Sylvia Andrew – Eleanor (страница 2)

‘Happiness is not the sole aim of marriage, Eleanor. Not even the chief aim.’

‘Isn’t it? I think it is the only one.’

‘What nonsense you talk! Pray be serious for one moment! If you would only put yourself into my hands I could almost certainly find you a suitable husband here in London.’

‘Well, then, I promise you, when I feel the need of one I shall come to you first of all! But for now I shall look around me and enjoy the spectacle of London society amusing itself. The memory of it will console my tame country evenings.’

Lady Walcot shook her head at her niece’s refusal to be serious, but decided to say no more, and they resumed their walk down the room. It was a magnificent apartment, lavishly furnished in red velvet with a richly decorated white and gold ceiling. Eleanor found it slightly overpowering—vulgar even, but dared not say so. The chandelier was lovely, though. She looked up at it as they passed, and nearly walked into her aunt as that lady suddenly stopped. The stranger from the other side of the room was standing in front of them.

‘Lady Walcot—’ Eleanor’s aunt looked coldly at the gentleman but said nothing. He continued, ‘We met at my cousin’s house in Berkeley Square. My name is Guthrie. I should like to ask your companion to dance with me.’

‘Thank you, sir, but my niece does not intend to dance this evening—not at the moment, at least,’ said Lady Walcot frostily.

Perhaps the gentlemen saw Eleanor’s astonishment, for he made no move to go, but said gently, ‘Forgive me, but how can you possibly know? You haven’t even asked her.’

‘I would not dream of doing so, sir. I know that to have any closer acquaintance with a man such as yourself would be as abhorrent to her as it would to me, or to any woman of principle. And now you must excuse us, if you please. Come, Eleanor!’ She took Eleanor’s arm and almost dragged her niece away. Eleanor couldn’t help casting a glance over her shoulder at the stranger to see his reaction to this massive set-down. He was gazing after them with the same ironical smile on his face. Then he shrugged and walked calmly towards the door to the rooms where the card tables were to be found.

‘My dear aunt, you must, you really must explain! I shall explode with curiosity if you do not! Who is this monster called Guthrie? You and Lady Dorothy were talking about him before, were you not? What has he done that puts him so far beyond the pale? Tell me!’

Lady Walcot hesitated, then shook her head. She and Eleanor were sitting at one of a number of small tables which had been placed in the conservatory, and Lord Walcot, who had joined them for supper, was fetching some refreshment.

‘That is impossible, Eleanor. The story is not a suitable one, but at the risk of setting your back up I assure you that that man is not a fit acquaintance for you.’

‘Oh, come! I am not a simple schoolroom miss. As Lady Dorothy so kindly said, I am well past my first season! I need a better reason than that for not being allowed to dance with him!’

Lady Walcot looked even more determined. ‘I am afraid that you must do without one, Eleanor. All I will say is that his treatment of the Anstey family has been wicked.’

‘Can you tell me, at least, who these Ansteys are?’

‘Mrs Anstey and her younger daughter, Marianne, are sitting over there in the far corner. The poor woman is trying to make herself inconspicuous.’

Eleanor turned her head a fraction and saw a pale, sweet-faced woman in black, almost hidden by the overhanging branch of a potted palm. Next to her sat a very beautiful girl in a pale blue dress. ‘Marianne Anstey is exquisite! She looks like a fairy princess!’

‘Absolutely lovely, I agree. They have aroused a great deal of attention since their arrival from America. The girl is certain to make a good marriage, although they are as poor as church mice, and totally dependent on their relatives.’

‘What did Mr Guthrie do?’

‘I cannot discuss it now—here is your uncle. All you really need to know is that the man is a scoundrel.’

‘Who is this scoundrel?’ asked Lord Walcot. ‘No, let me guess. Jonas Guthrie, without a doubt. Why can’t you leave him alone, Hetty? From what he says, Guthrie has decided to leave London soon and retire to the country. And I must say I don’t blame him! Lady Dorothy and her cronies—’

‘Cronies!’

‘I beg your pardon, my dear, I forgot you were one of them—I should have said her friends! You’ve all been making life impossible for the poor devil with your scandalous stories about the Ansteys—not that he needs anyone’s sympathy; he’s well able to take care of himself.’

Eleanor, swift to seize her opportunity, asked, ‘You do not agree with the stories, then, Uncle?’

‘We don’t know enough of the matter to judge, my dear. It’s possible that Guthrie is a villain—I suspect he’s no weakling, and he certainly isn’t a fool—but I have found him to be perfectly straightforward in his dealings with me.’

‘Are you suggesting that that sweet woman is not telling the truth when she says that Jonas Guthrie is the cause of all her misfortunes?’ asked Lady Walcot, bristling.

‘Not at all. I’m certain Mrs Anstey believes every word she tells you. How much she understands of business affairs is another matter. But this is the most idle speculation, and not fit for an evening of enjoyment! Come, Eleanor, if your aunt won’t do her duty and find you a partner, I shall dance with you myself.’

Since Lord Walcot was generally considered to be the best performer of the waltz in London, Eleanor rose with alacrity and accompanied her uncle into the ballroom. Though she looked somewhat nervously around her in case Mr Guthrie should be watching, there was no trace of him. He had not, it seemed, found anyone else to dance with. Perhaps he had not tried?

They returned to her uncle’s house in South Audley Street that evening without any further mention of Mr Guthrie. But her aunt’s somewhat high-handed action had roused Eleanor’s spirit and she was determined to find out more about him. She waited until Lady Walcot was in her bedroom and then went along to visit her. They discussed the evening for a moment or two, then Eleanor said, ‘About Mr Guthrie, Aunt…?’

‘Why are you so fascinated by the subject of Mr Guthrie? I would much rather forget him—he is an unworthy topic of conversation.’

‘But you must see that I am consumed with curiosity! Now that we are private, can you not tell me why you refused to let me dance with him, when just a minute before you had said you would find me a partner? I am not Bella, Aunt Hetty. I am not accustomed to being treated like a child.’

Lady Walcot looked in affectionate exasperation at her niece. ‘My dear Eleanor, you may be six-and-twenty, but you are still a young, unmarried woman! Oh, I know that you have been more or less in charge of Stanyards ever since you were a girl. I am sure anyone would admire the devoted manner in which you have looked after your mother—’

‘There is no cause for admiration there, Aunt Hetty—I adore her!’

‘—and managed the Stanyards estate—’

‘I adore that, too!’

‘Be quiet and let me finish, Eleanor!’ said her aunt, smiling. But she quickly grew serious again. ‘I have been thinking for some time that I should say something to you, and this seems to be a good occasion. Come and sit by me, my dear.’ She thought for a moment, then, taking one of Eleanor’s hands in hers, she said carefully, ‘The…somewhat unusual circumstances of your upbringing have given you an independence of mind which you do not trouble to hide. And of course this same independence has recently stood you in good stead while you have struggled to keep the Stanyards estate going. But, sadly, it is not generally regarded as a desirable quality in a young woman, and I fear it does not endear you to prospective suitors—nor to society in general.’

‘Father always said I should think for myself, Aunt Hetty—’

Lady Walcot gave a small exclamation of impatience and said with sisterly scorn, ‘Your father always had his head too high in the clouds to be a judge of anything. I don’t suppose it ever occurred to him that that is the last thing to teach a young girl! Neither he nor your mother ever had the slightest idea of what goes on in the real world.’

Eleanor removed her hand. ‘We were very happy, all the same.’

‘But what now? Here you are—a very pretty girl, but six-and-twenty and no sign of a husband. Why on earth didn’t they insist that that brother of yours run the estate if your father didn’t wish to? Why leave it to you? It is no occupation for a woman!’

‘Since both my father and my brother are now dead, it is difficult for them to reply, Aunt Hetty,’ said Eleanor, colouring up. ‘I loved my father, and my brother, just as they were. And I love looking after Stanyards—I always have.’ She got up and moved away. ‘Moreover, I came here to talk about Mr Guthrie, not about the shortcomings of my family.’

Aware that she had overstepped the mark in criticising her brother to his daughter, Lady Walcot accepted Eleanor’s reproach with grace. She said gently, ‘My dear, I was trying to help you, believe me. I wish you would abandon this interest in Mr Guthrie. It might be well to think over what I have said about your own behaviour, rather than speculating on that of a known scoundrel. I want to see you settled—married, with a future which is secure, not tied to an ailing estate.’