ConneXions
Chapter 4
by
Dee
Raven relaxed in the carriage, one gloved finger tapping against her smirk.
"You have a mischievous look about you." It was Mortimer, her husband's oldest friend, and frequently her partner in myriad schemes. He would be with her in this one, she knew, as he smiled at her across the rocking carriage. Victor was wonderful, and her husband, but he didn't know how to play like Mortimer did.
"I was thinking about those with whom we are shortly to dine," she told him. "They seem like such... nice people."
Mortimer crossed his arms across his chest and merely looked at her, his smile amused and mischievous. "Oh, they are. Pillars of respectability, and the young one - Miss Rogue. She is the picture of innocence, is she not?"
"Oh yes," Raven agreed, and she knew that he thought as she did now from the sparkle in his eye. "They are simply so perfect." She turned to look out the window, one finger tapping again at her smirk, and added so very quietly: "We will have to do something about that."
* * * * *
Marie sighed, and tried to pull her attention back to the light conversation at her end of the table. It was futile, however. No matter how many times she dragged her gaze back to her turtle soup, she invariably found it returning to the other end of the table. It was difficult to listen to the pleasantries Mrs Creed was exchanging with Sir Charles at the head of the table when the faint sound of Jean's laughter from the foot told Marie her hostess was definitely enjoying Captain Logan's company. She would look up at every murmur, and see Logan speaking quietly to Jean, or to Miss Munroe, and both looked amused, smiling. Marie wanted more than anything to be seated next to Captain Logan, but when they had come into dinner, she had been placed here, between Mr Toynbee and Mr Creed, and across from Scott.
Everything had been going so well before dinner. Captain Logan had arrived first, and the conversation had been light, until the bell rang to announce their main guests. Jean and Scott had risen to greet them, which had left her alone with Logan to witness his reaction to the entry of Mr Lehnsherr and his friends. It had been Mr Creed who inspired Logan's quick intake of breath, Marie was certain. When she had asked after the cause of his distress, he had attempted to dismiss it quickly, but after only a little pressing had admitted to knowing Mr Creed previously, in much less felicitous circumstances. He would indulge her no further, however, and declined to make any of it known. He would not cause a disturbance in Mrs Grey's sitting room, he declared.
Marie liked having a secret of Logan's. It fit snug and warm in her head and made her smile. She noticed that Mr Creed, on her left, had been ignoring Logan as surely as Logan had been ignoring him. Then again, Creed spoke little enough to anyone, and only when directly addressed. He barely looked up from his meal, and his taciturn silence cast a small pall over the table.
His companions were perfectly at ease and talkative, though. Mrs Creed was bright and sparkling, dividing her time between Sir Charles on her left and Scott on her right. Mr Lehnsherr, between Creed and Jean, spoke with a little reserve and a great deal of dignity. Mr Toynbee was all smooth charm and quick wit, making Mrs Creed laugh and bringing a smile to Sir Charles' face.
As if her thoughts had summoned his attention, Marie suddenly found herself under Mr Toynbee's gaze. "You sigh far too frequently for such a young person," he declared, quietly and with a small twist of his mouth that spoke volumes of friendly amusement. "You should be full of gaiety and joy."
Marie smiled, liking his easy manners. "Sir, I assure you I am quite gay and joyful under most circumstances."
"Ah." Still with that teasing smile, he looked up to the other end of the table, then leaned a little closer to her. "Then perhaps there is someone rendering these circumstances unusual?"
Marie glanced around quickly. Scott was attempting to engage Mr Creed in conversation, and Mrs Creed and Sir Charles were having an animated discussion regarding the virtues of various operas, something they both seemed to be particularly passionate about. No one was paying attention to her conversation with Mr Toynbee. "I am sure I don't know what you mean." But there was a blush creeping up her neck to give the lie to her words. She looked down to her soup, and hope he wouldn't notice.
No such luck. He laughed quietly. "I am sure you do. Love should be a matter of joy and smiles, Miss Rogue. Such a shame. You blush so prettily."
Which, of course, made her blush more, and when she regained her countenance, he had joined the conversation with Mrs Creed and Charles. Marie listened politely, as did Scott, she noticed, who had ceased his useless efforts to draw Mr Creed out.
"Well then, we must certainly all go together some time," Mrs Creed was declaring with delight. "And we must invite Captain Logan. He seems to enjoy the company so much."
All heads turned to the other end of the table, where Logan was smiling at Jean, who was laughing with her hand over her mouth. Yes, he did appear to be enjoying the company, Marie thought with a strange twist in her stomach. And Jean seemed to be enjoying it as well. She looked across the table, but Scott had already turned back to Mrs Creed, his face its usual polite mask. Marie's eyes drifted back to the end of the table, and suspicion grew in her. Why had Logan been seated, not next to her, but next to Jean?
Marie suddenly felt angry, and looked down to her plate to hide her shift in emotion. No, but surely Jean would not do such a thing.
Would she?
Marie ate little and said less for the remainder of the meal, as course followed course and the conversation at her end of the table flowed through various topics, until, inevitably, it came to rest on that most contentious of figures, Napoleon. And from him, to the events of Paris, some forty years previously, that they were calling the Revolution.
With that topic, the conversation suddenly gained an unhappy amount of vigour, as Marie was stunned to see Sir Charles deploring the bloodshed and events with a passion she had not known he possessed. Even more surprisingly was the heated response of Mr Lehnsherr, almost a declaration of support for the revolution, and for a moment it seemed as if matters would prove the end of the party, so personal and accusatory did the comments become.
However, Mrs Summers could not condone such a thing in her dining room, and moved swiftly to calm both her uncle and her guest. Mrs Creed, following her lead, did similarly, and soon the old men returned to their meals in disgruntled silence, paying not one whit of attention to the other for the remainder of the meal.
That uneasy silence pervaded until the ladies adjourned, leaving the men to their brandy. It was a subdued group that entered the warmly lit drawing room. Marie turned quickly away from Jean and went to sit by the fire, taking a book from a nearby shelf and immersing herself in the pages. Her plan for solitude was ruined, however, when Mrs Creed took Miss Munroe to the piano, entreating her to play, for she had heard so much about the girl's talent. Jean, left alone, came over to Marie, a concerned look on her face.
"My dear, you seem out of spirits tonight, are you quite well?"
Marie twitched away from the outstretched hand. "I am quite well," she answered stiffly. "And perhaps only out of spirits compared to those with so many reasons for gaiety." A glance at Jean showed her confusion, and Marie added: "Captain Logan is a delightful man, is he not? Of course, I would not know, having not been seated next to him."
Jean folded her hands in her lap. The look she directed at Marie was almost stern. "Yes, the Captain is quite delightful. However, he is merely a captain, Marie, and his family and fortune are entirely unknown. A match between you would not be prudent."
"What do you expect of me, Jean?" Marie asked, closing her book with a snap, but her voice still quiet enough under the music of the piano. "I will never catch a true gentleman as a husband; my experiences in Bath have assured me of that. He is a decent man, of a decent standing and decent fortune. Perhaps you have other motives for your disapproval. After all, he is 'quite delightful', isn't he?"
Her anger delivered, Marie turned away from Jean, opening the book once more. She held the pages before her eyes until she heard the other woman stand and leave, but she could not make sense of a single word.
At the completion of the song, the piano halted, and there came the sounds of conversation from the piano, Mrs Creed and Miss Munroe and Jean, in muted tones. But Marie did not put down her book until the drawing room door opened and the men entered.
Sir Charles entered first, face as stern as that of Scott, who pushed his chair. And behind them Mr Lehnsherr and his companions, subdued and almost stone-faced, and last Captain Logan, as cheerful as the rest. Sir Charles was settled in his favourite spot near the fire, and Jean came hurrying over to Scott.
Marie fled away, over to the piano, where the others had gathered. Mrs Creed was praising the talent of Miss Munroe, and under the combined requests of the rest of the party, who were beginning to return to spirits in mixed company, the dark beauty was persuaded to play some more.
Seats were taken around the room, and small conversation attempted. Luckily, perhaps, the music prevented any serious discussion. When Miss Munroe quit the piano, protesting her fatigue, Marie took her place, to play and sing. She was moderately talented at both pursuits, and enjoyed them a great deal. Though tonight her pleasure was sadly diminished at seeing, over the piano, Jean engaged in coversation with Captain Logan and Miss Munroe once again. As if she could sense Marie's gaze, Jean looked up, and colouring a little, took her leave and went to stand with Scott. They conversed little though, Marie noticed, and Scott looked particularly stern. Perhaps she had not been the only one to note events tonight.
She finished a song she had hardly heeded as she performed it, only to find Mrs Creed at her elbow, smiling pleasantly.
"That was so beautiful," the older woman complimented Marie. "Indeed, Mortimer was just agreeing with me that it was by far the most delicate performance we have heard of that particular air in a long time. Would you do us the honour of performing it again?" And as Marie blushed and answered that she certainly would, Mrs Creed laid her hand on her shoulder, and leaned closer to whisper: "Your talents have certainly had quite an effect on the Marquis."
Marie blushed all the more, and was quite flustered for a moment. A Marquis? She could only mean Mr Toynbee. A quick glance towards where the man in question sat in idle conversation with Mr Lehnsherr revealed that he was looking her way, and she ducked her head. A Marquis, of all things. He must not know of her father's occupation, and think her a gentleman's daughter. "I am flattered that he would pay such a compliment to one as humble as I," Marie said quietly, and turned back to the piano, beginning to play once again to cover her confusion. A Marquis; and she stole another small look towards Mr Toynbee.
The evening passed slowly, strained, until eventually it was completed and carriages were called. Scott and Jean, with Sir Charles, stood in the hall, bidding farewell to their guests. With her smooth politeness, Mrs Creed extracted a grudging acceptance of a resumption of festivities in a week; a trip to the opera that she and Sir Charles had conversed so pleasantly about, with, of course, the inclusion of Captain Logan and Miss Munroe to make the party complete.
Sir Charles was tired, and was taken away to bed at once by his nurse immediately. Marie fled upstairs, pausing at the top to look down into the hall, concealed by the shadows. Jean turned to Scott, whose demeanour did not soften as he looked towards her.
"That was... less than pleasant," Jean commented stiffly.
Scott nodded. "The atmosphere over brandy was tense," he admitted.
Jean shook her head, holding one hand to her temple. "I don't like them. Captain Logan mentioned something about Mr Creed, some hint of past misdeeds. He would say no more, as a gentleman, but I think it would be best if we did not go next week. Surely we could find a reason for refusing the engagement."
Marie noted Scott's slight stiffening at the mention of Logan's confiding, recognised it as a mirror of her own. That had been her secret, her part of the Captain to keep for her own. And he had shared it with others. She stamped down on the betrayal welling inside her as Scott said curtly: "I should have thought you would have been glad of another opportunity to see the good Captain."
He stalked up the stairs, and Marie fled into her own room. And so, sullenly and individually, the household of Greymalkin House went to bed.
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