Chapter 7 #2
Finally she summoned a house decorator and a cabinetmaker for the next day. From the taste he had shown so far in the house, she knew it might be wiser to wait for Nicholas to return, but she felt a tendency always to wait for his advice was unhealthy.
Then, satisfied with her day’s work, she allowed herself to relax with Lord Byron.
The next day Sir Stephen called with his sister, Miss Fanny Ball.
It was doubtless kindly meant, but Miss Ball proved to be a trenchant bluestocking with a proselytizing spirit.
Eleanor accepted an invitation to a literary evening the lady was holding the next week, but conditionally, as the speaker was apparently a Mr. Walker, the author of a critical analysis of Lord Bacon’s philosophy.
Eleanor was sure she ought to be fascinated by such a subject, but she could summon little enthusiasm.
She was rather better pleased when she encountered Lord Darius Debenham in Green Park and was introduced to his cousin, Lady Bretton.
This also resulted in a promise of cards for a small soiree to be held the next week, one Eleanor could look forward to, for the lady was so lively and witty she was sure her entertainments would be delightful.
There was no possibility of a developing friendship, however. Eleanor had thought the lady merely plump, but Lady Bretton confided she was to leave London within weeks, being yet again—with a sigh—in an interesting condition. “And always in the Season,” the woman bewailed.
Next, Eleanor received an invitation to a theater party to be held by Lady Maria Graviston, the marquess’s sister. The invitation was brought by Lord Arden, along with an offer to escort her.
“And what did you tell your sister, my lord?” Eleanor asked, surprised to be recognized by such a member of the haut ton.
“The truth,” he said with a smile. “That you are new in Town and need introductions. She’s very good-hearted.” With a naughty twinkle he added, “If you come, you’ll see Blanche.”
“In your sister’s party?” Eleanor queried in astonishment.
He laughed. “On the stage. Mrs. Blanche Hardcastle, the White Dove of Drury Lane.”
She found his proud acknowledgement of the woman endearing, and had to admit her curiosity was piqued. She had a morbid interest in the subject of mistresses.
Lady Graviston proved to be a pleasant lady some ten years older than her brother.
She bore little resemblance to her handsome brother, being brown haired and of sallow complexion, but she was impressively elegant.
No matter what she had said to Lord Arden, Eleanor was aware that she was subjected to a thorough scrutiny before the lady warmed to her.
From then on, however, everyone in the party was very pleasant.
Eleanor began to think that she might be able to establish herself in Society on good behavior alone—with the backing of the Delaney name and help from the Company of Rogues.
The play was a comedy entitled Esteban and Elizabetta, with Blanche Hardcastle in the leading role.
The actress was an enchanting creature who, Eleanor quickly gathered, made it her characteristic to always dress in white to match her prematurely white hair.
Hence her name: the White Dove. She was a tolerable actress, but her greatest gift was a remarkable grace of movement and an abundance of charm and wit that easily crossed the stage lights to the audience.
The marquess watched the woman with warm pride.
Eleanor reflected that his wife, when he finally chose one, would face a considerable challenge. Then she remembered Nicholas and his beautiful French whore and sighed. How could any ordinary woman compete?
By Friday, the day scheduled for the family dinner and her husband’s return, a number of Eleanor’s projects were progressing.
She had ordered the furniture for her bedroom and decided on the style for it and her boudoir.
She had chosen a light color scheme, to be enriched by new furniture of inlaid amboyna.
The new cards had arrived, so if she should have occasion to pay morning calls, she could do so in the correct manner.
Last and most marvelous, after a grueling interview with the formidable Mrs. Drummond-Burrell, she had been promised the entree to Almack’s.
Lady Christobel had called afterward to emphasize just what a labor of Hercules this had been and to command Eleanor to be sure never to introduce her brother to anyone.
Though she couldn’t like her aunt by marriage, Eleanor had been as grateful as anyone could desire.
Because of all this, Eleanor was able to greet her husband on his return with cheerful chatter that, she hoped, conveyed the impression that she had hardly noticed his absence at all.
As she poured tea for him, and selected cakes to place by his side, she related her activities. “…and your Aunt Cecily is planning a Venetian breakfast for me next week. For you, too, if you are able to attend.”
“Must I?” he asked with a lazy smile. She could tell that her industry pleased him. He had seemed a little tense when he entered but was now relaxed.
“Of course not, if you don’t wish to. It is mainly so I can meet the right sort of people.”
“I’ll try to attend,” he promised, but without enthusiasm.
“You do remember the family dinner?” she asked anxiously. He seemed in danger of falling asleep. “I’m sure you would prefer a quiet evening at home, but I hardly feel we can miss it.”
He rubbed a hand over his face. “Oh, yes, I remember. If not for that I would have delayed my return a few days. The business turned out not to be as simple as I expected.” There was a sudden bleakness in his expression that told her this “business” was more serious than she had supposed.
And she had half suspected he was off with his mistress.
“I am sure this is foolish, Nicholas,” she said out of guilt, “but is there any way I can help you?”
He smiled directly at her and her heart did a little dance. “Thank you, my dear, but no. It is a … commission for a friend which must be tied up soon. The only problem is it will force me to neglect you for a while longer. If you will bear with that kindly, that is all the help I ask.”
“Of course. You must not feel constrained by me.”
Eleanor hesitated and then decided this was a good time to raise a problem.
“Nicholas, I am sorry if this is impertinent, but would it not be wise for you to tell me where you go when you are absent from home? What if there should be a family emergency? I would feel foolish not knowing where to send for you.”
She knew when she had scarcely started that it was the wrong thing to say. The humor drained from his face and his eyes moved away to study the landscape on the wall.
When he responded, however, his voice was even. “Of course. You are quite correct. You must forgive me if I sometimes forget. Being a husband is new to me.”
His eyes came back to hers, catching her unawares. The expression in them was unreadable but somehow disturbing. She suspected with surprise that he simply did not know what to say next.
They sat looking at one another for a long time.
Suddenly Nicholas shook his head as if coming out of a dream. “Eleanor, my wits are wandering, or it is simple exhaustion. Excuse me, but if I am to glitter for the family vultures I think I should rest for a while.”
He rose from his chair in a smooth, fluid movement and came to place a gentle kiss upon her hand. “If you have a gown which will do justice to the pearls, I think you should wear them.”
With that he left her. Eleanor stayed, hands resting in her lap, to consider the encounter.
As far as her plans went it had gone well, but she could not hide from herself that at the end his spirit had not been easy.
Was it her fault or the fault of this tiresome business he had undertaken?
During their short acquaintance she had never seen him lose control as he had just then.
She had taken his weariness as that typical of a person who has just traveled all day, but it was not so. That smooth rising from the chair had exposed the fact that he was not physically tired at all. It was a heaviness of the spirit that pressed upon him.
She sighed. She knew he would not welcome her brooding over him. She would have to remove from him even the burden of her concern.
Jenny and Eleanor worked hard in preparation for the evening. Eleanor knew precisely the image she wanted to create—a handsomeness worthy of him, but with sober, respectable overtones.
The ivory silk dress with the pink embroidery, specified by Madame Augustine as being suitable for the pearls, had just arrived.
Eleanor was pleased with it, but when she was dressed she realized the bodice was alarmingly low.
For a panicked moment she considered wearing a fichu for modesty, but Madame Augustine would never forgive her.
“Jenny,” she whispered. “Do you think this dress is indecent?”
“Lord, no, ma’am,” said the girl with shining eyes. “It’s wonderful!”
“But it … it almost shows my nipples!”
“But it don’t, ma’am,” Jenny assured her, twitching the shoulders into line. “It sort of suggests it might, but it don’t. It’ll make the master’s eyes pop, for sure.”
“But I want to be respectable tonight,” Eleanor complained.
“It is respectable,” stated the maid firmly. “It’ll just give the men ideas. And that’s their problem, ain’t it, ma’am?”
Eleanor gave in for the moment. She would see what her husband said. There would always be time to change, but she didn’t have another gown suitable for the pearls. She chose a simple coiffure and only a bracelet of carved ivory by way of ornament.
Then, nervously hoping for her husband’s approval, for his admiration even, she went to tap on the door of Nicholas’s dressing room.