Creatures of Will and Temper Page 5

  “I wonder if we’ll visit a gallery today! Oh, I hope so!” gushed Dorina.

  “Personally, I hope to visit a water closet, and then a table with a large luncheon upon it,” said Evadne wryly. The train station had been busy; they’d had no time for personal matters, given the number of travelers and scarcity of cabs. It wasn’t a long journey to Chelsea, but the bumps were making Evadne regret not insisting on a longer stop.

  Dorina turned away from the window to give her sister a disgusted look. “Oh, Evadne. Where’s your sense of adventure?”

  “I had no room to pack it after you demanded I give you some of the space in my trunk for your absolutely essential collection of scarves, and eighth pair of boots.”

  “Oh, ha ha,” said Dorina snottily. “Well, perhaps we can ask Mother to pack it up and send it along . . . I’m sure you’ll enjoy your time in London much more with it close at hand.”

  “I’d rather not enjoy London at all, but I hadn’t much choice in the matter.”

  “Think of how I feel. I shan’t have nearly as good a time with you glowering at me the whole time.”

  “If you’d been more discreet or less wayward I wouldn’t be here.” Evadne knew well enough that she wouldn’t be in London if she hadn’t rushed off to tell their mother what she’d seen, but she pushed that thought away. She’d done what she thought was right, and she had to live with the consequences.

  But had she really done what was right? Or, in a fit of pique, had she tried to ruin her sister’s happiness in the wake of her own being dashed to pieces on a straw-strewn stable floor?

  Whatever her motivations had been, the result was the same—and so was the truth of the matter. Dorina was impulsive, sneaky, untrustworthy, and selfish. She needed a chaperone, even an unwilling one.

  The cab stopped on Cheyne Row, in front of a pretty little brick townhouse with white casements. Set back a bit from the road, shaded by magnolia trees, it was a far more pleasant home than Evadne had expected.

  “Well,” said Dorina, “I’m certain your unwavering attention will keep me out of trouble. To that end, why don’t you get out first, and make sure there are no clods of dirt, turds, or refuse I might slip on my very first moment in London?”

  “Don’t say turds,” said Evadne as the cab door swung open. She blushed when the driver, a roughly handsome young man, rewarded Evadne with a raised eyebrow as he helped her down.

  “It’s been a pleasure,” he said, winking at Evadne as he helped Dorina out and then turned to begin unloading their trunks with the help of some footman or seneschal who had come sprinting out of Uncle Basil’s doorway.

  Uncle Basil himself was not far behind, but when he appeared, Evadne had to smother a gasp.

  Basil Hallward was not a frequent guest at Swallowsroost, but he had come often enough for Evadne to immediately notice how ill and changed he was. Once robust, he looked withered. His thick black hair had gone thin and silver, and it seemed suffering had pooled in the hollows under his eyes. He did not stride out to meet them, but rather toddled along like a much older man.

  “Uncle,” said Dorina. From her tone, Evadne could tell that she, too, was shocked.

  “Girls,” he said, extending his hand. Dorina took it gently, barely shaking it. Evadne, too, treated him with delicacy. Had he lately survived some terrible thing? Even his voice lacked its former resonance. “How glad I am you’ve both arrived. Come inside, you must be famished. We held luncheon for you.”

  Dorina practically sprinted inside and made a show of cooing over the style and decoration of the entryway, especially the paintings. Evadne had other concerns.

  “We?” she asked as she entered his townhouse. “Do you have company?”

  “More like family,” said Basil. “A dear friend of mine, Lady Henrietta Wotton.”

  “Wotton?” Dorina whirled. “Surely not the Lady Henrietta Wotton who writes for The Ladies’ Conversational Repository?”

  “The same,” said Basil, his wracked face splitting into a delighted smile. He instantly looked much younger, Evadne noted. “I’m surprised you know her work—I thought your interests ran to the artistic rather than the botanical.”

  “A good critic should read broadly,” said Dorina loftily.

  Evadne was disinclined to discuss the nature of criticism—or critics—while standing in a foyer. “Before we meet your friend, I wonder if we might freshen up?” she asked. Dorina sighed, but Evadne ignored her.

  “Of course, my dear niece! How inconsiderate of me. Hannah,” he said, addressing a housemaid, “please show the young ladies to their rooms?”

  Uncle Basil’s townhouse was lovely; even Evadne noticed, though she was distracted by need and hunger. The stairs were wide and well lit, as were the corridors, and the rooms were airy, bright, and comfortably appointed. More pleased than she’d expected to be, Evadne generously told Dorina to choose which of the two chambers suited her more while she availed herself of the modern facilities. Evadne did not especially care for one over the other, their chief difference being the view and the color of the bed linens, but it did not displease her when she returned to find Dorina had decided on the street view, rather than the one that looked down on Basil’s patio garden. The greenness of the space was a comfort to Evadne, as were the birds twittering in the shallow marble bath in the center; she would have a bit of nature and wildlife in this strange and dead-feeling city.

  With a sigh, Evadne turned from the garden and went to seek her sister—and found that Dorina had already gone down. Annoyed though not particularly surprised, Evadne followed the enticing aromas of luncheon to a delightful little dining room.

  Her sister was already deep in conversation with their uncle and a person who must be Lady Henrietta Wotton. Evadne was torn between feeling overjoyed by the sight of food and being completely scandalized by Basil’s guest. She took an instant dislike to the woman—she was wearing a man’s suit, for goodness’ sake! Bloomers were one thing, as they modestly concealed a lady’s leg while providing ease of motion, but a man’s suit! Why, the woman’s bottom was right there, for anyone to look at!

  Evadne had expected she would be forced to mingle with Uncle Basil’s louche friends, but not so soon after arriving.

  “Ah, Evadne!” Basil motioned for her to come closer. “There you are. Come and meet Lady Henrietta—she’s been ever so anxious to make your acquaintance.”

  “Is that so?” Evadne immediately gathered from Dorina’s pained expression that she had not come off as particularly warm, but she could not for the life of her think of a single reason a strange woman might be “anxious” to meet her—especially a woman like Lady Henrietta Wotton.

  “Yes, after everything Basil’s told me, I’ve been quite curious,” said Lady Henrietta, extending her hand. The sun shone through her fair hair, lending her a halo, a strange contrast to her rather sardonic smile and devil-may-care manners. “It’s a pleasure. Please, call me Henry.”

  “Curiosity isn’t a particularly polite reason to want to meet someone, Lady Henry,” observed Evadne, accepting her hand rather hesitantly.

  Lady Henry’s palm was cool and dry, and she had a good, firm handshake, which Evadne appreciated; in fact, she warmed to Lady Henry considerably, approving of the strength of the woman’s grip.

  Yet when she let go, Evadne’s opinion reversed. Once their hands parted, Evadne got the overwhelming sense that there was something deeply unappealing about the lady—no, something fundamentally wrong with her. Not wrong in the sense of moral wrongness or propriety—this went beyond Lady Henry’s clothes or her manners. Evadne couldn’t explain it, couldn’t even put a name to her feeling, but it was alarming, disturbing, and she took back her hand feeling as if she would very much like to wipe it on her skirts. She resisted the urge.

  Thankfully, Lady Henry didn’t seem to notice anything amiss. “Curiosity is an uncouth way to put it,” she admitted, “but Baz has told me you’re a ferocious fencer, which is unusual. I take gr
eat delight in meeting unusual people.”

  Evadne bristled, her discomfort with some deeper, more esoteric issue than Lady Henry’s manners forgotten. “I wouldn’t say it’s particularly polite to say I’m unusual, either, my lady . . .” She trailed off, staring, as the woman produced a snuffbox from her pocket and took a pinch in each nostril.

  Only the faint and delicious odor of ginger reached Evadne’s own nose, but she was appalled by this, and not at all impressed. Dorina, on the other hand, had drawn nearer, like a moth to a flame, and clearly wanted nothing more than to take a pinch herself. But before she could even hint at such, Lady Henry tucked the snuffbox away in the inner pocket of her suit jacket. Then she dug out a handkerchief and blew her nose loudly. It was the most horrifying thing Evadne had ever seen a woman do—even more so than wearing a man’s suit and cravat to a luncheon with strangers.

  Dorina, however, looked like a thirsty man who’d just been handed a large glass of cold lemonade. She was clearly very taken with Lady Henry.

  “Shall we eat?” asked Basil, to cover the momentary awkwardness. “You girls must be hungry.”

  “Famished,” said Evadne, grateful to have a reason to break off her conversation, such as it was, with Lady Henry.

  “And while we eat, we can discuss what we’ll do today!” said Dorina as she took a seat at the table. “I was thinking perhaps we could visit a gallery, and then—”

  “Don’t you want to take a day to recover from your journey?” Basil looked alarmed. “I had thought you would be exhausted!”

  “I don’t have time to be tired!” Dorina hadn’t reached for a single dish; she was too excited. “I’ll rest when I’m back in sleepy old Swadlincote with nothing to do but stare at the wallpaper. What’s that, Evadne? Oh, thank you.” Only with reluctance did Dorina accept the tureen of potatoes. Evadne, on the other hand, was already reaching for the cold ham.

  “What are you hoping to see in London, Evadne?” asked Lady Henry, startling her—Evadne was used to being treated with as much regard as a decorative plant when Dorina was around. Then again, Lady Henry was a botanist . . .

  “I hadn’t thought about it,” she said. “My journey here was so lately decided, I spent all my time preparing, and none planning.”

  “Well, I may be flattering myself, but I believe myself to be an excellent tour guide, and would love it if you would allow me to show you about? At the very least you must come and visit me in Curzon Street. I could show you my greenhouse! Being country girls, it might replace your bountiful nature for a few brief moments.”

  Evadne popped a potato into her mouth to give herself time to think of a way to politely decline the invitation. In spite of the tempting break from London her greenhouse offered, Evadne was not much interested in associating further with Lady Henry. Unfortunately, her pause gave Dorina exactly the opportunity she’d been looking for.

  “I’d love to!” she exclaimed. “I’m very curious about your botanical researches, Lady Henry; I’d no notion I’d be so lucky as to meet you or I should have prepared questions in advance. Do you really cultivate a witch’s garden, like you said in your article in the Repository?”

  “Basil Hallward!” It was a relief to Evadne when Lady Henry’s gaze slid to her uncle. “You didn’t tell me Dorina was interested in horticulture!”

  “I didn’t know until today,” he said, shrugging as he sawed at the ham.

  “I’m interested in everything,” said Dorina earnestly. “Really, I thought that article was one of the most interesting things I’d ever read. The idea of witches’ gardens being a treasure-trove of specifically women’s knowledge was remarkable! You’re right, we do dismiss the idea of ‘old wives’ tales’ but there’s so much prejudice in that statement! While today we may go to a pharmacist, how many of their remedies are rooted—so to speak—in women’s garden wisdom? If you’d be so kind as to let me see some of the plants you were discussing I’d absolutely love that.”

  “I say!” Lady Henry had scarcely sampled her luncheon, either. “And here I thought Evadne would be the one anxious to get her hands dirty while you’d be eager to run off and stare at pictures.”

  “Oh, I am eager—I am!—but so many painters are familiar with flower lore, and the significance of plants, that learning about it firsthand from someone as knowledgeable as you will help me become a better critic one day! After all, Uncle Basil frequently puts flowers in his paintings, so my monograph will only be enhanced if I can comment on the symbolism.”

  “I underestimated you, Dorina,” said Lady Henry approvingly. “Basil said you wanted to write about art, but as you are so young I didn’t take your ambition seriously enough. I apologize—and to make it up to you, I’d like to offer you the opportunity to come dig in the dirt with an old woman anytime you like . . . perhaps when you need a break from all those museums and galleries.”

  “Old! Why, you cannot be more than five and thirty!”

  “Can I adopt her, Baz? Would her parents object, do you think?”

  Looking from Lady Henry to Dorina, Evadne wondered if she should be concerned. They both seemed quite taken with the other, and Evadne did not see how Lady Henry could possibly be a good influence on her sister.

  “I’ve never had a companion,” mused Lady Henry, finally spearing a potato with her fork, “but these days it’s so fashionable to keep some young, beautiful creature close at hand. Perhaps I ought to consider it.”

  “You should ask her mother before you propose such a thing,” said Basil, to Evadne’s dismay—surely he ought to shut down this particular notion immediately. Evadne was just about to say something to this effect when Lady Henry remembered she existed.

  “You’ll come too, won’t you, Evadne?” The woman’s smile was more polite than enthusiastic now that it was turned on her. “If you’ve no urge to look closely at root and leaf and stem while learning their lore, I assure you, there is no finer place in London to settle in with a good book.”

  “Oh, Evadne doesn’t read,” said Dorina dismissively, mortifying her sister without the slightest idea she’d done so—or maybe she did know, and didn’t care. “At least not anything you’d peruse in a fragrant bower. If you’ve some dog-eared fencing manual you might tempt her; she cares only for swords and sticking them into things.” Dorina leaned in conspiratorially and said, “I tell you, though, if we can but convince her that London is worth seeing she’ll be our eager bodyguard. Her ferocious expression will deter any pickpockets or murderers.”

  “I can’t imagine anything more wonderful than a gallant knight in petticoats,” said Lady Henry, but Evadne, too embarrassed to speak or look up from her ham and potatoes, would not meet the lady’s eyes. “Let’s make this happen. Tomorrow morning why don’t you both come call on me in Curzon Street, and then after luncheon we’ll go out and see some art.”

  Evadne thought it better to decline the invitation, but Dorina was already nodding an enthusiastic yes—and after Uncle Basil declared that he was ever so pleased they were settling in so quickly, Evadne couldn’t bring herself to refuse.

  As Evadne listened to Dorina and Lady Henry, she grew increasingly depressed about the weeks—the months—she would be staying in London. She already felt so useless. Their mother had commanded Evadne to be a good influence on her sister, but at this rate, she would have to chain Dorina in the cellar to keep her away from unsavory types, as they were clearly welcome to come to lunch at their uncle’s anytime they liked.

  Yes, by the time they stood up from the table, Dorina and Lady Henry had planned to meet not only the following day, but several more times that same week, and it had been agreed that Evadne would come, too, though they assumed rather than asked if she’d be happy to join them. Evadne consoled herself with the thought that they’d at least spend tonight in a quiet fashion, just family.

  “Well, I must away,” said Lady Henry, generating further ill will from Evadne when she opened up a silver case to light up an oddly spicy-smellin
g cigarette; at least she did not offer one to Dorina. “Meeting with my lawyer, what a bore! But it can’t be helped.”

  “I can’t wait to see your greenhouse tomorrow!” Dorina could scarcely stand still. “I think I shall dream of gardens, I’m so excited!”

  “It’s been a pleasure, Lady Henry,” said Evadne. Dorina rolled her eyes. Enthusiasm trumped propriety when her sister dealt.

  “It has been. And you know, they do say never to put off until tomorrow what you can do today,” said Lady Henry. “I think they mean that to apply to work, but it ought to apply to pleasure, too. So, let’s go to dinner tonight—what do you say, Basil? Shall we have a bite at the Criterion, say around nine?”

  “Dine out!” exclaimed Evadne, astonished. “Three women, eating in a restaurant? Why, we shall be arrested! I never heard of such a thing in my life.”

  “Tosh,” said Lady Henry. “They know me at the Criterion. London is a very modern city in its attitudes; we will see other women there, my dear, I assure you.”

  “I’d love to go. I mean, if Uncle Basil says we may,” said Dorina.

  Basil hesitated, looking from one sister to the other, but Evadne knew Dorina would win before he spoke.

  “I suppose a celebration is in order, seeing as it’s your first night in town,” he said, turning to Evadne. “But you and I could always stay home if you’d rather get to bed early . . .”

  Evadne shook her head. “Not at all,” she said. “I’d be delighted.” That wasn’t the truth, but there was no way she would allow Dorina to eat in public without an appropriate chaperone.

  For her part, Lady Henry seemed genuinely pleased they’d all go together. “Wonderful!” she said. “See you then!”

  As Lady Henry shut the door behind her, Evadne finally felt how exhausted she was. The long journey had taken its toll on her, and even after a refreshing repast she was ready to put her feet up.