Chapter 30

Chapter Thirty

I t was clear from the moment that Mr. Cluett was admitted into the Stanton home that the strategy was to overwhelm and discombobulate him. Eva could hear Lady Stanton keeping up a constant stream of inanities and platitudes, but didn't bother attempting to make out individual words. All of her energy was spent in keeping up her demure smile.

"We are really so glad that you could join us, Mr. Cluett," Lady Stanton said as she entered the parlour, holding Mr. Cluett by the elbow. "I am only sorry that we had to cut our evening short last night—well, the better said about that, the better, I suppose—but, well, it was very kind of you to accept our invitation."

"'Twasn't any bother, Lady Stanton, I—" he began, but was promptly cut off by more of Lady Stanton's gushing.

"Oh, what a charming young man you are! So polite and good-hearted to call on us like this. And look, here is my Eva! She was so eager to see you again, I simply had to send a note over right away," Lady Stanton said, smiling up at Mr. Cluett, her face hardening when she turned to look at Eva.

Eva could not bring herself to respond, but smiled and ducked her head in a way that she assumed would be taken for bashful. Lady Stanton nearly pushed Mr. Cluett down into a chair, inviting him to sit and take tea with them. Mr. Cluett looked at Eva a little helplessly, which she studiously ignored.

It was more difficult to ignore her mother's foot tapping on her own beneath the table, try as she might. Eva merely continued to pour the tea, a saintly expression on her face as she offered a cup to her mother. Lady Stanton resorted to nudging Eva's shin with her toes; resisting a sigh, Eva turned her attention to Mr. Cluett.

"How did you find the ball, Mr. Cluett?" Eva asked, fluttering her eyelashes and smiling, feeling like an insipid fool.

"Crowded," he replied bluntly, "and loud."

"Oh, I do agree, Mr. Cluett," Lady Stanton responded, seizing on his few words as if they were pearls of wisdom. "So many people invited, scarcely any of them the right sort. I knew you were a man of discerning taste."

"Well, don't know a—" Mr. Cluett began, but once again found his words curtailed by Lady Stanton's interruption.

"I wondered about the new Duchess of Brandon, and I have tried to make allowances for her—one can't expect too much, really—but if last night is any indicator, I fear the ton shall be in great need of leaders of society with strong character and the correct friends," Lady Stanton said with all the authority of a vicar delivering a homily.

"The Duchess has always spoken kindly to me," Mr. Cluett offered. "Sister too, Lady Chester."

"Pah," Lady Stanton said with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Do not speak to me about Lady Chester, or her husband for that matter. I thought they treated my Eva quite shabbily, though she won't hear a word against them. My Eva has always been a kind soul, anyone would find her a friendly and loving companion."

Eva wished very much that a hole would open up in the floor and simply swallow her up. Her mother was being so ridiculously overt that it was positively humiliating. Any hopes that she was harbouring that her attempts to paint Eva in the best light possible seemed to be backfiring, however, as Mr. Cluett only looked more and more panicked.

"Didn't know you were such a fine dancer, Lady Eva," Mr. Cluett said, nodding toward her. "Heard you cut a dash on the dancefloor, but had no idea you were—it was topping, really."

"You're very kind, Mr. Cluett," Eva replied softly, giving him a small, genuine smile.

"I imagine these newer dances would be seen as far too fast for anywhere outside of London," Lady Stanton said. "I much prefer the older ones, myself."

"Mother hoped I'd get a bit of London bronze—why we came up," Mr. Cluett said, gingerly lifting his teacup, which looked positively absurd in his large hand. "Thinks it will help when I join Father on his ventures."

"Ah, so much to ask of a young man!" Lady Stanton said, all sympathetic clucking. "This is why it is so important to find a wife that will be a true helpmate," she continued, stirring her tea. "Clearly, you need a wife that will help you navigate the social sphere so that you can concentrate on more important matters."

Mr. Cluett bobbed his head in agreement. "Exactly so, just what Mother advised."

"Ah, but the vagaries of the marriage market these days," Lady Stanton sighed, her shoulders falling as if filled with great tragedy. "You wish to find a wife that would help you to rise in standing, and my Eva needs a husband who can help her to…be more level, a calmer existence. Too much excitement is bad for young ladies, you know—their humours can't take it."

Mr. Cluett looked to Eva again, who stared back blandly. "Lady Eva seems the picture of vitality," he said, nodding his head again. "Seems to thrive at navigating the ballroom and salon," he added.

"Why, Mr. Cluett," Lady Stanton said, as if something were dawning on her at just that moment. "I do believe you are right: my Eva could be of great help to you."

"She—me?" Mr. Cluett asked, looking more panicked than ever.

"You said it yourself," Lady Stanton said, nodding sagely, like she was listening to a philosopher opine. "She thrives in society, and would suit you quite well."

"Yes," Mr. Cluett said, clearly sweating beneath his collar. Eva pitied him; Lady Stanton's face had taken on a fox-like cunning. He had no idea exactly how trapped he was, caught in a slowly-tightening web of Lady Stanton's making. "Be lucky to have a wife like her."

"Why, Mr. Cluett!" Lady Stanton gasped, placing one hand on her chest. "Are you offering for my daughter over tea? Of course she is most flattered by your proposal, aren't you, Eva?"

"Most flattered," Eva echoed, not entirely confirming or denying.

"And she would of course be a fool not to accept," Lady Stanton pressed, staring hard at Eva.

Eva knew that she was on thin ice, but still could not resist looking down at her hands in her lap for a moment. She was worried for a moment that she might burst into tears, but the impulse passed.

"Any woman would be lucky to have you for a husband," she answered at last.

"Oh, happy tidings indeed!" Lady Stanton sang out. She stood from the table, hands clasped at her chest, and very likely genuine tears of relief in her eyes. She began bustling about, searching for pen and cards so that she could begin spreading the news as soon as possible. No doubt that she had funded the décor and comestibles for the day on credit, trading on her name more than anything; if word got out that her daughter was betrothed to a man with standing, it would go far toward getting the creditors to treat her favourably.

Eva watched all of this dispassionately, as if she were simply an observer to someone else's life. It wasn't even like she could truly be upset about developments; Mr. Cluett was amiable, handsome in a rugged sort of manner, and would provide security. To ask for more was to be greedy, really, when so many others would have traded places with her in a trice.

Her eyes found Mr. Cluett's, and they shared a moment of clarity, both looking as stunned and miserable as the other felt. Lady Stanton, having forgotten Mr. Cluett for the moment, took him by the arm and bid him rise. Eva supposed that Lady Stanton wanted to usher him out of the house quickly before he had time to realise that he had been all but duped, or Eva recovered herself and protested.

Eva did no such thing, however. She just stared down at her teacup, leaning over the table to see her reflection. As she watched the tiny mirror image of herself, the image was disturbed, waving and wrinkling, as a single fat tear plopped into the cup.

Kitty Johnson knew that she was very likely in Lady Stanton's bad books. She didn't have any proof that any of Eva's late indiscretions had been at her urging, but Kitty had been part and parcel to nearly all of them. At the very least, she was guilty by proximity. It was surely tempting fate to turn up unannounced, and likely pushing the limits of Lady Stanton's patience. Still, Kitty wasn't deterred: She was, above all, fiercely loyal to her friends, of which Eva was the best and longest held in her heart.

Besides which, the business last night had unsettled her. Kitty liked to concern herself with things that were, well, unconcerning . Her life was untroubled, and that was the way that she preferred it. When those that were close to her were troubled, she felt it her personal life's mission to return them back to equanimity as quickly as possible. This was not selfishly done, but rather because she felt that her few intimates should feel at least as well as she.

It had been particularly hard to watch Eva struggle these past months. She knew the business with Tom had troubled her—Kitty had simply accepted that it was what Eva had wanted at the time, and had acted accordingly to protect her friend's interests—but that was nothing compared to the burden she now carried. It was a difficult thing for a daughter to carry the family's survival on her shoulders.

Naturally, it also did not help that Eva was clearly in love with the dancing master.

Kitty did not personally understand it, but that was neither here nor there; she preferred a man that was a little more… earthy . She liked her men broad of shoulder, tall and strapping, with kind faces, rather like...

"Mr. Cluett?" Kitty asked. She and her maid had navigated the slick sidewalk nearly to the Stanton home, and saw an impressive and familiar specimen of the male sort standing outside. He was looking a little gobsmacked, holding his beaver skin top hat in his hands. He turned to look at her when she said his name, his face lighting up with recognition.

"Miss…?" he asked, looking a little apologetic.

"Johnson," she supplied, jerking her head to her maid, who was already in the process of taking several steps back. "Have you been calling on the Stantons, then?"

Mr. Cluett nodded, his shoulders slumping a little. "You are her particular friend, aren't you?"

"I am," Kitty confirmed. Something in his manner of standing and speaking had her narrowing her eyes, eyeing the front of the house suspiciously. "Has something untoward occurred, Mr. Cluett? You seem positively rattled."

"Yes—that is, no, not exactly," he amended, consternation on his face. "Lady Stanton seems to think—might have gotten engaged this very afternoon," he said, his brow furrowed. "Dash if I can figure it out though."

"Engaged?" Kitty's eyebrows flew up at that. "Well, that is… Wait, do you mean to Lady Stanton or to Lady Eva?" she asked, stepping closer.

Mr. Cluett went white as a sheet, and Kitty nearly burst into laughter. "You don't really think that she meant?—"

"No, no, at least, I don't believe Lady Stanton would mean herself," Kitty reassured him, frowning just a little. "I suppose I ought to congratulate you then, yes?"

A hapless sort-of shrug was his answer. "Mother will probably be pleased, at least," he added, gazing thoughtfully down the street.

"I see," Kitty said quietly. She followed the direction of his gaze. "Well, I had intended on calling on Lady Eva, but I suspect she will need a few moments to compose herself. Might you escort me to the lending library just down the way there? I do feel ever so better with male protection when walking down the street." Kitty smiled winningly (she always smiled winningly) at Mr. Cluett, who could not resist grinning back and nodding his assent, slapping his hat back atop his head.

They walked in silence for a moment or two before Kitty turned toward him. "As you have said, I am Lady Eva's particular friend," she began, speaking clearly and gently. "Bearing this in mind, do you suppose that I might presume upon this friendship with her to gain your confidence as well?"

"Don't need to stand on ceremony," Mr. Cluett replied easily. "You're a good sort; anyone could see that."

Kitty was momentarily taken aback. "Why Mr. Cluett, do you possess a discerning heart?"

Mr. Cluett duly blushed and shrugged his wide shoulders. Kitty fancied she could nearly hear the seams straining from the movement. Kitty couldn't help but laugh a little, which only made Mr. Cluett smile again.

What a dear thing he is , she thought. All the worse that he is caught in one of Lady Stanton's schemes.

"So, does this mean that I may ask you a question that borders on the impertinent?" Kitty pressed. Mr. Cluett nodded his assent. She stopped walking, facing him fully now. He stopped immediately as well, turning to her with a questioning look. "Do you wish to be engaged to Eva? That is, do you find this a state of affairs that pleases you?"

Mr. Cluett hesitated, clearly torn between his clear natural inclination for honesty and what he was expected to say. His eyes wandered away as he thought, and it was easy for Kitty to imagine that he had been chastised frequently as a boy for inattention. Kitty knew better; she could see that he simply considered everything most thoroughly before speaking.

His gaze returned to Kitty, and she found a blush rising on her cheek. He opened his mouth to answer, and Kitty, for some reason she could not quite understand, was holding her breath. She even leaned in so that she might hear him better…