Earl's Well That Ends Well Page 28

  One cause, at least, was obvious. Diana had never seen a greater alteration in a person than in George Trent, Amanda’s husband. She remembered him as a smiling blond giant, looking fully able to toss his tiny bride high in the air and catch her again without the least strain. Now, after seven years in the Peninsula, he retained only his height. His once muscular frame was painfully thin; his bright hair and ruddy complexion were dulled, and he wore a black patch over one blue eye. Diana’s presence appeared to startle and displease him, though he said nothing, merely retreating to the other side of the room and pretending interest in an album that lay on a table. His family watched him anxiously but covertly.

  “George,” said Amanda finally, when his conduct was becoming rude, “you remember Diana Gresham. She was at our wedding, and I have spoken to you of her.”

  George was very still for a moment. Then he turned, squaring his shoulders as if to face an ordeal. “Miss Gresham,” he said, bowing his head slightly.

  “Doesn’t George look dashing and romantic?” Amanda continued, her tone rather high and brittle. “I tell him he is positively piratical and he must take care not to set too many hearts aflutter, or I shall be dreadfully jealous. Don’t I, George?”

  “Me and everyone else,” he replied, and strode abruptly out of the room.

  Amanda made a small sound, and when Diana turned she saw that her old friend’s eyes were filled with tears. She felt sharp pity and fear that she intruded.

  “It was only a tiny wound,” said Amanda shakily. “But they could not save his eye. And then he took the fever as well. I had hoped that being home again would be good for George, but he doesn’t seem to want to recover.”

  “You’ve been here only a week, Amanda,” answered Mr. Durham. “Give him time.”

  “Yes, darling.” Amanda’s mother looked as if she might cry too. “I’m sure it is very hard for him, but he will come round.”

  Diana rose. “Perhaps I should take my leave.”

  The Durhams exchanged a glance.

  “Please don’t,” cried Amanda. Then, realizing that she had spoken too fervently, added, “I beg your pardon. Why should you wish to stay, after all? It is just that I have been so…” She broke off and dropped her head in her hands.

  Diana moved without thinking to sit beside her friend and put an arm around her shoulders. “Of course I will stay if you wish it. I feared I was prying into private matters.”

  “George does not allow it to be private.” Amanda’s voice was muffled. “I am selfish to keep you, Diana. It was just so splendid to see someone from the old days.” She raised her head. “The things we remember of each other are so…simple.”

  It was true, Diana thought, and the idea appealed to her as much as it did Amanda. Whatever worries each might have, between them there was nothing but pleasant recollections. Here was an opportunity to end her loneliness without explanations or the great effort of finding and cultivating new acquaintances. At long last, fate seemed to be coming to her aid. “I should like to stay,” she said. “I should like it very much.”

  Amanda met her eyes, and for a moment they gazed at each another as two women, a little buffeted by the world and sadder and wiser than the girls they had been when they last met. A flash of wordless communication passed between them. Then Amanda smiled and clasped her hands. “I’m so glad. We will have another cup of tea and talk of all our old friends. Do you know what has become of Sophie Jenkins?”

  Returning her smile, Diana shook her head.

  “She married an earl!”

  “But she wished to become a missionary!”

  “So she always said,” replied Amanda. “But when she got to London, she threw that idea to the winds and pursued a title until she snared one. They say her husband is a complete dunce.”

  Diana couldn’t help but laugh, and Amanda’s mischievous grin soon turned to trilling laughter as well. They both went on a bit longer than the joke warranted, savoring the sensation.

  “I hope you will stay to dinner, Diana,” said Mrs. Durham then. “I know you are alone now.”

  Diana had nearly forgotten the older couple. Turning quickly, she saw encouraging smiles on both their faces. “I should like that. Thank you.” Did they really want her?

  “That’s right!” Amanda’s dark eyes widened as she thought of something. “Diana! You must come and stay here. You cannot live alone, and I should adore having you. Wouldn’t we, Mama?”

  “Of course.”

  Mrs. Durham did not sound as enthusiastic as her daughter. But neither did she seem insincere. Suddenly the idea was very attractive. Diana would not have to go back to that dreary house for a while; she could put off the decision about what to do. Yet the habit of years was strong. “I don’t know…” she began.

  “You must come,” urged Amanda. “We shall have such fun.” Tension was in her voice, and Diana could not resist her plea. She nodded, and Amanda embraced her exuberantly.

  “For a few days,” murmured Diana, her eyes on the Durhams.

  But the older couple was watching their daughter with pleased relief.

  And so it was that Diana closed up her father’s house on the day after Mrs. Samuels’ funeral and settled into a pleasant rose-papered bedchamber at the Durhams’. The room was much more comfortable than her own, attended to by a large staff of servants. Diana had dismissed all the servants but Mrs. Samuels after her father’s death, taking on household chores herself as a kind of penance. She had never learned to enjoy the work, however, and she decided now that there was no further need to punish herself.

  As the days passed it became more and more obvious that Diana’s presence was good for Amanda, and Diana took this as reason enough for the Durhams’ kindness. That the opposite was also true, she did not consider for some time. Yet at the end of the first week, Diana realized that she was happier than she had been for months, perhaps years. Amanda’s companionship filled a great void in her life, and a more luxurious style of living suited her completely.

  At the beginning of the second week, as she and Amanda walked together on a balmy March afternoon, Amanda said, “We are the only two of our friends who have stayed the same, or nearly the same, anyway. I have seen Sophie and Jane and Caroline in town, and they are all vastly changed. They talk of people I don’t know, and they seem wrapped up in town life. I suppose it is because you and I were cut off from society.”

  “Did you see no one in Spain?” Diana was curious about her friend’s experiences abroad, though she did not wish to call up any painful memories.

  “Some other officers’ wives, but they were often posted away just as we became friendly. And I never got on with the Spanish and Portuguese ladies.” She sighed. “George was most often with the army, of course. I spent a great deal of time alone.”

  “You came back for visits.” Diana wondered why she had not stayed in England, as most army wives did.

  “Yes. But then I missed George so dreadfully.” Amanda’s smile was wry. “We were…are so fond of one another. It is very unfashionable.”

  “I remember when you met him. One day you were perfectly normal, then you went to an assembly in York and came back transformed. We could hardly force a sentence from you. It took days to discover what was the matter.”

  Amanda laughed. “We were both bowled over. We married six weeks later.”

  “And the rest of us nearly died of jealousy.”

  They laughed. But Amanda’s expression soon sobered again. “And now we are all scattered—Sophie in Kent, Jane in Dorset, and Caroline flitting from London to Brighton to house parties. It all seems so long ago.” She paused. “Of course, they all have children, too. It makes them seem older.”

  Diana sensed constraint. “When you and George are settled…” she began.

  Amanda shook her head as if goaded. “I have lost three. I…I don’t hope…t
hat is…” She bit her lower lip and struggled for composure. “But what am I about, discussing such things with you? An unmarried girl! Mama would be scandalized.” She paused again, taking a deep breath. “You know what we must do, Diana? We must find you a husband. You are…what? Five-and-twenty now? Nearly on the shelf. How careless of you!” Abruptly her eyes widened. “I did not mean… Oh, I haven’t offended you, have I? My tongue runs away with me sometimes.”

  “Of course you have not.” But Diana did feel uneasy. “I have never had the opportunity to marry. I don’t suppose I shall.” Even if she did have the chance, it was impossible. No man would wish to marry her once he learned of her past. Diana knew she could never keep such a secret from a husband.

  “Nonsense.” Amanda examined her friend with a more critical eye than she had used so far. Diana had been very pretty at seventeen. Now, her color was not so good, admittedly, but her deep golden hair had lost none of its vibrancy, and the unfashionable way she dressed it was somehow very attractive. Her face was thinner, but her brown eyes with those striking gold flecks remained entrancing. Her form was slender and pleasing, even in the poorly cut black gown. Amanda’s own dark eyes began to sparkle. It was unthinkable that Diana should not marry, and this was just the sort of problem that appealed to her. A keen interest that Amanda had not felt for some time rose in her, temporarily banishing worry. How could her plan be best accomplished? Slowly an idea started to form, which, she reasoned, might work for George as well.

  About the Author

  Jane Ashford discovered Georgette Heyer in junior high school and was captivated by the glittering world and witty language of Regency England. That delight was part of what led her to study English literature and travel widely. Her books have been published all over Europe as well as in the United States. Jane was nominated for a Career Achievement Award by RT Book Reviews. Born in Ohio, she is now somewhat nomadic. Find her on the web at janeashford.com and on Facebook at facebook.com/JaneAshfordWriter, where you can sign up for her monthly newsletter.

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