Chapter 5 #3
Lady Christobel, conversing with her nephew, was quite capable of following two conversations at once, even when one was sotto voce.
“Nonsense, Cecily. Selina died in ’04 when the boys were fourteen.
That was four years before my brother passed on and it was his death which caused the boy to go wandering.
Very sensible, too. I do not approve of twins staying together for too long. Saps their personalities.”
Mrs. Stephenson flushed. “Dearest Selina had a most positive personality.”
“So it always seemed,” retorted Lady Christobel. “But to be slipping away from a mere chill … The Delaneys have been most unfortunate in their choice of wives.”
She cast a basilisk look at her nephew, who paled.
Eleanor expected him to make some response to this tasteless remark but he remained silent, and so she spoke up.
“I believe Lord Stainbridge’s wife died in childbed, Lady Christobel. It could happen to any woman.”
Mrs. Stephenson gasped at this plain speaking and cast an alarmed look at her daughter. The girl, however, was following the skirmish with bright eyes.
The look was seen by Lady Christobel. “Don’t be a prude, Cecily.
If the chit don’t know some of the dangers ahead of her, it’s time she did.
” Satisfied with this volley, she turned her guns on Eleanor.
“I didn’t die in childbed, neither did Cecily and neither will you if I am any judge.
Juliette Morisby was quite the most beautiful girl I’ve seen in a dozen seasons, but anyone could see she wasn’t made to be a mother. Are you healthy?”
Eleanor blinked and replied that she was, then quickly turned to Aunt Cecily to discuss her daughter’s coming season. Conversation again became general and she sighed with relief. What a horrible woman.
She spared a moment to glance at Lord Stainbridge, but he was chatting amiably with his aunt. She could only assume this sort of dispute was a regular occurrence and no longer had power to disturb him.
“Where is the bridegroom?” barked Lady Christobel suddenly. “That boy has no sense of duty whatsoever. I can see you have no control over him, young lady.”
Eleanor diplomatically ignored the latter statement and forbore to point out that the aunts had come without invitation. She replied that Nicholas was expected back momentarily. She felt she was fast losing the habit of veracity.
She soon realized truth might have been wiser.
“Then I shall wait,” announced Lady Christobel.
Mrs. Stephenson immediately became glued to her seat.
Eleanor cast a desperate look toward Lord Stainbridge, but he merely shrugged resignedly.
Eleanor could only hope that Nicholas would come home early.
Otherwise she feared she would have to serve the ladies dinner and give them beds for the night.
With skillful handling on the part of Eleanor and the earl, polite conversation was maintained for some time.
Then a discussion began about the ornaments in the room.
The aunts embarked on a politely cutthroat debate as to which parent had contributed artistic appreciation to the two brothers.
As numerous relatives in both families were brought in to support the argument the surface decorum began to fragment.
Eleanor was just beginning to fear that the Chinese vases were going to become weapons of war when her husband entered the room. Eleanor had never been so glad to see anyone in her life.
He seemed to take in the situation at a glance, but beyond a wink at his cousin Mary he showed no emotion other than contrition, which he properly expressed to Eleanor for having been delayed.
She watched with admiration as he somehow managed to greet his aunts without giving preference to either.
Then, in a master stroke, he stood back to allow his aunts to attack.
Neither did so. Neither wished to express an opinion until she could be sure it would not, by some unhappy mischance, coincide with that of her adversary.
Nor could either one disparage Nicholas for fear the enemy would see a way to foist the fault onto her family.
Lady Christobel, quickest to realize the impossibility of the situation, rose to her feet. “Well, Nicholas, I would have wished to see more of you, but I have dallied here quite long enough. No doubt you will have more time for your family soon.”
She then turned to Eleanor. “It has been a great pleasure to meet you, my dear. I am most pleased that you agreed to marry the boy, though it should all have been done in a less scrambling manner. But I will say no more on that matter, for I know well whose management that must have been.” She turned to pepper Nicholas with disapproval.
How, Eleanor wondered, did he manage to look so contrite but innocent?
Of course, the woman couldn’t permit all the blame to lie on her nephew, and the artillery swung back. “I do hope you will develop a little resolution, Eleanor,” she said sternly. “A good woman has saved many a sinner.”
Eleanor stared wildly at Nicholas, but although he was obviously bubbling with laughter, he was maintaining a wonderfully bland expression. It became a little wary when his aunt turned back to him.
“I do hope you will now conduct yourself as a Delaney should, Nicholas. If not for our sake, then for the sake of your wife.” With that she swept out like a triumphant ship of the line.
Once the enemy had departed Mrs. Stephenson became her usual vague self. She made only wandering comments before shepherding her giggling daughter away.
The remaining three gave way to the laughter inside them.
Eleanor was the first to recover. “I do beg your pardon! It is so rude to be laughing at your relatives, but I am sure I could have controlled myself if you two hadn’t gone off!”
“Don’t give it a thought,” gasped Nicholas. “One has to laugh in lieu of strangling the pair of them. I’m truly sorry. Was it very bad?”
“Nicholas,” said Eleanor, “they were here nearly three hours. Are they always the same?”
Lord Stainbridge answered. “Don’t ask him, Eleanor.
How should he know? He has successfully avoided them for years.
The truth is we keep them apart except for births, marriages, and deaths, but those are precisely the events which give them greatest scope.
If they meet in public they’re so sweetly polite one could believe them to be bosom bows. ”
It was not long after this that Lord Stainbridge took his leave. Eleanor searched her husband’s face for some evidence of philandering, but what could she expect to see?
Then she saw him glance around and note the items she had brought down to decorate the room, and a new reason for anxiety presented itself. She swallowed nervously.
But all he said was, “You have done wonders with this room, Eleanor. I recognize some of the bits and pieces.” He caught sight of her face.
“Good heavens, don’t look as if I were going to eat you.
It is about time this stuff had some air.
You have a magpie for a husband, but I never know what to do with my collection when I get it home.
Now, tell me what coals the aunts chose to stir this time. ”
By mutual consent they retired to the library and she reenacted the afternoon’s battle so well that they both ended in fits of laughter.
“Dreadful women,” he said, but then he sobered.
“I wish they would leave Juliette out of it, though, for Kit does feel that. But never mind. Tell me what else you have been about. I think I recognize the skills of Madame Augustine.” He pulled her to her feet and gently twirled her for his inspection. “Very becoming.”
“I’m afraid I have ordered quite a few more outfits.”
“I would be angry if you hadn’t. But there is something else…” He turned her face to the lamplight. “You have done something to your eyebrows.”
Eleanor blushed. “I didn’t think you would notice.”
“What an unobservant person you must think me,” he said. “And besides,” he added with a mock frown, “what possible purpose could there be except for me to notice? Unless you already have another conquest in your sight.”
Conquest? Eleanor stared at him, feeling a blush heat her cheeks.
“I’m sure it must be painful, though,” he carried on before she could think what to say. He gently traced the curve of one brow with his finger. “Do not torture yourself on my account.”
“It doesn’t hurt at all,” lied Eleanor cheerfully as, unconsciously it seemed, he traced the other brow. She began to feel a little breathless. “I like the improvement it makes in me.”
“Excellent. But I warn you,” he said with a lazy smile, and his finger trailed idly down her cheek, “do not take to wearing creams and lotions when I wish to kiss you.” He tapped gently on her parted lips.
Bedazzled, Eleanor had nerve enough to challenge him. “And what would you do to stop me, sir?”
His eyes twinkled but he assumed a stern expression. “I would scrub it all off with unnecessary brutality, madam, and then condemn you to wear clothes of my brother’s choosing for the rest of your life.”
She laughed, and he dropped a kiss on her smiling lips. Eleanor felt ridiculously happy.
“Now, I have a confession. I am turning you up sweet for a purpose. I have a favor to ask.”
She would give him the moon and the stars. “Anything!” she declared.
He shook his head. “Next lesson is caution, I think. I would like you to preside over a bachelor dinner here tomorrow night. It is a longstanding arrangement.”
That was more daunting than obtaining the heavens for him. Eleanor was unused to full-blown social occasions. “I am willing to attend,” she said hesitantly, “but I would be equally happy to have a tray in my room.”
“I would like you to be there. I need a restraining influence, my dear. Some friends and I get together at fairly regular intervals, but it generally degenerates into a maudlin drunk. I particularly wish them to keep their faculties this time. Anyway, it will be good for you to meet my closest friends.”