A Spinster No More by Rose Pearson
Chapter Four
Everton was pleased with Henry. He had acquitted himself well at the Spencers’ At Home. Lending Miss Knorr that book had been a very deft touch on his brother’s part, something Everton had not thought of. Perhaps Henry really did like her? That he had thought of her in such a way was very encouraging indeed. However, Everton was beginning to wish he didn’t have to be so present at every event. He enjoyed a party, as much as the next man, but being forced to attend them to look out for another was not as enjoyable as going for oneself.
Lady Gertrude was sweet and kind, and she was all too perceptive for a girl of her age. He enjoyed her company and the witty things she said. She was a fine dancer and had a sensible head on her shoulders. She knew she was there to find a husband, but she seemed determined not to rush into anything. He thought that very wise of her. Too many marriages were made rapidly in the first flush of infatuation and young girls often came to regret the choices they had made.
Lady Gertrude was of course luckier than most young women, as her family would not pressure her into marriage with someone just to further their own aims. The Duchy of Compton was wealthy enough, and they needed no additional noble blood to enrich their own. He was sure that the duke and duchess would let her wed someone she wished – as they had done with her brother. However, Everton worried that there might not be any young man that would live up to the requirements the feisty young woman held for her future husband. She was certainly not likely to accept anything less than she thought she deserved.
He had made Wycliffe a promise, to look out for Lady Gertrude and he would keep it - but he did not wish to enjoy the London of debutantes. All those silly girls, like Miss Spencer, all vying to beat one another to win the prize of the perfect husband. It was all so old-fashioned and dull. That he also had to watch out for Henry was another burden he’d rather not have to bear. His younger brother had already burnt through his quarterly allowance and had sent begging letters to their father for more. He would be glad when Wycliffe returned and Henry retired to the country for some peace and quiet, so Everton could return to his own life once more.
As he tied his cravat, ready to attend another evening’s entertainment, Everton’s gaze dropped to the miniature he kept by his bed of Katherine. Her sweet face was as lovely to him now as it had ever been. He picked it up and traced a finger over the soft lines of her cheek and tried not to remember how pale and gaunt she had looked in her final days as she battled so hard against the influenza that had taken her from him and from her family.
It was beyond cruel that Miss Spencer was the very image of her – yet had none of Katherine’s kindness and grace. Every time he saw the rather vain and unpleasant girl, he felt a pang of guilt and pain. He forgot for a moment that she was not his Katherine, and then she would speak, or give someone a disdainful look and he would remember that his love was gone, and that Miss Spencer only resembled her on the outside. And because of his promise to Wycliffe, he was forced to see her over and over and over again.
Then there was his brother. Everton had no clue what to do about Henry. His mother and father were determined that a bride would settle down his more wayward tendencies. Everton was not so sure. Henry was not one for parties and balls. His favored activities were generally quiet, solitary even. But his gambling was a problem. The lad seemed to have no idea when to stop, or when his losses were too great, and Everton feared for him.
It was a delight to see him with Miss Knorr, who was one of the sweetest women alive. She was patient and even-tempered. She liked literature and poetry and seemed to share similar tastes to Henry in that regard. Yet something nagged at Everton, that the match wasn’t quite right. He remembered holding Miss Knorr in his arms, waltzing with her at Wycliffe’s wedding, and again at Almack’s and wondered if a woman like her would truly be happy with a boy like his brother? She was quiet, true enough, and he got the impression that she was unimpressed by the Season and its purpose to find suitable husbands for the young women of the Ton. Yet she, contrarily perhaps, seemed to enjoy good company, music and dancing – things Henry disdained.
But it was not his place to decide. It seemed that the pair had struck up some manner of friendship at least, and Henry was less unwilling than he had been to attend at least some of the events this year. Tonight, they were to attend a new play. He doubted if anyone going actually cared about whether it was good or bad. Sitting in the most prominent position one could afford was the purpose of attending the theatre during the Season. Whispers passed between the boxes and along the rows of seats, condemning or praising the women’s choice of gowns and remarking upon the gentlemen’s choice of who to escort.
“Are you ready?” Henry asked, poking his head around the door. “I don’t want to be late. I wish to discuss the script with Miss Knorr before the performance.”
Everton smiled. His brother had never hurried him to anything before in his life. Perhaps there was hope that there was a match there after all. He grabbed his coat, and the two men went down the stairs, crossed the hall and went out onto the street. The carriage awaited them, and they got inside. “You like her, don’t you?” Everton asked as it pulled into traffic. “Miss Knorr, I mean.”
“I enjoy discussing things with her,” Henry said. “She is very intelligent and comes up with some excellent points.”
“Is that all?” Everton asked. “Do you not also notice that she is pretty, with a lovely smile and roses in her cheeks?”
“Oh, I’m sure she is comely enough,” Henry said, “but I am not concerned with that. What use is a pretty face if there is no intelligence or perception beneath it?”
Everton shook his head in disbelief. His brother was such an unusual creature. Everton doubted that Henry would notice if Aphrodite herself was stood in front of him, begging him for his love. What chance did any mere mortal possess?
They reached the theatre and entered the foyer, where Lady Gertrude and Miss Jessup were awaiting them. “Oh, I am so glad you are here early,” she said tucking an arm through his. “I do so love to be here before the auditorium fills. There is such a sense of anticipation when in an empty theatre.”
“My brother wishes to discuss the script with Miss Knorr. Have she and Miss Spencer arrived yet?”
“No, I doubt they’ll be here early,” Lady Gertrude said. “Poor Henry, I fear you may be very disappointed. Miss Spencer likes to make an entrance once all eyes are upon her.”
Henry frowned and disappeared. Everton escorted Lady Gertrude and Miss Jessup inside. He had never been into a theatre when it was virtually empty before and was surprised to find that Lady Gertrude was quite right. There was a peculiar sense of excitement at being the first in the vast space, looking out over all the empty chairs and the curtained stage. The trio watched as people began to file in. Lady Gertrude noted a number of faces she knew and waved. A few friends came to talk with them in their box, and eventually, just before the play was about to start, Miss Spencer arrived with Miss Knorr walking demurely a few steps behind.
Everyone glanced up at the box at their arrival, as Miss Spencer had obviously planned. She smiled and waved at a few people and then made a performance of taking her seat. Everton shared a grin with Miss Knorr behind the young woman’s back. “Good evening,” he whispered to her.
“And to you,” she replied. “Where is Henry?”
“He was disappointed you weren’t here when we arrived. I think he went to find some friends. I am sure he’ll be here shortly.”
But Henry did not appear in the box during the first act, nor the second. In fact, it was clear within moments of the play beginning that his brother had left the theatre altogether. Everton had never been more disappointed in his brother, and for his brother. Henry had been so keen to attend tonight, had been sure that he would find an intellectual pursuit to his liking with someone whose company he enjoyed. Yet, there had been no time for that. And because he could not enjoy the night the way he wished to Henry had simply abandoned it.
The play was not good. Everyone agreed that as they filed out of the theatre. Perhaps Henry had been the wisest of them all to disappear before it had even begun. Miss Spencer was, as usual, surrounded by a group of admirers. Miss Knorr stood alone, to one side, waiting for her. Everton shrugged on his coat and joined her by the carriage. “I am sorry about Henry,” he said softly. “He came with me and seemed very keen on seeing you. It must have been something very important that called him away.”
“You need not make excuses for him,” Miss Knorr said with a wry smile.
“You two seem to have grown close,” Everton said with a shrug. “I’ve not seen him enjoy anyone’s company so much.”
“And you need not flatter me with false praise.” She laughed. “Mr. Cormick, your brother and I are barely even friends. We share some similar tastes in our reading, but nothing more. I doubt your brother is aware if I am a woman or a man, to tell you the truth. He is not the sort of person that cares of such things.”
It was a peculiar thing to say, but as Everton let her words wander around his mind, he realized she was right. Henry did not care if someone was man or woman. His only concern was could he discuss the matters he thought important with them. He was the sort of man that would have been happy cloistered away in a university, with only books and other fusty academics to discuss the world and all its ills with. He wondered if it might be time to remind his parents of that fact – Henry did not belong here, amongst the Ton and he would not make a good husband to anyone.
“You are a very wise young lady,” he said to Miss Knorr, who flushed at his sincere compliment.
“I don’t know about that, but I have spent enough time watching people and how they act to see past the façade – at least some of the time.”
“Are people all so deceptive?”
“Not all. Some are as easy to read as an open book – but others, they hide everything behind a mask,” Miss Knorr said, glancing around at her charge. “Take Miss Spencer, she knows she has little but her beauty and her fortune to commend her. She knows she must seem to be more than that, and so she plays her part – that of a silly, sweet debutante.”
“And those who court her?”
“Ah, now they are simply fools,” Miss Knorr said with a smile. “They see only what they wish to see – and they spend their days coming up with bigger and more impressive boasts in order to try and win a woman that does not exist.”
“And Lady Gertrude, and myself?” Everton asked, not sure if he wished to hear her thoughts or not.
“Well, Lady Gertrude is true to herself. She has learned much in the past year. Where she might have put on a mask in the past to get her way, she now knows that she will be more likely to get what she really wants if she is herself. She has grown wise like an owl.” She paused, looking up at him shyly, then ducked her head away as if she did not wish to speak of him.
“And me,” Everton prompted her. “What do you see when you look at me?”
“You are a mystery,” Miss Knorr said. “Your mask is very good. You seem to be gregarious, generous and at the very heart of everything. Yet I am never sure if you are really with us or not. At least a part of you is often elsewhere, especially when you look at Miss Spencer. If I did not know you are not a fool, I would be tempted to think that you are as besotted as every other man in London.”
