The Obedient Bride Part 5

Frances smiled at him.

Arabella too was pleased with her partners. Even the first set she had enjoyed. It was, of course, her very first dance at her very first ball. And she danced it with the most handsome gentleman in the rooma"she had seen several female eyes turn his way. And he was her husband. She forgot about her inadequacy. She was wearing one of her new gowns, and her maid had curled her hair prettily, and she had lost three pounds of weight, she was sure. Best of all, she did not have to converse with his lordship while dancing with him, so did not have to face the ordeal of feeling tongue-tied.

She danced with Lord Farraday and relaxed to his easy manner and humorous stories about his sisters. She laughed when he told her he had lost his mother and grandmother again on Bond Street that morning. And she danced too with Sir John Charlton. That was perhaps the only set she did not fully enjoy. She felt uncomfortable with him. Was it just because he was undeniably good-looking? she asked herself. But she thought not. He was not nearly so handsome as his lordship.

"You have recently married, ma'am?" he asked. "Is it to your marriage that we owe the pleasure of your presence in town?"

"My husband has brought me here, sir," she said. "I go wherever he chooses to go, of course."

"Then I owe Lord Astor a debt of grat.i.tude," he said, "for bringing such a lovely lady to partic.i.p.ate in the activities of the Season."

Arabella noted with some misgiving that he did not smile or name Frances. He was looking full at her.

"I am fortunate to be here myself," he said, "since I have just left the house of my aged uncle, the Earl of Haig. I am his heir, you know. He is fond of me and hated to see me leave. But I am very glad now that I did."

"I hope you left him in good health," Arabella said politely.

She was glad when the dance came to an end.

7.

Lord Astor had returned Frances to his aunt's side after the quadrille, spent a few minutes talking to a group of acquaintances, and was now standing watching the dancers. He had spent some time in the card room earlier, but he had not played. He had stood and watched. And he had wandered back into the ballroom and not danced, except the first set with his wife and the previous one with his sister-in-law. He was bored.

No, not bored exactly. Restless. He was not particularly enjoying his marriage. It was not nearly what he had expected. He had planned it with great nonchalance, expecting that once the business of the wedding and settling his wife in his home was done, he would be able to carry on with his life as it had been for the previous six years. The only difference would be that there would be a wife to dine with occasionally and bed at night, and children in his nursery eventually.

His marriage was not developing at all like that. He watched Arabella gloomily as she danced the steps of the Roger de Coverley with a gangly youth who looked as if he had never seen a dancing master in his life. Arabella was smiling dazzlingly up into his long, pale face, and succeeding in dancing gracefully despite his clumsiness.

She appeared to be doing well enough at the ball. Indeed, when he had asked her at the end of the opening set to write his name in her card next to the supper dance, she had told him first that that dance was taken, and then that there were no dances left for him to have. Except the waltzes that she was unable to do, of course.

It had been the perfect excuse for him. He should have been able to take himself off to the card room and become involved in playing for the rest of the evening. He should have been able to enjoy himself without either a concern for his wife or a thought to his married state for several blissful hours.

But he had found himself unable to do so. What if one of her partners failed to claim his dance? She would be left partnerless, feeling like a wallflower at her first ball. He could not allow such a thing to happen to Arabella. And what if there were some gossip about her indiscretion of the morning? He must be there to turn it off carelessly, mentioning the fact that her ladyship had sent her maid home ahead of her from the park for some reason.

It was quite absurd, of course. Not only was Arabella clearly enjoying herself, but she was also well-supplied with company. When he had returned her sister to Aunt Hermione a few minutes before, Arabella had been there too, but she had been deep in animated conversation with a group of two ladies and three gentlemen, two of them men he did not know himself. He only hoped that she had been properly presented to them. He was pleasantly surprised by the ease with which she seemed to fit into the society around her.

Really, Lord Astor thought, looking critically at his wife as she continued to smile and talk to the gangly youth, she did look good. His compliment to her earlier had been largely designed to set her at her ease, but there was truth in it too. If he were seeing her for the first time tonight, he might even call her pretty. The simple design and pale shade of her yellow silk gown showed off the pleasing feminine curves of her tiny body. Her short hair became her and looked pretty with yellow ribbon threaded through the curls. He had dissuaded her from buying plumes, which she had thought would give her some needed height and which even his aunt had thought would make her look more distinguished. Although the majority of ladies at the ball wore them, they would have looked ludicrous on Arabella.

Lord Astor caught the eye of an elderly matron who sat nearby with another lady of his acquaintance. He inclined his head and strolled over to exchange civilities with them. A few minutes pa.s.sed before he turned away again, his ears having been a.s.sailed with congratulations on his recent marriage and compliments on the looks and vivacity of his wife.

It was not just this evening that he was having difficulty forgetting his marriage and his responsibilities, he thought, singling out Arabella from the dancing throngs again. It seemed to happen constantly. He could enjoy his clubs, his visits to Tattersallas, the occasional attendance at the races, his frequent mornings at Jackson's. But he found himself often hesitating over joining his friends at any activity that would keep him from home for any long period of time. There had been the boxing mill, for example, that would have taken him from home for one night. There was no reason whatsoever why he should not have gone, since Arabella had her sister for company, and anyway, the two of them had been invited to join a theater party that evening that did not include him. But he had not gone.

He was annoyed with himself. Worst of all was the fact that he was beginning not to enjoy his afternoons with Ginny as much as he had used to do. He had been remarkably contented with her for a year, although there had been other females too on occasion, and he was certainly the envy of many men of his acquaintance. She was beautiful and very desirable to the eye, in addition to being a cut above the average kept mistress. Ginny was a singer much in demand at private parties.

He tried to put his wife from his mind whenever he crossed the threshold of Ginny's lavish establishment, which he had provided for her. Certainly he needed her. No robust male could be expected to satisfy his appet.i.tes with the restrained and respectable beddings that were all he would allow himself with his wife. And Ginny was enough to make any man forget even his own name when she was aroused to pa.s.siona"a state that was not difficult to induce in her.

Why was it, then, that the last time he had been with her he had caught himself at the most energetic and usually most mindless moment of his performance wondering if Arabella were as attached to the scuffed leather saddle she used as she was to the horse beneath it, or if she would like a new one. And after his second effort with Ginny, in which he had succeeded a little better in blanking his mind to his wife, he had lain awake when he had wanted to sleep, picturing in his mind that upward-curving lip of Arabella's and the white, even teeth beneath it, and wondering idly if there would be any pleasure in kissing her mouth. He had never done so.

The set was ending. Both Lord Astor and his wife seemed to be surprised when the gangly youth escorted her to him rather than to Lady Berry and Frances, who were a little way off.

Lord Astor clasped his hands behind him. "You dance very well, Arabella," he said. "Are you enjoying yourself?"

"Thank you, my lord," she said. "Yes, I am. I expected that everyone here would be very grand and would dance divinely. But really, some people are quite ordinary. Poor Mr. Browning was very apologetic when he led me into the last set. In fact, he suggested that we sit out because he claims to have two left feet. But that is silly, as I told him. In a room that is so crowded, no one is going to single him out to notice that he does not dance quite as well as some of the other gentlemen. And he did not once step on my feet as he was afraid of doing. And I am no expert myself, as I was willing to tell him."

Lord Astor was amused. He enjoyed his wife's occasional bursts of speech in his presence. She was usually so quiet with him. He waited for the now-familiar blush and return to silence.

"The next set is a waltz," he said. "Would you care to stroll with me out on the balcony, Arabella?"

"Oh," she said, her head to one side. "I have promised to sit with Mr. Lincoln because he cannot dance at all. There is something wrong with his leg, though I do not know what. He limps."

"He had an illness as a child," Lord Astor said. "It has left him permanently lame."

"Poor man," she said. "Though he seems quite cheerful. With some people a handicap is not a thing to be pitied, is it? Some people rise above it. But I am sorry, my lord, about the walk. Do you mind?"

"Not at all," he said with a bow. "I was merely concerned that you not be alone during the waltz. Frances, I see, is in company with several other young ladies who are not yet allowed to waltz."

Arabella's face brightened as she looked at her sister. "Frances is a great success, is she not?" she said. "But then, I knew she would be. She is so lovely. She has always been the beauty of the family, you know. I am very proud of her. You must wish..." She smiled quickly up at him, and the expected blush and look of confusion came at last.

"I wish you had learned to waltz or that I had known earlier and could have taught you," he said, "so that I might take you away from Mr. Lincoln, Arabella." He took her gloved hand and laid it on the brocaded sleeve of his evening coat. "Do you see him? I shall take you to him."

Arabella was trying to write a letter to her mother before Frances joined her in the morning room the next day. It was not easy to do when there was all the excitement of the previous evening to convey in writing. She had enjoyed herself enormously and really had not had a spare moment in which to dwell upon the fact that she must look very much plainer and plumper and more childish than all the other ladies. She had danced every set she was able, and had had company for each of the waltzes. Lady Berry had even presented her to Lady Jersey, one of the patronesses of Almack's, and that lady had condescended to incline her head to her and congratulate her on her recent marriage to Lord Astor.

How was she to write it all down on paper, so that Mama and Jemima might almost see the ballroom and all the splendor of its occupants? How would she convey all the triumph she and Frances had felt at being so noticed by ladies and gentlemen alike? How could she describe just how very beautiful Frances had looked?

When the subject of her thoughts entered the room, Arabella put her quill pen down with care and gave up even the attempt to write. Frances had agreed the day before that they would both write to Mama this morning, but she had that dreamy look in her eyes that Arabella knew of old. There would be no writing for either of them for a while.

"How can you possibly be up early every morning even after such a late night, Bella?" Frances asked, yawning delicately behind her hand.

"I cannot waste the best part of the day," Arabella said. "I had to take George for a walk." She flushed. "His lordship came with me this morning."

"Dear Bella." Frances' eyes had their familiar brightness, a look that was usually a prelude to tears. "I never fail to marvel and to thank heaven for your sake that his lordship turned out to be the son of the man we expected. He is very attentive, is he not? I am so pleased for you. I cannot think of anyone who deserves happiness more than you. I shall never forget the sacrifice you made for me."

"Well, it turned out to be no sacrifice after all, did it not?" Arabella said briskly, noting that Frances was pulling a handkerchief out of her pocket. She recalled the discomfort she had felt earlier that morning, knowing that his lordship had accompanied her to the park only to give her respectability when he would doubtless have preferred to be at the breakfast table with his daily paper. And he had called George bad-mannered and had insisted on taking the lead in his own hand just because the poor dog could not get to the park fast enough and was threatening to pull her arm from its socket.

"You were a great success last night," she said in an attempt to divert Frances' mind from its sad contemplation of the sacrifice. "I declare, if there had been twice as many sets as there were, there would still have been gentlemen clamoring to dance with you."

Frances dabbed at her eyes and put her handkerchief away. "I do think it tiresome that I cannot waltz, though, Bella," she said. "I am twenty years old, after all."

"Lady Berry has promised to try to get us vouchers for Almack's," Arabella said. "And I was presented to Lady Jersey last night. Perhaps soon you will be granted permission. Until then you may not waltz, so there is no point in lamenting the fact. His lordship has said that in the meantime he will teach us both the steps."

Frances sighed. "You are fortunate in being married to one of the handsomest gentlemen of the (on, Bella," she said. "I thought there would be many more in town, but really the gentlemen here are not a great deal handsomer than those at home, are they?"

Arabella laughed. "And glad I am of it," she said. "I should positively quail if everyone was as splendid as his lordship."

"Sir John Charlton is very handsome," Frances said. "Did you know he is heir to the Earl of Haig, Bella? His uncle. And the earl is elderly. Sir John said he would call on me this afternoon. We do not have any plans for being from home, do we?"

"No," Arabella said with a frown. "Do you like Sir John, Frances? I danced with him too. He is very good-looking, indeed. But do you not think he knows it rather too well?"

"If he does, he has good reason to be somewhat vain," her sister said. "He is so very fashionable, Bella. He quite puts most other gentlemen in the shade."

Including Theodore, Arabella thought rather sadly. If it were not for Theodore, she might not have been so eager to take upon herself the task of wedding Lord Astor. And she might now be comfortably at home with Mama and Jemima while Frances had all the responsibility of making his lordship comfortable. Not that Frances would have to make any effort to do so, of course. He would doubtless be blissfully happy with Frances as his bride.

The thought was thoroughly depressing. And surprisingly, the thought that she might be at home comfortably free of the necessity of being Lord Astor's wife brought with it no longing. Only a strange and quite unexpected grat.i.tude to a providence that had kept from her family an essential truth that might have changed the whole course of her life.

Arabella did not pause to explore the feeling. "Will you write to Mama or to Jemima?" she asked. "We really should try to be finished before luncheon, Frances. I let several people last night know what we would be at home this afternoon. Perhaps we will have visitors."

But her hopes of letter-writing were dashed when a footman opened the door and the butler bowed himself into the room behind an enormous bouquet that had arrived for Frances from one of her dancing partners of the evening before.

Frances shrieked and Arabella proceeded to clean her pen.

The day after the ball, Lord Astor arrived home in the middle of the afternoon to find his drawing room almost crowded with visitors. He was not surprised to find his aunt there. She had quite adopted his wife and his sister-in-law and rarely allowed a day to pa.s.s without calling on them or inviting them to join her in some diversion. It was to be expected too that several of Frances' lady friends should call, most of them with their mothers. And Sir John Charlton had been clearly taken with Frances the night before and had understandably called this afternoon, bringing Farraday with him.

What was perhaps somewhat more surprising was that Hubbard was there, and the gangly youth who could not dance. Lord Astor had not noticed the night before that either had shown a marked preference for Frances. And indeed, both seemed quite satisfied to be in conversation with Arabella. He could see at a glance, before she saw him, that she was talking to them with great animation.

He bowed to a group of ladies seated with his aunt, and resigned himself to a few minutes of conversation with them. He had come home to take Arabella into the park in his curricle. He would take a different carriage if his sister-in-law did not have anything to do and needed to be included in the invitation, but he had suspected that someone would turn up to take her driving or walking.

It was a beautiful afternoon, far too fine to be indoors. He had originally planned to spend a few hours with Ginny, but the thought of being confined for the afternoon inside her cozy, perfumed boudoir did not hold out its usual lure. He would visit her some other day, when it was raining perhaps, or when Arabella was otherwise engaged.

Lord Astor settled rather impatiently to outwait the visitors. He caught his wife's eye after a couple of minutes and smiled. She returned his smile, blushed, and faltered in her conversation. He turned his attention back to what Mrs. Soames was saying, quelling a twinge of annoyance. What was it about him that Arabella shied away from? He had never been unkind to her. Why could she not talk to him except when she appeared to forget who he was? She seemed always able to talk to other people. Yet he was her husband. Did she find him uninteresting?

Arabella was busily a.s.suring Mr. Browning that even if his tailor was not Weston, his coat looked remarkably dashing. After all, she said quite reasonably, if all gentlemen patronized only Weston, how would other tailors make a living? And sometimes one man could gain a reputation undeservedly. Other, unknown tailors might be quite as excellent as the famous man himself.

Mr. Browning looked somewhat rea.s.sured as Arabella smiled and nodded at him.

"I do not go to Weston myself," Mr. Hubbard said, "ever since he looked down his nose at me as if I were a worm when I offered to pay a bill on delivery of a waistcoat. A true gentleman will leave his bill unpaid for at least half a year, it seems, and then pay only in part."

"Well, how very ridiculous," Arabella said. "I do not blame you for refusing to encourage such nonsense, sir. So you see, Mr. Browning, you must not always fear that you are unfashionable. You must remember that Mr. Hubbard has a different tailor, and no one would say that he is unfashionable, would they?"

Mr. Browning looked even more cheered. Mr. Hubbard's cynical mouth quirked into a smile for a brief moment as he looked at Arabella's bright expression.

"May I take this seat, ma'am?" Lord Farraday asked, indicating an empty one beside Arabella. "I was walking all morninga"on Bond Street again. I cannot think what keeps those ladies of mine so busy at the shops. After admiring a fan in one, they can walk the length of the street admiring a dozen others, and then decide to return for the first one, only to discover when they get there that it is not nearly as pretty as they had thought." He grinned.

"Please do sit down," Arabella said. "We simply must find out from you if you patronize Weston, my lord. If you do not, I believe we have won our point, for your coat looks remarkably fashionable."

"It takes two footmen and his valet to pour him into it," Mr. Hubbard said languidly.

They all laughed, and Arabella caught her husband's eye again across the room.

The guests began to drift away eventually, and finally even Lady Berry took her leave, after promising to call with her carriage the next morning to take her two charges to the library to exchange their books.

Frances was starry-eyed. "Sir John Charlton is to return later with his phaeton to take me driving in the park," she said. "Which of my new bonnets should I wear, Bella? The blue, do you think? My lord, are you quite sure that the blue parasol I brought with me to town is quite fashionable enough for Hyde Park?"

Lord Astor turned to his wife with a smile when Frances' anxieties were finally allayed. "Would you like to put on one of your new bonnets while I have the curricle brought around, Arabella?" he asked.

She flushed. "Oh, I am sorry, my lord," she said. "I have just told Mr. Browning that I will drive with him."

He inclined his head. "I hope for your sake that Mr. Browning can drive rather better than he dances," he said.

"Oh, I am sure he can, my lord," Arabella said, her expression serious. "He did not have the advantage of a dancing master, you see, because his grandfather raised him and would never send him away to school or allow him to a.s.sociate with other children of his own age. But I am sure that he learned to ride and handle a conveyance."

"Well," Lord Astor said, "you had better go and get ready, then."

"It is all right?" she asked, looking anxiously up at him. "Aunt Hermione has a.s.sured me that it is quite unexceptionable for a married lady to be accompanied by a single gentleman in a public place. She even said that a lady will be considered positively rustic if she does not cultivate male acquaintances and that her husband will find her tiresome if she relies on him always to escort her everywhere. You are not angry, my lord?"

"Of course I am not angry, Arabella," he said. "Run along now. Perhaps I shall take you and your sister to the theater again tonight. There is to be a different play."

"Oh." Her face looked stricken. Her fingertips covered her mouth. "Mrs. Harris has invited Frances and me to accompany her and Adelaidea"her daughter and Frances' friend, you knowa"to Mrs. Sheldon's literary salon. The conversation there is very superior, she says, though it sounds to me as if it might be tedious. I would far prefer the theater, my lord, but I cannot go back on my word now, can I?"

"Of course you cannot," Lord Astor said with a somewhat stiff bow. "I am pleased that you are so well-occupied, Arabella. If you are sure that you have plenty of diversions for the rest of today, I shall keep a dinner engagement that I was prepared to break."

"By all means, my lord," she said, brightening. "Please do not let me be the cause of your breaking your promise."

Less than an hour later, Lord Astor was on his way to his mistress's house, congratulating himself on having a part of the afternoon and all of the evening in which to relax and enjoy her company. And he would not even have to feel the guilt of wondering if Arabella was at home, bored and unoccupied. He did not drive through the park, although doing so would have taken him just as quickly and by a far more scenic route to his destination. Somehow he had forgotten that the sky was blue, the sun warm, and the trees and gra.s.s and flowers dressed out in all their spring freshness.

8.

Arabella was seated at her escritoire in the morning room, trying yet again to write the letter to her mother that had not been written the day before. If only there were not so much to think about, she felt, the task would be very much easier. She had succeeded in describing the Marquess of Ravenscourt's ball, but there was so much more to write about. Poor Mama and Jemima had never had the chance to know what life was like in towna"Papa had never been willing to make the journey even when he and Mama were younger.

But truth to tell, Arabella could not concentrate on bringing alive the splendors of the Season because she was beset by so many conflicting feelings that had no place in her letter at all. She was excited, depressed, contented, and unhappy all at the same time, and it was difficult to sort out her emotions and know what the exact state of her life was. In retrospect, life at Parkland seemed a time of incredible peace and placidity.

She had been happy in the last few days to find that after all she was being accepted by the ton. She had been somewhat afraid that she would be rejected as someone far too young and uninteresting to mingle on terms of equality with members of society. She had been convinced that people would consider her something of an impostor in her role as Lady Astor.

But it was not so. She was receiving numerous invitations, and several of them were for her alone and did not even include her husband. She knew that he had other interests. And Lady Berry had told her that husbands did not like to feel obliged to spend a great deal of their time with their wives. Lord Berry himself was living proof of that. And so she was pleased to find that she could live a life of her own and release her husband from any sense of duty that might keep him at her side. After feeling some guilt at having to reject two of his invitations the day before, it had been a relief to know that after all he had asked her only out of politeness. He had had a dinner invitation that he wished to keep.

A relief, yes. But also a little depressing. In the long-ago days of her youth she had thought of marriage as a companionship. She had pictured herself with a husband who never left her side and one with whom she could share a deep and personal friendship. That was long before her agreeing to marry Lord Astor, of course. Even so, it was depressing to know that marriage was nothing like that at all. At least the marriages she had seen in the past few weeks were not. And hers was not. Lord Astor was kind. He always made sure that she was fully occupied and properly clothed. He had bought her gifts. But for all that, there was no closeness between them. And how could there be when she was so inferior to him in every way? She continued to lose weight, but the loss of a few pounds would not transform her into a beauty.

Her problem, Arabella decided, tr.i.m.m.i.n.g her pen and preparing to write to her mother about her drive in the park the afternoon before, was that she was not always willing to accept reality. And she was very perverse. She had always felt decidedly uncomfortable in the presence of his lordship because his splendor was a continual reminder of her own plainness. The present turn of events, then, should thoroughly satisfy her. It seemed they were about to lead their own fairly separate and busy lives. There was no reason whatsoever why the idea should depress her.

She had found poor Mr. Browning, with his dreadful lack of confidence in himself, very easy to talk with during the drive in the park, and she had not given one thought to her own lack of beauty while she was with him. So there was no reason why she should have wished she was with her husband, torturing her mind for ideas of what to say to him. And at the literary salon the evening before, she had had a long and comfortable conversation with Lord Farraday and avoided having to listen to the languishing poet who tried so hard to look as gloomy and romantic as Lord Byron was reputed to be. Why should she have wished her husband was there?

And he had not come to her the night before. He was not at home when she and Frances returneda"she had asked the footman who admitted them. She had lain awake for a long time expecting him, wondering if he stayed away because he thought she was asleep, wondering if perhaps he had not come home at all. She had missed him. She had become accustomed to his visits. She liked them.

She must finish her letter before Frances came downstairs, Arabella thought, bending determinedly over it again. Once Frances came, there would be no more writing. Her sister would be either too excited or too unhappy about the news that was awaiting her. Either way, there were bound to be tears.

His lordship had accompanied her again that morning when she took George for a walk. When she had suggested that she would take a maid if he preferred to read his paper, he had a.s.sured her that he would enjoy the exercise. She had let him put the lead on George and take him along the street to the park. And indeed it did seem as if her pet behaved himself better with his lordship, as she had admitted to him when she knelt on the path inside the gate and detached the leather strap so that George could run free.

They had not talked a great deal, but she had enjoyed their stroll nevertheless. He had chosen quite freely to come. She must not feel guilty at taking him away from his breakfast.