A Sisterly Regard Page 8

  "Disgraced herself? Chloe, what have you done?"

  Lady Gifford related Chloe's activities of the day before. Chloe sat silent, a sullen expression upon her face.

  "Oh, Chloe, how careless! And how unfair too, that one woman should be have such influence that she could blight a girl's hopes."

  "Life is not--"

  Both girls finished their mama's familiar statement. "...always fair." The mood of gloom momentarily lifted. Unwilling to let it descend again, Phaedra said, "I had planned with Cousin Louisa to visit Astley's Amphitheatre this afternoon. Chloe could accompany us." She pretended not to see her sister's grimace.

  "Not today. We will require your presence in the parlor. There will undoubtedly be a number of callers, many of them bent on obtaining more fuel for their gossip."

  "Very well, Mama," Phaedra replied, with a long-suffering sigh. "And I suppose that I must accompany you to tea parties and whatnot for a while."

  "I am afraid you must. But only for a sennight or so. Can you bear it?"

  "I can if I must. Chloe, I must confess that I am quite out of charity with you. How could you so forget yourself?"

  "Stop it, stop it!" Chloe cried. "You are all acting as if I had done something criminal. I only walked in the garden with Lord Everingham. He was quite tiresome, too, although you probably would have enjoyed his conversation, Phaedra. He introduced me to nearly every shrub and flower we passed, just as you sometimes do."

  Leaning forward, Phaedra said, with great interest, "He is a horticulturalist, then?"

  "I suppose so. I found it quite odd, an earl speaking of gardening as if he were common. I am not sure I care to encourage his interest."

  Phaedra could not resist asking, "Why not?"

  "You know I have no interest in horticulture. Besides, I would never let a gentleman who looks like a sheep go beyond what is proper."

  "A sheep? Tell me more," Phaedra said, interested in spite of herself.

  "He is not very tall." She gestured with her hand, about three inches above her head. "His hair and eyebrows are pale, so that he looks washed out, like clothing that has faded in the sun. But he is very au courant in his dress, his manners are quite unexceptional, and he is an earl. He must be rich. The Everingham house is elegant beyond anything I have ever seen. He seemed quite taken with me."

  "And his mother, was she also taken with you? It did not sound like it."

  "No, she was quite horrid. I hate her!"

  "So you were merely practicing your wiles on this unfortunate young man, as you do upon poor Mr. Martin. It is most unkind in you to do so. You do not find Lord Everingham attractive, but you do nothing to discourage his attentions. What will you do if he has developed a tendre for you?"

  "Oh, I shall enjoy it. And I am sure he has, Phaedra. If you could only have seen him gazing at me like a lovelorn ewe while he poked himself in the chin with his fork. I do believe I have made a conquest."

  "What an interesting comparison. Is he effeminate then?"

  "Oh, you know what I meant. He is masculine enough, even though he is slender and his shoulders are narrow and his voice is a light tenor. I am sure I could fall in love with him, should I choose."

  "Chloe, I have a terrible feeling you are living in a dream world. Just be sure you do nothing to compromise yourself."

  "With Everingham? How perfectly ridiculous. But one should always have something to fall back upon, you know."

  "You would not be pleased if your admirers acted thus towards you, I think." Seeing blank incomprehension on her sister's face, Phaedra threw up her hands. "Never mind. I think I will go up and help Cousin Louisa. She is embroidering silver oak leaves on Mama's gray silk gown."

  "Oh, how wonderful. I will come with you."

  The sisters, their minds diverted to something other than their social life, went companionably upstairs, to sew and gossip until the hour for callers to arrive.

  * * * *

  The horde of callers did not materialize. Mrs. Graham and her painfully shy daughter arrived first. Chloe practically snubbed Sarah, but Phaedra, feeling sorry for the girl, attempted to converse with her. As before, it was a failure. The girl again sat with her eyes fixed upon Phaedra's face and did nothing but nod or shake her head and occasionally giggle softly. Phaedra was relieved to hear Lady Mary Follansbee announced. She had run entirely out of topics to introduce.

  Instead of coming to her rescue, Lady Mary sat down next to Chloe, leaving Phaedra to muddle along with Miss Graham until her languid mother said it was time for them to leave. Only then did Miss Graham speak.

  "Oh, Miss Phaedra, I cannot tell you how much I appreciate your kindness. I know that I have no conversation. Everyone else ignores me, but you always take time to speak with me. And you are so amusing." She subsided into a painful blush, but pressed Phaedra's extended hand gratefully.

  Well! Perhaps Miss Graham is not so insipid after all. She may be overwhelmed. I believe I would be, with a mother like hers. It is nice to be appreciated. She crossed the room to join Chloe and Lady Mary.

  "How unkind you are, Mary. Could you not see that I was in need of assistance? I vow, trying to converse with Miss Graham is most exhausting. I find myself answering my own comments, quite like our nurse at home who never needs a second person with whom to carry on a conversation."

  "I am sorry for you Phaedra, but I felt that Chloe was in greater need."

  "So the gossips are at it."

  "Oh, yes, we had three callers this morning, one after another, who told us of Chloe's shocking behavior yesterday." She smiled to show her opinion of the opprobrium.

  "And who were they?"

  "Two of them were old biddies who do not matter greatly, for they have little influence. But the third does matter. Lady Everingham."

  "That harridan." muttered Chloe.

  "Never say that where you might be overheard, Chloe," Lady Mary warned in a barely audible tone. "Harridan she may be, but she has incredible influence among the ton, and she also is very possessive concerning her precious son. Grandmama told me that she has in the past encouraged him to play the gallant with the debutantes, but has pulled him up short in no uncertain terms if he seemed serious about anyone. Grandmama is certain she has spread untrue rumors about several girls. Even though she has said publicly that it's time he marry, I wonder if she will ever allow him to. She certainly does not seem to intend that he should become well enough acquainted with anyone to develop a tendre for her."

  Just then Edgemont announced Lord Everingham. Chloe blushed and Phaedra looked to the doorway with curiosity. The slight young man who entered had a high forehead and a long nose. She could see where Chloe had conceived the notion of a sheep, even though his appearance was not displeasing. His clothing was in the first style of elegance.

  As Lord Everingham was making his bow to Lady Gifford, Edgemont reappeared to announce Mr. Farwell.

  "Good," Lady Mary said softly to Phaedra. "I asked Reggie particularly to come today. I thought he might cheer her up." Phaedra smiled her gratitude, but was unable to respond because Lord Everingham had joined them.

  Chloe held out her hand. "Good afternoon, Lord Everingham. Are you acquainted with Lady Mary Follansbee?"

  "I have that honor. So happy to see you again, Lady Mary." He turned back to Chloe immediately. "Miss Hazelbourne, I had come to take you driving, but your mother tells me that you are unable to go with me. Are you unwell?"

  Instead of replying, she said, "May I introduce my sister, Miss Phaedra Hazelbourne?"

  This time his acknowledgement was just short of rude. "Miss Hazelbourne, please--"

  Chloe was clearly unwilling to allow him to suspect she was anything less than perfectly happy to stay at home. "I beg your indulgence, my lord. I have decided to rest this afternoon so I will be fresh for our attendance at Almack's tonight. Do you attend?"

  "I had not planned to do so, but knowing that you will grace the premises, how could I be absent? Your presence will light Al
mack's as no chandelier could, and the very floor will rejoice with the touch of your slippers upon it."

  Phaedra was biting her lip to keep from giggling at his stilted, flowery compliments. She interrupted. "Lady Mary, Chloe, if you will excuse me, I will join Mama and Mr. Farwell. Lord Everingham, it was a pleasure to meet you." She suspected he hardly heard her, so intently was he gazing at Chloe.

  What a coil. He seems well and truly enamored of her.

  She extended her hand to the tall, slim gentleman, resisting with difficulty the impulse to laugh aloud at his choice of garb. "Mr. Farwell, how good of you to call."

  As she led him to a neutral corner, he spoke in a tone for her ears only, "You sister is playing with fire. His mother will do everything in her power to separate them. She has her eyes set much higher than the daughter of as minor baron."

  She smiled as if he had said something amusing. "Of course she has, if she will allow him to wed at all. Papa may be the nephew of a duke, but he is not in line for the title." With a gesture indicating he should seat himself, she took the chair in the corner. "Lady Mary told me you came to cheer up my sister, which was kind in you. As you see, she is not in need of anything except some common sense. And you, I am sure, cannot offer her that."

  "My dear Miss Phaedra, are you so unkind as to insinuate that I lack common sense?"

  "Not at all. Or yes, perhaps I do. You must know that your piffle does not go well with me."

  "Ah, but my piffle is of the highest quality. I am quite the favorite with hopeful mamas, and young ladies quite adore me, for I never require that they stretch their poor little minds with political or intellectual conversation."

  "No, you prate of fashion and parties and indulge in light gossip. Do you never, Mr. Farwell, have a serious thought?"

  "Never, Miss Phaedra. Why if a serious thought should enter my head, I would cast it aside as I would a soiled handkerchief." The lacy scrap of fine linen in his hand fluttered in illustration.

  "What a waste. There is much more to life than balls and fashion."

  Phaedra awaited his reply. When none was forthcoming, she looked more closely at him. His eyes were closed. Extravagantly long lashes lay against his cheeks. I would give my soul to have lashes like those. She shook him by the shoulder. "Mr. Farwell, I may not be a sparkling conversationalist, but this is outside of enough. If you prefer to nap, you should retire to your rooms to do so. How rude you are!"

  "But serious conversation always sends me to sleep, don't you know. Now, let us piffle, and I promise you I will remain awake."

  "I have no talent for piffle. You may go ahead, and I will sit here with an expression of interest on my face. I would not be so impolite as to fall asleep while you are speaking."

  "No, but you would bore me with your intellectual pretensions."

  "Pretensions? How dare you?"

  "Well, are they not? You claim that you do not enjoy the fashionable life, yet you partake of it. You profess to despise parties and balls, yet once there, you give every appearance of enjoyment. I have heard you condemn Almack's as a bride's auction--yes, I did, when you were not aware I was present--yet you, I'll wager, are willing to allow yourself be auctioned off in the Marriage Mart. If you did not, why did you come to London? Surely there are prospective husbands in the country? Miss Phaedra, you are only pretending to be above this social life that your sister and I choose to lead."

  "I never claimed to be above it. But I find so much of it a waste of time. And yes, there are young men at home. But they are all so...so uninteresting."

  "Of course it is a waste of time. But a pleasurable one that every member of the ton chooses to enjoy. You cannot have it both ways. Either you are a part of the ton and participate in its life style, or you are not, and you should not claim the benefits it offers. Your choice, Miss Phaedra."

  "I would have rather stayed in the country, Mr. Farwell. I do not enjoy this frivolous life," Phaedra insisted, furious at his attack upon her attitudes.

  "Do you not?" he retorted. "Then you are a very good actress."

  "Oh, very well, I do enjoy some of it. But not so much, and not all of the time. I cannot spend my life living like this."

  "No more can I. But for three months each year, is it so bad?"

  "That is too much. If I could have a month of it, as my parents have often done, I would be content. I am a country girl, Mr. Farwell."

  "As for your uninteresting young men in the country," he said, as if she had not spoken, "had it occurred to you that they would be less dull for a bit of Town bronze?"

  "Perhaps," she was forced to admit.

  "You may be certain. One cannot reap the benefits of Town without paying the price."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Why Town is where the arts flourish, where life is varied and exciting, where one may experience the highest intellectual stimulation. Here is the opera, the theatre, the art galleries. These are as much a part of the fashionable life as are Almack's and the Duchess' ball and your presentation at Court."

  "No, they cannot be. The ton is all that is silly and wasteful. Those other things are meaningful. They give value to life."

  "And who do you suppose supports them? Would we have the fine music or the Elgin marbles without the wealth and influence of members of the ton? We are not all fribbles, you know. There are many of the nobility who are engaged in intellectual or artistic pursuits, but that does not prevent them from enjoying society as well."

  "I had not thought about it quite like that," Phaedra admitted reluctantly.

  "Well, if you are a true intellectual and honest with yourself, you will think about it. Now, I have been serious quite long enough. What will you think of me? Miss Phaedra, has anyone ever told you that the dimple in your chin is an invitation to kissing?"

  Phaedra was speechless for a moment. "Mr. Farwell, I will not listen to such nonsense," she said when she found her voice.

  "No, you wish only serious conversation, I recall." He sighed feelingly, a hand pressed over his heart. "Forgive me, Miss Phaedra, I am capable of no more. I shall, as you suggested, retire to my rooms for a nap." He rose and bowed his farewell.

  After he left, Phaedra sat and thought about his words. She grew angry as she did so. How dared he call her a false intellectual? A hypocrite? She had always been the practical, sensible sister. She was well-educated. She could read Greek and Latin, was knowledgeable of scientific principles, and knew a little about art and music. Cousin Louisa said she was far better educated than most young ladies of her age and station.

  Mr. Farwell was nothing but a fop, a silly, vapid fribble. She would avoid him whenever possible, from now on.

  I am not a hypocrite.

  Chapter Six

  Papa was standing at the bottom of the stairs when the sisters came down the following Wednesday evening. He appeared far more distinguished than Phaedra had ever seen him, for he never wore full evening dress in the country.

  "What a lucky fellow I am," he said, smiling widely. "I'll be the envy of all when I walk into Almack's with my lovely ladies."

  "Thank you, Papa." Chloe curtseyed. Her eyes sparkled as brilliantly as the small sapphire in her necklace, a gift from their late grandmother. Her sky blue gown was trimmed with gold tissue ribbons that fluttered softly from a bow just under her bodice. Matching ribbons were twined to hold her hair in a deceptively loose cluster of curls at the back of her head. Phaedra could not recall seeing her sister look so fine.

  Her own gown gave her a sense of uncommon confidence. It was an unusual combination of apricot muslin with a sheer peach overskirt. Tiny green satin leaves trimmed the hem and were scattered along the too-low neckline. Although her mama pronounced it perfectly modest, she felt exposed.

  "Save me a place on your dance cards, girls. Once the bucks get a look at you, I won't have a chance."

  "Oh, Papa, you will always have a chance with us," Chloe said, slipping a red rosebud into his lapel. "I would rather dance with you tha
n anyone else."

  Phaedra wished she had thought of giving Papa a rose. Coquettish gestures did not come naturally to her as they did to her sister.

  Chloe chattered throughout the short drive to Almack's. Phaedra was just as happy to be silent, for she continued to be troubled over Mr. Farwell's accusation. She did enjoy some parts of Town life, but it still seemed terribly superficial. Her ruminations were cut short when the carriage pulled up at the doors to the assembly rooms.

  She hesitated before stepping through the sacred portals, for she had a sudden premonition of disaster. Nonsense. Too much has been made of a small lapse in judgment. With Mama and Cousin Louisa and me to keep an eye on Chloe, how can she do anything scandalous? With fingers crossed, she walked into the room beside her mother, a determined smile on her face and trepidation in her heart.

  Lord Everingham, who had been standing just inside the doors, quickly came to Chloe's side with a request for as many dances as she would give him. At her mother's nod, she allotted him two. A few other gentlemen came up to request dances, but again neither Hazelbourne sister created any particular sensation.

  Phaedra's partner for the first set was a young man whose name she could neither remember nor read upon her dance card, so poor was his handwriting. He was pleasant company and danced well, so she enjoyed herself well enough. When he escorted her back to her parents, she thanked him prettily, and immediately forgot about him. As she acknowledged her mother's introductions to the ladies and gentlemen with whom she had been speaking, Phaedra felt her heart leap into her throat. Here, within the respectable walls of Almack's, was the nasty creature who had captured her in Green Park.

  He looked perfectly respectable, so why did her skin crawl when he looked at her? Why did she feel her virtue was at risk?

  Silly! He saved you from those others. Just because he tried to steal a kiss, you've made him out a villain.

  Nonetheless, a shudder of distaste scrabbled its way up her spine.