Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
Seven weeks and suspecting the captain again until the wedding
P hoebe was banned from all outings for the rest of her woeful little life.
Or as least she would have been, had it not been for the arrival of the jovial Captain Damerel with an armful of yellow roses, the following afternoon.
‘I came as soon as I thought you might all be recovered enough to receive visitors.’ He smiled at his welcoming committee, who were assembled decorously in Aunt Higglestone’s best sitting room.
‘Well, Sophie is quite well enough,’ Matilda grinned, ‘but Phoebe and I have red noses, and Josephine has a cough, so she’s not allowed to go anywhere.’
‘Matilda!’ their aunt scolded, before smiling wanly at the captain. ‘It is lovely to see you again, Captain Damerel. As you can see, the girls are all nearly recovered, save for one of my nieces, who has a tendency towards bronchospasms and is abed for a few days. She wasn’t involved in the incident , but I fear the evening air may have exacerbated her condition. I should not have taken her, I fear, but it is hard when one is blessed with such lively nieces!’
Then she sniffed so woefully that Phoebe felt twice as guilty as she already did.
‘It wasn’t your fault, Aunt,’ she reassured, trying to avoid another monologue of self-reproach. ‘Josephine catches a cold if we so much as open a window at home, and as for the rest , well, Mama used to say Matilda and I have a talent for drama!’
Phoebe had spared her aunt the unabridged version of her evening’s excursion, including the hallucinatory snuff and Aurelia’s very deliberate provocation, but there was no avoiding the horse theft or the viscount’s pursuit – which had resulted in his being there when Matilda fell into the canal.
Both her relations were suitably aghast when they’d heard the story, a reaction somewhat offset by Josephine’s pronouncement that Phoebe had still saved Matilda’s life, horse theft or not; until it became clear that while half the ton had indeed witnessed her daring rescue, many more had glimpsed her careering through the gardens, clinging to the neck of a feral chestnut mare.
‘Which only goes to prove that no one of consequence should ever trust a pony at a public picnic!’ her aunt bemoaned into her fourth kerchief of the morning.
Phoebe looked down at the embroidery that had been pushed into her hands the moment the captain was announced. She’d spent half the morning berating herself for ever trusting Aurelia in the first place, and the other half wondering if bad backstitch represented the sum of her life for the foreseeable future.
‘Well, I favour a bit of drama over polite conversation any day!’ the captain boomed jovially.
She looked across at the sunny-tempered military man and wondered, for the umpteenth time, if he really could have anything to do with Aurelia’s spot of bother. It seemed so very unlikely, especially since he was the viscount’s brother, and yet he and Aurelia were clearly on familiar terms too.
‘Will you be returning to your regiment soon, Captain Elliot?’ Sophie asked.
She was seated in the window, a position she’d chosen when the captain was announced, to showcase her green taffeta and sunlit ringlets to their best advantage.
Phoebe suppressed a frown as he turned to engage her sister directly. His interest was no surprise, Mama always regarded Sophie as her finest work, and the daughter most likely to contract an advantageous marriage, yet Sophie was also well aware of her suspicions. Her determination to ignore this, and continue fluttering her eyelashes as though they were the latest Parisian fashion, was most undermining.
‘Oh, yes, I think it’s a wonderful idea, don’t you think, Phoebe?’
Phoebe blinked as they all turned to look at her, conscious she’d been lost in thought for a few moments.
‘Why … yes of course … if you think so?’ she stalled.
Sophie rolled her eyes, before shaking back her ringlets and rising to her pretty slippered feet.
‘The captain has invited us to a small private soirée next month! Doesn’t that sound fun? Is it not kind of him to include us among his select family and friends.’
Phoebe frowned, eyeing her sister intently. She’d seen that stubborn gleam before, and it was one that didn’t take kindly to challenges, yet they were both aware of the social restrictions before their presentation.
She’d also been consoling herself with the thought that she’d never have to face the viscount again, but how could she possibly avoid him at his own family dinner?
‘Well, it’s a very kind invitation, but would we even be permitted?’ she murmured, looking at her aunt.
Sophie laughed prettily.
‘It could be a chance to quell any rumours – show everyone we really are quite civilised – and not even you could attract drama at a private soirée!’
Her eyes narrowed briefly, leaving Phoebe in no doubt of her intent. She meant to attend, whatever the cost.
‘My hesitation is no reflection on your generous invitation of course, dear Captain,’ Aunt Higglestone rushed, clearly flustered by the thought of appearing in the least bit impolite, ‘but rather of the fact that my eldest nieces aren’t officially out in society yet. However, I have to say I see little problem with a s mall soirée with select family and friends – this is Bath, after all – and we’re certainly very grateful to your dear brother, the viscount, for his assistance at the picnic, too. Are we not, dear?’
This last was directed with some purpose at Uncle Higglestone, who’d managed to sequester himself in the corner of the room with a botanical journal detailing the mating rituals of wood ants. He grunted appropriately.
‘Mr Higglestone called on the viscount this morning, though he wouldn’t hear of our covering the cost of his suit when it must have been quite ruined – he was soaked to the skin after all…’ Their aunt broke off to fan herself suddenly. ‘Indeed, Mr Higglestone and I owe your brother a very large debt, Captain Damerel, for we are quite certain the outcome would have been very different without his assistance. On this basis alone, we would accept your kind invitation, except the final say must come from my eldest nephew, their guardian.’ She nodded and smiled, her cheeks the colour of rosy apples. ‘I will, however, write to him without delay and impress on him the kindness you have shown, and the family nature of the soirée, and of course the fact that this is Bath – not London – and in truth, I already feel hopeful of a positive outcome.’
The captain gazed at Mrs Higglestone in admiration, his eyes dancing.
‘That is encouraging, indeed,’ he responded warmly.
‘In the meantime, please do pass on our warmest wishes to your dear brother, as well as our sincerest gratitude for his assistance with both Misses Fairfax – again.’ She nodded rapidly.
Phoebe had long ceased listening to the small talk and was wondering whether she ought to send her own letter to Thomas, in case he suffered any momentary lapse of character and actually considered her aunt’s request. She looked up to find Sophie eyeing her carefully, before turning her own pretty smile on the captain.
‘Did you say it’s a masked soirée, Captain Damerel?’ Sophie enquired. ‘Should we look to Venice for inspiration?’
A sunny beam lit up his fair face, and briefly Phoebe wondered what goddess had visited his mother in order to reap such a difference in her sons.
‘Oh, Lord yes, please do. The more carnivale the better! It’s a family thing our mother insists on holding in Father’s memory. It’ll also mark my farewell – for I’m to rejoin my regiment in May – as well as provide an opportunity for a formal family announcement.’
Phoebe narrowed her gaze at the jovial captain, while Sophie looked positively crestfallen.
‘Oh, you’re leaving so soon?’ she exclaimed. ‘And … a formal family announcement? How exciting?’
She forced her voice to be light, but Phoebe knew her better.
‘Perhaps,’ he returned with a wink. ‘Though I’m sworn to secrecy – a matter of family honour and all that – proving that even confirmed bachelors can be trustworthy, occasionally!’
‘Well, we all know you are that,’ their aunt laughed indulgently, ‘and we won’t press you on the matter, either. I’ll just see what I can do about the soirée, though I won’t make any promises just yet. My eldest nephew can be quite protective of his wards.’
* * *
‘I still don’t fully understand why Aurelia would give you fairy snuff and spook your horse, if she needs a favour?’ Sophie repeated doubtfully. It was nearly midnight, and they were in bed, discussing events of the past few days. ‘I thought she wanted to resume your friendship.’
‘She’s not interested in friendship,’ Phoebe muttered sleepily from where she lay.
‘And isn’t Mrs Mary Smith a slightly dubious companion for Aurelia now? I mean, after the Assembly Ball scandal?’ Sophie added in a hushed voice.
‘I really don’t know,’ Phoebe shrugged, ‘but apparently not enough for it to matter when Aurelia needs an alibi. I have thought about leaving her in the lurch – but that would make me little better than her, and besides, a part of me really wants to go. When am I ever likely to go backstage at a real theatre again?’
There was a brief pause.
‘Well, I suppose as long as you stay away from soldiers and cards and snuff and ponies you should be fine!’ Sophie giggled. ‘And whatever you do, don’t agree to any more games of Questions and Commands.’
Phoebe swatted her with a pillow, unable to help laughing too.
‘Definitely no more soldiers,’ she groaned, ‘especially those resembling kitchen utensils!’
She paused, as a thought struck her.
‘It’s a little ironic that this whole adventure started with a theatre and a disguise,’ she mused. ‘Back then I wanted nothing more than to be someone else, somewhere else, but now I’m just grateful to be here with you all, instead.’
Sophie rolled over and hugged her sister fiercely.
‘As well as the rest of Bath, of course!’ Phoebe added.
They laughed again, while Phoebe eyed her sister thoughtfully.
‘You like him, don’t you?’
‘Who?’ Sophie replied, making a big pretence of puffing up a feather pillow.
‘You know who,’ Phoebe returned.
‘Well, I don’t dislike him ,’ she replied, playing for time, ‘I mean, who could? He’s like … human honey!’
‘Phoebe knew exactly what she meant. She pictured the captain’s immaculate uniform, his beaming smile and the way his eyes seemed to understand before any words were uttered. But all that was for nothing if he thought to compromise a lady, and then return to his regiment without a second thought.
‘Sophie…’
‘Okay, okay I do like him! I think him the kindest and most good-natured man I’ve ever met.’
There was a short, poignant silence.
‘But … what of Aurelia?’ Phoebe murmured after a beat.
‘What of Aurelia?’ Sophie challenged, before sighing. ‘Look, the captain could be entirely innocent for all we know. Plus, it was kind of him to take the time to call and invite us to his family soirée. And if we’re discussing the Damerels, what about the viscount?!’ she added in the next breath.
The frankness of her question took Phoebe aback.
‘What do you mean?’ she quizzed. ‘What about the viscount?’
His derision at the canal flickered through Phoebe’s thoughts, stirring the most violent array of feelings. She gritted her teeth, picturing the way his eyes had raked over her soaking wet dress, instantly reducing her to the ignorant girl she’d felt that night in his library, wearing only a nightie and wet booties. He had the innate ability to make her feel every bit as foolish as he clearly thought her, and why the universe seemed determined to cross their paths at all was a mystery of epic proportions.
‘He’s quite the rudest, most condescending gentleman I’ve ever had the misfortune to meet,’ she muttered, rolling onto her back. ‘He and Aurelia are perfectly suited, and I’d rather marry Earl Crusty-Roll of Onion Manor than spend any more time in the company of such a man!’
‘Phoebe!’ Sophie protested, dissolving into infectious giggles again.
Within seconds, they were both stuffing their pillows in their mouths for fear of waking the entire household.
‘It’s so like you to have been twice rescued by a gentleman you cannot even abide!’ Sophie gasped when she could. ‘And yet for a while I thought perhaps you did like him, because he’s different to everyone else,’ she continued. ‘Proud yes, but also a little … heroic, I think?’
Phoebe rolled her eyes.
‘Fetching a doctor for an injured person and helping drag a schoolchild from pondweed does not make him heroic!’ she rounded. ‘It makes him interfering – in the extreme! And the truth is, no matter what rare and strange stars aligned to make the viscount and captain brothers, we barely know either of them.’
‘So, what’s the plan, then?’ Sophie asked.
Phoebe rolled over to face her sister.
‘I’m going to go to the theatre,’ she exhaled. ‘I’m going to rid our lives of devious debutantes and dubious viscounts, and then we’re going to make the most of every opportunity remaining to us, before Thomas announces my betrothal to Earl Crusty-Roll!’
‘Now that ,’ Sophie grinned, ‘is a fine plan!’