Chapter Fifteen #2
This brought Beatrix back to the situation she was in.
She was rather terrified to meet the queen, and especially so as she did not know how far the talk about her had spread.
She felt she needed to keep in mind, every minute of every day, that the queen might hear something and demand she be gone from the house.
Lady Dudmore hurried from the room to meet the line of carriages that would bring the queen, her retinue, and her trunks.
She heard the sound of horses’ hooves and carriage wheels. Then a silence. Lady Dudmore’s butler threw the doors wide open and announced, “Her Majesty, the Queen.”
The great lady entered and Beatrix curtsied along with every other lady.
“Rise, rise,” the queen said. “This is an informal house party and excessive bowing and scraping will weary me.”
Lady Dudmore handed the queen a glass of champagne, then took her own and raised it. “To the queen!” she cried.
“To the queen,” everyone said in unison.
Beatrix stifled her laughter over Lord Monroe holding up his empty glass and then pretending to sip from it. She could see Lord Harrelston’s looking askance over it too. Lord Monroe seemed to know how absurd the whole thing was and put his empty glass down on a side table.
Loudly, the queen said, “Where is Lady Beatrix Bell, daughter of the Earl and Countess of Copperstone?”
Beatrix froze. This was it. It must be it. She was moments from being thrown out. She had not expected it to be the first thing the queen said. Had she heard the gossip before she even arrived? She must have. She might have been steaming over it in her carriage. It was terrifying.
“Here, Your Majesty,” her father said steadily.
Dear Papa. He sounded so calm. He was so brave.
“Come to me, child,” the queen said to Beatrix.
She had to go. She wished she could slip behind a pair of curtains and then the queen might forget she’d ever been looking for her, but she had to go. She handed her glass to her wide-eyed mother and made her way forward.
Beatrix reached the queen and curtsied. “Your Majesty.”
“Come, walk with me in the great hall,” the queen said. “It is too crowded in here to have a tête à tête.”
Beatrix nodded. It was probably just as well.
She would be ejected from the house privately instead of in front of everybody.
But what arrangements would be made? Was the carriage called even now?
Would her parents be thrown out with her or would she be expected to go somewhere with only Lydia to accompany her?
Where would they go, two young women alone?
The drawing room doors closed and they were left in the quiet of the hall, but for a lone footman standing by the door. Up close, the queen was petrifying. There was a power that emanated from her that was overwhelming.
“Lady Beatrix, you are to know that every scurrilous report that goes around London makes it through the palace doors. Why? It is the endless line of courtiers who imagine they can curry favor by telling me something they do not think I know.”
Beatrix stared at the lady. She was rooted to the spot. She must suppose somebody had run to the palace to say what they’d heard about her.
“Now I must ask, did you in fact read a book called Fanny Hill?”
Beatrix was startled to hear the queen say the name of the book. Miss Sprite had said that no decent lady would even know the name of that book. Though, Beatrix had wondered at the time how Miss Sprite could both know and not know about the book.
“I did not, Ma’am,” she said.
“As I thought,” the queen said. “Why did I think it? Because when I hear a preposterous tale, I am determined to investigate. How did I know the story was preposterous? No lady who ever read that book would own it at a dinner. Simply absurd. Do you know who would start that sort of rumor about you?”
Here it was. She was going to have to tell the truth. There was no mysterious villain making up a story about her. “I am afraid I am to blame for it. I claimed I read the book, as I did not know what it was. I still do not know very much about it, but that it is scandalous.”
“Why would you say so, then?”
“I was attempting to sound sophisticated, as I had heard two footmen describe it so.”
The queen roared with laughter. It was not the reaction Beatrix had expected.
“My dear, never rely on what a footman finds sophisticated. Now, aside from your ill-judged comment about that book, it is said you were involved in some sort of scene at Lord Chester’s house? Involving an actress? From what I’ve heard of that fellow, I found that tale a bit less preposterous.”
Beatrix felt rather better about explaining that, as none of it had been her fault. “I only went there for dinner and to play the pianoforte afterward. I had no knowledge of poor Annie Wister, she is the actress, until she came there believing that Lord Chester’s parents wished to meet her.”
“Gracious, why would she think it?”
“She received a note of some sort. And, I’m sorry to say, it seems as if Lord Chester has allowed her to believe they would wed.”
“Has he?” the queen said in a dark tone. “Well now, none of that need concern you. Be aware, you will not be the first lady to arrive to Town and cause talk. Your mother was right to bring you here—face it all down.”
Beatrix nodded, rather stunned and robbed of speech.
“Let us go back to the party. By the by, we are neighbors. Lady Dudmore tells me you are in the last room on the left in the east wing. I am on the right.”
Beatrix stood dumb for a moment. She was not being thrown from the house. The queen knew all and she was not being dismissed from the lady’s presence.
It felt like a miracle.
“Yes, Ma’am,” she choked out.
The footman standing by the front doors raced ahead to the drawing room doors, as obviously he’d been listening to the exchange. He threw the doors open and Beatrix followed the queen back inside.
She instantly noted her parents staring, as was Lord Harrelston. He gave her an encouraging smile.
The queen smiled at the assembly. She said, “I’ve just had the most charming conversation with Lady Beatrix. I do so enjoy young people.”
Beatrix could practically see her father exhale. Just like that, the queen had told all the ton how to view Lady Beatrix Bell.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
A thousand thoughts had run through Corbyn’s mind when the queen wished Lady Beatrix identified to her. Another thousand thoughts had come when they’d gone out to the great hall together.
Primarily, if Lady Beatrix was to be condemned over the gossip going round, would she be asked to leave the house?
If she was asked to leave, he would leave too and escort them to the nearest inn.
Aside from the humiliation of it, the sun had set.
The roads were dangerous after dark, every unscrupulous rogue in the vicinity would be out and ready to try his luck against a passing carriage.
The minutes had ticked by. Most of the assembly spoke in whispers, nobody being quite certain what was to happen next.
Lord Monroe was full of stupid statements. “Thing is, to stand by, is what I say.” And, “Gossip, it’s a terrible thing, once it’s out, it is out, cannot put the genie back in the bottle.” And, “Quick wedding always stops the talk.”
“What stops your talk, though,” Corbyn inquired.
“Whoa, steady on, old boy,” Lord Monroe said.
“I am perfectly steady, Monroe. But I am tired of hearing you allude to gossip like an old woman with not enough to do. I suspect the earl and countess are tired of it too.”
The earl nodded. The countess murmured, “Well…”
Lord Monroe looked nonplussed, as if Lady Beatrix’s parents could have been enjoying all these hints.
Then the doors swung open. The queen appeared. So did Lady Beatrix.
The queen pronounced Lady Beatrix charming.
Corbyn felt himself let out a breath. There was not to be any wild flight from the house on account of the queen’s displeasure. He could not imagine the nature of the conversation but whatever it was, the queen seemed in jolly spirits.
Perhaps he should have known. Queen Charlotte was generally full of good sense.
Lady Beatrix made her way over. The look of relief on her parents’ faces was palpable. He supposed he looked just the same.
She whispered something to the countess and her mother nodded gratefully.
Lady Dudmore called, “We will go through. You all know your order. I hope.” The hostess led the queen and people began to sort themselves out. Corbyn put his arm out for Lady Beatrix. Monroe, being only a viscount, would be left behind.
As they walked off, Monroe muttered, “Seems old-fashioned.”