THE NEXT MORNING, LAURA WAS awaiting Mrs. Woodruff and her daughters, who would call for her to come with them on a drive. Laura went upstairs to ask Elspeth if she had any commission for her in the village.
She passed through her own room and tiptoed into their shared dressing room, not wanting to disturb Elspeth if she was still asleep. The door from the dressing room into Elspeth’s bedroom swung silently ajar on oiled hinges, and Laura heard her sister’s voice.
“Her pride will never let her admit it, but I saw how she enjoyed her success last night.”
The countess could be heard to giggle and Laura flushed, in the dimness of the little room. She was about to creep out but was arrested by the shock of her sister’s next words.
“The physician unearthed by my brother is full of praise for the state of matrimony.”
She betrays me! thought Laura.
“He has the highest credentials, having trained with Pinel, in Paris, you know.”
“Monsieur Pinel, indeed! Is he not in a rage for treating lunatics with kindness?”
“It seems she does not require chaining up, for marriage to our dear Turtle would cure her ills.” There was more laughter.
The countess said, “In what way is that happy state to cure your sister of her fancies?”
She knows! A flood of heat rose to Laura’s face. She feared to move lest she betray her presence.
“Fancies, indeed!” tittered Elspeth. “How very kind you are, my dear, dear Amelia.” Dr. Mellbone opines that the loneliness of my sister’s life has produced a state of … what did he call it? … Alienation of Mind. How scholarly that sounds.”
Both women giggled.
“Go on.”
“It seems the happiness of obtaining that worthwhile object—the husband—will cure her of her delusions.”
“You still do not tell me how, my love, but I know the masculine mind well enough to guess. Not a man amongst them thinks we women can keep our sanity without their attentions in … private!”
Both the women subsided into laughter, until Elspeth said, “One can only hope the gentleman is … suited to his task.”
“It is a pity she did not marry the earl,” said his lady. “He is very … robust in the delivery of sanity to a lady.”
The scandalised note in Elspeth’s laugh seemed all pretence. After a moment or two, she said, “My adored old husband deserved the highest praise for his efforts, but I know not that I have received, in full, the husband’s cure for madness.”
“You alarm me!”
“Should I begin to show signs of derangement, my dear, I hope you will be kind enough to dispatch me.”
“I shall buy the dearest little pearl-handled pistol for the very purpose—unless you would prefer to borrow the earl as insurance?”
“That is a generous offer indeed, but I am of too delicate a constitution to survive his cure.”
“Of course—the pistol it must be.”
Had she held the dainty weapon, Laura felt she could have pulled the trigger herself. Quietly—for she could not bear them to hear her—she tiptoed to the door at the side of the room, which led into her own chamber. There she sank into her armchair to brood on what she had heard. Her feelings were in turmoil. She recoiled from her sister’s betrayal—not only in revealing, but making a joke of what was to be a family secret.
After this, can I reside with her? How can I live with her barbed references to the past? With the knowledge of her treachery?
I cannot leave Oakmont with her—I cannot.
I am mortified. What choices do I have?
Can I live with Edward? Will my brother, too, tell his beloved of my misadventures?
Will they laugh over it in secret?
The picture arose in her mind of the enchanting young Evalina, eyes opening wide, as she heard the story of her sister-in-law’s madness.
My God, no! Only Richard does not judge me.
She hastened downstairs to find her brother in the hall, about to go out. She caught his arm.
“What is it, Laura?”
“I am ready, Edward. I wish to sign the contract now—at once.”
His eyes sparked at the news; he doffed his hat and threw off his cloak, embracing Laura. “This is wonderful,” he said. “I will send my own servant for the attorney.”
“Michael!” he shouted, though the footman stood but ten feet away.
“Yes, Captain.”
“Tell Griffiths to come at once—he will take my horse on an urgent errand.” He went into the library and Laura followed him.
“Is all this necessary, Edward? Why wait for the attorney?”
The captain looked up from writing his note. “All will be done according to form, Laura.”
Two minutes later, Griffiths was riding at full speed to the town, while servants were sent in search of the baronet.
Laura, at the eye of the storm, was still and silent.
The occasion was celebrated with Oakmont’s best wines at dinner. The evening passed. Laura smiled, laughed, looked suitably modest during the gentlemen’s speeches in her praise. Locked within her were other feelings; she knew not what they were. She intended never to name them.
After the ladies went up to bed, the two men stood side by side outside the great door, looking at the moonlight.
“Tomorrow, you are to be wed,” said Sir Richard, putting his hand on his cousin’s shoulder. “The weeks have flown since you threw us all into confusion with your announcement.”
“Indeed they have.” Edward turned to his cousin. “When are you to follow me to the altar, Richard?”
“Ah! When? Laura has promised to name the day very soon.” He did not meet Edward’s eyes, as he laughed self-consciously, saying, “Then I will be the happiest of men!”
Edward was silent, puzzled by something in his cousin’s expression—his beaming smile looked rigid and his forehead creased with a slight frown.
Sir Richard cleared his throat and said, too loudly, “I cannot tell another bridegroom that I am the happiest! Ha! Ha!”
Edward put his hand on Sir Richard’s shoulder. “My dear fellow, you do not …?” His voice trailed off.
“Not in the least!” Sir Richard blushed. “At least, I don’t know what you were going to say.”
The captain could not speak for a moment. Then he said, “I cannot express my gratitude to you.”
“Nay … nay … Speak not of gratitude. Let us pay full honour to Laura.”
Edward nodded. “Then good night, Richard.”
“Yes, indeed. Good night.”
Edward went back into the house and slowly mounted the stairs. His question hung in his mind as it had hung in the air between them. Instinctively he felt that Richard regretted his engagement. Yet there could be no withdrawing from it—the gossip would be the destruction of what was left of his sister’s pride.
Damnation, he thought. We pushed them into it. I always believed that Richard loved her—in his quiet, passionless way.
He went into his room and stood musing as his valet, half-yawning, helped him off with his coat.
“Go to bed now, you poor fellow. I meant to tell you not to wait up for me.”
The servant hung up the jacket and left the room.
Edward stood at the window and stared out into the night.
What a success Laura had been at the ball! It was plain that all in the district were eager to see her installed as mistress of Oakmont. He thought for a moment about Laura’s past predicament. Ever since she was got away from Lyme, nothing untoward had occurred. The servants thought she saw a ghost—but it turned out that she was merely musing. She mistook Mr. Woodruff for Mr. Templeton in the Hollow—and Jenner had explained that as commonplace. Elspeth had mentioned a sketch that Laura had forgotten she had torn up, or some such thing. Yet he was beginning to see that Elspeth was swayed by motives of her own.
No, he thought, in Lyme, Laura’s sense of what is real abandoned her; but here at Oakmont, she is safe.
Edward looked out on the sloping meadow, silvery in the moonlight. All is well, he thought.
Before his eyes, his favourite image of Evalina arose—of when he saw her in the woods at Lewton Hall. How his heart had leapt at the sight of her! Young, beautiful and ardent as she was, she loved him. Before he encountered her, his laughter had become hollow and his feelings worn out. Now she gave him back all the pride and optimism he had lost in the war. Not one marriage in twenty, he believed, began with such a passionate yearning to be together.