Chapter Seventeen
Livy
Cousin Jasper had left town, and taken Mr. Curston with him. Apparently, they had gone to a house party just out of Brighton, a place which saw a much faster set than Bath, since it was popular with the Prince Regent and his hangers-on.
Livy was delighted to see them go. Aunt Ginny was inclined to grumble. “Horace, you did not need to drive my boy away,” she said to Pa.
“I did not drive him away, Virginia,” Pa told her. “I did tell him that he needed to stop seeing marriage to Cilla as a solution to his financial problems, for he would never get his hands on her dowry, even if she agreed to marry him, which she would not.”
“It would be a good match,” Aunt Ginny insisted, “with benefits on both sides.”
“Virginia, your son is a spoilt boy who would make my Cilla miserable,” Pa said.
“He spends money he does not have, chases after anything in skirts, cannot resist a horse race, a prize fight, or a wager, ignores his responsibilities, and has no sense of purpose. I ask you, where is the benefit to Cilla?”
She did not counter any of Pa’s criticisms, but only made the same old claim. “He is a viscount, Horace. She would be a viscountess.” True but irrelevant. Cilla didn’t care about titles.
“If he does not mend his ways, my lass, he will have nothing left except the title, and where will that leave you and the girls?”
Aunt Ginny burst into tears, and it was left to Cilla to comfort her, since Livy shared Pa’s opinion that it was all, or mostly, an act.
With Jasper and Curston out of town, Pa relaxed, and once again Livy and Cilla were left to travel to and from events with Aunt Ginny, though Pa had solved the crowding problem by purchasing a coach that had enough room to fit all five girls, plus Aunt Ginny, with Barker and one of the Marple maids relegated to the roof.
On several occasions, Livy saw Pa giving Aunt Ginny a purse, or asking her to explain items in the accounts that arrived from the dressmaker, the candlemaker, the cobbler and dozens of others.
“I had not realized until now,” she said to Cilla, “that Pa is paying all the costs of Marple’s household as well as his own. ”
It made her even less inclined than before to indulge her aunt’s whims about what to wear, where to go, and who to be seen with.
She and Cilla might owe their aunt thanks for being their sponsor, and Livy was grateful.
But Aunt Ginny and the cousins owed Pa for the food they ate, the roof over their head, and the clothes on their backs.
She and Cilla continued to sleep at home, under their father’s roof. After all, as Cilla said, who knew when Jasper might return from his house party?
But also—Cilla didn’t say this, but Livy certainly appreciated the advantage—they could walk with the Sanderson brothers in the mornings, without having to endure Aunt Ginny’s opinion on the matter.
Aunt Ginny usually had plans for them in the afternoon and evening.
She was inclined to be indignant that her nieces chose to attend the weekly meeting for Jenna’s ladies—mostly because she was not invited.
Cilla soothed her ruffled feathers by explaining that the group met to discuss books and current affairs, which Aunt Ginny thought was a complete waste of a marriageable lady’s time.
“I cannot see the point, Lucilla. You do not need to know such things in order to make an eligible marriage.”
However, given the families represented among the ladies, and the titles, she conceded that the connections her nieces were making might have some value, and only grumbled when the meeting times conflicted with her own plans for the girls.
Livy and Cilla were making not just connections but friendships.
Cilla was taking lessons from Margaret in the cultivation of herbs and their medical use.
Livy, pursuing her own interest in help for the less fortunate—particularly unfortunate women who had been victims of selfish men—found that Regina taught reading once a week to girls at a local “house of refuge”—a place where those who were unmarried and with child could go to be given a roof over their head and food to eat in return for their labor.
“No, Livy, I cannot take an unmarried woman into Magdalen House,” Regina said bluntly.
“Just entering such a place will destroy your reputation and will do the women no good at all. You can help, though, if you wish. Talk to your friends and relatives. We need baby clothes. We need jobs, particularly jobs in the country, particularly jobs where a ‘widow’ might be permitted to have a baby with her. It is safest for the women to pretend they are widows. Donations of most kinds are appreciated—food, clothing, money.”
How irritating that Livy’s chastity would be called into question for as simple an act as walking into a building that contained “fallen” women.
And how annoying that at least some of the men who had copulated with those women populated the ballrooms of London without censure.
Even if their part in fathering children outside of wedlock was known, they would be criticized only for failing to provide for the child, and not for the acts that had led to the child’s existence.
How hypocritical. Particularly since, in most cases, the men participated in such activities fully aware of the potential outcomes, but not caring. And why would they? Any consequences would fall almost entirely on the women.
Whereas, and Livy could speak from experience, many women had no idea that a little flattery and a kiss might make a man feel entitled to take more. Still other women—like the poor girl at the house party—trusted promises and avowals of love that were lies.
However, at least she could be useful in some small way.
She abandoned her netting projects for knitting and persuaded her father to let her send the kitchen’s leftover food to Magdalen House.
Her father, after some searching questions, harumphed gruffly, then agreed.
Livy was somewhat stunned to realize he seemed proud of her new interest.
The Duchess of Winshire’s ball was three weeks after Livy’s and Cilla’s debut ball, and put the less prestigious event entirely in the shade.
Aunt Ginny was in altitudes every time the ball was mentioned, and as the date approached, she planned every detail of the girls’ garments, jewelry, and coiffure, then changed her mind and planned again.
Livy was delighted to learn, during one of their morning walks, that Bane and Drake had also received an invitation. She and Cilla agreed to keep that morsel to themselves. Let Aunt Ginny find out on the night.
Indeed, Bane and Drake were being invited everywhere, thanks to their own connections and—Livy believed—the ladies of Jenna’s group. Aunt Ginny was torn between being annoyed at their success and delighted that her nieces and daughters were benefiting.
And the rumors that painted their reputations in the darkest of colors had disappeared as if they had never happened.
Jasper remained in Brighton. Aunt Ginny complained to the girls about his absence, but Livy could not see that any of them were disadvantaged.
Certainly not his sisters, who had barely seen him since the day after their debut ball.
He had put himself out to attend that event and to induce his friends to dance with them, and he had turned up at their first afternoon at home.
Apart from that, he had only seen them when they happened to be present during the farce that was his courtship of Cilla.
Aunt Ginny might have worried about what he was up to while out from under her eye, but at least she did not know. And since she had no influence over him whatsoever, not knowing what he was doing must be less disturbing to her peace of mind. Or, at least, that was Livy’s opinion.
Cilla was thrilled to have him absent. “The way he looks at me makes me want to go and scrub myself all over, with soap and hot water,” she told Livy. Since Livy felt the same way about Curston, she absolutely understood.
*
Bane
Bane and Drake were visiting the Pentworths’ new workshop, which had been set up in a building owned by Drew’s father. Drew’s younger brother, Lord Barnabas, who was himself an engineer, had his own workshop in the same building.
They had been introduced to Lord Barnabas when Pentworth gave them a tour. The two engineering workshops each included copious storage and even a room with a desk for paperwork and a bed for nights when they worked too late to go home. In addition, the building housed a blacksmith’s forge.
“The blacksmith works for the duchy,” Pentworth told them, “but we have the use of the forge by arrangement with him, and he will also take commissions to do the more crucial pieces that require a higher level of precision.”
“It could not be more perfect.” Mrs. Pentworth was close to gushing, which was far from her usual practice. “And the new rooms you found for us, Mr. Sanderson, are just a two-minute walk away.”
The couple were now living in a mews behind some large houses that had been split up into apartments. Many of what had once been stables and carriage houses for the former owners had also been converted into pleasant, if small, dwellings for rent.
“My sister in Sheffield writes that the men who were sharing the lies about you and us have been exposed, and are facing charges,” Mrs. Pentworth added. “Silas and I must thank you for that, too.”
Drake said the right thing before Bane had managed to think of an answer. “The attacks on you were because of us, Mrs. Pentworth—because you and your husband allowed us to become your investors. It was only right that we did what we could to restore your reputation along with our own.”