Chapter Thirteen #2
The second thing that had surprised him was Lady Beatrix’s dignity and composure in the face of the gossip that was going round.
A lady in her first season, a lady who had been sheltered all her life, might be expected to be lying on a sofa as concerned relations waved a vinaigrette under her nose.
He would not have blamed her if she had been.
She’d been nothing of the sort. As he very much doubted that strength of character had been something instilled in her by Miss Sprite, he presumed it was an inherent and unerring instinct.
There was an idea in these modern times that a lady must be delicate, a willow buffeted by a breeze. Her sensibilities could not hold up against much and it was a gentleman’s job to ensure she did not have to try.
Gone were the days of Queen Boudicca leading the Iceni to Londinium.
Lady Beatrix set those ideas on their head. She was a lady through and through. She might have been raised sheltered, but she was strong like any queen. He smiled over the idea that she’d been so forthright as to inquire if he kept an actress.
The third thing that surprised him was more alarming than the first two. When he’d left, and Monroe had gone at the same time, Corbyn had stayed his coachman. He wished to ensure that Monroe actually left, rather than devising some excuse to go back in.
He’d mused that if Monroe did go back in, he’d go back in himself. He did not know what he would say about it, though he was sure they would both appear ridiculous.
Monroe had dawdled and then finally got in a hackney. Corbyn was certain Monroe knew he was being watched and gave up.
Farber had told him Monroe was strung up, but seeing that he did not even have a horse, much less a carriage, hammered home the idea of precisely how bad his situation was.
Just as he was planning to tell the coachman to set off, another carriage had arrived to Grosvenor Square and stopped in front of Lady Beatrix’s house.
He watched the dowager and the viscountess descend the carriage and make their way inside.
They had a nerve to visit, he thought. He could not know what was said within, but they were there for a half hour, so they’d not been thrown out on their ears as they should have been.
He was not certain what to make of it. He was certain what he would do next, though.
Corbyn made his way home and penned a letter to Lady Dudmore. He begged her indulgence. He’d prior written that he was not available to come to the party, but his schedule had changed. Could she manage to fit him in?
He needed to send it immediately and so directed Farber to hire a fast messenger to deliver it, wait for an answer, and bring it back.
With any luck, he’d be on his way to Kent on the morrow. Monroe would not have the chance to attend with no other gentleman on the field.
After Farber had made the arrangements, he’d updated Corbyn regarding what he was able to gather by hanging about Lord Chester’s servants’ hall.
Aside from the expected recriminations, there was some notion of the letter Annie Wister received having been forged.
The penmanship had been close, but not exact.
Corbyn could not even make a guess at who might cause that sort of trouble for Lord Chester. But then, he could make a guess that Lord Chester had caused enough trouble for plenty of people so it might be a wide field of possibilities.
He’d speculated that it might have been Annie herself. Perhaps she’d hired someone skilled at such things and thought to force the issue. Of anybody, she was bound to have multiple samples of his penmanship to copy from. She was an actress, so she would be well able to pull off a convincing scene.
According to Farber, Lord Chester’s family was giving short shrift to who may or may not have written that letter. For them, the point was he was keeping an actress and that actress had come to the house and humiliated them.
He asked Farber to discover what he could about the viscountess and dowager’s visit to Lady Beatrix’s house. Then he set off for Rundell & Bridge to examine their inventory, as it was well to be prepared with a token when the right moment came.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Beatrix woke early and tiptoed to Caroline’s room still in her nightclothes. Her sister was still asleep, but she never minded being woken up for a sisterly conversation.
As she jumped on the bed, Caroline stirred and rolled over. “Is the sun up?”
“Not yet, but soon,” Beatrix said.
“You are nervous about going to Kent,” Caroline said, pulling back the covers so Beatrix could get under them.
“Very,” Beatrix admitted, fluffing a pillow. “For one thing, the queen will be there. I avoided the queen’s drawing room as our arrival was delayed a week. I was very relieved about it though Papa still cannot believe he had to pay for a court dress for nothing.”
“I will get stuck with that dreadful thing when it is my turn to be out in society,” Caroline said.
“That is what Mama told Papa to soothe him over it. That it will be used, just not this moment,” Beatrix said. “Then the other reason I’m nervous is I do not know how much is being said about me or if the queen will be told or what she would think. What if she throws us out?”
Caroline tapped her chin. “If she did, we’d all be through, I think. Miss Sprite says the queen rules the ton with a dignified iron fist.”
Beatrix nodded. “And yet Mama says we must go. It would be the worst thing in the world to hide. It would just fuel more talk. She says if it goes well, it will go a long way to stop people from talking. Even the patronesses will not dare to have an opinion that differs from the queen’s opinion.”
“It’s bound to be a trying time. Lord Monroe will be following you everywhere and telling you how brave you are about who knows what.”
Beatrix giggled into her pillow. “He would tell me I am stoic for waking up in the morning.”
“But then, maybe Lord Harrelston will be there and drive him off.”
“I really do not think he will be. I thought perhaps he might be as he did not say he would not, but that was just hopeful imagining on my part. He would have said if he was going.”
“Maybe Lord Monroe will be too distracted by attempting to keep up with Lady Dudmore’s activities to bother you too much.”
“I hardly know what to think of what I’ve heard of this house party. Mama says Lady Dudmore makes the gentlemen do everything, which I am grateful for, but it sounds very strange and embarrassing. They invent silly sports to make the gentlemen look ridiculous.”
Caroline laughed. “Have you talked to Marta yet? She has a cousin who works in Lady Dudmore’s household. She’s told me all about it.”
Marta was a new housemaid and by all reports very chatty. At least, Miss Sprite said so. She said words poured out of the maid like water spouting out of a fountain.
“Marta’s cousin says the funniest things she’s seen were a lake regatta with no rudders on the boats and a tennis match where two gentlemen who hated each other were tied together.
At tennis, the queen had to stop the match because the two men were beating each other with their rackets.
Oh, and blind lawn bowls where those same two gentlemen threw their balls at each other. ”
“Perhaps with things like that going on, nobody will spend much time thinking about me,” Beatrix said.
“Except Lord Harrelston, whether he is there or not.”
“Yes, except Lord Harrelston.”
“Too bad he won’t be there. He could be tied to Lord Monroe and hit him over the head with a racket.”
They both snorted over the idea.
“When did you know that you liked Lord Harrelston?” Caroline said, rolling over to look at her.
Beatrix smiled, as she had given the subject a deal of thought.
“It’s been a bit like a Mille-feuille, full of layers.
At first glance, well he is dashing, is he not?
I was immediately struck. Then little by little, it is hard to explain.
But think of this, when he came to the house yesterday my whole body felt fluttery. ”
“Fluttery,” Caroline whispered.
“Very fluttery. Then we walked round the drawing room for some private conversation. Lord Monroe tried to come along and Lord Harrelston was direct in sending him away. He said we were on a two-person stroll.”
“Oh I see! How clever,” Caroline said, looking very impressed by the idea.
“And then he was so direct about people talking about Annie Wister’s arrival to Lord Chester’s house. He did not dance around it like Lord Monroe did. He also roundly denounced Lord Chester for leading poor Annie to believe he would wed her.”
“Just like you did when the viscountess and the dowager came,” Caroline said. “Mama has got over what she calls “that performance” but Miss Sprite is still in a collapse over it. She’s told me ten times that I must never do anything like it.”
As if speaking her name had summoned her from the ether, Miss Sprite barreled through the door. “There you are,” she said to Beatrix.
Beatrix sat up. “I thought to have a last conversation with Caroline before I must leave the house.”
“You only go to Kent, not the tower. You will be home again in four days’ time.
Now, I will take you to your bedchamber, we will have a last review of what has been packed before it goes into the luggage carriage.
As we accomplish it, I will give you any last thoughts and advice that occurs to me.
This will be the first time you will be somewhere without my unwavering guiding hand at your back. ”
“Mama will be there, though,” Caroline pointed out.
Beatrix pressed her lips together hard so she would not laugh.
Miss Sprite was always conflicted about statements like that.
On the one hand, she had a great respect for the countess.
But on the other hand, she did seem to feel she was the sole arbiter of the behavior of that lady’s daughters.
Deep inside her, it was unlikely that Miss Sprite put the same amount of faith in the countess as she did in herself.
“Come now, out of that bed. You have things to do. Caroline, Marta will be in shortly to help you dress. You will want to be downstairs in good time as breakfast is being served on the early side. If that girl starts talking, tell her to stop it. You do not have time to be delayed this morning.”
Miss Sprite turned on her heel and marched out again. Beatrix whispered, “Try to survive piquet while I’m gone.”
“I think she cheats but I cannot figure out how,” Caroline said, laughing.
“Beatrix!” Miss Sprite bellowed from the corridor.
Beatrix hopped up and ran from the room. What followed was a full hour of Miss Sprite’s recommendations on clothes, her thoughts on the queen which were very complimentary, her rather darker thoughts on Lady Dudmore’s idea of entertainment, and various directions on Beatrix’s conduct.
If anyone was to hint anything about that actress, Beatrix was to look confused and pretend she’d never heard of the woman. If anyone was to inquire into what she liked to read…Beatrix hardly needed to be told Miss Sprite’s recommendation.
Mr. Fordyce’s sermons, as she should have said to begin with.
According to Miss Sprite’s directions, Beatrix was to be a paragon of modesty. Say little, appear abashed, and use a fan judiciously to indicate a mild shock. Miss Sprite had taken her quizzing glass and hidden it somewhere. She said Beatrix had no use for appearing sophisticated just now.
For herself, Beatrix did not imagine she’d appear very different from Miss Sprite’s pronouncements. She would be too terrified to be anything else.