Twelve #2
“Please just tell me,” Della repeated tiredly.
She’d been expecting a scolding for banishing Annabelle from the drawing room and sitting alone with the viscount that morning, but her sister’s deportment was far too glum for that. This must be something more personal to her.
She’s gotten herself in some sort of trouble and needs me to free her from prison.
Della knew the lines to this play by heart. First, Annabelle would protest that it wasn’t her fault. She would put on her doe eyes and plead innocence. Second, she would lay out the terrible fate that awaited her (or, very possibly, Miss Greenwood), to stir up sympathy. In the third and final act, she would appeal to Della’s sisterly compassion, and they would strike some bargain for their mutual advantage, though Della often got the more miserly end of the deal.
What would she do without me?
“I’ve…gotten myself into a spot of trouble,” Annabelle said, perfectly on cue. She rubbed her arms as if she were cold, though the room was comfortable enough. “It really isn’t my fault. I was so careful to be discreet, but how could I have known her father was so overbearing?”
Oh dear. This already had the makings of a sticky problem.
Della put away her notes with a touch of regret. There was little chance she’d get to write any more today. Why couldn’t she find a few hours of peace in this house?
“What have you done?”
“You remember Miss Greenwood?”
“Of course I do.” Honestly, they’d been buying bonnets for the girl just last week.
“I may have…climbed through her bedroom window last night. Don’t look at me that way. She was very inviting! Anyway, it seems that her father saw me when I snuck back out.”
“Good Lord, Annabelle!” How were they going to explain things this time? The older her sister got, the more difficult it became to excuse her actions by pleading some childish lapse in judgment.
“How was I to know that he smokes outside?” Annabelle protested. “Who smokes outside? That’s why they have smoking rooms!”
“All right.” Della sighed. She held up a finger to signal silence as she contrived a plan. They were going to have to admit some measure of guilt on Annabelle’s part, if she’d been caught fleeing the scene of her crime. The trick was to make it a socially acceptable measure of guilt. “Here’s what we’ll do. You’ll make your apology to her father and say you wanted to invite Miss Greenwood to sneak out with you to attend a party without your chaperones, but she convinced you the idea was too improper and sent you straight home. That leaves her looking innocent, and we’ll ask him not to speak of it to protect your reputation. If we’re lucky, he’ll agree.”
That would serve. She was too good at this, really.
“No, you don’t understand.” Annabelle’s voice shook as she continued. “It’s much worse this time.”
“Why? What is it?” Della was starting to feel uneasy. They would normally be at the bargaining stage by now. “He didn’t catch you in a compromising state with her, did he?”
“No.” The denial should have brought some measure of relief, but Annabelle still sat white-knuckled and bent under the weight of her distress. “It’s a question of what I looked like when he saw me. Promise you won’t be cross. I feel badly enough as it is.”
“Annabelle, just tell me.”
“I was wearing the suit I had made for when we went to Laurent’s Casino the other night. He thinks he saw a gentleman leaving Eliza’s room.”
“What? Why would you—”
“I had to get over there somehow , didn’t I?” Annabelle hissed, cutting her off. “I couldn’t very well take the family carriage and be recognized. I needed to walk the streets to hail a hansom cab. I wouldn’t have been safe doing that dressed as a lady. Besides, it looked very dashing on me, and I wanted Eliza to see.”
Della felt as though she had a lead ball in her belly.
“Annabelle, this is bad.”
“I know that!” Her eyes were bright, and it didn’t look to be feigned. “Now her father won’t let her out of the house, and he’s looking to force the man who compromised his daughter to marry her immediately. Look here, she managed to smuggle me a note through her maid.”
Annabelle produced a worn and folded paper from her fist. By the looks of it, torn from the flyleaf of a book. The hurried script read:
Papa says I must be married or sent to the continent! I’m not allowed out. You must save me!!
All my love,
—E.
“I didn’t mean to get her in trouble.” Annabelle had begun to cry a little by now, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief, so Della decided to forgo a scolding. It would serve no purpose at this stage.
“Did Mr. Greenwood see your face? Might he recognize you?”
Annabelle shook her head. “It was too dark, and he was across the garden. He just shouted after me, and I panicked and ran. All he could know is that he saw a man’s figure running away from her window.”
Until Eliza Greenwood confessed the rest of the story under familial pressure, which must be reaching considerable force. They would have to think of something before she cracked.
Owning the truth, in any form, was impossible. If it should be known that the girls were lovers, or that Annabelle had paraded around London after dark while dressed as a man, they would be cut from society forever.
“As I see it, there are only two choices, neither of which is ideal.” Della left her desk to join Annabelle on the divan, reaching an arm around her narrow shoulders to bolster her courage. “Either you abandon poor Miss Greenwood to her fate and let her be exiled, or we find you an excuse to join her on the continent and try to set you up in a place where you can live together discreetly.”
“Live together?” Annabelle jumped to her feet, withdrawing from Della’s embrace so swiftly that she caused her to lose her balance and lurch forward on the cushions. “I’m nineteen , not ninety! I don’t want to be banished to the ends of the earth.”
“You’d have the chance to see the world! Don’t you love this girl?” Della asked, incensed. She’d thought that’s what the tears were for. “This might be the only way you can be with her now.”
But Annabelle snapped back, “Of course I don’t love her; I barely know her! This was a bit of harmless fun. I certainly didn’t expect to be caught.”
God help me. Why do I even try?
“Well, you’ve seduced her and ruined her,” Della reminded her sister. “Now you intend to abandon her as well? Really, Annabelle.”
“I wouldn’t be asking for your help if I intended to abandon her, now would I?” It must be witchcraft that allowed the author of such a scandal to look so superior. “There is another choice that would allow us all to continue on with our lives and cover up this unfortunate misunderstanding.”
She paused here while Della struggled to rein in her exasperation.
“Are you going to tell me what miracle you’ve contrived to save your skin?”
“Miss Greenwood must be married to the man who compromised her. It’s the only way to avoid total ruin. All we need to do is find the man.”
Della was so stunned she lost the power of speech for a full minute. This posed no hardship, for her sister kept right on talking.
“I was thinking of Peter. It’s not as though he’s likely to find himself a bride on the power of his own charm, and Miss Greenwood is terribly pretty. We’d be doing him a favor, really.”
“Peter?” Della echoed helplessly.
“Someone needs to carry on the family name and produce a few children, don’t they? We aren’t likely to do it.”
“I beg your pardon!”
“It’s a compliment,” Annabelle assured her. “You’ve always said you see no reason to marry too early, which I consider a rare showing of good sense.”
“You should watch your tongue if you still want my help in this fiasco.” Della might not have found the love of her life quite yet, but that didn’t mean she was firmly on the shelf.
“Very well.” Annabelle sighed, as though she were the one suffering ill-treatment. “But you must admit it’s the best option we’ve got.”
Della wasn’t convinced of that in the least. It was on the tip of her tongue to retort that sending Annabelle to the continent was still the better plan.
Perhaps then I could finally make some progress on my manuscript!
“Why do you keep saying we ?” Della asked. “Surely you can persuade Peter to marry your ruined lover without my involvement.”
What a sentence.
“Alas, I cannot,” Annabelle said, with a note of regret. “He’ll refuse if I ask, but he always does favors for you.”
“That’s because I pay him for it.” Honestly, did Annabelle think these things just fell into her lap? No one had any regard for her hard work. “Though I think the going rate for a forced marriage will be far higher than my standard bottle of top-shelf champagne.”
“Oh.” This revelation seemed to put a stumbling block in her sister’s plans. “I didn’t realize.”
“You see? This is a ludicrous idea.”
“Come now,” Annabelle insisted. “I won’t let Eliza be exiled forever. Then I’ll have to feel awful about it. We must do something, and this is the only course that suits.”
“Does Miss Greenwood think it suits? Does she even fancy men?”
“She fancies some men, although I can’t say whether Peter will qualify. He is a drastic step down from me.” Annabelle frowned into the distance for a moment, perhaps reflecting on their brother’s faults. “I suppose she might prefer the continent. Let’s focus on securing Peter’s consent first, shall we? If we get that far, we’ll smuggle Eliza a note to check her preference.”
How do I always get roped into these things? It was unfair. She had more important matters to attend to than convincing Peter to marry Annabelle’s lover. She had two separate business endeavors demanding her time. She should say no.
But without her expert touch, Annabelle would probably botch the whole thing and end up exposed to all of London, and then where would they be? As much as her sister might annoy her, Della didn’t want to see her exiled from society. No, she would have to help. There was nothing else for it.
And if she was going to be put to work, she would take her cut.
“If we succeed in this absurd plan of yours, I want you to stop chaperoning my meetings with Lord Ashton. Only tell Mama and Papa you’re still accompanying us and that nothing untoward has happened, should they ask.”
Not that they will.
“Ha!” Annabelle clapped her hands with glee. “It’s a deal. I knew you’d do it. But be careful what you wish for, dear sister.” She held up a finger in poor imitation of their former governess. “Unlike Eliza and I, you have to worry about finding yourself in a family way for your indiscretions. And I’m not convinced we’ll be able to find you a substitute husband when the viscount can’t marry you.”
“Be quiet before I change my mind,” Della snapped, swatting at her arm. “You’re so vexing!”
At least after this task was done, she’d be free of Annabelle’s editorializing once and for all.
***
“Let me do the talking, and follow my lead,” Della whispered. She and her sister huddled outside the door to Peter’s study, listening for any sound within.
Though Annabelle nodded, her face solemn, there was no telling if she would stick to their plan. She had an irritating conviction that she knew best. Ah well, too late to turn back now. Della raised her fist and rapped lightly on the door.
“Come in.” Peter was lounging on a chaise, flipping through a hunting journal. When he saw them, he set his reading to the side and propped himself into a more upright position, though his expression still implied a desire to nap. “What are you doing here?”
They didn’t often pay him a visit together unless they were all attending the same event.
“We have a delicate matter to discuss with you,” Della began. Behind her, Annabelle shut the door.
“Oh God, what now?”
“No, no,” Della amended. Perhaps she should have opened differently, but why should Peter assume the worst from her ? She normally solved her own problems. “I only mean that it’s a matter of the heart.”
“Is one of you in a certain way?”
“No!” Both girls chimed at once. It was hard to say who was more insulted.
“Why would you even think such a thing?” asked Annabelle.
“This is a matter of the heart for you , Peter,” Della explained patiently. She would keep this conversation on course if it killed her. “We have an eligible friend and we thought you might suit, that’s all.”
But Peter only wrinkled his nose, plainly unimpressed. “For me? Why? What’s wrong with her?”
Della would have liked to reply that there was nothing wrong, but it was quite impossible. If he was to present himself to Mr. Greenwood as the gentleman who’d run from his daughter’s bedroom a few nights ago, Peter would have to know something of the story. Still, she wouldn’t have chosen to get bogged down in the details before they could even sell him on the idea of a wedding. It was important to do things in the proper order.
“Why all the suspicion?” she protested. “We’re trying to do you a service! At least let us tell you who, before you jump to conclusions.”
“Very well then. Who?”
“Eliza Greenwood.” It was Annabelle who spoke, and Della shot her a warning look. But she kept on talking. “You remember her, don’t you? The fair-haired lady who was talking with me at the Pearsons’ rout the other week. She’s about so tall, stunning face, dazzling smile, very alluring figure. She has a mole on her right cheek, just here.”
“Annabelle,” Della said sharply. This was already getting out of hand.
But Peter must have known whom they meant, for he sat a bit taller. “Yes, I remember her.”
That was a good sign.
“But why should you want to push your friend my way?” he soon continued, his eyes narrowing. “You’ve never shown any interest in my love life before.”
“Do you have one?” Annabelle asked, with an arched brow.
“Annabelle!” They would’ve done better to shut her sister out of this conversation. She was utterly useless. “You were too young to settle down before,” Della tried. “But four-and-twenty is a good age to begin planning for the future, wouldn’t you say? Don’t men want to carry on the family name and what not? Anyway, let’s focus on what you think of her. You agree she’s very fetching?”
“I’ll agree to that much.” He looked from Annabelle to Della, as if trying to identify the weak link. He finally settled on the younger sister. “But I don’t believe for a minute that you’d be playing Cupid out of the goodness of your hearts. So what’s the catch? Hereditary madness? She’s penniless? Someone’s compromised her already?”
“It seems you’re too clever for us,” Annabelle said. “You’ve guessed it in three. Miss Greenwood is indeed compromised, but only very slightly . Hardly worth counting, in my opinion. You’d be getting a bride of the highest caliber at a bargain rate.”
Della whirled to face her sister. “Why did you ask for my help if you’re just going to ruin things?”
“ You’re the one ruining things!” Annabelle snapped back. “He figured it out five minutes into your speech.”
“Because you’re both appallingly predictable,” Peter said. He rose from the chaise and poured himself a brandy, then addressed them from behind the rim of his glass. “Anyway, your game is up. I’m not interested in helping you unload another man’s castoffs, so you can tell your friend she’ll have to find another mark.”
“Peter, at least hear us out,” Della pleaded. “Setting aside the matter of her minor ruination, you must acknowledge that Miss Greenwood would be an excellent match for you. She’s beautiful, witty, well liked, and she comes from a good family with a bit of money. It would be difficult to find anyone better—”
“ Very difficult,” Annabelle added, with a speaking look to their brother’s rumpled hair and uneven cravat.
Della continued, “Surely you must want to have children one day, to pass on your, er…your legacy?” At present, Peter’s legacy was poor luck at cards and slightly better luck at hunting. Never mind. He still had decades to prove himself useful at something. Starting right now. “You must intend to marry eventually. Don’t dismiss a perfectly good option over a little misunderstanding.”
“I don’t see why I should marry soon,” Peter retorted. “I might happily put it off for another decade, at least. And as for children, I have no desire to find a cuckoo’s egg in my nest, which is what you’re offering me.”
“There is no chance whatsoever that she’s expecting,” Annabelle said. “I promise you.”
Peter gave a snort. “So far as you know. Do you think she’d be honest about such a thing? I’m sure she told you it was only a few kisses, but her word won’t be worth much with me, I’m afraid.”
Oh dear. It was for Annabelle to handle this part. Della had done her best, but she couldn’t say much to refute Peter’s assumption without revealing everything.
The odds were against us from the start.
“We must find her a husband,” Annabelle said. “If you won’t do it, do you have any friends in need of a wife? Preferably an urgent need. To fulfill a dying mother’s wish, or satisfy a condition in a will, or something along those lines.”
“That doesn’t happen as often as you think. And at any rate, I could hardly call them my friends if I recommend they wed a light-skirt.”
“You are insufferable!” Annabelle snapped. “I never ask you for anything. Can’t you just marry this one lady for me?”
“No.” Peter glowered at his sister. “Why should I? It would bring me nothing but scandal and regret.”
“I promise you, you’ll have plenty of that if you refuse.”
Annabelle’s threat carried enough edge that Peter froze, his glass suspended halfway to his lips. “What do you mean?”
Annabelle strode over to the sideboard, poured her own drink, and took a long swallow before she replied, impervious to her brother’s shock. “Because Miss Greenwood knows a very damaging secret about me. And if we don’t rescue her from her current predicament, there’s a good chance she’ll reveal it.”
“A blackmailer as well as a light-skirt. This gets better and better. What’s the secret?”
“You’re happier not knowing,” Annabelle replied. “But believe me when I say it’s such that I would have to retire from society, which is not something I plan to accept without a fight.”
Peter hazarded a glance to Della, who gave a curt nod.
He rubbed a hand over his brow, at last troubled. He hated their continual flirtation with scandal. “I’m sorry, but I still won’t do it. You’ve told me next to nothing of your reasons for helping Miss Greenwood, what little I know of her character paints a damning portrait, and there’s no advantage to me whatsoever. Whatever your secret is, you’ll have to weather the gossip somehow.”
“I’m the one who ruined her,” Annabelle blurted out. She edged closer to Della’s side, looking less like a demanding busybody and more like a lost youth.
“Pardon?” Peter squinted at Annabelle as if she’d grown a second head. “But…but you’re a woman . How could you…?”
“Don’t be obtuse, please.”
As the silence that followed begged to be filled with a few details, Della took it upon herself to add the most essential ones. “Annabelle was seen sneaking out of their house by Miss Greenwood’s father, but in the dark he mistook her for a man. If we don’t find someone else to step forward, the truth might emerge.”
Peter returned to his spot on the chaise and buried his face in his hands.
“Why can’t you two be normal ?” he moaned. “Gambling clubs, seducing other women. Do you know how many of my friends have to marry a ruined lady to save their sister’s reputation? None. It would never happen.”
“Does that mean you’ll do it?” Annabelle asked, hope creeping into her voice.
“No,” Peter repeated, although less forcefully than before. “You still haven’t told me why it should be my burden to save you from your own mess.”
“Because even if Annabelle is judgmental and annoying, she’s family.”
Annabelle elbowed Della sharply in the ribs. “I think you were meant to offer him something. We’ve reached the bargaining stage. Remember?”
“No, we haven’t,” said Peter. “I’ve said no .”
“Oh, that’s right.” The situation had seemed so hopeless, Della had almost forgotten they still had a few uncashed chips. “Annabelle, please remind me what Miss Greenwood’s dowry is worth?”
“Six thousand.”
“My, my, such a sum!” Della placed a hand to her lips in exaggerated surprise. “But surely her parents will revoke it to punish her for her transgressions?”
“Impossible. This is a departed-mother’s-estate-settled-on-an-only-child situation.” Annabelle paused to skewer her brother with her look. “In fact, one might even speculate as to whether the amount has room to increase as a result of what’s happened. I suppose it would depend on the groom’s skills as a negotiator, but wouldn’t you show some flexibility if you were desperate to cover up your daughter’s indiscretion?”
“I certainly would!” Della replied without missing a beat.
Peter was definitely sitting taller now, his full attention fixed on their little show.
Della took the lead again. “By the way, Peter, what’s your current debt at Brooks’s?”
“I–I beg your pardon? That’s none of your business.”
“Something in the range of fourteen hundred, isn’t it?”
“How—you—” Scarlet crept up Peter’s neck.
“It’s a small circle, London gambling clubs. I’m acquainted with their bookkeeper.”
“Fourteen hundred!” Annabelle echoed. “A distressing sum. Why, it sounds like you could use a wealthy bride, dear brother. Miss Greenwood’s dowry would wipe the slate clean with enough left over to fund your hunting parties for the rest of your life. I think she even likes the sport. You have so much in common, it must be fate.”
“I don’t need that money.” Peter’s protests were beginning to take on the air of a stubborn child who was not quite ready to accept the futility of his own position. “I’ll just ask Father to cover it.”
“Again?” Annabelle pulled a face. “Do you think he’ll agree? I recall him warning you that last time was really the last time.”
“That’s between him and me.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised if he decides to cut off your funds once he hears about this,” Della said. “You can hardly expect him to trust you when you keep going behind his back to incur more debt after promising you wouldn’t. Think how much happier everyone would be if you simply married well and paid up without Papa ever learning of it.”
They’d played their hands well, and Della was about as confident as she could be of victory—which was to say, it could still go either way. But Annabelle hadn’t quite finished.
“He probably won’t believe much of anything you say once he learns how much you’ve concealed from him.” Annabelle inspected her fingernails with a casual air. “If someone were to let slip that it was you who compromised Miss Greenwood… Well, I don’t think your protests would carry much weight.”
Della could only stare, nearly as stunned as Peter by this turn. They hadn’t discussed this beforehand! Still, she should have known Annabelle wouldn’t hold back.
“You lying little cheat,” Peter sputtered. “You villainess. Do you really think you can get away with this?”
“I told you I wouldn’t go down without a fight.” Annabelle shrugged her narrow shoulders. “It isn’t my fault you gambled away all your money and hid it from Papa. I’m offering you the perfect solution. But if you’d rather take your chances…”
“For God’s sake, I’ll do it. On the condition you never speak to me again.” Peter was turning green about the gills.
“You will?” Annabelle looked like a child who’d found the pea in her Twelfth Night cake, her eyes growing wide with joy. “I mean, of course you will. You won’t regret it. She’ll make you a wonderful bride, I’m sure.”
“Won’t things be terribly uncomfortable at family parties?”
“I promise you, it won’t be uncomfortable for me in the slightest,” Annabelle said. “In fact, I’d prefer we forget about my history with Miss Greenwood and pretend you found her first.”
“None of us has asked whether Miss Greenwood will be uncomfortable,” Della pointed out. She suffered a trace of pity for the girl, enduring a connection first with Annabelle, and now with Peter! She really could have aimed much higher in life had she not been found out. There was probably a lesson there, somewhere. “Do you suppose this means we’re all selfish?”
“Probably,” Peter agreed, mopping at his brow with a handkerchief. The stress of their conversation seemed to have overset him.
“Let’s write her now and solicit her opinion.” Annabelle crossed to Peter’s desk to find a fountain pen and a sheet of paper. “I hardly know what to say.”
Her long face always looked more serious than her actual mood, but this time the two seemed to match. After a minute spent staring at the page, she scratched a few short lines:
Would you accept my brother? Forgive me, but there aren’t many options. He is harmless and you should be able to manage him easily.
“You do realize that I can read, don’t you?” Peter asked. “I should take back my agreement, for that.”
“Oh hush,” chided Annabelle gently. “Enjoy your beautiful bride and your six thousand pounds. You’re getting the best end of this deal.”