Chapter 7
Two Days Later
T he soirée will be in four days,” Cecelia informed Frankie when she finally deigned to visit the schoolroom where she was to have met Frankie over an hour ago. “I have been terribly busy. It is quite a joy playing mistress of the house.”
“Is that not too soon?”
“I think it is enough time for people to gather,” Cecelia hedged, but there was a mischievous gleam in her eyes that Frankie did not think boded well for Jasper.
Frankie spent the next hour giving Cecelia increasingly difficult tasks in mathematics, composition, and French so that she might gauge where her pupil’s education had ceased. Although she was not to be Cecelia’s governess for more than a few days, it was imperative that she play the role. More important, Frankie thought it a shame when a girl’s education was lacking and she would not be complicit in the gaps in Cecelia’s knowledge.
“Miss Turner, you are too hard,” Cecelia complained at last, slumping in the chair in her new gown. Yesterday, Frankie had gone with Cecelia and her lady’s maid to the modiste, where they had ordered a scandalously expensive, but well needed, wardrobe. The modiste had found a gown that had been stitched but never paid for, and for a hefty sum had altered it on the spot for Cecelia to wear in the meantime. Cecelia was now dressed in a gorgeous shade of turquoise, the fashionable gown nearly reaching the floor instead of mid-calf as her prior gowns had. With the new dress Cecelia’s entire demeanor had changed. She was still impish, but some of her more outright childish defiance had disappeared with the outdated clothes.
It was sweltering in the schoolroom, and Frankie attempted to muscle open the stuck window again. At last admitting defeat, she asked, “Shall we have tea and then continue in the courtyard?”
Cecelia groaned. “I cannot concentrate, Miss Turner. Do you not understand that I am soon to host one of the summer’s most important soirées?”
Frankie narrowed her eyes at that, but Cecelia was busy spinning the book of sums on the table and did not notice. “May we take a walk instead?”
Frankie gnawed on her lip. The last time she’d taken a charge to Hyde Park, the boy had thrown both of his shoes into the Serpentine.
“Please? I promise you can teach me all about the geometrical shapes of the buildings, or whatever other boring math facts you would prefer.”
Boring! Frankie did not understand how anyone could find math boring when it was a discipline of infinite possibilities. “Fine.” Then with sudden inspiration she added, “Let us stroll along St. James’s Street.”
The Jones house had been in an uproar the past two days as everyone prepared for the soirée, and the chaos had given Frankie free license to wander into rooms she had no business being in. She’d “accidentally” found herself in the wine cellar, and even the attic. She had “bumbled” into servants’ stairways and knocked on walls in case there were secret passages or hidden rooms. All of the house’s square footage was accounted for, and she had not found a single secret room where Jasper might store his more illegal papers. The one thing she had not yet been able to accomplish was sneaking into Jasper’s study. While Frankie waited impatiently for her chance to search for the ledgers, she thought that perhaps the view of Rockford’s might spark conversation with Cecelia that could lead to new information.
Cecelia agreed on the destination, and after the two had donned hats and opened parasols, they strolled leisurely toward Rockford’s.
“Who have you invited to your soirée?” Frankie asked, skirting a pile of horse dung covered in a swarm of flies. Perspiration slid down her neck and she vowed that when she found her sister, she would never take another governess placement in the city. London was unbearably hot and smelly in the summer and far too damp and windy in the winter. Perhaps someplace on the coast would be nice.
“I have invited two chums from when I lived with my father.”
“Is that all?”
“Perhaps a few more. Oh, there is Rockford’s!”
Frankie suspected Cecelia was avoiding the question, but before she could say as much to her pupil, the sight of Rockford’s in the daylight stole her breath. It was every bit as imposing and exquisite in the harsh sunlight as it was by the more forgiving torchlight. The windows gleamed as if they’d been recently polished, as did the exorbitantly expensive marble steps. The white facade did not show a single smudge. Frankie imagined the coal smoke of London dared not antagonize Jasper, who would surely not tolerate the slightest hint that his club was anything less than pristine.
Cecelia paused outside the marble steps and looked upward, her tight sausage curls falling down her back. If Frankie was not mistaken, there was a glow of pride on the girl’s face. Cecelia exhaled noisily and said, “’Tis not fair. My uncle owns the most resplendent golden hell in all of London and I have never been allowed to step foot inside. If I were a boy, I wager he would allow me to visit.”
Frankie was not so sure. From what she had observed, Jasper seemed intent on keeping his personal and professional lives entirely separate.
“You have never been inside?” Frankie asked. When Cecelia shook her head Frankie said, “And he does not bring anyone home from the club?”
Cecelia howled with amusement. “If you mean ladies of the night, no! Never! He runs a gaming hell, but you would think he was a monk by the way he acts at home.”
That had not been what Frankie was alluding to—she’d merely been trying to make the point that Jasper preferred to keep his private life separate from his public one—but the opening was too good to waste. “Is that because he has conservative thoughts on marriage?”
Cecelia kicked at a pebble with the toe of her slipper. “No. That seems like an odd question, Miss Turner. Why do you ask? Please do not tell me you have designs on Uncle Jasper’s affections.”
Frankie’s expression must have cleared her from Cecelia’s suspicion because the girl voluntarily added, “He acts as if he lives an austere life around me, but I have ears, and the servants gossip.”
If Frankie were acting solely in the capacity of a governess, she would gently change the topic, but in this placement she was first and foremost a spy. “What do they say?”
Cecelia was happy to have someone to share her gossip with. “All boring things when I am around and all sorts of sordid things when they think I am not listening. Uncle Jasper has a scandalous reputation as a rake, and a lot of them think he will take a flyer with anything that has breath, but there are others who say it is exaggerated and he only dallies with widows.”
Frankie was a bit shocked by Cecelia’s frank recital, as most coddled children of the upper-class ton would have died before repeating such gossip, but then Cecelia had grown up in very different circumstances before coming to live with Jasper.
“Er—well, that is interesting,” Frankie said.
“You want to know what I think? Everyone makes Uncle Jasper out to be some devilish rake deflowering virgins left and right, and he encourages that, but when it comes down to it, no one has ever been able to name a single reputation he’s ruined. I think it’s more gossip than fact.”
Frankie knew she was supposed to admonish Cecelia for talking about deflowering virgins, and the girl was looking at her sideways while she waited expectantly. In an attempt to emulate a normal governess, Frankie made a stab at pretending to be offended. “Do not say virgin , Cecelia.”
Despite her mother’s best efforts, Frankie was practical down to the bone, which meant a startling frankness toward the facts of life, including reproduction. She’d read numerous books about the topic. For the life of her she could not fathom what all the fuss about virginity was. Animals did not care about such things, and neither did anyone care about a man’s virginity. She suspected she knew why it only applied to women: because they were considered property.
At the thought, her rage over the dastardly life sentence of the women targeted by the Dowry Thieves flared.
“Whyever not?” Cecelia demanded. “Everyone is always talking about it as if it were this wonderful thing, except I only ever hear it in reference to women. Are men supposed to be virgins? If so, Uncle Jasper will never make a good match. He is definitely not a virgin.”
“There is an unfair double standard when it comes to virginity and the sexes.”
Cecelia nodded, as if Frankie had confirmed something she’d always known. “You are easy to talk to, Miss Turner. I love Aunt Margaret and I am so happy she is still with me, but I cannot speak frankly with her. She nods off halfway through our conversations, and she is quite conservative. You are different, though. I do hope a lack of virginity will not affect Uncle Jasper’s chances with—” She stopped suddenly and shot Frankie a guilty look.
“Out with it, Cecelia.”
“Oh, all right, but you must promise not to tell Uncle Jasper.”
“I cannot make that promise if what you tell me is harmful.”
Cecelia thought about it. “It is not harmful.”
“Then you have my word.”
“I may have used my soirée as an opportunity to invite several debutants who did not make a marriage match this past Season. Uncle Jasper almost never goes out in polite society; I cannot ever recall hearing of him attending a ball, and so he has little opportunity to find a suitable wife.”
Jasper had made it plain he was not in the market for a wife, and Frankie was certain Cecelia was well aware of that.
“When you say you invited several debutants, exactly how many do you mean?”
Cecelia stuck her tongue in the corner of her mouth as she thought. “All of them.”
“All of what?” Frankie asked, alarmed.
“All of the debutants who did not make a match. And just as many men, as I do not want it to appear that Uncle Jasper is desperate.”
Frankie stopped and pressed her palms to her cheeks. If Jasper heard about this, he would cancel the soirée in an instant. “Are they not all in the country?”
Cecelia lifted her chin with pride. “Uncle lives with the pretense that he is an unworthy fishmonger’s son, but he is rich. Did you know that, Miss Turner? He has so much money that when he sends an invitation, people jump.” She snapped her gloved fingers. “We had so many responses the next day that Mrs. Hollendale was quite overwhelmed.”
“She knows about this?”
“Yes, but Uncle Jasper told her to give me whatever I want in regard to the soirée. Besides, I think she would like to see Uncle Jasper suitably married.”
A carriage clattered by, lifting a plume of dust from the street. They veered farther from the road, where Frankie could smell the roasted chicken and nuts being sold at a cart farther ahead. “Why are you so keen to see your uncle married?”
“Because I have only been with him a fortnight and he has meddled in my life more than my father ever did. It appears he has far too much time on his hands,” Cecelia said with a childish pout. “If he is married, he shall be kept quite busy with his new wife and I shall be free to do as I please. There is one lady in particular that I have high hopes for. Her name is Lady Evelyn Barker, daughter of the Earl of Elmsdale. From what I have heard she is a ravishing beauty. If all goes to plan, Uncle Jasper will be engaged to her before the soirée is over.”
Frankie stared at her. “You have introduced far too many variables to control. You do not know what your uncle will say or do, or which ladies will request his favor, or which fathers will approach him.”
Cecelia twirled her parasol over her head. “I cannot give away all of my ideas, Miss Turner. I like you, but I do not know if I can fully trust you yet. You must believe that I have an elaborate plan, and soon Uncle Jasper will be happily wed.”
Frankie had a feeling the soirée would not turn out the way Cecelia was hoping it would, but that was not her problem. Governesses did not attend soirées, and with so many people in the house and Jasper kept constantly engaged, it would be the perfect opportunity to take a look around his study.
“In that case I wish you the best of luck.”
Cecelia stopped and faced her. “Thank you,” she said earnestly. “Everyone is always scolding me, so it is nice to know you support my scheme.”
“Oh, no, I did not say I support—”
“You must attend as my companion, Miss Turner. I will not take no as an answer.”
“No. I am afraid that would be inappropriate.”
Cecelia laughed. “Oh, Miss Turner, nothing about this soirée is appropriate. You will see.”