted?"
Clairmont shook his head. "No, I
didn't. You are far too rational a creature to do so," he said. "I merely
thought you might wish to meet your granddaughters' new mother, this is all."
Sir Peter Ampleforth made no
objection when Lord Clairmont explained his intentions regarding his daughter
to him. No man in his right mind would. Clairmont had been on the Town for long
enough to know he was considered a highly advantageous match. They were seated
in Sir Peter's study, a room which Clairmont would have dearly liked to explore
-- in passing, he had noticed several promising volumes on the shelves.
After having silently listened
to what Clairmont had had to say, Sir Peter said, "It really seems to me as if
my girl had finally found her match. You know, I have always refused to believe
that the same man who'd done so well in Oxford would turn out to have so
shallow a mind as some people credited you with."
"Thank you, sir."
"As far as I am concerned, you
are welcome to marry my daughter," Sir Peter continued. "But the final decision
is hers, as you will agree."
"Absolutely," Lord Clairmont said.
"You have not told her about
your intentions yet?" Sir Peter asked.
"I have given her a hint,"
Clairmont said. "But I am not certain whether she has understood it."
"When are you planning to give
her more than just a hint?" Sir Peter asked.
"As soon as I have the
opportunity to do so," Clairmont said. "Though there is one issue I must settle
before that."
Sir Peter nodded. "I think I
know what issue you are talking about," he said. "Very well, take your time --
but not too long, mind you. It won't do for my girl to be the talk of the town
for much longer."
Lord Clairmont agreed to Sir
Peter's terms and assured him that, by the end of the following week, he would
have a word in private with Theodora to find out what she thought about the
idea of marriage.
As Clairmont had foreseen,
Hartwell did not make matters difficult for him. He merely reproached him for
not having told him earlier that he had fallen in love with Miss Ampleforth.
"Well, I would have if I had
known," Clairmont said. "I only realised how much I cared for her when you made
your intentions clear to me. I did try to hint you away, if you will remember."
"You did," Hartwell agreed. "You
said Miss Ampleforth was not for me. Now I know why you said that." He sighed.
"I will have to look elsewhere for a wife then."
"I still think you should not
marry unless you are in love with the lady in question," Clairmont said.
"Oh, but one cannot expect to be
so lucky twice in one's life," Hartwell said calmly. "I am afraid I will have
to settle for a female I like."
"As you wish," Clairmont said.
"I am not one to meddle, but I hope I have made my opinion clear to you."
Hartwell nodded, pouring himself
another drink and offering Clairmont to refill his glass as well.
"You know," he said, "Knowing
what I do now I feel rather disinclined to take the Ampleforth ladies to
Vauxhall gardens on Wednesday. How about switching places? I'll repair to
Richmond, and you will take Lady Ampleforth and her daughter to Vauxhall
instead of me. What do you say to that?"
"I should say this is an
excellent idea," Clairmont said. "But you will need to tell the ladies what
they are to expect."
"I certainly will. They will
receive my abject apologies and be quite sorry to lose my company, but I
daresay they will be well pleased my replacement." Hartwell grinned. "I will
just tell them there has been some trouble with my daughters. It's not as if I
was telling a lie -- there usually is some trouble with them."
"That Miss Ryder seemed to know
what she was doing though." Miss Ryder was the girls' current governess.
"She does. For one, she said she
had grown up with four younger sisters, and that there was no trick my girls
could try on her that she did not know already."
Clairmont laughed. "This sounds
as if the girls have found their master."
"It does, doesn't it? I have
high hopes in that direction. Still, Miss Ryder could do with some assistance I
suppose -- this will be my excuse for going to Richmond, at any rate."
"An acceptable one, certainly.
The devoted father must check on his daughters. I have a horrifying vision of
every female fawning over you by the time you return to London."
"Then it should not be too
difficult for me to find another bride for myself," Hartwell said
with a grin.
"I never had any doubt regarding
that," Clairmont said. "In my opinion, you should be a bit more fastidious
though."
"What was wrong with my choice?"
Hartwell asked.
"Nothing, apart from the fact
that you wanted Miss Ampleforth for the wrong reasons," Clairmont said. "I know
you believe you will never meet a woman whom you could love as much as Harriet.
Maybe not; I do not pretend to be an expert in matters of the heart. But don't
you think you might, one day, meet a woman whom you could love a little? So why
not wait for her?"
"Perhaps you are right,"
Hartwell conceded, and changed the topic.
Clairmont looked forward to the
dinner party at his mother's -- even though some of the guests were not exactly
to his taste, Theodora would be there, and that was all he wanted. He hoped his
mother would like her -- not that it would influence his decision to marry
Theodora in any way if she did not, but he would prefer it that way.
The Ampleforths were among the
first guests who arrived -- Sir Peter greeted Clairmont cordially, but with a
significant look, Lady Ampleforth was full of praise for Lady Clairmont's house
and its furnishings, and Theodora, though perfectly civil, seemed to be rather
shy in comparison to their earlier encounters. Maybe she had already solved the
puzzle, Clairmont thought -- that might justify some shyness on her part, or if
not shyness at least some uncertainty of manner.
At the dinner table, she was not
seated next to him -- his mother had preferred not to give rise to speculation
by upsetting the usual rules of precedence. Clairmont therefore had to endure
Lady Tervington's ceaseless chatter with as much patience as he could muster,
and had to content himself with the fact that Theodora was not much better off
than he.
Only when he joined the ladies
in the drawing room later in the evening, he had a chance to talk to her. His
mother, who had been sitting with her and laughing heartily at something
Theodora had said when he entered, beckoned him to join them and, after a few
minutes, left them alone, mentioning her duties as a hostess by way of an
explanation. This was a clear sign of approval, Clairmont thought. She would
have behaved differently, had she disliked Theodora.
"Lady Clairmont is a very
amiable lady," Theodora said as he sat down next to her.
"I am quite fond of her,
myself," Clairmont said lightly. "Even though she always refused to see reason
whenever matters such as broken windows in the conservatory, dogs in the house
or midnight bathing in the lake were concerned."
Theodora laughed. "It seems you
were a very troublesome child," she said.
"My mother thinks I was, at any
rate," Clairmont said. "I should say I was merely resourceful."
"When did you turn into a
brilliant scholar then?" Theodora asked.
"Why do you think one thing
excludes another?" he retorted. "I may have been naughty and a good scholar,
how about that?"
"Were you?"
"Most certainly."
"In that case I must apologise,"
she said. "I did not wish to cast aspersions on your character."
"I am relieved to hear that."
"Was your sister as mischievous
as you, sir?" She gave him a curious look.
"Harriet? Not really -- why do
you ask?"
"I was wondering whether Mr.
Hartwell's daughters were taking after their mama."
"Harriet was very well-behaved,"
Clairmont said. "Most of the time. So I am afraid my nieces' unruliness has
nothing to do with their mother. I do not know what Hartwell was like when he
was a boy," he added with a grin. "Perhaps they take after him?"
"Perhaps. He does take his
duties as a father very seriously, though, does he not?"
Clairmont wondered why she
insisted on talking about Hartwell. Was she in love with him? He had not seen
any signs of love in her when she had been in Hartwell's company, but one never
knew.
"He does," he said curtly.
"Is it very inconvenient for you
to take us to Vauxhall Gardens tomorrow?" she asked. "I know Mr. Hartwell asked
you to take his place when he was obliged to go to Richmond, but if I knew it
was not your wish to take us I had rather stay at home for I would not be able
to enjoy myself."
"No such thing, Miss Ampleforth.
I am looking forward to the evening."
"Are you certain?" she asked,
with an anxious expression.
"You may rest assured that I
would not have consented to it if it had been against my wishes, Miss
Ampleforth." He gave her a reassuring smile. "I will do my best to make
tomorrow evening a memorable occasion."
She blushed slightly, but did
not say anything in reply to this. This kind of behaviour was unlike her,
certainly.
"Why were you thinking I had
rather be doing something other than take you to Vauxhall?" he asked.
"Oh, I only had a suspicion ...
but I am glad to hear I was wrong." She gave him an uncertain smile. "One does
not wish to become a burden to one's friends, after all."
"Certainly not. I am flattered
to be included into the circle of your friends, Miss Ampleforth."
"We did get along rather well of
late," she said shyly. "Did we not?"
"We did," he said smilingly. "I
hope things will continue to be this way. Your good opinion means a great deal
to me."
At that moment, Sir Peter came
to take his daughter with him -- Lady Ampleforth wished to leave.
"Until tomorrow, then," she
said, smiling at Clairmont and curtseying.
"Until tomorrow, Miss
Ampleforth," Clairmont said, bowing.
He was by no means certain what
to expect of the following evening. Things had seemed rather easy at first,
once he had got Hartwell out of the way. He was going to take Theodora to
Vauxhall Gardens, and at one point during the evening he would be able to
contrive an opportunity for them to be alone. He would propose to her, and she
would accept him. Nothing could have been easier or more logical. Then why was
he beginning to lose his nerve?
His lordship was in a very foul
mood this evening, Stevens decided. At the moment he was working on his eighth
neckcloth, and by the look of it, it was not going to be the last one.
Something bothered him, and Stevens, acquainted with his lordship's affairs,
was quite certain he knew what it was.
Finally, after his tenth attempt
at tying his neckcloth, Lord Clairmont leant back and studied his reflection in
the mirror.
"This should do," he said,
sounding by no means certain. "I have not got any time for another try, at any
rate."
"Quite so, my lord. I am afraid
the time is getting on," Stevens said blandly, holding up his lordship's coat.
"I wish it were not," Clairmont
said. A great deal depended on the outcome of the evening -- and he had rather
put off the decision for as long as he could. Once Theodora had said no, there
was no way back.
"Good luck, my lord," Stevens
said when Clairmont left the room. Clairmont stopped short and gave his valet a
glare.
"I beg your pardon," he said, at
his haughtiest.
"I said good evening, my lord,"
Stevens said glibly. "I have been told your lordship's carriage is waiting
outside."
With another frown at his valet,
Clairmont left.
The journey to Vauxhall Gardens
was uneventful -- Lady Ampleforth tried her best to keep him amused with some
anecdotes or other, while her daughter was uncharacteristically silent. When
Clairmont handed her into the boat which was to take them across the Thames,
however, she gave him a shy smile and thanked him. Clairmont wondered why she
seemed so subdued this evening. Had she solved the puzzle? If so, had she drawn
the right conclusions?
He deliberately tried to draw
her out during dinner, and she seemed to thaw. Having finished their repast,
Clairmont asked her to dance with him, and after one questioning look in her
mother's direction she consented.
Clairmont led her to the set,
and said, "You are unusually silent tonight, Miss Ampleforth. I hope I have not
offended you?"
"No, sir," Theodora said. "It is
just..." She broke off, and there was a short pause while Clairmont waited for
her to continue.
When she did not, he said, "You
must know that I have always valued your frankness very highly. If there is
anything you wish to tell me, please do so."
"I was wondering," she said.
"About ... about the things you said at the theatre."
He smiled. She had just given
him the perfect opportunity for proposing to her, and he was going to make use
of it. "Would you like to go for a walk, Miss Ampleforth," he asked.
"I would love to, yes," she said
and let him lead her away from the set. They walked along an illuminated
avenue, until they reached a stone bench where they sat down.
"So what were you wondering
about, Miss Ampleforth?" Clairmont asked.
"I was wondering whether you
were trying to give me some kind of hint," she said.
"I admit I was," Clairmont said.
"Was the gift of God a clue?"
"It certainly was," Clairmont
replied. "I knew you would understand it."
She sighed. "It is none of my
business, of course," she said. "But do you really think Dorothy Mainwaring is
the right woman for you?"
"Dorothy Mainwaring? Why should
I think so?" Clairmont asked, taken aback.
"So it is not her? Strange -- she
is the only debutante I could think of with striking eyes and a name that means
Gift of God," Theodora said.
Clairmont laughed. "But I did
not say Gift of God, did I?"
"Yes, you did. You said..."
"I know what I said," Clairmont
said. "I said God's Gift. Not gift of God. God's Gift. You were right
about the rest, but your translation is all wrong."
Theodora's lips moved silently
while she solved the puzzle.
"But that's..." she began, and
suddenly laughed. "That's me! Theodora! I so wished it would be, but I thought
it was so ... so unlikely! And I was not really certain any more about what
exactly you had said, and Dorothy Mainwaring seemed to fit the description,
and..." She broke off as Clairmont took her into his arms.
"How can a bright lady such as
you be so foolish?" he asked. "Dorothy Mainwaring, indeed! Have you ever seen
me pay any marked attention to her?"
"No, I have not," Theodora
admitted.
"Theodora, I love you with all
my heart," Clairmont said. "So how could I have eyes for another -- no matter
how fine her appearance may be? I want to share my life with you, and no one
else. What do you say?"
"Is this a marriage proposal?"
she asked, looking up at him.
Clairmont laughed. "What else,
Theodora?"
"I was just trying to make
certain I was not misunderstanding things again," she said with a playful
smile. "I would love to spend my life with you, too."
The fireworks, which started at almost the same moment as Clairmont kissed his bride for the first time, went by unnoticed.
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