Chapter Seven #2
She really wished Lord Chester could be more like Lord Harrelston.
Or more like a gentleman who admired her.
She would not go so far as to wish him to transform into a Lord Monroe, but some sort of expressed interest would be appreciated.
She really did not see how they were to get anywhere otherwise.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Mr. Feldstaffer heard all about the poetical tableau. Apparently, Lady Thurston, after five seasons, had finally harassed her lord into increasing her pin money.
He hoped, by receiving that information, that Lady Thurston’s habit of offering this nonsense had come to a close.
She and her friends had, supposedly, laid down their swords.
Where Lord Thurston had been during this laying down of swords, nobody seemed to know.
Probably with the actress that was supposed to have been banished.
The countess had remarked that if she’d known precisely how outrageous it would be, she would not have brought Beatrix. As it was, it had been meant to be an opportunity to encounter Lord Chester, which had been a middling encounter at best.
The lord had not seemed enthusiastic. Rather more concerning to the earl and countess, Lord Monroe had been far too enthusiastic.
He’d thrown off the earl quite a bit by claiming he’d prayed for Lady Beatrix’s attendance.
Then he’d rounded off the evening by practically insisting that Lady Beatrix was to go in a faint over the performance.
The earl had been quite offended over the idea that one of his daughters would faint over a performance.
The Bells of Copperstone Manor were made of sterner stuff than that.
Lord Monroe had since sent more daisies, which made Mr. Feldstaffer certain he was getting them for free somewhere.
If he were buying his flowers, he likely would have chosen another sort.
He’d found a patch of daisies somewhere and was working his way through them.
His note said he was hopeful that she had suitably recovered from the evening.
On a more positive note, at least in Mr. Feldstaffer’s view, was that the earl and countess were rather stumped by Lord Harrelston.
They liked him and they thought he liked Beatrix.
Had it not been for the plan of the match with Lord Chester, they might look very favorably on it.
However, there was the plan for the match. The very longstanding plan.
The butler could see that they were not quite ready to cut Lord Chester loose. But they did like Lord Harrelston, so that was a step in the right direction. With an extra push from The League, Lord Chester might be sent away permanently.
Mr. Feldstaffer quietly sighed. What a push it would be. He could hardly believe he’d agreed to it.
Just now, he stood inside the drawing room doors as Miss Sprite interrogated Lady Beatrix about the poetical tableau while Lady Caroline took it all in.
Miss Sprite’s command that anything she deemed out of bounds was forgotten immediately was rather difficult when she also demanded to know all the details. Lady Caroline had not even been there, and now she was being told it and would have to forget it too.
Miss Sprite pursed her lips. “Do you mean to tell me that she reviewed her marriage in its entirety. In public?”
“I think that is what it was,” Lady Beatrix said. “There was the proposal in Brighton, I imagine that is why they were all dressed as strange mermaids.”
“Mermaids!” Miss Sprite said, clutching at her fichu.
Mr. Feldstaffer had no idea what Miss Sprite had against mermaids.
“Unnatural creatures,” she said.
So that was what she had against mermaids.
“Then there was a problem with the pin money and it all seemed to go downhill from there,” Lady Beatrix said.
“What is all? What went downhill?” Miss Sprite asked, leaning forward to catch every last detail.
“Um…well…there seemed to be an actress involved somehow.”
“An actress. Shameful.”
“Yes, and a missing chair. Which was the whole time just in the attics. I am not at all certain where Lord Thurston had thought his chair went, as she did not say.”
“Forget it all immediately,” Miss Sprite said in a resolute tone. “You were never there, and you heard nothing.”
Lady Caroline snorted. Miss Sprite seemed to comprehend that what she wished forgotten had just been relayed to the younger sister quite unnecessarily. Mr. Feldstaffer had long noticed that Miss Sprite’s nosiness and wishing to know everything often got ahead of her.
As she often did, Miss Sprite searched her mind for another thing she might condemn. She said, “Since we speak of forgetting, I am very afraid there is another thing that must be endured and then forgotten. The Duchess of Ralston’s party.”
Mr. Feldstaffer was already aware that the duchesses’ party was to be conducted differently this year. He rather wished it was not to be conducted at all.
“You are on the list, Bitsy,” Lady Caroline said. “You will hear what gentleman think about you.”
“She may well hear, and then she may not hear,” Miss Sprite said. “It matters not. If Beatrix hears anything at all, it will be immediately forgotten.”
Just then, Johnny slipped in and sidled over to him, carrying a bouquet of flowers. “This just came, Mr. Feldstaffer. Addressed to Lady Beatrix.”
Miss Sprite’s sharp eyes landed on them immediately.
“Bring them to me, Mr. Feldstaffer. The countess trusts me to read the note and determine if they ought to be accepted. They had better not be another pile of daisies from Lord Monroe. The earl is still aggravated about the insinuation that Beatrix might be unwell over Lady Thurston’s performance.
I did not train these girls to be unwell over the slightest provocation. I trained them to forget it all.”
Mr. Feldstaffer did as he was asked, though he was dubious over whether Miss Sprite was to be the arbiter of whether flowers were to be accepted.
Miss Sprite snatched at the note, while Lady Beatrix peeled back the wrapped paper to reveal white musk roses. Whoever had sent them, that gentleman found Lady Beatrix charming.
Mr. Feldstaffer could only pray they were not from Lord Chester. So far, that lord had not made a very good showing and he was hoping that would continue.
“Who are they from, Miss Sprite?” Lady Beatrix asked.
“I wager it is from Lord Harrelston,” Lady Caroline said. “He is so jolly.”
“Ladies do not wager,” Miss Sprite said severely. “Do not aspire to the likes of the Duchess of Devonshire. Though, she is a duchess so I dearly pray she gives up that unfortunate habit for the dignity of England.”
“Miss Sprite?” Lady Beatrix asked, urging her to reveal the sender.
“As it happens, they are from Lord Harrelston,” Miss Sprite said, not appearing very approving of it.
Mr. Feldstaffer, himself, was wildly approving of it. Lady Beatrix seemed very pleased too.
“Well,” Miss Sprite said reluctantly, “I suppose since he is a respected lord they cannot be refused. It is just a shame that they are not from Lord Chester.”
“Lord Harrelston thinks you are charming, Bitsy,” Lady Caroline said.
“Young lady, do not presume to guess what a gentleman thinks,” Miss Sprite said.
“That’s what the flowers say, though,” Lady Caroline said. “White musk roses mean the lady is charming.”
Miss Sprite sniffed at this very valid point.
Mr. Feldstaffer had noticed that as the young ladies of the house grew older and more astute, the governess was having a harder time ruling with whatever pronouncements occurred to her in the moment.
Her pronouncements were once well-settled law, now they were more a suggestion in parliament that was to be debated.
“We will spend the next hour reading and reflecting on one of Mr. Fordyce’s sermons,” Miss Sprite said. “We will begin with On Female Reserve, which seems appropriate for the moment.”
Mr. Feldstaffer kept his expression neutral, lest he give away what he was thinking. If one were a Miss Sprite, one would haul out Fordyce for any and all occasions. Especially if one did not know what else would answer.