Putting on Airs (4 page)

     
Shaky from embarrassment, Imogene crossed the room towards Mr. Campbell, eyes of mean judgment following her.  When she approached him, he did not speak, but his expression seemed to suggest all of confusion, embarrassment, and alarm, which made Imogene feel slightly better about the whole ordeal.  Happily, Jane then entered the room, and Imogene rushed to her side.

     
"I am so happy to see you!" she exclaimed to her newly arrived friend.

     
"Goodness, what is wrong now?" Jane asked upon seeing her friend's face so pale.

     
"I may be throwing the whole of my good reputation out the window," she laughed, trying to dismiss her anxiousness.

     
Embracing her friend to comfort her, Jane asked, "Is this about your cousin again?"

     
"I cannot marry him, Jane.  He means to change me completely, and I cannot stand him!"

     
"You must not cry now, dear.  Tell me what is going on."

     
"The only way to break the betrothal is for him to consent to it, so I must make him see me as the last person whom he would ever think to marry.  Just now, I played the most dissonant symphony on the violin."

     
"Now I understand.  But you have to take care, Imogene.  Is avoiding this marriage worth ruining your reputation with everyone else?"

     
"I do not care about that so much.  As long as I do no lose your respect, I will not lose anything.  If I
do
marry him, I will lose everything."

Mrs. Cartwright and Mrs. Barton joined to scold Imogene about her behavior, expressing their "utter shock" and "sheer horror", and how she quite humiliated herself, her family, and above all, her betrothed.  Their lecture was stopped when the guests of honor entered the room: the Cole family—new residents of the town.  Imogene was one of the first to be introduced to them.  There was Mrs. Amelia Cole, a sweet woman who was widowed not three years ago.  The lavish estate was divided between her two sons; she would stay with one during winter, and the other during summer.  Her younger son, Phillip, was bright and charming—so good-humored, that as soon as he entered the room and was introduced to a lady, he entered into the dance with her.  The elder son, Henry, was quite the handsomest man in the room, and Anthony's admirers were soon lost to the elder Mr. Cole.  The youngest of the family was the daughter, Nell, whose warm smile dazzled brighter than the chandelier.

     
Avoiding her cousin, Imogene joined Jane in speaking to Mrs. and Ms. Cole, and they each obliged when asked to dance by Phillip.  It was a wonderful addition to Imogene's scheme as well, and she hoped that Mr. Campbell was watching as she danced with the young, charming Phillip.  And the dance was wonderful—they had some conversation as they danced, getting to know one another, and she laughed genuinely for the first time that evening.

     
Mr. Cole, unlike his younger brother, did not dance at all, but rather kept to himself, sitting down on a chair near the band.  Many ladies tried talking to him, hoping for a dance, but no offer was made, and hardly a word was spoken.  Upset that he was no longer the center of attention, Anthony approached Mr. Cole where the ladies were gathered.

     
"Excuse me, ladies, but I have no partner for the next dance."

     
"I have no inclination to oblige any of you," Mr. Cole told his surrounding admirers, "so perhaps you should draw your attentions to this young man.  What is your name, sir?"

     
"Mr. Anthony Cartwright."

     
"Very well; Mr. Cartwright, make your choice.  Excuse me, ladies."

     
With that, Mr. Cole left Anthony to the ladies and was allowed to sit at the pianoforte to accompany the band in the next dance.  He played remarkably well, his fingers gliding over the keys with speed and poise.  Imogene, interested in meeting him after getting on so well with his brother, approached the pianoforte to watch over his shoulder as he played.  When the song finished, she tried talking to him.

     
"You played that beautifully, sir."

     
He turned to face her and furrowed his brow, having trouble remembering her name, though they had met when he arrived.

     
She believed him to be upset, so she apologized, "I am sorry if I bothered you by standing here during the song."

     
"If that were the case, then you would not have done it in the first place."

     
He moved to rise from the bench, but Imogene detained him, "Really, I am sorry to have disturbed you.  Do not leave the instrument on my account; your playing will be missed."

     
He said nothing; only stared at her.  She could not tell if he was irritated or confused by what she said.  Feeling very awkward and foolish, she left the pianoforte and crossed to the punch bowl, Mr. Campbell right behind her.

     
"Your behavior has been quite unusual tonight, madam," he said.  "And what were you doing dancing with that man?"

     
"What I was doing was dancing; you answered it yourself."

     
The music then began for the next dance.  "Come; we will dance."  He requested it in such as way that suggested he did not particularly
want
to dance, but
had
to, and she in turn had to oblige.

     
"I do not want to dance now, sir."

     
"We have not danced yet all evening; we must."

     
"I
must
not do anything I do not want to do, sir.  I crossed this way in order to have some punch, and that is what I will do."

     
"You may have some after the dance; now come before it starts."

     
He reached out to take her hand, but halted, his attention turning elsewhere.  Just entering the room were Mr. Archer and Clarice.  Mr. Cartwright was welcoming them graciously, expressing his sincere delight at their attending the ball.  Imogene smiled at her scheme and made her way to the newly arrived guests immediately.  Clarice smiled happily upon greeting Imogene, but Mr. Archer remained stiff in his manner, warily scanning the room.

     
"I am so happy you both have come," Imogene declared.  "I did not think you would want to be the last to meet the wonderful new family who have come to town.  I am only sorry that my invitation reached you so late.  If I may, I would be delighted to introduce you both to the Cole family."

     
As she introduced them, Mrs. Cartwright desired a private word with her husband.

     
"What are they doing here?  Did you invite them?"

     
"Of course not, my dear.  Imogene wrote them this morning."

     
"How could she dare!"

     
"I think it rather generous of her to want to remain on good terms with the Archers.  They have been friends of the family for years—"

     
"That was before we knew that Ms. Clarice is a base-born ward!  They are nothing to us now.  Poor Anthony!"

     
Anthony had not even noticed the arrival of the Archers, but was trying to think of how to ask young Ms. Cole for a dance.

     
Imogene sat down with Jane, Emmeline, Clarice, and Nell, and the five ladies instantly became friends.  Mr. Campbell approached Imogene, trying again to persuade her to dance, but she continued to refuse, and her new friends pleaded with him to leave them talking awhile more.  Things could not possibly have gone better for Imogene's scheme.

     
"May I have the honor of the next dance, Ms. Cartwright?"

     
Imogene was about to answer "no", but realized that Mr. Campbell never addressed her as "Ms. Cartwright."  Upon turning around, her eyes met those of Mr. Archer standing near her, and she was too surprised to speak.  He held out his hand, and she gave it as he led her to the dance floor.  But a moment later, she regained her senses and looked to her friends, who encouraged her to go on and dance.

     
Imogene did not imagine what her mother or governess thought of it; she did not glance aside to see if Mr. Campbell was upset by it; she only looked at her dance partner in wonder, unsure of how she could account for the honor of dancing with him when he was so cold to her the last time they had met.  Dancing with him was almost awkward, and she longed to begin a conversation, but could not think of anything to say.  Fortunately, he spoke as they met in the center of the lines to cross.

     
"I am grateful to you for your invitation, Ms. Cartwright."  His tone almost seemed to suggest the feeling of admitting he was wrong and disliking it, but Imogene heard no such tone, just his words.

     
"I am glad you could come on such short notice; you
and
Clarice, I mean."

     
"I did not much care to come, but Clarice had not been to a ball in some time, and she desired to meet the new neighbors.  I have not seen her this happy since before...Well, it has been some months."

     
"Months!" Imogene had never been informed of how long ago Anthony had broken off the betrothal.

     
"But it seems that is all forgotten to her now, and I thank you for that."

     
"It was the least I could do, sir."  During the ring-around of the dance, Imogene saw a number of her family watching the dance contemptuously, and her heart sank.  "I am afraid that I have endangered you, sir, by dancing with you."

     
"You have no reason to feel sorry; I brought it upon myself."

     
She smiled sympathetically, but he smiled not once through the whole dance.  She felt less and less honored by his offer to dance, expecting that he felt obligated to as a favor in return for cheering his ward.

     
After the dance, Imogene returned to her friends as Mr. Archer spoke with the Cole family.  Opening her fan, she wished someone would open a window and let in some fresh air.  Once again, Mr. Campbell approached to request a dance, and again she declined.  He made the remark that she was greatly dishonoring him by dancing with other men and not her own betrothed.  She knew it would not do to assist in creating an even worse reputation of the Archers with her family, so she at last consented to dance with her cousin.  The whole time, he was silent and staring at her with cold scolding.  She refused to meet his eyes at all through the course of the dance.

     
Afterwards, she again brought out her fan and remarked that the room felt warm and stuffy, but the servant said the wind was too harsh to open any windows.  Fan beating, she left the ballroom and stepped out the back door, sitting on a swing hanging from the nearest tree.  The sky was dark and smoky, as though every star was replaced with a cloud.  The wind blew her hair out of style, but it felt very relieving to her—relieving until she stumbled off the swing and got sick in the grass.  She forced herself to her feet and staggered to the door.  She had made it just inside when she collapsed onto the floor in a faint.

     
"Not until I am fast asleep," Imogene whispered.

     
"Very good, ma'am.  I anticipated as much."

     
Imogene managed a smile in gratitude to her thoughtful servant, who left the room with a curtsey and a promise that she would not be gone long.  Imogene sighed, pressing the cold, damp cloth on her forehead.  She greatly appreciated the tranquility and solitude of her room—as opposed to the boisterous clamor of the ballroom—but longed for a means of escape other than illness.

     
Wrapping herself in a blanket, she slowly rose from bed to sit by the window and watch the rain, her head resting on the windowsill.  The gentle pattering of the raindrops mingled with the soft song of the harp from the ballroom.  She soon fell asleep again, propped up against the window.

------

Imogene was ill and confined to her bed for a week, during which she was either sleeping or sitting near the window.  The next week, she was finally allowed out of doors (as long as she was sitting on a bench—not hiking around—and as long as Mrs. Barton was there with the parasol).  The whole point of going outside was to enjoy the fresh air and the birds, but no matter how rapturously the lark sang, Mrs. Barton spoiled it as she continued her teaching lectures.  The only way to silence her was for Imogene to bring the Bible with her each time she went outside.  Mrs. Barton would then remain silent for her to read and reflect.  She had offered to read aloud were her mistress too weak to hold up the book, but Imogene satisfied her by saying that she wanted to read at her own pace.