Chapter Eight #2
Monroe needed Lady Beatrix’s money. Monroe was willing to act with speed to get Lady Beatrix off his back.
The last thing they needed was another lord dragging his heels and muddying the waters.
Harrelston, if he did anything at all, was likely to go at some sluggish pace he deemed reasonable.
However, a speedy engagement with Monroe would send his mother and father on their way home.
And his grandmother too. God, how he would like to see the back of that lady.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
As the carriage trotted along, Beatrix’s mother said, “Gracious me, it is the Duchess of Ralston, there was nothing we could do but acquiesce. Though, I am not certain I like this idea of going to a party to hear what a young gentleman might have to say about my daughter.”
“A lady’s purview to hold such a party, I suppose,” the earl said, “if that lady is a duchess of a certain age. Not even the queen can be bothered to check her, Her Majesty is generally amused by what the duchess gets up to. The ship that carried the Duchess of Ralston’s restraint has long ago sailed. ”
“I understand that everything is to be kept confidential, though,” Beatrix said. “Nobody is to know who the gentleman is that wrote something, or who the lady is that he wrote of.”
The countess shrugged. “I suspect that is the point. By not revealing who is behind it or who it is about, guesses and speculation will run wild.”
“Perhaps that is why she does it,” the earl said. “Where would the ton be without guesses and speculation? I do not know what half these people do all day aside from producing random chatter apropos of nothing.”
Beatrix smiled at her father. He’d always worked so hard with all his political dealings, though she was not certain what that work involved.
It was a lot of meeting and talking about votes as far as she could tell.
The earl really could not fathom what those men who were more lackadaisical in their duty did with their time.
“Well, in any case, she’s set the thing up on a list of twenty ladies and the gentlemen are only to pick seven,” her father said. “I would not take those odds at a gaming table so it might all come to nothing.”
“Is it strange that I find that idea even worse?” the countess asked. “I am not sure I like the idea of Beatrix being ignored. It is nonsensical, I know. I both wish her out of it and in it.”
The earl patted his wife’s hand. Beatrix had once overheard him say to one of his political cronies that if one did not know what one’s wife was talking about, a pat on the hand was as good an answer as any. It prevented a lot of arguments, as it could be interpreted whatever way a wife wished.
Beatrix did not know what she would hear this evening.
Nothing or something. She did not know if she would even suspect that any particular comment was about her.
Or maybe she would suspect and be wrong.
All she knew was that she was on the list of twenty ladies.
It could be true that no gentleman chose to write about her at all.
Or even if they did, she understood that the duchess did not read all the entries, just the ones she found particularly interesting.
As that idea drifted through her mind, she realized she would be disappointed if Lord Harrelston did not say something complimentary. Of course, she was certain she would wish Lord Chester would say something too, had he been on the list.
As for Lord Monroe, he was on the duchesses’ list, but she did not wish to hear from him.
He was so odd. He’d sent some strange letter with more flowers, this time daffodils, that was meant as a preview of what he would write for the party.
At least, that was what she thought it was. He admired her fortitude.
Lord Monroe had very strange ideas about a woman’s fortitude, as if it was extraordinary that a woman would have any at all.
“Why do you suppose the duchess did not include Lord Chester on her list of gentlemen?” the countess asked.
“Blast if I know,” the earl said. “I might think she just had too many eligible gentlemen to choose from. But if it came down to that, I do not see how Lord Monroe came out ahead of Lord Chester. Makes no sense. Monroe strikes me as rather a strange bird.”
“Perhaps Lord Chester indicated that he did not wish to participate?” the countess said. “He is rather reserved; he might not care for such frivolity. He might consider it beneath him. Standards and all that.”
Beatrix thought that might be right. She was not sure she liked the idea, though.
So far, Lord Chester had seemed very reserved and not inclined to fun.
She did not know if she could be suited to seriousness all the time.
She would have to change, probably. But how did one do that?
One might change how one acted, but how did one change how one felt?
If how one felt could not be changed, it seemed as if it would be a terrible slog to go through a whole life pretending at feeling something different.
They had reached Bedford Square and its lines of houses with their distinctive Coade stone entryways.
They made their way in to find the Duchess of Ralston in a receiving line of one.
“Ah, earl,” she said, “I am delighted that you have been dragged away from your politics for an evening. But between you and I, I am disappointed over the slow sinking of the ministry of all the talents on the Catholic question.”
Beatrix had heard bits and pieces of the so-called ministry for months.
As far as she could gather, the ministry was meant to pull together all the best people in government, regardless of their party.
They had been successful at abolishing slavery, but had fallen apart regarding establishing more rights for Catholics.
“The Tories carry on, Your Grace, as they always do,” the earl said.
The duchess nodded approvingly. “This must be Lady Beatrix?”
Beatrix curtsied. “Your Grace.”
“The moment I was apprised that the Earl and Countess of Copperstone were to bring their eldest daughter to Town I knew she must be on my list of ladies.”
“Thank you, Your Grace,” Beatrix said, though she really was not certain if she were thankful or not. Now that they had positively arrived, it all felt rather fraught.
They moved on to the lady’s ballroom.
“Now,” the earl said, “I have been here before. Just to the left over there is an entrance to what the duchess refers to as a reception room. That is where we will find sideboards, as well as some very unusual artwork on the walls.”
“Ah yes, the cat,” the countess said.
Beatrix looked toward her mother, as she knew nothing about a cat.
“It is the pawprint of Intrepid, the cat who sailed with Captain Cook,” the countess said.
“So we choose to believe, in any case,” the earl said. “The duchess is a great one for jests, so it could very well be the pawprint of the mouser in her kitchens. That would amuse her, I think.”
They entered the reception room and there was Lord Monroe, coming straight at them. That gentleman seemed to be everywhere.
“You are looking very well, Lady Beatrix, fully recovered from Lady Thurston’s shocking tableau.”
“There really was not anything to recover from, Lord Monroe.”
“Brave lady,” Lord Monroe said.
“Lady Beatrix.”
Beatrix turned and found Lord Harrelston, a much more welcome sight. “Lord Harrelston,” she said.
“I have surveyed the sideboards and noted that there is the white Bordeaux from Chateau Margaux, if you would care for it. I recall it is a preferred wine.”
Beatrix was flattered that he’d committed such a thing to memory. “Indeed, yes, I do prefer it.”
“If the earl and countess do not mind, I will escort you there.”
While her mother and father looked a bit confused, no doubt wondering if they were to be subjected to another parade to the sideboard, they did not object.
“I was going to suggest the same,” Lord Monroe said.
That had probably been said for naught, Beatrix thought. Lord Harrelston had led her away in haste, as if he guessed Lord Monroe might wish to come along. As they went, she heard the earl say, “Tell us about your estate, Lord Monroe, I do not think we know much about it.”
“My estate?” the lord answered weakly back.
Lord Harrelston poured her a glass of the white Bordeaux. “I am glad it is not to be a crowd on this particular trip to a sideboard,” he said laughing.
“That was awkward,” Beatrix said in reference to the crowd that had proceeded to Lady Thurston’s sideboards.
“What was more awkward is the three of us gentlemen debating which wine you ought to try. I rarely get pulled into such stupid arguments and should have known you would have your own preferences with no help or advice from us.”
“It was odd, to be sure,” Beatrix said with a smile. “Since then, Lord Monroe has been congratulating me on recovering from Lady Thurston’s tableau.”
“Were you shaken by it to such a degree?” Lord Harrelston said, looking surprised.
“No,” she said laughing. “That is why I do not understand why he is sure that I was.”
“He aims to please, I think, and may have developed the idea that ladies wish to always appear near a faint.”
“My father would not tolerate such a thing,” Beatrix said.
“Nor would Miss Sprite, I suspect.”
“Goodness no,” Beatrix said. “Miss Sprite says a lady must be upright and stoic at all times. Ruffled feathers reflect a ruffled mind. Minds, you understand, are never to be ruffled.”
Lord Harrelston laughed over it. “I am surprised she lets you out of the house for such entertainments.”
“Ah, she has a solution to that,” Beatrix said. “When we see or hear of anything she does not approve of, we are simply to forget all about it. This evening is on her list of things I am to forget, no matter what I hear.”
“I would hope you would hear something complimentary,” Lord Harrelston said. “And I would hope you do not forget it, even if it means defying the indomitable Miss Sprite.”
Beatrix was certain she blushed, which was another thing Miss Sprite did not approve of, at least in most cases.
She said a lady must have full control over her complexion.
A reddening of the cheeks was to be reserved for a lady’s wedding day or when one was particularly moved by something said in church.
“In fact, I imagine you will hear something complimentary.”
Rather than comment on that, Beatrix said, “Thank you for sending the white musk roses. They are lovely.”
“White musk roses are a new beginning.”
Beatrix was not so na?ve that she did not comprehend that Lord Harrelston wished to communicate his interest. It was rather thrilling. It was not supposed to be thrilling, she was supposed to be all in for Lord Chester, but nonetheless it was.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the black bombazine that was the hallmark of Lord Chester’s dowager, and that lady’s arm on Lord Chester’s arm. She did not know who was propelling who forward, but she guessed it was the dowager behind the forward motion.
A small sigh escaped her. It was no use.
She did not feel any sort of thrill to see Lord Chester.
She tried and tried and maybe she would over time, but at this moment she did not.
She was enjoying her time with Lord Harrelston and she felt irritated that they should barge in.
It was terrible to feel so, and yet she did.
“Lady Beatrix,” the dowager said. “My grandson chose not to be included on the duchesses’ list this year, but I imagine you have received a private communication that is superior.”
Beatrix had not the first idea of what the lady spoke of.
“Grandmama, do not press the lady,” Lord Chester said. “Harrelston.”
“Chester,” Lord Harrelston said.
There was such a coolness between those two gentlemen, though Beatrix did not know the cause. She supposed some people were just oil and water with no particular cause.
Lady Durban stuck her head inside the reception room door. “Everyone, the duchess would call you into the ballroom. She is ready to begin.”