Chapter 11

Chapter 11

The Temple family carriage rolled away from Aldham Court en route to Clare Park. It is the night of the grand charity ball, which should have had Lenora bubbling with anticipation. Instead, she felt a dreadful melancholy creeping over her. While she had never set her cap for Dorian, it still felt all wrong that he had been engaged to Emma all this time yet had not told her about it.

Trying not to dim her parents’ enjoyment of the occasion, she remained quiet, looking out the carriage window at the growing dusk. Without the sun to warm it, the carriage was chilly. Lenora shivered and tucked her hands deeper beneath the rug that covered her lap.

“Are you well, daughter?” her mother asked.

“I’m fine,” Lenora responded. “Just feeling the chill. These rains are not truly cold, but the damp makes it penetrate.”

Her mother fixed her with a stare. “Are you sure that is all? Are you coming down with something?”

“No, no,” Lenora assured her. “Just tired. It has been a hectic several months.” That was true enough, and she hoped it would be sufficient to satisfy her mother. Lady Temple could be uncomfortably perceptive at the most inconvenient of moments.

Fortunately, her father was not so perspicacious. “She’ll perk up as soon as we get to the ball,” he put in. “I understand that you’ve set your cap for Reuben Manners. I’m glad of it. He is erudite, well-read, well-travelled, and has a title to boot. Married to him, you’d have no money worries, could travel, and, as a lady, could be free as a bird.”

At this last, Lady Temple gave Sir Francis a side-eyed look and a lifted eyebrow, but she did not comment on his remark. “I had always thought your interest might centre on Lord de Clare,” she said. “He is quiet, settled, and generally pleasant — even if he does play the ladies’ man at his uncle’s banquets.”

“But only well-read in the medical field,” Sir Francis objected. “And, with his involvement in his father’s hospital, highly unlikely to travel. You would be scarcely more than a squire’s wife if wed to him. Whereas with Lord Whitchurch, you could look forward to well-informed discussions over breakfast and possibly dancing with royalty in the evening.”

Lenora tried to dredge up some of her former excitement at meeting the Viscount of Whitchurch. “He does seem to be a fine gentleman, very handsome and popular with the ladies.”

“Hmmpf,” her mother snorted delicately. “Handsome is as handsome does. Although,” she conceded, “he is good to look upon.”

“I’m sure I am no judge of that,” Sir Francis retorted. “But he is reputed to have a steady yearly income and to be in political favour. These things can be far more sustaining than mere looks.”

Fortunately for family peace, the short carriage ride between Aldham Park and Clare Court came to an end. They were met at the end of the drive by a team of stable boys, ready to take their team around to the spacious horse shelter behind the manor. Footmen held a long canopy overhead to keep off the drizzle, and while there was not a red carpet, there was a generous matting of reeds to keep their feet from the mud. Clearly, no expense was spared for this ball, even though its intended purpose was to raise money for the new research wing of the hospital.

Lenora descended from the carriage, doubly glad that the current fashion did not include a train. Even so, she picked up her skirts, seeking a happy medium between letting them drag on the sodden rushes or displaying her ankles.

Her brother August’s grin as he helped her up the steps let her know that she had not succeeded in maintaining modesty. But at least she could not be gathering dust on the hem of damp skirts.

Dorian, Jonathan, and Emma were at the head of the receiving line. Dorian’s face lit up with a huge smile the moment he saw Lenora. Emma, giving him a sidelong glance, carefully developed a timid smile of welcome. Jonathan heartily shook Sir Francis’ hand, while Emma air-kissed both Lady Temple and Lenora.

“You are looking lovely,” she said to Lenora. “I hope you are recovered from your megrim.”

Lenora sucked in a deep breath, held it, then let it out and pasted on a smile of her own. “I am feeling much better now, thank you for asking. I hope you are keeping well?”

“Very well,” Emma replied. “Especially now that I know my new friend is recovering. It is good to see you here.”

Lenora almost let her smile slip, but Summer’s lessons in conversation and deportment paid off. She kept the smile on her face and her tone civil. “I am pleased to hear you say so,” she said before offering her hand to Dorian.

Dorian’s smile was even wider, a genuine expression of welcome. It warmed Lenora, thawing out the icy feeling she’d had since learning that Dorian and Emma were betrothed. “I am so glad you are here,” he said. “I was worried that your illness would keep you from attending tonight.”

August, who was next in line and completely oblivious to the social undertones going on, said, “Lenora never misses a party, do you, sister?”

“Of course not,” Lenora said. “Even if I did, I certainly would not miss this one. It promises to be the biggest gala in Bath this year.”

“I certainly hope so,” Jonathan called over. “Your family always brightens any gathering.”

“Thank you,” Lady Temple interrupted, collecting her family and moving them away from the line before they could create a scene. Sir Francis located a table where they could watch both the dancing and the people filing in.

“Would you like refreshments?” he asked his wife and daughter.

“Perhaps later,” Lenora said. “If I have something to drink, I shall likely spill it on myself.”

“I am not thirsty or hungry,” Lady Temple added. “But I do see one of my friends over there. I’ll go over and visit with her. It has been a good while since we’ve seen each other.”

“I see someone, too,” August said.

Glancing across the room, Lenora could see Iris looking their way. Before she could say anything, August was weaving his way across the room.

“My dear, I hope you won’t mind,” Sir Francis said, “but I need to have a word with a publisher. While I nearly have this book completed, I should have an eye to the next.”

“Of course, Father,” she replied. And just like that, she was sitting alone in the crowded room. It was not quite a crush. The ball room was spacious, but the milling crowd certainly filled it.

Before she had enough time to feel too sorry for herself, Dorian detached himself from Jonathan and Emma and made his way to her side, carrying two teacups.

“Everyone is drinking wine,” he said. “Do you know of someone who would be glad of a cup of tea?”

“I would,” Lenora said with relief.

Dorian set one cup and saucer in front of her and deposited the other in front of himself.”

“Ah, but it feels good to sit down,” he said. “I have new boots for the occasion and am truly wishing I was wearing my old pair.”

“Could you not go change them?” Lenora suggested, falling into their accustomed easy way of talking.

“Sadly, no,” Dorian said. “I had resorted to stuffing cardboard in the soles for some time simply because I loved them so much and did not want to deal with breaking in a new pair. But then I lost a heel off one of them and realized that I truly must give them up.”

“You’ve had them a while, then,” Lenora said, observing Dorian over the rim of her teacup.

“Yes,” Dorian said. “I was loathe to give up the comfort of my old pair until I was forced to do so.”

“Lot of that going around,” Lenora observed. “Sometimes I wish we could give all this up and simply go down to the brook and tickle fish or run across the meadow chasing butterflies.”

“A bit chilly for either of those activities,” Dorian observed. “What is really troubling you, Lenora? It is not like you to throw crockery when refusing guests. Indeed, you rarely turn anyone away.”

“Perhaps it is because you came calling with your other friend,” she said, “yet have not helped me to reach my objective.” Lenora finished her statement with a winsome smile she did not really feel.”

“You are still interested then?” Dorian asked.

Lenora nodded, not trusting herself to speak. On the one hand, she was intrigued by Lord Whitchurch; on the other hand, she was still miffed with Dorian for not telling her about Emma sooner.

“One moment,” Dorian said.

He strode away, leaving his cup and saucer on the table. In a few minutes, he returned with Lord Whitchurch by his side. Lord Whitchurch was also carrying a teacup rather than a wine glass.

“May we sit here?” Dorian asked as if he had not just got up a few minutes before.

“Of course,” Lenora said. “I don’t see any name placards restricting seating.”

The two gentlemen sat down at the table. “You remember Lord Whitchurch, do you not?” Dorian said, gesturing at Reuben.

“Yes, of course,” Lenora said politely. “We met at the Pump Room.”

“So, we did,” Reuben remarked. “I’m afraid I was feeling rather overwhelmed that day. But Dorian has vouched for you as being a young woman of good sense and interesting conversation.”

“Thank you,” Lenora said, giving a small chin dip. “How are you finding Bath, Lord Whitchurch?”

“Quite interesting, Miss Temple,” he replied. “The structures near the springs are quite unique. Did you know that the Romans called it Aquae Sulis, or the waters of Sulis Minerva? Before that, the Celts had a goddess they felt oversaw the springs.”

“Have you taken the waters?” Lenora asked.

“I have, and soaked in the hot mineral pool,” he replied. “While I do not think its waters are miraculous, I must say that a long, hot soak does wonders for a body that is tired and sore.”

“Quite true,” Lenora said. “Even though the bathing gowns are more than a little cumbersome. Still, it is more pleasant than bathing in the cold seawater at Brighton.”

Lord Whitchurch laughed at that. “I daresay. I’ve not tried the bathing at Brighton.”

Lenora thought he had a rather nice laugh. “That is probably wise,” she said. “Mother and I tried it once. I thought I would freeze before we could return to the changing rooms and get into dry clothing.”

“I knew there was a reason why I did not wish to try it,” Reuben said. “It is the same reason I toured Italy rather than Sweden. I greatly prefer the warm beaches of La Costa degli Dei even to those of France.”

“La Costa degli Dei,” Lenora mused. “Is that not one of the places Ulysses is said to have visited?”

“It is, indeed,” Lord Whitchurch said. “And believed to have spoken with the Oracle who lived there.”

“That would make it an enchanting place to visit, even if the beaches were rocky and cold,” Lenora observed.

“Most beautiful sand anywhere,” Reuben assured her. “When the sun shines, the sea is like a jewel set in gold.”

“How I would love to see it sometime,” Lenora said wistfully.

“While I am afraid I cannot whisk you directly there,” Lord Whitchurch temporized. “Perhaps you would consent to go walking with me the next fine day we have here? Or even to stroll around the pump room if the weather does not cooperate?”

“I would like that very much,” Lenora told him, forcing a smile to her face.

Chapter 12

Peace made between the households, Dorian paid a morning call to Lenora and August, and invited them to accompany him to the hospital.

“I know that Lord Whitchurch would approve charity work,” he coaxed Lenora. “Just imagine the good impression you will make.”

“That does suggest that he will learn of it,” she said a little waspishly.

“I shall make certain to mention it,” Dorian promised.

They travelled from Aldham Court to the hospital in Dorian’s carriage. He felt a sense of pride when Lenora ran her hands over the leather seats in appreciation of the luxurious softness.

“Nice rig,” August remarked. “Is it new?”

“Not entirely,” Dorian replied. “I purchased it more than a year ago from an estate auction. The frame was excellent, and so were the springs. It was far too fine to let it go to some rubbish heap or to become a farm wagon. With a little polish, replacement of a couple of small parts, and new upholstery for the seats, it is far nicer than anything currently available unless you special order.”

“I see,” August said. “Extremely frugal of you.”

“Thank you,” Dorian returned. “I thought so. Besides, it is difficult to find workmanship such as this in our current era of slapdash manufacturing.”

At the hospital, they emerged from the carriage. The day was fine, and the lawn was greening up nicely.

“I’d like to go up to the children’s ward,” Lenora said impulsively. “I’m sure I could entertain the little darlings and relieve the tedium of their illnesses.”

“I’m afraid that’s not possible,” Dorian demurred. “My uncle has forbidden extra visitors in the wards. We’ve had some sort of mysterious illness, and he wants to be certain that it does not spread.”

Lenora pouted. “Then how shall I volunteer? What sort of work can I do if we are not allowed inside?”

August quirked an eyebrow at Dorian. “A trifle suspicious, my friend. Care to explain?”

Dorian felt his cheeks grow hot, but he replied steadily, “Mostly, I just wanted your company for the day. It has been such a long time since the three of us spent time together.”

Lenora was unwilling to give up the point. “We’ve come all this way and won’t be allowed to do anything?”

Dorian turned to August. “Is this truly Lenora? I’ve rarely known her to volunteer for anything.”

“Oh, aye,” August laughed. “No doubt she has her eye on some scheme or other that will profit her. It is a shame about the contagion, though. She is entertaining for the little tykes when she puts her mind to it.”

“There is something we can do?” Lenora asked, a little exasperated at the byplay.

“Oh, indeed, there is!” Dorian exclaimed. “The gardener is working on the new strolling garden. I’m sure he would like to have help putting in the bulbs that arrived from Holland just a few days ago.”

“I’ll get my skirts all dirty,” Lenora grumbled. “Besides, there is nothing romantic about planting flower bulbs.”

“Ah, but these are special,” Dorian wheedled. “They include tulip bulbs, not quite worth their weight in gold now, but quite valuable all the same. In addition, there are hyacinths, day lilies, and hollyhocks, all ready for a discerning eye and careful hand to create a brave showing.”

“I’ll still get dirty,” Lenora said. She was clearly wavering towards the garden project.

“Since when has that stopped you?” August scoffed.

“Besides,” Dorian added, “we can wrap you in one of the nursing sisters’ big aprons. That should keep your gown tidy. It will be like old times. You know our best adventures were all outdoors.”

“True enough,” Lenora replied. “Although usually we were stealing things from the garden rather than planting them.”

“Too true,” Dorian agreed. “Remember the birthday bouquet I presented you?”

“Yes, I do.” Lenora laughed. “And how much trouble we were both in when Mother saw it and realized they were from our neighbour’s rose garden.”

“And that the ribbons Dorian used to wrap the stems were out of his mother’s work-basket,” August added, “the ones she had planned to put on her new bonnet.”

The three looked at each other. Lenora giggled, Dorian smiled, and August guffawed. “What a mess the two of you were!” August commented.

“But we did have fun,” Lenora said. “I’ve never received a finer bouquet since then, nor one more carefully planned.”

Dorian made a private vow to obtain beautiful flowers and gift his friend with them as soon as possible. They would need to be yellow, of course. In the language of flowers, yellow stood for friendship. It would never do to present her with pink or red blossoms, the colours of romantic love. For a moment, he wondered he wondered why he felt no urge to present Emma with flowers. Somehow, she just didn’t seem like the kind of girl who would appreciate them.

Before Dorian could pursue the thought, Lenora held up a draggling, dry root. “What is this?” she asked. “It doesn’t look like a tulip bulb.”

“That would be a day lily,” the gardener put in. “They’re common enough that I got a bargain on ’em. Just orange they are, but pretty in a mass. Got nice foliage in between flowering, too. I got a case of bulbs and roots. Don’t suppose I could get some help bringing them out?”

“I’ll help,” August said. “I think I’d rather move boxes than grub in the dirt.”

The two of them moved away, leaving Dorian and Lenora alone with the strange root.

“You’ll need to spread the rootlets out,” Dorian said. “Perhaps if we dip it in a little water, it will soften, and we can spread it out without breaking it.”

“Alright,” Lenora said, looking a little dubious at the prospect. “There’s a basin here, and we can dip some water out of the fountain.”

Dorian hastened to get the water, bringing the basin back to Lenora. She placed the dry, gnarled rootlets in it. “Poor thing,” she said. “It was ripped out of the ground somewhere and packed into a box. I wonder if plants have feelings?”

“I have no idea,” Dorian said, amused by the idea. “Although I do know a musician who swears his houseplants grow better if he plays panpipes over them.”

“Some sort of appeal to the primitive?” Lenora suggested.

Dorian smiled. He had forgotten how happy Lenora’s whimsy always made him feel. “I suppose that might be true,” he said. “Or some sort of etheric vibration, akin to Pythagorean music of the spheres.”

“Do you suppose plants would grow better if they were placed inside a chapel where the echoes enhance the music?” Lenora mused.

“It would be an interesting experiment to try,” Dorian said. “But I doubt you could get any bishop to allow it.”

“Perhaps not,” Lenora agreed. “But what about the pump room?”

Dorian laughed. “They already have some growing there. But how would you compare them?”

“I have no idea,” Lenora said. “Perhaps some of the same kind of plants grown elsewhere?”

“Perhaps,” Dorian agreed. “Let’s check the root and see if it is doing any better.”

Lenora turned to the odd tuber. It was, indeed, more pliable. “I think it is,” she said.

Dorian used a trowel to create a wide depression in the prepared earth. “Think that will work?” he asked.

“I think so,” Lenora said, spreading the rootlets wide so the crown of the plant could stick up. “How many more of these are there?”

“At least a dozen,” Dorian replied, looking into the wooden crate.

“Got three hundred of them,” the gardener said, coming up with a box of them. “They’ll make a good row of colour; they will.”

Dorian found that he enjoyed placing the dry rootlets in water and then spreading them out so they could enjoy the fresh ground. Lenora worked by his side, using a trowel to scoop out shallow impressions for the plants, then scooping earth back over them. Neither of them mentioned suitors or marriage, although Dorian was sure that the subject was no farther from Lenora’s mind than from his.

There was a sweet ease to working with her. Occasionally, their fingers would brush against each other, creating a gentle warmth between them. As they worked together to disentangle two plants, their fingers came in close contact. Lenora glanced up from her task and smiled, her eyes warm and friendly.

Dorian stretched his lips in a welcoming return smile and felt warmed all the way to his toes. “We should do this more often,” he said.

“No doubt,” Lenora said. “But what excuse can we find for it?”

“Spring is well underway,” Dorian replied. “Surely we can discover some outdoor activities to share — with our friends, I mean.”

“With our friends, of course,” Lenora teased.

Dorian noticed that her comment seemed to have a slightly bitter tinge. “Lenora, what is it that is troubling you?”

She paused and seemed to be thinking what to say. But just as she opened her mouth to speak, August came hurrying towards them.

“Mother has sent the carriage. We are to come home at once,” he said.

“I’ll walk you to the carriage,” Dorian said immediately.

Lenora quickly unwrapped the big apron from around her. “How do I look?” she asked. “Did I get any grass stain on my dress?”

“You look wonderful,” Dorian said, thinking he had never seen her look finer, as she stood there shaking out her shawl and preparing to go with her brother.

Dorian extended his elbow, and Lenora slipped her hand into its crook. “I had a lovely time today,” she said.

“So did I,” Dorian replied. “It was good to renew our friendship while doing something that will please others.”

“It was, wasn’t it?” Lenora said, looking a little wistful.

At the carriage, August hopped in, and then Dorian handed Lenora aboard. He was about to add a final farewell when the carriage shot away as if pursued by highwaymen or savages.

Dorian stared after it, surprised and more than a little puzzled. “I wonder what that was all about?” he said aloud.

Pondering over what could possibly have induced them to pull away so abruptly, he went to the hospital stables to ask the grooms to hitch up his own team and conveyance.

As he rode home, Dorian reflected upon the afternoon. It had been a long time since he had enjoyed himself so much, he realized. He could not help contrasting his interactions with Lenora and August with those he had with Emma and Jonathan.

He was still mulling over the afternoon’s events when he went inside. Almost absently, his feet carried him into the music room, where he picked up the sheet music he had been working on.

He sat down at the pianoforte and added a few lines to the sheet music. He studied it for a few minutes, then, across the top of it, he wrote, “Her.”