CHAPTER TWELVE #2
‘Let us hope the spring warmth does him good.’ Louisa felt almost guilty, having withdrawn a source of entertainment with her removal to Somerset.
‘But let us not be maudlin,’ recommended Frederick. ‘Now we are here together in Bath, we can be quite a merry … party.’
‘I am not sure that “merry” is suitable for even the state of second mourning,’ answered Louisa repressively.
He had the grace to blush. ‘My apologies, ma’am. It was an infelicitous term.’
‘How do you occupy yourself?’ asked Caroline.
‘Hetty and I take the air in the gardens, and have investigated many interesting shops, and sometimes I accompany Emily upon her little walks. In the mornings we may be seen in the Pump Room several days a week, and I am now subscribing to some concerts that I feel it not inappropriate to attend.’ Louisa did not specify which, lest Frederick rush out to purchase seats.
‘However, this evening, I am going to dine, quietly, with an elderly lady.’
‘That sounds very noble.’ Caroline smiled.
‘Rather more brave than noble. She is quite terrifying, but amazingly entertaining. If we meet tomorrow you will see how I have “survived” the encounter. Perhaps 192you would care to come with me to a fitting for a gown, Caroline?’ Louisa thought this a clever move, since Frederick could hardly seek to accompany them to a dressmaker’s appointment.
‘Oh yes, that would be lovely. You do not mind, Mama, if I do so?’
‘Not at all, my dear.’ Lady Brailes, whilst no longer expecting her daughter to find a husband, knew very well that being seen with Lady Dembleby would do her standing, and that of her mama, no harm in Bath society.
The assignation was made, and the visitors departed.
‘Do not think your position usurped, Hetty. It is just that I wish to speak with Miss Brailes alone, without her brother being present, and he is liable to haunt us, I fear.’
‘He is … he holds …’
‘He is a man who illustrates just why I do not seek to marry again.’ Louisa shuddered.
Dinner with the Duchess should not have worried Hetty Goodworth, in Louisa’s opinion, since it was very unlikely she would be required to say more than a polite ‘good evening’.
She therefore found the older lady’s fussing over which shawl she should wear rather trying.
For herself, she chose the three-quarter gown of black lace over a lavender silk underdress.
When Mr Gilmorton stood at her entering the room, his gaze was admiring, which the Duchess noted.
What she did not realise was that his thought was about his friend, Benfield Barkby.
‘Good evening, Duchess.’ Louisa made her curtsey. The Duchess was not so much seated as ‘enthroned’ in a 193high-backed chair. ‘Mr Gilmorton.’ The clock lacked ten minutes to the hour.
‘Glad to see you arrive in a timely fashion. Cannot abide people who arrive at the last minute full of foolish excuses. I trust you will enjoy dinner. I may be living in a chicken coop, but I have brought my own cook. He is French, mad, and insolent, but I have kept him over twenty years and he suits me. He has a way with soufflés that is worth his tantrums. They are so … Gallic – the tantrums not the soufflés.’ Her grace did not beat about the bush.
‘I did not come with any fear that I would go home hungry, ma’am, and I confess a great partiality to soufflés.’
‘Very polite, but you will have to prove that at the dinner table.’ The Duchess pounced, and Louisa shook her head.
‘You have me trapped, ma’am. I have a dear friend, General Cowley, who is a chess player. You would be an excellent opponent.’
‘I play backgammon.’
‘And she is merciless,’ added Mr Gilmorton confidentially. ‘I am now reduced to a trembling wreck when invited to set up the board. I used to enjoy the game but now …’ He placed the back of his hand, theatrically, to his forehead and sighed.
‘Should you wish, Mr Gilmorton, I would be happy to play against you if you come to Edward Street. I am a very poor player, so your confidence would be boosted again,’ offered Hetty Goodworth, in a kindly manner.
‘That is very generous of you, Mrs Goodworth. Thank you.’ He responded with a gentle smile, and no sign of irony.
194‘Hmm,’ said the Duchess, and looked from one to the other as if they were both idiots before addressing Louisa.
‘I can see that I am going to have to rely upon you, Lady Dembleby, for any sensible conversation this evening. My grandson tells me you have a small child. You are not one of those doting mamas, are you, forever telling the world how no other infant could be as sweet, beautiful or advanced?’
‘Since I am an honest woman, ma’am, I have to say that in part I am, for I do dote upon Emily, but I most certainly do not bore everyone with her remarkable qualities.
I have spent the past year in virtual social seclusion, and she is of an age when I believe her future character can be influenced.
It has been a pleasure to me to spend more time with her than would have otherwise been possible, and I count it a blessing. ’
‘And does she have faults?’
‘Oh yes, most certainly, and mostly inherited from me.’ Louisa’s smile was lit from within. ‘She can be stubborn, she will not be fobbed off with generalities and she giggles at inappropriate moments.’
‘She is also remarkably endearing, ma’am,’ added Mr Gilmorton, ‘at least in small doses. I think she might be rather exhausting over a long period. One is kept upon one’s toes, for certain.’
‘I am a great-grandmother now, and I find it exhausting just seeing mewling babes for more than ten minutes.’
‘Not sure I would find “mewling” endearing, I must say. Lady Dembleby’s daughter is more … a small person.’ Mr Gilmorton had not previously given a lot of thought to children.
195At which point the Duchess’s butler announced dinner.
The house that the Duchess described as a ‘coop’ possessed a dining room that would seat sixteen with ease, and with the table reduced to more suitable proportions for a small party, looked so spacious that Hetty later confided that she thought one could stand half a dozen couples up in it for an impromptu dance.
Either the Duchess had a very healthy appetite, or her cook had been given an incorrect number for those dining.
The table was laden with poussins, raised pies, a fricassee, a dish of fried sweetbreads, savoury and sweet jellies and three different soufflés, all set amidst ducal silverware that her grace had obviously decided not to hand over to her son, until as a bequest in her will.
It was a remarkable repast for four people.
‘“Economy” is not a word with which my grandmama is familiar,’ murmured Mr Gilmorton as he escorted Louisa into the room. ‘I think the servants eat very well, the cook can show off, and Grandmama knows she is never seen as stinting, so all are happy.’
‘Indeed, what a splendid table to be set before us.’
For a few minutes everyone was occupied in being seated, and admiring the viands set before them, with the exception of the Duchess, who merely nodded her approval. Louisa then became painfully aware that her hostess regarded the liveried servants as mere automata.
‘So, now you can tell me about Somerset, and why you have left your house there.’
‘Well, of course it is nice to be able to be a little more “in the world” now my full mourning is over, and …’ Louisa 196cast the Duchess an agonised look and then glanced at the impassive face of the footman beyond her left shoulder.
‘I did not ask for the pretence, and you said that you would offer me the truth.’ The Duchess looked a little peeved, and Louisa looked at Mr Gilmorton with a degree of panic and much entreaty.
‘Perhaps it is more after-dinner listening,’ offered Mr Gilmorton, and received a look of utmost gratitude. ‘Can you tell me, Lady Dembleby, how Barkby is faring following the sad loss of his father? It was expected, of course, but must be a great blow nonetheless.’
In ordinary circumstances Louisa would have been very reluctant to show any deep knowledge of Lord Barkby’s feelings, but in this case knew no qualms.
‘I have only seen him the once, other than after the funeral of course, Mr Gilmorton. He seemed naturally rather … solemn. I think it is in part that it quashes what must have been a dream to which he clung, that of returning to his regiment in Spain. He spoke of it when he bought a new horse, but I cannot see how he could have done so, with his injuries.’
‘Who’s this, and what injuries?’ The Duchess disliked being upon the edge of the conversation.
‘Major Lord Barkby, ma’am. We served together until … until I sold out.’ The shadow once again seemed to cross Mr Gilmorton’s face for a moment.
‘He was wounded at Salamanca, ma’am.’ Louisa filled the pause.
‘Shot through the leg, and receiving other wounds, but most importantly the loss of his fingers, all but the stumps of them, to his right hand. I cannot see how he 197could command his horse in action, and use a sword, with only one hand.’
‘It is technically a sabre, Lady Dembleby, and a good cavalryman uses his knees an awful lot, rather than the reins. It would not be possible to use one’s pistol at the same time, of course, and having the reins is useful, I grant you.’ Mr Gilmorton corrected her, but very gently.
‘Goodness me. I had no idea.’
‘Well, ma’am, it is not something normally discussed in drawing rooms.’
‘Or at my dinner table,’ added the Duchess, with a degree of acerbity.
‘My apologies, ma’am.’ Mr Gilmorton looked at his grandmother, and her expression softened, just a little.
‘I am glad to have you at home, and safe, as is your mama, my boy.’
‘And Lady Barkby would say the same, I am sure,’ added Hetty Goodworth, daring to enter the conversation. ‘About her own son, I mean.’