Chapter Six
Beatrix sat with Caroline in her room. Her hair was done and her dress was on, a pretty lilac silk with braided silk trimming.
Somehow, she was ready far too early to go down.
She might descend anyway and sit in the drawing room, but Mr. Feldstaffer began to look as if something had gone wrong if people were waiting around.
Earlier that day, they’d been in the drawing room with their mother and Miss Sprite, as Miss Sprite kept them at their sewing. They were making sets of napkins embroidered with the earl’s crest as a Christmas gift.
Their father, who was generally closeted in his library with a political crony, came in waving a letter. “Lady Dudmore,” he said to the countess. “She’s boxed us in!”
Beatrix did not know who Lady Dudmore was, but considering her mother’s expression, there was something frightening about her.
“How?” the countess asked.
From the conversation that ensued, Beatrix got the idea that the lady held an annual house party in Kent that nobody ever wished to attend due to its odd nature.
The earl and countess had dodged the invitation each year by begging off due to the earl being needed in parliament.
Somehow, that excuse was not working this season as the earl was known to be bringing his daughter out in society and therefore had time for entertainments.
It was the same thing that had happened about the very entertainment they would attend this night—Lady Thurston’s poetical tableau.
It seemed there was a slew of entertainments the earl and countess did not like to attend and had been avoiding by using her father’s politics as an excuse.
“What do you suppose is so bad about Lady Dunmore’s house party?” Caroline asked. “Papa said the queen attends it. How could it be bad?”
“I do not know, but it seems as if I will find out,” Beatrix said. “I will tell you all about it afterward.”
Caroline nodded. “Are you looking forward to seeing Lord Chester this evening?”
Beatrix was pensive on the question. “I should be, and I think I will be when we become more acquainted.”
“What about Lord Harrelston?”
“Oh yes, he is very genial. I told him all about that time we stole away from Miss Sprite and aspired to be tinkers.”
“I remember,” Caroline said. “We thought it would be very jolly to just set off every day with no idea where we were going. Just selling our wares with no rules. We were planning on having cakes for breakfast.”
“He was very amused.”
“Bitsy, are you in love with Lord Harrelston?”
“No! Why should you say so? I just met the gentleman.”
“Well, from what I saw, he is handsome and friendly. I do not know what else you should be looking for.”
“Both Mama and Papa feel very set on Lord Chester, though.”
“I do not like him,” Caroline said, with a jut of her chin.
“You do not know him, and neither do I.”
“I have a feeling about him, though. I do not think he is as jolly as Lord Harrelston.”
Beatrix did not answer. She did not think Lord Chester was as jolly as Lord Harrelston either. Nevertheless, she would get to know him. Not everybody had to be as jolly as Lord Harrelston. She had her duty to her parents to think about.
“I do not think his grandmother likes him very much. Whose grandmother does not like them? Grandmothers love their grandchildren. Always.”
Beatrix did not know if it were always, but their own grandmothers had been particularly adoring.
At home, they’d often escaped to the dower house and the dowager had been their staunch defender in blocking the door against Miss Sprite.
The dowager would lean against the front doors and shout, “I am having a confidential conversation with my granddaughters over tea and biscuits. Go away!” That dear lady had left the earth last year and they missed her terribly.
Miss Sprite bustled into the room without so much as a knock. She eyed Caroline. “Lounging on the bed again?”
“It’s comfortable to be stretched out,” Caroline said.
“A lady is never meant to be comfortable,” Miss Sprite said. “A lady is meant to be upright at all times but for sleeping, illness, and death.”
Caroline dragged herself up and threw herself into a chair in that particular way she did that annoyed Miss Sprite.
That lady pursed her lips. Then she turned her attention to Beatrix. “Tonight will be another opportunity to impress Lord Chester. Be very gracious about the Almack’s incident. Gentlemen prefer it when they are not taken to task for any discomfort they may have caused.”
Miss Sprite had been referring to Beatrix sitting out the third, known as the “Almack’s incident” since she found out about it. As for what gentlemen would prefer, Beatrix supposed they would prefer not being taken to task. Who would not prefer it?
“Be gracious, be demure, be quietly elegant, and be passive. This is what will impress. As for the contents of Lady Thurston’s tableau, you cannot stop your ears without attracting attention.
Therefore, use your imagination to think of other things.
You might think of the glory of England and pray for the king, that would be quite acceptable. ”
Beatrix could see Caroline out of the corner of her eye, stifling her laughter.
“Should I not just watch the tableau?” Beatrix asked.
“Gracious no, a young person’s mind should not be sullied with that lady’s unnatural performances. If you even catch a word of it, forget it immediately.”
Miss Sprite was a great proponent of forgetting things as if they had never happened. Beatrix could not actually figure out how it was done. Once she’d seen or heard something, she did remember it even if she did not wish to.
“Furthermore,” Miss Sprite said, “on no account use your quizzing glass to observe what goes on. Whatever it is, you do not want to have a closer look.”
Beatrix had no plans to argue with Miss Sprite, as it was usually a pointless endeavor.
However, she certainly did intend to listen and watch the tableau, just like every other sensible person attending.
She might pray for the king at other moments, but she had no intention of praying for His Majesty at a poetical tableau.
She could not think he would even approve of it.
“What about Lady Dunmore’s house party?” Caroline asked. “Will Bitsy be stopping her ears there too?”
“I should say so. The entire three days will need to be forgotten, except any exchanges with the queen. Those may be remembered.”
“Why, though?” Caroline asked. “If the queen is to be there, what could be bad about it?”
This seemed to cause Miss Sprite a deal of trouble.
For some reason she was against Lady Dunmore.
However, her admiration of the queen was well understood and she would not criticize that lady for the world.
Rather than answer this very relevant question, Miss Sprite said, “Beatrix, it is time to go down, the carriage will be coming round. Caroline, we will play piquet to pass the time.”
“You always win piquet.”
“Which is precisely why you need the practice.”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Lord Chester had been forced to go in the carriage with the viscount, viscountess, and the dowager to Lady Thurston’s tableau. He had a smiling mother and father across from him and a glaring dowager on his right.
“What is it, exactly, that we are to see this evening?” the dowager asked.
“Just a bit of nonsense,” the viscount said. “I have not been in years, but the last time it was about pin money.”
“Lady Thurston felt she should have more,” the viscountess said, “though she did not name a specific amount.”
Lord Chester did not bother to mention that the tableaus had gone far beyond pin money.
That had been a more innocent time. The newer offerings included Lord Thurston’s dealings with an actress and the news that Lady Thurston had sold Lord Thurston’s favorite chair.
He thought that had been rather stupid. If Lady Thurston wished her husband to be at home, rather than with an actress, she probably should not have sold the chair he preferred to sit in.
What he worried about most was that the actress Lord Thurston was allegedly consorting with would be the focus of the tableau.
He did not want the dowager to get any ideas about mentioning Annie to his mother and father.
He felt that, for now at least, she was holding it over his head as a threat.
There was no way to tell when she would fire off her cannon.
“We are all to sit together in a box,” the viscountess said. “Lady Thurston transforms her ballroom into a theater and there will be a box with our names on it.”
“Sounds foolish to me,” the dowager said.
“Please do not say so within anybody’s hearing, though,” the viscountess said.
The dowager shrugged, so there was no telling whether or not she would take that advice.
“The point of our going is not the entertainment. It is for our boy to spend more time with Lady Beatrix,” the viscount said. “He must make amends for Almack’s and make himself pleasant.”
He could feel the dowager turn in his direction and her eyes attempt to bore a hold in the side of his head.
Fortunately, the carriage had rolled to a stop.
They made their way inside and found Lady Thurston and Lady Burberry at the door.
Lady Thurston was dressed as some sort of woodland faerie.
At least, he thought that was what it must be.
She was in a long and flowing sea-green chiffon that billowed and floated around her.
Her hair, alarmingly, was mostly down. Straggly brown curls, streaked with grey, with only a small topknot to keep it out of her eyes.
Her head was graced by an emerald tiara that he would bet was paste.
He tried not to laugh at the dowager’s staring at the ensemble with her brows knit.
“Expect something entirely unexpected,” Lady Thurston said. “I will not even tell you the title of my tableau, as I do not wish to give it away.”
“It’s unexpected so far,” the dowager said, staring at Lady Thurston.