Clarissa and the Poor Relations (16 page)

Mrs Sowersby narrowed her eyes at the familiarity and her manner and barely touched her outstretched hand. ‘Why should she indeed?’

Clarissa, coming from the dance floor heard this and choked. ‘My dear Mr and Mrs Sowersby - how delightful to see you.’

Mr Sowersby had been fond of Clarissa since she had befriended his shy daughter and now he grasped her hands warmly. ‘Well my beauty, let’s look at you.’ He smiled, ‘You look fine as fivepence. I declare if it wasn’t for those naughty eyes, I should not have known you.’

Clarissa twinkled up at him, ‘Do you like my fine new dress?’ Cornelia gasped at the effrontery, but Mr Sowersby laughed.

‘Very fetching. The latest thing.’ he said approvingly

‘I am
so
glad, sir, for you paid for it,’ she said mischievously.

Mrs Sowersby laughed, ‘Oh – it is the blue that did not become Juliana. I declare I did not recognise it, dear Clarissa, so delightful does it look upon you.’

‘Minx.’ said Sowersby to Clarissa, pinching her chin.

She turned to Charles, ‘Well, Mr Booth, I trust you prospered on your journey?’ But she was teasing. His smile and familiarity with Juliana’s family spoke it all. He winked.

Mrs Thorne drew attention to herself once more. ‘You must stay with us, of course, while you are in the district.’

Mr Sowersby gave her a stately bow, ‘Miss Thorne has already issued an invitation by way of Mr Booth, but our bags are at the Dower House.’

‘Oh,’ said Cornelia, shooting a glance of dislike at Clarissa, ‘You are well acquainted with Mr Booth, then.’

‘He is my daughter’s husband-to-be,’ said Sowersby indifferently.  With a bow, he drew his party away from Mrs Thorne and towards the supper room.

‘I could eat a horse.’ The Honourable Charles was saying, with Juliana’s hand tucked safely into his arm.

They were intercepted by Sir Rodney Pierce, whose pursuit of Oriana had allowed him to meet the gentle Miss Sowersby, also an heiress, ‘My dance, I think, Miss Sowersby.’ he demanded.

‘Sheer off, Fudge,’ said Booth, using his schoolboy name, ‘Taking my fiancé to supper.’ he finished proudly. Sir Rodney shook his hand as did a few persons in the vicinity who had overheard. Juliana blushed rosily and smiled her thanks, being rescued by Clarissa.

‘We have settled on the conservatory at eleven, don’t fail me,’ Clarissa whispered.

Booth raised an eyebrow at his lady love, who squeezed his arm and said, ‘I’ll tell you later,’ in a stage whisper. What was there, wondered Juliana that made her feel so brave and safe when Charles was beside her?  He laughed down at her, entranced by her mischievousness.

By five to eleven, their work had been set in play. The Earl had danced twice with Clarissa and had escorted her to supper – conferring an almost unknown distinction. He laughed and teased her and, in one unbelievable moment, Clarissa exclaimed, ‘Oh, my shawl, I believe it is in the ballroom.’ and turned her wide eyes on her escort. To which the Earl had replied, ‘Allow me, Miss Thorne.’ and marched off to find it.

Both Miss Micklethwaite and Miss Appleby had been quizzed by the ladies present, but had kept their council, mysteriously silent. Had the Earl of Grandiston, pursued by every beauty on the marriage mart for years, finally succumbed to the heiress of Ashcroft? The ballroom was fairly humming. Cornelia overheard several conversations on the subject and John had been asked outright by Sir Piers.

‘Oh, my goodness.’ said Cornelia to her perplexed husband. ‘Everyone is talking about it. They believe he has proposed already.’

‘He would naturally have informed me.’ said John.

‘Well, yes, my love. But his attentions are most marked.’

‘If only Clarissa will not refuse him.’

‘Refuse him? Grandiston? Even Clarissa could not be so wilful, so ungrateful …’ Cornelia spat out.

‘I see nothing more in her manner than her usual kind of banter. The stupid education her mother gave her has left her with no appreciation of rank,’ said John worriedly. ‘She sent him for her shawl, for goodness sake. Grandiston!’

‘I know, but he
went
. Her manners seem to delight him. Oh John, to be visitors at Grandiston Park!’

On this heady thought Mr Booth, who seldom danced, led his wife onto the floor.

At five to eleven, Charles meandered over to Thorne, who was standing beside a flower arrangement watching his wife dance gaily with a handsome military man.

‘Could we withdraw, Thorne?’ he said sotto voice.

Mr Thorne looked his amazement.

‘You know the Sowersbys well, don’t you? Well, I have some advice to ask you.’

John bowed his head in his stiff way and followed Booth’s leisurely path towards the conservatory. As they approached the threshold, Charles chatted easily,

‘I suppose you know by now that I am affianced to Miss Sowersby? Well, I was hoping you could tip me the wink about old Sowersby? I mean is he ...?’

A sob made Thorne look up, and Clarissa pushed past him from the depths of the conservatory, clutching a handkerchief to her face. As he turned in astonishment, he saw Juliana sweep his sister into her arms and lead her away to a side room before the ballroom herd could see her distress.

Thorne looked again as another figure emerged from the conservatory: Grandiston. His desire to reprimand a man for taking his sister apart in this way was retarded by the Earl’s magnificence and it was just as well, for Miss Micklethwaite, ever the chaperone, emerged from behind a large potted palm and curtsied lightly to the Earl who nodded.

As that lady joined Miss Appleby who seemed to be hovering near by – really, was everyone around the Conservatory? – he heard her whisper, ‘He’ll sheer off, for sure.’

Miss Appleby moaned and clucked and the two ladies moved off.

Grandiston was addressing him. ‘Your sister has just told me that she must leave the district shortly. That is … a pity.’ His face was unusually grave. ‘That is to say, Booth and I are so settled at the Dower House.’

He nodded his head to Thorne and drew Charles away to the ballroom saying, with his old suavity, ‘I hear congratulations are in order, dear boy. Let us to the champagne.’

Mr Thorne’s thoughts of untold social advancement lay shattered on the floor. He hastened to his wife’s side, pouring out the tale in a whisper, interrupted by social smiles to the other guests.

Cornelia found Juliana soothing her sister-in-law in a small ante-chamber.

She swept in, rage repressed, and said to Clarissa. ‘Your brother has told me all. Am I to believe, Clarissa, that you have rejected Lord Grandiston?’

Clarissa howled and threw herself onto Juliana’s shoulder. Juliana winced, and then turned to Cornelia, her eyes widened in a repressive message. ‘You are mistaken, Mrs Thorne, no offer to your sister has yet been received from his Lordship.’

Clarissa’s sobs increased.

‘Tell me at once what has occurred?’

‘Nothing has occurred,’ replied Juliana even more repressively, ‘To be sure we all hoped, when his lordship realised … but it is best we do not talk of such things just now.’

‘Yes. Well. Take care of her and stop her crying.’ She swept out once more.

‘Clarissa you have quite bruised me.’ Juliana said.

‘I had to hide my face. I couldn’t squeeze out another fake tear.’ She grinned. ‘Do you think this might actually work?’

‘If Mrs Thorne is not trembling at the thought of losing the biggest fish she has ever had on a hook, I’ve been mistaken in her.’

‘So fortunate that Grandiston has such a devious mind.’

Both ladies giggled and set themselves to find some cards to while away a quarter hour before which they could not re-enter the ballroom.

Oriana meanwhile, was warming up to her role. With great ease, Grandiston had removed her from the coterie of London gentlemen (plus Lord Staines) to draw her into a dance under the nose of Thorne.

He laughed and joked with her, bestowing some shocking touches of gallantry, such as kissing her hand in an intimate way. As Cornelia joined her husband, they watched this little display, which Oriana responded to with feminine eyelash play, Thorne shot his wife a look of despair. Cornelia saw Grandiston’s face freeze mid gallantry, looking over her shoulder. She turned. Clarissa had re-entered the ballroom.

Cornelia grasped her husband’s sleeve, ‘All is not lost.’ she hissed.

Mr Thorne dropped his voice. ‘Look how he is carrying on with Miss Petersham. I have a great regard for my sister, but no one could say she has the charms of her friend.’

‘Nevertheless, look how he is prostrated by the sight of Clarissa. Whatever has occurred, all is not lost.’

John looked doubtfully at Grandiston, now laughing a little loudly with Oriana. ‘I don’t know…’

‘Well, I do. He is too forced. We must find out what precisely happened in the Conservatory.’

‘Miss Micklethwaite…’

‘She wouldn’t tell me… see if Booth knows what’s wrong with his friend.’

‘That’s a bit tricky dearest…’

‘John.’ Cornelia’s tone changed

‘Going, my dear.’

Mr Elfoy was standing by a pillar with the prey as Thorne approached.  ‘Coming.’ he hissed at Booth.

The Right Honourable Charles said in a stage whisper, with his back to Thorne, ‘Grandiston’s an idiot.’

Mr Elfoy came closer for the confidence and Thorne withdrew behind the pillar hoping to hear what he could not respectfully ask.

‘What occurred with Miss Thorne this evening? I thought he was
esprit
in that direction.’

‘He is. We’ve all noticed it. Not his usual type either, which made me think that finally…’

‘We all thought so…’

‘But the problem is, Elfoy, that Grandiston has been so sought after that he must go slowly – he needs to be sure of her genuine attachment. And now Miss Thorne tells him that she’s to depart with her brother in week or so…’

‘Well, he could still see her, couldn’t he?’

‘Of course. But you don’t understand the man. He’s not sure of himself as yet (even if all of us can see it as clear as a pikestaff) and to follow a girl into the country would encourage the world to think …’

‘Quite.’

‘Bit of a libertine in his time, Grandiston. But he would never willingly offer such a slight to a lady. And then his pride … he’s not at all sure of her, either.’ There was a pause. ‘Juliana and I were hoping that with our staying at the Dower House, things could take their course over the summer.’

‘But now he’s diverting himself with Miss Petersham  ...’

‘Indeed - such a shame. I think Miss Thorne is just the girl for him.’

The two confidants wandered back towards the Earl, to find a card room.

John Thorne, bristling with information returned to his anxious wife.

At breakfast the next day, Cornelia was in high spirits. ‘Such a night it was, my dear Clarissa, was it not?’ She sipped at her chocolate and the ladies mistrusted the honeyed tones and the sweeter smile that accompanied them. ‘Your engagement, my dearest Juliana can only delight us all. And there was much more to be noted. All the London gentlemen danced with us. I declare it took me back to my giddy youth. And Mr Elfoy was so handsome last night, do you not agree, dear sister?’ Here she looked at Clarissa keenly from below her lids. ‘The whole ballroom is talking about how he led Annabel Challoner out to dance three times. A very marked attention.’ Clarissa prevented herself from reacting - she had been tense enough to see him lead the vicar’s daughter out twice, but must have been in the conservatory upon the third occasion.

‘
Three
…?’ she breathed, but Miss Micklethwaite interrupted, ‘Jam!’ she said. Both ladies looked at her. ‘I pray, Mrs Thorne, please pass the jam.’ Cornelia did so gracelessly, turning back to her prey to assess her reaction. She suspected that Clarissa was closer to her agent than was decent or permissible. Grandiston could certainly elbow him out, but some estrangement certainly existed at the moment and there was no denying the agent was indecently handsome.

Clarissa had herself well in hand now and she merely said, ‘That will give the gossips some fodder.’ And she yawned, in the way any young lady might after the rigours of a Ball.

‘I believe that we must stay here for the summer after all, dearest sister. Whilst John is certain of a sale, it might be as well to enjoy happy band of revellers for the near future.’

It seemed that the Earl’s ploy had worked. The ladies sighed as one.

Clarissa, in a mood of mischief, said plaintively, ‘What a pity that I gave Lord Grandiston … that is, Mr Booth, the news that their tenancy must be cut short. I believe the Earl means to…’ her voice suspended on a sob, ‘… leave today.’

Cornelia left in haste to dispatch her husband (not yet risen) to the Dower House before his breakfast to forestall such a move.

‘That,’ said Juliana admiringly, ‘was wicked. I didn’t know that you had such a talent for dissembling.’

‘I fear all of us have behaved most shamefully last evening,’ Miss Appleby crooned, nibbling at a biscuit disinterestedly.

‘The shame is that we needed a gentleman to pull it off.’ Miss Micklethwaite looked at the assembled company. Juliana glowed, but the rest of the ladies were making efforts to cover up their moroseness. She guessed at the younger two. Oriana had been handed to their carriage by Grandiston and had continued her role with a flirtatious smile. The Earl kissed her hand grandly and she had been scolded by Mrs Thorne all the way home for being fast. This was of course to plan, but the elder lady understood that Oriana’s spirits had fallen when she reflected that the ruse was just that.

Mr Elfoy had handed Clarissa into the carriage but his touch was fleeting and cold and his manner unusually formal. He blamed Clarissa a little for the ruse, thought that it might become real and was realising the despair of his position. Clarissa just noticed his coldness and her spirit was frozen. Waity didn’t blame her – there seemed to be no way of fixing that problem. It was too uneven a match.

This much Miss Micklethwaite understood, but why Louisa was so miserable, she could not at all guess.

Sullivan bent over the breakfast table to Clarissa, who roused herself at once. ‘Might I have a word, Miss Clarissa?’

Clarissa gave him an intelligent look, roused from her torpor. She swept off to the library with Sullivan in her wake.

‘First, Miss, there’s a problem with Mrs Smith. Mrs Thorne will not surrender the keys to her and has issued orders that the housekeeper must apply to her if she wishes to unlock anything. Such an insult, Mrs Smith says, has not been offered to her in all her career. She wished to send word that she will accept no orders but yours, but I managed to stop that.’

‘Oh thank you dear Sullivan. Until we think of a way to be rid of her, it is much better not to set up Mrs Thorne’s back…’

Clarissa was beginning to realise that an unconsidered result of last night’s win was the continued presence of her brother and his wife. It was hard to bear. She needed to clear her head lest she let Cornelia have the black side of her tongue. She moved to the door, ‘Ask Jed to bring around Sultan. I need to ride this morning before I encounter my sister-in-law once more.’

‘Yes miss,’ Sullivan coughed. ‘There is one more thing I wish to bring to your attention…’

But Clarissa was at the door. ‘After my ride Sullivan,’ she said much in the tone of her mother. ‘And deny us to visitors this morning, except of course to the Dower House.’ And she swept away. Sullivan debated following her, but decided against it. Instead he sent for Mr Elfoy as promised. But he feared that he may be too late.

Miss Appleby had, with difficulty, written her letters last night: one each to her three companions and another left on the hall table to be sent to Sir Montague. She felt, after all his kindness to her that she had better take her leave of him too and she enclosed a recipe for a reviving broth that she had discovered between the leaves of a book from the library. If only his cook could be encouraged to use it, perhaps his health might somewhat improve. On her last visit, he had taken a short walk in the garden with her and given her a rose with his own hands. She had preserved it between the pages of a book though she knew she was silly to do so. It was merely a gentlemanly gesture.

A gig had been ordered to come and collect her at 11 of the clock, it would take her to the stagecoach and then to her brother Farnham. She would arrive unannounced, it would be too dreadfully shaming, but quite her own fault for delaying her letter to her brother, as Mrs Thorne had let her know. No more simpering delays she had said, it would really be too selfish to soak off Clarissa for one more day. The gig would come to the servant’s entrance. No one could intercept her. Mrs Thorne thought of everything.

Miss Micklethwaite tried her friend’s door, but it was locked. She must be having a nap after their rollicking night at the ball. Appleby had danced with all the London gentlemen and had very likely exhausted herself. She would talk to her after luncheon.