Chapter Eleven
Tristan studied his appearance in the long mirror for several minutes. After a moment, satisfied with his appearance, he retrieved the invitation to the Belmonts from atop the bureau, then slipped it into the inner pocket of his late uncle’s dinner jacket and let out a sigh. He didn’t really want to go to the blasted dinner party, but if he was going to live in Avondale, he had to make friends with the local gentry. He was also running out of time and ideas for courting Arabella.
The previous day, Tristan and Marcus had taken the ladies to Thornton for a day out. Patrick had driven the carriage, and Jeremy had come along as protection in case Mr. Lester tried anything again. While the ladies were spending some of their new funds at the milliners and the bakers, Tristan and Marcus had found the barber shop. It had been some time since either of them had gotten a proper haircut and a proper shave. Tristan and Marcus had trimmed each other’s hair the past few years as either there had been no barber available or they lacked the funds for one. The barber had done a rather fine job and thinned Tristan’s shaggy locks, and made him look more like a gentlemen and less like a farm hand. The difference in Marcus was even more shocking; he no longer looked like a Viking but a refined gentleman.
With a final tug on his dark blue silk waistcoat, Tristan stepped out of his chamber and then walked quickly down the carpeted steps to the foyer, where Marcus gave him a nod of greeting.
“You look positively civilized now,” Marcus stated, looking him over.
“And you, good heavens, I could take you to White’s and no one would question it.” Tristan joked, and Marcus scowled. White as the epitome of ton establishments was something of a sore spot for Marcus, who loathed all things top lofty.
“I’ll find a way to make you pay for that later,” Marcus quipped then shot his friend a grin to take the sting out.
Tristan glared at Marcus, where he leaned against the wood-paneled wall, his arms folded before him. He looked rather elegant in one of his uncle’s black superfine dinner jackets, grey silk waist coats, and black breeches. Luckily, Uncle Howard had been a very large and powerful man, nearly to the end of his life, otherwise nothing would have fit either Marcus or him. Tristan’s gaze continued lower, taking in Marcus’ highly polished boots that had not a speck of dirt on them. All in all, Marcus looked like an elegant gentleman of the ton, something he ridiculed often for being lazy and cruel.
Tristan pulled his pocket watch from his waistcoat pocket to check the time, while he craned his neck to one side, then reached up to pull at his cravat. The starched white linen felt like it was choking him; he’d never liked wearing them as they always made him feel like he was being throttled.
“If you don’t stop fussing with it, I’ll have to retie it, and it took me a good five minutes to get the blasted thing right.” Marcus drawled.
“Yes, you are right of course, but you know I loathe these things,” Tristan replied. “Promise you won’t leave me alone with the Belmonts, especially Lucinda Belmont. She reminds me of a leopard waiting to pounce.” Tristan remembered his meeting with the frightful female on the road and wanted to avoid such an encounter if possible.”
“And you are the prey?” Marcus joked.
“Not if I can help it. There is only one young woman I’ve an eye to marry,” Tristan replied, thinking of the kiss he’d shared with Annabella.
“Aye, and she is a fine-looking one at that. Speaking of ladies, I hear them coming,” Marcus nodded toward the stairs.
Tristan turned his attention to the top of the stairs, and his breath came out in a rush as Arabella and Mrs. Riley appeared at the top of the steps. Arabella looked like a vision as she floated down the steps towards him, her peacock blue gown swirling about her with every step. The color of the gown set off her eyes and hair to perfection while he hugged her gentle curves. Her brilliant hair was piled atop her head in an elegant concoction of braids and curls, held in place by a peacock blue velvet ribbon. Behind her came Mrs. Riley, who looked lovely, in a dark blue silk gown, but while she was lovely all of Tristan’s attention was focused on Arabella.
“Ladies, you look lovely,” Marcus stated, stepping forward.
“Yes, yes, you both look amazing. Marcus and I will be the envy of every man there tonight.” Tristan said as the ladies reached the bottom of the steps. “And Miss Layden, you take my breath away. I knew that color would suit you to perfection.”
Arabella reached the bottom step and gave Tristan a timid smile as he stepped back, giving her room, as his gaze traveled over her. Arabella felt her heart flutter in response to Tristan’s perusal and his comments about her appearance. He made her feel truly beautiful for the first time in her life; she’d always loathed her red hair and freckles as they had been the source of constant teasing, but now she was grateful for them. Grateful that Tristan found her hair lovely while others ridiculed her for it.
“Thank you, my lord, you and Mr. Marcus both look very dashing as well,” Arabella stated truthfully. She was amazed that the elegant gentlemen before her were the same ones who’d worked shirtless in her garden.
“Thank you, Miss Layden. I have something for you.” Tristan slipped his hand into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small black velvet pouch. He opened the drawstring bag and poured the contents into his left palm. A double string of pearls glittered dully in the soft lamp light. “They were my aunts. I understand from Mrs. Jenkins that it was your birthday last week, and I would like you to have them as a belated birthday gift. I thought they would go well with your new gown.” Tristan looked up at Arabella and smiled. “Happy belated birthday.”
Tristan held the pearls out to Arabella, who covered her mouth with her left hand as she looked at the pearls in shock and awe.
“For me, but I couldn’t. They are much too fine.” Arabella protested. Her only jewelry was a simple silver locket her father had sent her for her tenth birthday; beyond that, she owned nothing. She’d never dreamed of owning diamonds or fine gowns, but it didn’t mean that being gifted something lovely by a handsome man didn’t make her heart beat faster.
“I insist, Uncle Howard thought of you as a daughter; he would have wanted you to have them,” Tristan replied. “Would you like me to put them on for you?”
“Oh, yes, please,” Arabella replied. She turned around to present Tristan her back. She stood still while Tristan placed the pearls around her neck, fumbling a moment with the catch. The feel of Tristan’s fingers and his warm breath on the back of her neck sent delicious shivers down her back.
The double strand of pearls hung just above the neckline of her gown and felt wonderful against Arabella’s skin. Arabella turned back to smile up at Tristan, delighted by her gift.
“How do they look?” She asked looking up at Tristan.
“Lovely, they look lovely as do you,” Tristan replied softly, thinking that Arabella deserved to be dressed in silks and jewels every day.
“You look like a princess Miss,” Mrs. Jenkins said.
Arabella looked up to see Jenkins and Mrs. Jenkins standing by the hall door, the children holding onto her hands.
“Thank you,” Arabella felt like a princess too; between her lovely gown and Sir Tristan’s regard, she truly felt beautiful.
“Ready, ladies?” Tristan offered her arm to Arabella while Marcus offered his to Elizabeth. Tristan looked down at Arabella and felt pride swell. With such a beautiful woman on his arm, the evening was definitely looking up.
* * * *
Tristan tried to focus on his roast beef and roasted potatoes, but it was hard when Lucinda Belmont kept leaning against him or pressing her knee against his at every opportunity. Tristan had tried to move his chair over, but could only go so far as the table leg prevented his escape. On his right was Mr. Belmont while, across from him were Mrs. Belmont and Colonel Godfrey Hamilton, late of the 100th foot in India. Tristan, Marcus, and Colonel Godfrey had been having a pleasant conversation before they had been called to dinner. Tristan had hoped to be sitting beside Arabella, or at least Marcus, during supper, but as the ranking lord, he had been given the seat of honor near the head of the table.
Marcus, Arabella, and Mrs. Riley had been seated at the other end of the table, with a charming young woman named Miss Clara Waterhouse and her tall, wiry brother Edgar. The Warehouse siblings had been rather amusing in the brief time he’d had to chat with them before dinner. Seated next to Arabella was Dudley Belmont, who kept leering at Arabella in a way that made Tristan’s blood boil. If the pompous fop tried to stare down Arabella’s cleavage one more time, Tristan was going to have to drag him from his chair and plant him a facer.
Lucinda leaned into him again, and Tristan leaned away again, wondering how much longer dinner would go on. It was getting harder and harder to avoid her unwanted touches.
“So, my lord, tell us about your townhouse in London. Is it very large?” Lucinda asked, breaking the momentary quiet. “Is it in a fashionable area? Last year Papa and Mama rented a small townhouse not far from Bond Street. I’m sure it is nowhere near as lovely as your townhouse is.”
Tristan took a moment to finish chewing his food, then, blotting his mouth clean with his linen napkin, turned to skewer Lucinda with a quelling look and was happy to see that she pulled back several inches.
“It is on a pleasant square and three stories high, with a large stable and stable yard behind it and a small garden. Just before I left to come here, my friend Mr. Berkley was helping me sell off some of the older furniture.” Tristan replied with a forced smile, then reached for his glass of red wine.
“Oh, you are redecorating, but surely you should let your future wife do that. Men know so little about design or fashion. Personally, I prefer the neo-classical style, while I know many like the Gothic revival style.” Lucinda stated, batting her eyes at Tristan so fast he was reminded of a butterfly.
“Lucinda has a wonderful eye for design and for colors; she can also play the piano beautifully,” Mrs. Belmont chimed in from across the table.
“Why yes, lovely, I’m sure. While I was left a title, I was left little in the way of funds. I’m afraid that redecorating is very low on my plans.” Tristan replied and saw Lucinda’s smile falter.
“But surely you plan on entertaining for the season, I just adored the parties and the dancing while I was in London.” Lucinda gushed.
“I am afraid not,” Tristan replied. He didn’t have either the funds or the desire to host parties.
Across the table, Colonel Hamilton gave him a sympathetic look. “You will have to forgive his lordship as a military man till last month; Sir Tristan is not used to such foolish frivolity.”
Tristan gave Colonel Hamilton a grateful look.
“Tristan, I nearly forgot to tell you. I received a letter from mother this morning. The duchess has offered to sponsor my three little sisters this season. The duchess is planning on bringing Lucian and Petunia to London for some town polish and asked for mother’s help. Apparently, the Duchess’s townhouse is only a block from yours,” Marcus chimed out from the end of the table in an egregious lack of manners. But Tristan breathed silent thanks for his outburst as he was saved from Lucinda and her matchmaking mother.
“Oh yes, that is good news. I look forward to meeting them all.” Tristan replied.
“Your mother knows a duchess?” Mrs. Belmont asked, slowly looking down the table to where Marcus was seated at the end of the table, next to Reverend Clarkson.
The far end of the table was below the salt, and the fact that Tristan’s friends had been placed there as a deliberate slight had not gone unnoticed. Marcus was his brother in everything but blood, and the fact that his friend was at the far end of the table was not only a slight to Marcus it was a slight to him. Then there was the fact that Arabella and Mrs. Riley had also been placed down there, rather than seated near him. They had arrived with him and were his companions; Tristan viewed this action as an insult. An insult he would not forget.
“Oh yes, Duchess Livingston. Lady Heather is a good friend of my mother and is patroness to my father’s church.” Marcus replied, “Charming lady. I haven’t seen her in well sixteen years, but her letters to me are always very polite.”
“I look forward to meeting her and your mother in person. Please let your mother know that she and the others will be welcome any time,” Tristan replied and was grateful to see pompous Mrs. Belmont seem to deflate.
“Your father’s church?” Mrs. Belmont squeaked.
“Yes, father is the pastor of Livingston church, father’s father is the earl of Braymer,” Marcus replied with a malicious smile before turning back to his food.
* * * *
Arabella was grateful for Marcus’s sudden outburst, for it drew attention to their end of the table and saved her temporarily from the unwanted attentions of Dudley Belmont, who kept brushing his knee against hers under the table. Arabella pulled away again, only to discover he was trying to place his hand on her knee. Arabella smacked his hand under the table and was sorely tempted to stab it with her fork.
“Come now, Arabella, don’t be shy,” Dudley whispered into her ear, making her shiver in disgust.
“Mr. Dudley, I strongly suggest you unhand Miss Layden before I stab you with my fork,” Came the soft voice of Clara Waterhouse from the other side of Dudley.
Arabella looked around, dour-faced Dudley grateful for the girl’s intervention. How the young lady had known what Dudley was, doing Arabella didn’t know.
“Whatever do you mean?” Dudley queried, feigning innocence.
“Please, behave yourself, or I will tell my brother what you said to me after church last week.” Clara gave Dudley a piercing look.
“I don’t know what you mean,” Dudley huffed.
“Really, maybe this will help your memory.” Clara turned towards Dudley and, with a smile on her pretty face, proceeded to pour her goblet of red wine onto Dudley’s lap.
Dudley let out a less-than-gentleman like oath and pushed back from the table.
“Oh, do forgive me, Mr. Dudley, I didn’t mean to drop my wine on you. You had better go and change your breeches before they stain,” Clara said sweetly, giving him an innocent smile.
Dudley hurried away, and Clara motioned a footman forward. She gave the young handsome footman a smile, earning one in return.
“Lucas, isn’t it? Would you please take away Mr. Dudley’s plate and glasses? I don’t think he’ll be returning any time soon,” Clara asked, and the footman gave her a knowing smile while he bent to clean up the spot.
Once the dishes were cleared away, Clara slid into Dudley’s empty seat and held out her hand to Arabella.
“We weren’t properly introduced earlier. I’m Clara Waterhouse, and that skinny, tall fool on the other side of the table is my brother Edgar,” Clara said as Arabella took her hand to give it a shake after a moment. It was unusual to shake hands with another woman, but she could hardly refuse.
“I know women in England don’t shake hands, it’s an American thing. My father is American, but my mother is English and the daughter of a count, but because father is American and in trade we are considered, well, bad ton. We only get invited to events because we have scads of money, and mothers are hoping to marry their children off to one of us to fill their coffers.” Clara gave her another smile, and despite everything, Arabella laughed.
“I talk too much sometimes, I know, but now you know all about me. Saves time. And you are Miss Arabella Layden, and you live at Rose Cottage, and you are a midwife and a talented healer. Our housekeeper, Mrs. Ferguson, raves about you. Oh yes, I live at Claremont estate, father bought it when we moved back to England last year.” Clara stated, nodding in thanks as pieces of chocolate cake appeared before her and Arabella.
“Claremont estate? Oh, my, I rode past it once, it’s lovely,” Arabella replied, somewhat in awe. Claremont was a huge sprawling stone structure with acres of lawns and a hedge maze. It had belonged to a duke before he lost his fortune.
“It’s huge, drafty, and father had to redo all the plumbing. But Father gave me the conservatory, I’m mad about plants by the way. I’m a lady botanist, or I’m trying to be.” Clara said.
Arabella laughed. Clara was a delight and made her feel at ease for the first time all night. Clara was a young woman much like herself, standing on the edge of society, neither completely accepted not rejected.
“I love plants too, and my friend and companion Mrs. Riley keeps bees,” Arabella replied, taking a bite of her chocolate cake and nearly sighing in delight. She adored chocolate but it was too dear for her to afford.
“Indeed, I like bees for what they do, but if one stings me, I swell up, so I avoid them,” Clara stated with a shudder.
“If I may ask, how did you know that Dudley was?” Arabella paused, looking around, not wanting to say, trying to grab her knee.
“Being a pest, to put it mildly. Two weekends ago, after service, he approached me once everyone had filed out. He said that, as I was so plain and on the shelf at my advanced age of three and twenty, that I should marry him. That after I gave him an heir or two, I could do what I wanted, that he only wanted my dowry.” Clara replied.
“Good lord, how horrible, what did you do?” Arabella asked quietly.
“I laughed in his face and told him no. When I tried to walk past him, he had the audacity to grab my arm and try to force a kiss on me, saying that he would not accept no for an answer. He is in debt and sees me as a way to gain funds. I hit him across the face with my hymnal, and then as I tried to flee from him, I spotted the reverend’s bottle of sacramental wine, and I smashed him over the head with it. That cooled his ardor immensely; luckily, my brothers were waiting for me outside, so he didn’t try anything. Anyway, he is a snake and tried to put his hand on my knee more than once. I was forced to stab him with a fork last time.” Clara shrugged her slim shoulders before returning to her cake.
“How brave of you, I wish I’d seen that. In truth, Mrs. Riley, I haven’t been to church much lately. There is a gentleman we are both trying to avoid.” Arabella replied, thinking of Mr. Lester.
“I have two older brothers, and Father taught is all to box. Mother says I’m a hoyden but Father says I’m fine just as I am.” Clara replied with a shrug.
“No, I admire your bravery and your forthrightness. I wish I had half your courage,” Arabella replied, patting her mouth clean.
“Nonsense, you are extremely brave. You have your own home and are a businesswoman and deliver babies, I simply stand up for myself.” Clara replied.
Arabella smiled and gave a nod of thanks. It felt good to have another woman think well of her after years of people like Lucinda Belmont looking down on her for how she lived her life.
“Thank you, it is nice to hear kind words for a change,” Arabella replied softly as her plate was taken away.
“Nonsense, I simply speak the truth. Would you be willing to discuss your herbal recipes with me? I’m writing a book on botany and the uses of various plants for both medicinal and culinary purposes. I have several recipes from America but none yet from England.” Clara asked.
“Why yes, I’d like that very much. Not many people are interested in plants and their uses. They much prefer these new patent medicines, most of which I have my doubts about.” Arabella replied. She was doubly grateful now that Clara had sent Dudley away, as Clara was the first woman who showed an interest in her work.
“I agree with you completely. My mother suffers from terrible headaches; father had five different doctors see her back in Boston trying to find a cure. They either told her that the headaches were caused by female problems or that she was simply hysterical and seeking attention. Two prescribed laudanum, laudanum for a headache.” Clara shook her head. “Finally, mother consulted with a midwife, and she prescribed a local cure, which was a combination of dried willow bark and aspen bark tree mixed with chamomile tea. The mixture takes care of her headaches in under an hour. Mother has a huge tin of it ready for when she feels a headache start. When one of the doctors heard she was taking dried bark, he became nearly hysterical. Said mother was foolish to listen to an old woman. Mother sent him packing.”
“I am not familiar with the use of aspen bark, but I use willow bark for pain and fever reduction. I am staying at Avondale Manor, but return to my cottage every afternoon. I am free anytime you wish to visit.” Arabella replied as Mrs. Belmont announced it was time for the ladies to move to the parlor so the gentlemen could have drinks.
“That is wonderful, I shall certainly stop by soon. You don’t draw, do you? I’m passable at sketching, but that is it. I shall need someone to do illustrations for my book. My older brother Victor bought a publishing company when we returned to England. He promised to publish my book when it is done. He said that not enough women are published and plans to encourage female authors.” Clara said as the footman stepped up behind her and pulled out her seat for her.
“I could pay you for your work, and you’d have your name listed on the cover and would receive a portion of the proceeds.” Clara added as Arabella rose beside her.
“I only draw flowers and plants, but Sir Tristan is a very good artist. He might be interested.” Arabella replied, nodding towards Tristan.
Clara looked towards the other end of the table where the others were slowly rising from their chairs, then turned back to Arabella.
“Will you introduce me to him?” Clara asked.
“Yes, I’d be happy too,” Arabella replied. She looked past Clara to see Tristan nod to her then step back from Lucinda who’d reached for his arm.
“He only has eyes for you, by the way,” Clara whispered. “And you have nothing to fear from Lucinda. When my family first arrived in England last year, we were living in London, while my mother introduced us to her old friends. Anyway, I attended many of the same events as Lucinda the viper. Lucinda isn’t as popular as she claims. She was also caught twice being indiscreet with a gentleman and had to leave the city. If she tries to sink her fangs and claws in you, I’ll take care of her.” Clara said with a mischievous smile.
Arabella had never been one to gossip, but seeing Lucinda taken down a peg or two would be delightful.
“Thank you for your help. I must confess I was rather intimidated about coming tonight. You see, I don’t go out in society,” Arabella said
“I felt the same, but mother convinced me to come. She said I might make a friend tonight, and I hope I have. I would like us to be friends. I don’t do well in London except with the girls like me; they call us blue stockings and push us to the fringes of ballrooms. The matrons all say I’m too outspoken, and I refuse to be cowed by the likes of Lucinda Belmont. I suppose it is because I’m half American and I don’t give a fig about titles. And my hair is an unfashionable color,”
“I know how you feel. I, too, am glad we met,” Arabella replied, studying Clara and thinking that her hair which was a blend of honey blonde and dark red very pretty.
Clara gave her a warm smile, then her eyes shifted to Marcus, who was joking with the reverend by the end of the table.
“By the way, is Mr. Berkley free? He is ever so handsome and amusing,” Clara asked.
Arabella thought of Elizabeth for a moment. Her friend admired Marcus but was afraid to act out on her feelings, and legally she was a married woman. It would do no good to encourage Marcus to pursue her if she were not free.
“He is free and his mother is a healer and a midwife. He also knows many herbal recipes for medicinal use that he collected in India.” Arabella replied and saw Clara smile widely, her smile changing her face from pretty to radiant.
Arabella turned her gaze back to the other end of the table as the last of the guests pushed away from the table and again her gaze found Tristan. She couldn’t wait to introduce him to her new friend, and to tell him everything they had discussed. Arabella saw Lucinda move to touch Tristan’s arm again and her anger spiked. How dare that hussy throw herself at her man? Her man, indeed Tristan was that and it was time she acted on it.