Clarissa and the Poor Relations (10 page)

‘I for one never doubted that your season was more successful than we knew, Oriana.’ declared Clarissa in her friends defence.

‘Not my charms, as Grandiston realizes, but my inheritance.’ said Oriana, contemptuously.

The ladies looked stunned. Little Miss Appleby looked to the Earl for guidance, ‘But Oriana, the dear girl, she is like all of us, without portion. Or else why would she have been at the Academy?’

Oriana had composed herself with difficulty, grasping at her hands to keep her temper. ‘It is well known in town that I have my mother’s portion, which is considerable, when I reach the age of 25. My father was my mother’s executor and it simply passed on to my brother when he died. The knowledge of my fortune made me much sought after, I assure you.’

Charles was moved to protest, ‘I don’t think that you’d need any fortune to get the attention,’ he said frankly, ‘why with a fig---.’ he broke off in disarray, ‘I mean ....’

‘Yes, Mr Booth,’ said Clarissa, amused, ‘it is a lovely figure and quite the most beautiful face I have seen. What could make you think them after your money?’

Oriana turned towards her, giving a visible shudder as she did so. ‘If you could have seen some of the men that my brother encouraged as my suitors. I had to endure morning visits from the most…’ Her eyes lowered and Grandiston began to see what her life in London had been like. Compelled by the manners of the day to politeness to anyone of whom her brother approved. His eyes narrowed in a way that did not bode well for the absent Baronet.

‘Now that the subject has been raised my dear Oriana, I have never been able to understand how your father-excellent man that he seems to have been- failed to provide for you himself.’ said the timid little lady, displaying an uncharacteristic lack of delicacy.

‘He didn’t expect to fall off that horse.’ declared Oriana.

‘Unfortunate.’ ‘Careless.’ ‘Men.’ declared Grandiston, Booth and Miss Micklethwaite in unison.

The company again descended to mirth and Oriana’s passion found itself spent. Mr Booth declared himself still curious as to how an heiress had ended up a schoolteacher.

Grandiston leaned negligently on the high Mantle piece, ‘Oh, I think we can hazard a guess can we not? Miss Petersham does not inherit for four years yet. Until then, it is either dance to her brother’s tune or accept the protection of marriage. Having almost brought herself to the second option,’ Oriana gasped and began to speak, but stopped with her face set in hard and haughty lines, ‘she found she could not. With her habit of ordering her home for her father, I fear obeying such a brother as Sir Fitzroy would prove a task beyond her.’

‘Can’t blame her.’ He looked guiltily at Oriana, ‘Don’t want to offend, Miss Petersham, but your brother is a dashed…dashed…ladies present.’

‘Quite right, dreadful man.’ approved Clarissa, ‘I feel we are all such friends that we need not fear cutting up characters together comfortably. But, Lord Grandiston, I fear you are mistaken…’ she continued with her usual impetuosity but stopped as she encountered a look of passionate prohibition from Oriana’s fine eyes. ‘…In thinking she is of a disobedient nature,’ she finished lamely. Why should Oriana wish the Earl to continue to believe that she had ever consented to that awful engagement? But so, it seemed, she did.

‘If I am to be obedient, let me know what possible good this will do Clarissa.’ fumed Oriana, turning towards Grandiston.

He laughed, ‘Well, it will increase the gentry of the neighbourhood - making it more difficult for her brother to take a high hand, more likely that he will wish to increase his acquaintance, if as you say Clarissa, he is hankers after rank.’ He strode forward and raised Oriana’s chin with his finger. ‘What’s the matter, Pigeon, is your friendship so easily tested?’ he caught her eyes in his, his voice teasing.

His hand on her, so intimately as of yore, sent the flames into her blood, her heart racing. He’d used his childhood name for her and for some reason she could not fathom, it wounded her to the heart. It caused her to pull away from him and say in a thickened voice, ‘I love you dearly, Clarissa, but why is it I who have to suffer first Staines’ and then who knows whose attentions?’

Grandiston turned suavely away to lean nonchalantly against the mantle. ‘But that is where you are wrong, my dear, Clarissa too must suffer some attentions for our plan to work.’

‘Won’t work,’ said Clarissa bluntly, ‘Staines is smitten already. I daresay I couldn’t get him to notice me even if I borrowed one of his mother’s frightful hats.’

‘My dears, there is a lack of delicacy in this conversation that I must…,’ said Miss Appleby faintly, with a fluttering protest of her lace handkerchief.

‘Later, Louisa.’ interrupted Miss Micklethwaite. She turned to Grandiston. ‘I fancy you don’t mean Staines, sir, do you?’

Grandiston bowed his head towards her, the eyes still dancing, ‘your intelligence never disappoints me, ma’am. Given her brother’s predilection for rank, I believe the attentions of, say, an Earl to his sister might impress him, don’t you?’

Charles gave a crack of laughter and Clarissa plopped suddenly onto the sofa, her hand at her breast in shock.

Grandiston bowed, mockingly and said, ‘what do you say, Clarissa?’

In a coy manner, reminiscent of Miss Appleby’s finest, Clarissa held out her hand and turned her head away. ‘What can I say, my lord?’ she simpered, ‘except - this is so sudden.’

Miss Appleby looked confused, but the rest laughed and it was so ridiculous that even Oriana joined in. Why, though, did she feel an icicle steal into her heart? Grandiston was bowing graciously over her hand and the tableau, though obviously staged, arrested her. Her young friend was so fascinating these days, she might very well capture his heart truly - why should she care so much?

Sullivan entered, uttering, ‘Mr Elfoy and Miss Sowersby, ma’am.’

Grandiston dropped Clarissa’s hand but not before Mr Elfoy had taken in the picture with horror. He brought up short and Grandiston, turning towards the door, was amused but not surprised to encounter a look from young Elfoy’s eye that would have been fatal, if looks could kill.

Clarissa, all unawares, dashed past him to embrace his companion, an exquisitely turned out young lady wearing a turquoise pelisse over her travelling dress and a hat that could only have come from London, trimmed in the same coloured velvet ribbons.

Juliana.’ exclaimed Clarissa and encompassed her in a warm hug.

.

Juliana Sowersby received her friends embrace warmly then looked shyly at the assembled company. She was a slender girl with pale blonde hair and a rather gentle face, which might have been pretty but for the look of alarm on her face at the sight of the Earl of Grandiston.

Her mamma had decided that a great marriage was for her and had rather thrown Juliana at the eligible Earl’s head at one ball and another supper party that they had both attended in London. Juliana, overwhelmed by so prestigious a presence, had found herself completely tongue-tied in his company. His high, dismissive manner had shrivelled her spirits for some time.

Clarissa was mouthing introductions and she shook hands as best she could, but she was feeling a little low from the journey and from the stifling presence of the Earl whom she none the less greeted with her shy good manners. She began to feel a little faint when she gratefully heard the stout blunt lady, Miss Mickle-something say to Clarissa.

‘I think that your friend should rest after her journey, Clarissa. Why don’t you take her upstairs?’

‘Indeed.’ said her friend guiltily, ‘Come with me. I must see you to your chamber. I never dreamed you would be able to come so quickly. Thank you, Mr Elfoy, for ushering her in. Should you object to waiting for an hour before we discuss the building work? Or stay for dinner…’ she placed a hand on his arm as she passed him and only waited for the slight bow of his head in agreement. His arm burned through his jacket and he was afraid that a faint flush might give away his feelings to the company. Little did he know that everyone, excepting only Mr Booth and Miss Appleby had been aware of his feelings for weeks.

Miss Appleby ushered the gentlemen out saying, ‘Yes, you must all come to dinner to welcome our guest. It is so fortunate that we ordered the lamb dressed for tonight. I must go down and tell cook that there are four more for dinner.’

Miss Micklethwaite sat down with her needlework, sighing at the small oasis of peace at last when a thought struck her that caused her tug the ancient bell-pull by the mantle. The butler made a stately entrance.

‘Sullivan, it may be that some young gentlemen may pay us a visit this afternoon.’

‘Yes, miss. Their names?’

‘Lord, how should I know? Acquaintances of Miss Petersham from
London’
she said the word with disdain. ‘Deny us until tomorrow.’

‘Certainly Ma’am’ said the Imperturbable, closing the door softly behind him.

Miss Micklethwaite allowed herself to lean against the chair back and omit another satisfied sigh before picking up her work again.

Meanwhile Juliana had removed her pelisse and hat, both of which Clarissa exclaimed over, and was now sitting holding hands with Clarissa and telling her about her season in London. She talked of the balls, the parties and the great rush of people on the streets, all so new to her, and how kind everyone had been. Clarissa’s caught the exhausted look in her eye and said, ‘But you didn’t like it, did you dear Juliana?’

Juliana was not of an over-confiding nature but her spirits were so low that she burst into tears at these words and cast herself on Clarissa’s bosom. In broken sentences and convoluted narrative she poured out her story. Although she had enjoyed her first London season, it had been full of the fear of meeting new and sophisticated people. She could have gotten over that if she had not known that it was her mother’s dearest wish to have her engaged by the end of it. Her mother loved her but she was as impervious as Juliana was sensitive. She was not subtle in her manner of fostering alliances and her overt behaviour made Juliana a gibbering wreck. Her mother had gently reprimanded her on showing a want of spirit in the enterprise and she was consequently miserable. When Clarissa’s letter came, it was her kind father who had taken her face between his hands and adjured her to go and stay with her friend until her mother had recovered her spirits.

‘I was so sorry to disoblige her, but I did not meet anyone I could be comfortable with in the least.’ she ended in a rush.

‘I’m sure your mama would not wish you to be unhappy, Juliana,’ said Clarissa comfortingly.

Juliana smiled and brushed at her tears, ‘Oh, I know. It’s perfectly foolish of me, I feel better now. But tell me about you. Your hair is different; you look so happy, Clarissa. Tell me everything.’

‘Well yes I will,’ said Clarissa, ‘But first you must know that I’ve brought you here to join a conspiracy.’ Then she poured out her tale of her brother’s imminent arrival and some of the measures they had taken to make it difficult for him to order her home. She saw that Juliana was more amused than shocked at her behaviour, but she still left out Grandiston’s plot to pay court to her. She did not think it would be so easy to explain this to her well brought up friend.

Juliana listened with great admiration to her friend. How could Clarissa be so bold as to take all this upon herself? She could only be in awe of her determination and resolve. If only she had such courage, but even knowing Clarissa’s brother she feared that she herself would have taken the easy way out. She said as much to her friend and Clarissa laughed merrily, her eyes twinkling mischievously, ‘You wrong yourself, dear Juliana, else you would now be engaged to some suitor of your mother’s choosing.’

Juliana was much struck by this. ‘You are quite right.’ she said, astonished, ‘Oh, how glad I am to have come to see you, Clarissa, you
alway
s contrive to make me feel good about myself.’

So it was at dinner that evening that Juliana was not as overwhelmed by the Earl’s presence as she had expected to be. He seemed to be in a permanently mellow mood, quite unlike his London manners. Oriana, Clarissa, Mr Elfoy and he seemed to be talking animatedly about the refurbishment of the estate houses and crop rotations. Mr Booth was gently flirting with Miss Appleby and teasing Miss Micklethwaite who treated him rather like a naughty schoolboy. Juliana felt shy amongst the intimacy of the company but realised that little was expected of her. Her shawl fell from her shoulders and Mr Booth retrieved it with a friendly smile. How kind he was and how handsome. Yet he did not seem to terrify her as other young men had done.

The Honourable Charles, meanwhile, was feeling a little for the young lady. The others were so busy that they did not seem to notice her shyness, so he resolved to make her feel more the thing. Dear little smile she gave him when he had passed a platter to him. She didn’t seem to have enjoyed London much when she replied to Miss Micklethwaite’s inquiries. It seemed to him that her parents had not taken enough care of her. Of course she’d be shy, a young girl like that, she needed a little help to feel more at ease. Charming too, thought Charles, not a beauty like the divine Miss Petersham or vivacious like Miss Thorne but she had a soft gentle face that he liked.

He had meant to pay a more resolute court to Oriana after dinner; but he found himself instead setting a chair by the fire for the new arrival, disposing her shawl for her, and offering to turn her pages for her when she consented to play the pianoforte. This turned out to be a further icebreaker between her and the company, for the tuning of the piano was a task hitherto forgotten in the overhaul of the house. Nervously playing her nocturne, Juliana had soon to join in the gales of laughter at the truly dreadful sound she was producing. She stopped, but Clarissa burst out, ‘Oh, keep playing, do. I have not been so diverted for ages.’ She played on jauntily and said when she finished, ‘I wish I might borrow your instrument, Clarissa. I do not know when my playing has pleased so much.’

At that precise moment, the butler ushered in a visitor.

‘Mr Thorne, ma’am.’

Clarissa stopped laughing and stood up, the blood draining from her face. Oriana went to her side and gripped her hand tightly.

John Thorne came in still bundled up in his travelling coat with the capes at the shoulders and his buckskin and breeches. He was taken aback to see so many people in the room, especially gentlemen, and outrage rose in his chest, already begun by seeing the changes to the gardens and the house which he had witnessed driving up. He was cold and miserable but nevertheless had come prepared to forgive his erring sister whom he expected to be regretting her foolhardy behaviour. Now he saw her at the centre of the room looking prettier than he had ever seen her, with her hair clustering in curls around her face. Her dress was black as befitted her mourning, but of a cut and quality that he had never seen adorn her. For the evening, she had left off her fichu and her gown showed her figure to a flattering extent. Why it should enrage him to see her thus he did not examine, he just uttered in an outraged tone, ‘Clarissa.’

Miss Micklethwaite’s even, blunt tones interrupted him.  ‘Good evening, John.’ she said. ‘I do hope you’ve cleaned you boots; the carpet is Chinese, you know.’

Stopped dead by the guilt that only a childhood voice of authority can produce, Mr Thorne looked at his feet for a second before his dignity reasserted itself. ‘Good evening, Miss Micklethwaite. Miss Appleby.’ he said politely, then turned to his sister, ‘I did not expect to find you hosting a
party,
Clarissa.  It is not right.’

Mr Elfoy felt his hackles rise. The fire that was in him wished to have the right to avenge that tone of voice being used against Clarissa. He so far forgot himself as to step forward but was restrained by a strong hand. Grandiston watched as Clarissa, at first confounded by her brother’s appearance, pulled herself valiantly forward. Pure pluck that girl. The whole company knew that the young prig of a brother could order her home with him this instant and there was little to be done about it, yet she was keeping her head and sticking to her plan. She moved forwards and extended her hands.

‘John.’ she cried, ‘How nice to see you.’ he was obliged to take her hands and follow as she ushered him into the room, chatting as she went. ‘Hardly a party, John. I am still in mourning for my cousin the Viscount as you see.’

‘What I see, Clarissa,’ he hissed beneath his breath, ‘is beyond…’

‘You must let me introduce you to everyone.’ blithely continued his sister, ‘You remember Mr Elfoy from your visit here?’

John became as ramrod stiff with politeness as his slightly portly frame would allow, and he bowed an inch. Mr Elfoy, following Clarissa’s lead, bowed back politely, his face masking his anxious desire to plant his fist in Mr Thorne’s face. ‘Mr Elfoy kindly joined us this evening to discuss estate business.’

John could not let this pass.

‘I should think, my dear Clarissa, that you should rather leave business to gentlemen.’

‘I’m sure you are right, John.’ she said untruthfully - then swept on, ‘You know Miss Petersham, of course.’ John stared in disbelief at Oriana, whom he had last seen in the schoolroom wearing brown calico, resplendent tonight in a cream silk gown and spangled shawl that had cost her father a hundred guineas in Paris. He nodded, bemused. ‘And I have a surprise for you, John, an old acquaintance.’

Juliana, who had been sitting behind the piano, stood up. ‘Mr Thorne - how nice to see you again. I hope all is well with dearest Mrs Thorne and the children?’

‘Miss Sowersby.’ he exclaimed. ‘
You
here.’ John felt that he was dreaming. Nothing was as he expected it, especially not to see the daughter of the first family of his home district so comfortably ensconced in his sister’s drawing room. The last thing he could afford to do was to upset her.

Juliana had not been requested to do much but be here but John Thorne’s tone to Clarissa had offended her so she took advantage of his confusion.

‘I hope you are not deceived as to the nature of our little dinner. Having just arrived on…on an
extended
visit to my dearest Miss Thorne, I discovered that her Dower House tenants were …were friends of mine from London. How kind of you sister to invite them to dinner, for my sake.’

Mr Booth gave a crack of laughter, which he disguised as a cough. He caught Juliana’s eye and gave her an admiring look that made her blush, then held out his hand to Thorne, ‘My name’s Booth.’ John shook his hand whilst casting a glance at Clarissa and muttering, ‘
Tenants
.’

‘So sorry.’ continued Clarissa, beginning to enjoy herself, ‘The Honourable Charles Booth, my tenant, and his companion, The Earl of Grandiston.’

Miss Appleby shook her head distractedly. Oh dear, when
would
Clarissa learn that etiquette decreed that Grandiston should have been introduced first, she thought? She continued to observe the introductions with little understanding of the subtleties of the reactions around her.

Mr Thorne was completely overawed by the elegant figure of the Earl and bowed low. Grandiston looked bored and became again, as Juliana watched him, the very picture of languid indifference that she had met and feared in London. As John murmured about the honour of meeting him, Grandiston met Juliana’s eye over his head and she thought she discerned a twinkle in his eyes that caused her to feel comfortable again.

Miss Micklethwaite lifted her considerable bulk from the chair and bustled forward. ‘The gentlemen were just leaving, John. I am sure that you can make their acquaintance again.’