PoetsandPromises Page 10

  No wonder Lady Parker had been against the acquaintance, Elisabeth thought ruefully as she put her letter-case away. And she had to admit to herself that Lady Parker may have had the right of it, for not only had it placed her in positions of dubious morality, it had also been the cause of the first serious argument she had had with Lord Sherbourne. And although she was relieved to have voiced her suspicions of Miss Thibeau, the viscount’s assurance of not being alone for his sittings with Miss Thibeau had not entirely resolved Elisabeth’s concerns about the artist’s effect on Lord Sherbourne. Is this what love is, Elisabeth wondered with a sigh. Was it insecurities and fears, always worrying what the other was thinking and wondering if one were losing one’s betrothed to another?

  “Was it bad news, miss?” Molly asked as she laid out a fresh gown for her mistress. “You look unhappy. Would you like to lie down for a while?”

  “No, thank you, Molly. I am only fatigued. I am certain a tisane will revive me.”

  “I’ll fetch one immediately, miss,” Molly replied, clearly pleased there was something she could do to relieve her mistress’s unhappiness.

  Reminded by his conversation with Miss Ashwood that he had not returned for another sitting, Lord Sherbourne directed his horse to the Earlywine residence to see if his friend would accompany him to the artist’s studio again. Upon finding Earlywine was out and not expected to return for some time, Sherbourne hesitated. He disliked going to a sitting by himself when it was clear that it was something that would upset Miss Ashwood, if she knew of it, but at the same time he had been used to directing his own affairs for many years and disliked the thought of having his actions constrained by another.

  Giving way to the lesser impulse, Sherbourne directed his mount toward the Comtesse de Fleurille’s town house. When he entered the hall the footman informed him that the artist had another gentleman who was sitting. Lord Sherbourne took out a card to leave, almost relieved that chance was keeping him from remaining, when the door to the studio opened and Miss Thibeau stepped into the hall.

  “Lord Sherbourne, if you would not object to waiting a quarter hour I shall be finished with Mr. Penrose and will have time for you.”

  Sherbourne apologized for coming without arranging a time in advance and agreed to wait in the drawing room. Ten minutes later Miss Thibeau appeared in the doorway.

  “I am sorry I was unable to take you when you arrived,” Miss Thibeau greeted him. “Please, Lord Sherbourne, come with me now.”

  “It was my error to come without an appointment,” Lord Sherbourne reiterated as he followed her into her studio. The same artist’s clutter of paints, brushes, canvases and oils was scattered about and a soft crunching sound came from the rabbit’s cage where it sat munching on hay.

  “Please, take the chair as before,” Miss Thibeau instructed him as she busied herself with her paints. She picked up her palette and a brush and then put the brush back down.

  “No, you have not the same angle to the head. You must hold it thus,” she said, advancing and once again putting her fingers under his chin to guide his head to the correct tilt. As she turned his head she allowed her fingers to slide lightly down his neck.

  Despite himself, Lord Sherbourne felt tinglingly aware of Miss Thibeau’s touch and as his eyes met hers she gave him a long knowing look.

  “There,” she said, abruptly releasing him and going back to her easel.

  “Today you come without the friend Monsieur Earlywine,” she said conversationally as she selected a brush from the vase at her feet and began to apply paint to the canvas. “You and Monsieur Earlywine you have known each other long, yes?”

  “Earlywine and I have known each other since we were at Eton together,” Lord Sherbourne verified

  “Ah, the schoolboys together. But then you went to India, yes?”

  “Yes, I thought my older brother would inherit and I needed some occupation,” Sherbourne said, a shade crossing his face at the mention of his brother.

  “I have heard much of the India,” Miss Thibeau said, deftly steering the conversation in a happier direction. “The jungles, the elephants. What is it like?”

  “Hot, sometimes hot and wet when the rains poured down and sometimes hot and relentlessly dry,” Sherbourne said reminiscently. “Everything there seemed brighter—there were no shades and gradations as there are here.”

  “I should like to see it someday—to paint. And the people, how are they?”

  “The women wear brightly colored clothes that drape about them in graceful folds,” Lord Sherbourne described, thinking that Miss Thibeau reminded him very much of some of the ranees, bold, beautiful, instinctively seductive and, he suspected, very passionate.

  “Miss Ashwood, she had the success at Miss Earlywine’s ball, yes? Does your sister find her the match yet?” Miss Thibeau asked with a change of subject.

  “No gentleman has yet shown a decided interest in her,” Lord Sherbourne answered, not looking too closely at his reasons for failing to inform Miss Thibeau that he himself was Miss Ashwood’s intended husband.

  “It is early in the season yet,” Miss Thibeau commented. “And you must not forget my suggestion of the poet, no? Her eyes, they follow the poets.”

  Evonne put down her brush and surveyed her canvas critically. “That is enough for the day, I think, Lord Sherbourne. But you must come once more before the painting she is complete.” Evonne set her palette down and rose from her chair as Lord Sherbourne rose from his.

  “Thank you, Lord Sherbourne. Please to remind the Monsieur Earlywine to come for his sketch.”

  “I shall,” Lord Sherbourne agreed. “Good day, Miss Thibeau.”

  Sherbourne mounted his horse in silence and, abstracted, took the reins from the groom without his usual nod of thanks. Why had he done it? he wondered as he directed the horse back toward his town house. Why had he gone to Miss Thibeau’s studio without Earlywine? It was true her studio was in the comtesse’s home but he had known from his previous visits that the artist’s aunt did not feel it incumbent upon her to be present during her niece’s sittings. Worse, he had known in his heart that he was doing something that would distress his betrothed if she discovered it and had done it anyway.

  Sherbourne winced as he remembered how he had felt Miss Ashwood retreat from him that day in the carriage when he had mentioned Miss Thibeau. And what had she done to deserve such hurt? Was it that she had stood unmoving when Shelley had brushed a strand of hair from her forehead? What had he expected her to do—scream and pull back in shock? Such a reaction would have been false and theatrical under the circumstances. Then why had he been so upset at Miss Ashwood? Jealousy, he realized in shame. He had disliked seeing the poet touch even a lock of her hair. Sherbourne shook his head in disgust at himself. He was old enough and had enough experience of the world that he should have behaved better. He had no right to distress Miss Ashwood intentionally by going to sit with Miss Thibeau without Earlywine.

  The remainder of his way home and for the rest of the day Lord Sherbourne lectured himself about his obligations and commitments to Miss Ashwood. It was not well done of him to act in a manner that would hurt his betrothed if she knew of it and unworthy of him to be jealous of her manner with the poet when it had in fact not been improper. He would have to amend his own behavior, for truly it would seem that Miss Ashwood had been correct when she accused that his own conduct was not above approach.

  Chapter Seven

  In the week following their first serious disagreement, Elisabeth and Lord Sherbourne were carefully polite to each other, watching each other closely under veiled eyes. Neither risked a rebuff by referring to the incident again but their avoidance of the subject led to a loss of ease in each other’s company and Elisabeth mourned the loss of the close connection that had been developing before the quarrel. How frail were the first bonds of affection between a man and woman! Instead of being strong, as she had always imagined such love to be, it seemed to break with the least s
train, she thought sadly. But Elisabeth still looked forward to the promised night at the opera and even hoped that it might perhaps be an opportunity to reestablish the rapport that had been growing between herself and Lord Sherbourne before their misunderstanding through a shared love of music. Although Elisabeth had heard operatic arias performed by individuals after dinners at country estates, this was the first time she would see an opera in its entirely, sung by professional singers, and she was looking forward to it immensely.

  The night of the performance arrived at last. Elisabeth had chosen to wear one of her favorite new gowns, a dark blue silk with a deep flounced hem and an overdress of white net. Molly had parted her mistress’s brown hair in the center and arranged her curls in attractive bunches at either side of her head. Elisabeth did not own any elaborate jewels but she felt her simple neck chain with a sapphire pendantlooked quite acceptable and she carried her finest painted silk fan.

  But when she descended to the drawing room Elisabeth felt quite outshone by the older Lady Parker. The elder woman looked extraordinarily elegant in a long, dark rose gown with a high waist, the neckline filled in with fine flesh-colored netting drawn up with wide ivory lace at the neck. Matching lace fell gracefully from the gathered wrists of the long sleeves. Her honey-blonde hair was coiled at the nape of her neck, adorned by a diadem of garnets and diamonds.

  Lord Sherbourne, who waited with his sister, was clad in the standard evening dress of dark coat and pantaloons, white waistcoat, white starched cravat, top hat and shoes.

  “Miss Ashwood, you look charmingly,” Lord Sherbourne said with evident sincerity as Elisabeth paused at the drawing room door. “I shall be the envy of the theater, attending with two such Beauties.”

  “Shall we go?” Lady Parker suggested. “I believe the carriage has been brought ‘round and I have heard the performances are amazingly crowded.”

  And in fact when they arrived at the Haymarket a few minutes later they were required to wait for quite some minutes until their carriage could approach. Word of the wildly successful premiere of the opera two nights before had spread and this night looked to be almost as packed as the premiere itself.

  Once inside Lord Sherbourne suggested they repair immediately to their box and settle in. As she took a seat between Lady Parker and Lord Sherbourne Elisabeth looked around with wonder. The theater was brilliantly lit with candles and in their light she could easily see across the theater to the tiers of boxes directly opposite, a gallery above. Below, in the center of the theater before the stage, was the pit, from which a commotion could be heard as the rowdy attendees in the pit called out to each other and even tossed objects back and forth. But even they were all attired in formal evening dress similar to Lord Sherbourne’s.

  Seeing Elisabeth’s interest in her surroundings, Lady Parker offered her opera glasses. With the aid of the glasses Elisabeth discreetly viewed those in the boxes on the opposite side of the theater. She recognized a few of the occupants of the boxes, including the Earlywines. Miss Earlywine also had opera glasses to her face, and as their gazes met the younger woman gave a discreet wave. Smiling in return, Elisabeth continued to scan the boxes, stopping abruptly when she saw Miss Thibeau and her aunt the comtesse in a box almost directly across from Lady Parker’s.

  This evening, instead of the elaborate gown Elisabeth had last seen her wearing, Miss Thibeau had chosen an elegantly simple gown of white satin with small cap sleeves, the low neckline enhanced with an edging of white lace. A light blue silk fringed stole lay gracefully across her shoulders and long white gloves and a beautiful pendant completed her toilette. Elisabeth’s pleasure in her own appearance once again dimmed. Why was it that when she dressed simply Miss Thibeau’s attire made her feel too plain, and now that Miss Thibeau had dressed simply her own attire seemed fussy and overdone? Elisabeth sighed.

  But from the moment the opera began Elisabeth forgot Miss Thibeau in her absorption in the story unfolding before her. How wonderful it was to hear the singing as part of a story acted out before her very eyes instead of only hearing arias taken from an opera and performed in isolation! Elisabeth was entranced.

  Apparently the rest of the audience agreed, for even jaded operagoers were quiet this night as they saw Mozart’s Don Giovanni performed, most for the first time. Enthralled, the audience lost itself in the nocturnal adventures of the fickle Don Giovanni.

  When the first act ended about forty-five minutes later with Don Giovanni escaping, sword in hand, after being denounced by his friends, Elisabeth leaned back in her seat and sighed again, this time from happiness.

  “I believe you are enjoying the performance, Miss Ashwood?” Lord Sherbourne asked with a twinkle.

  “Oh yes!” Elisabeth replied. “What riches, to be able to hear such music performed by those who devote their lives to it! I would think Londoners would be at the opera every night.”

  “Not every opera is of this quality,” Lord Sherbourne cautioned. “This performance is exceptional. I believe it is the best I have ever seen. Londoners owe Hunt a debt of gratitude for bringing this opera to their city.”

  “I do not quite understand why the theater did not wish to put it on,” Elisabeth confessed.

  “It was because of a feeling that operas by composers other than Mozart better fit the taste of the London audience. Although it appears from the reaction of the Londoners at this performance tonight that those who lobbied against the production of the opera were greatly mistaken.”

  People from the audience were beginning to move about, those in boxes leaving them to visit acquaintances in others. The Duke of Norland was the first to arrive at Lady Parker’s box, followed shortly afterward by James Earlywine. With the arrival of James to keep Elisabeth company, Sherbourne made his excuses and left to greet various acquaintances he had noticed in their boxes. Within a few minutes, Elisabeth was dismayed to see Lord Sherbourne’s unmistakable figure in Miss Thibeau’s box. James noticed the direction of Elisabeth’s gaze and heard her indrawn breath.

  “You must not mind,” he said in a kindly, low voice, seeing that Lady Parker and the duke were absorbed in their own conversation. “It is the custom to greet those acquaintances one knows in other boxes during intervals.”

  “How can I not mind?” Elisabeth dared to counter. “Miss Thibeau is so excessively beautiful, and she is a talented artist as well.”

  “One may admire beauty and talent without it lessening one’s admiration of the same qualities in others,” James pointed out. “Do you not admire the poet Mr. Shelley?”

  Elisabeth confessed that she did.

  “Does that affect your esteem for Sherbourne?”

  “No, Mr. Earlywine. It does not,” Elisabeth had to allow.

  “It is the same thing,” James said reassuringly. “Sherbourne may admire Miss Thibeau’s beauty and talent but that does not mean he admires yours any less.”

  “Perhaps,” Elisabeth allowed, still unconvinced. Privately she thought Mr. Earlywine’s argument would have more force if she had talent and beauty but Elisabeth was too honest and too modest to imagine herself to have either.

  “Come with me back to our box,” James proposed, desirous of cheering Elisabeth up. “M’sister wishes to have a moment to speak with you.”

  Politely, Elisabeth agreed, and after asking permission of Lady Parker accompanied James to the Earlywine’s box, where she was persuaded to remain for the remainder of the interval, only returning to Lady Parker’s box as the music heralding the second act began. Elisabeth slipped back into her place beside Lady Parker and immediately became lost to her surroundings, seeing only the world unfolding on the stage below. Not until Giovanni was devoured by flames and Elvira proclaimed her intention to enter a convent did Elisabeth stir.

  Elisabeth and Lady Parker both slept late the morning after the opera, not meeting in the morning room until nearly eleven.

  “I was happy to see you enjoying the opera,” Lady Parker commented to Elisabeth as they c
onsumed their late breakfast with relish. “It is one of the few advantages the city has over the country, I believe.”

  “Yes, there is no comparison in the quality of musical performance that is available,” Elisabeth acknowledged. “I believe the performance last night was something I will remember for the rest of my life. I am so grateful for the opportunity to hear it.”

  “I am pleased we were able to give you such pleasure,” Lady Parker returned politely.

  “Miss Ashwood,” Lady Parker essayed after a moment of silence, “might I speak to you frankly?”

  “Of course, Lady Parker,” Elisabeth said, pushing her plate back and giving her sponsor her full attention.

  “I believe that at first you might not have been entirely reconciled to coming to town for the Season but I hope I am not mistaken in my feeling that lately you have become much more content?”

  “I had not been away from my family’s estate before,” Elisabeth answered carefully, not wishing to offend Lady Parker. “So it has taken me some time to adjust but there are many things here in London I have been enjoying and I have also been pleased to become more closely acquainted with you and Lord Sherbourne.”

  “I am pleased to hear it,” Lady Parker said frankly. “I know what it can be to leave all one is familiar with and go to a strange place. Although I had my brother with me, when I first arrived in India I was excessively melancholic. It took me many months to accustom myself to living in such a different place.”

  “If I may ask, why did you choose to go to India?” Elisabeth asked curiously.

  “I suppose there were two reasons,” Lady Parker answered consideringly. “I was excessively attached to Richard, he being nearer to me in age than our elder brother, and also I thought it would be a great adventure. It certainly was that,” she finished with a rueful laugh.