CHAPTER VII
AT the age of eight and twenty, Arthur considered himself well versed in the rigours of the London Season.
The roster of balls, routs and card parties were not usually distinguished by originality, and though Lady Allerton had certainly warned her son as to the uniqueness of this particular Season – grander, longer, busier – it was not until the following morning that he truly began to understand.
For his mother had never before requested his presence at a balloon ascension.
‘We must depart at once if we are to secure a good view.’ Lady Allerton – already resplendent in an azure kerseymere pelisse – cast a fretful glance at the grandfather clock. ‘I myself had no knowledge of the ascension until today, or I should have had us there at dawn – come along! Quickly!’
Obedient to her chivvying, Arthur and Hetty rose from the breakfast table with only a little reluctance, while Trixie – who usually viewed any interruption of mealtimes as positively sinful – was bright-eyed and unusually eager.
‘How interesting this will be!’ she declared virtuously.
‘I should hardly have predicted this as the new family pastime,’ Arthur muttered to Hetty. ‘It’s admirable, certainly but …’
‘A little out of character?’ Hetty finished.
London, that summer, was full of strange or marvellous displays, as its business-minded citizens were fully aware of the opportunity represented by the sudden influx of so many monied Europeans.
This was the first time, however, Lady Allerton had expressed the slightest interest in any one of them.
True enough, as they jostled over cobbles on the way to Hyde Park, Lady Allerton admitted her secondary motivation, confiding in an undertone: ‘I have it upon good authority that the Grandduchess will be in attendance.’
The Grandduchess Catherine of Oldenberg had arrived in London some time ahead of the various kings, princes, generals and diplomats who were coming to take part in the grand Peace celebrations.
At six and twenty years of age, she was neither especially elegant nor particularly amiable – indeed, her unsparing wit had become, in the short time since her arrival, somewhat legendary – but as sister and confidante of the Tsar, she was nonetheless one of the greatest matrimonial prizes in Europe and was being much courted by the ton.
The rare hostess who secured the lady’s elusive presence at her ball could deem her event an instant success, and while Lady Allerton would not, of course, ordinarily enter into so vulgar a practice as social climbing, these were exceptional times – and the Grandduchess exceptional quarry.
‘For a balloon ascension?’ Arthur’s voice was full of scepticism. ‘At nine o’clock in the morning?’
Lady Allerton nodded. ‘She has a very scientific mind, I hear.’
‘Intellectual curiosity is very fashionable in Russia,’ Trixie – who had never, to Hetty’s knowledge, travelled east of Essex – put in knowledgeably.
They entered the park to find a fleet of other carriages already arranged around a roped-off enclosure in which the balloon was already tethered.
Around it, several men in shirtsleeves were busying about with rope, hosepipes and several casks of hydrogen, from which the bag would presently be inflated.
Lady Allerton observed this with satisfaction. ‘Good – it has not begun, yet … Now, where is the Grandduchess?’
‘I expect she will be fashionably late,’ Trixie said.
Lady Allerton wished it would not be thought vulgar to crane her neck. ‘Surely, if her interest is as assiduous as you say, she will wish to secure a good vantage point?’
Hetty’s head turned. ‘It was Trixie who told you about the Grandduchess’s attendance?’
Trixie avoided Hetty’s gaze. ‘Lady Jersey gave me the tip-off. Mama, may I approach the enclosure? Miss Corcott is there with her maid.’
Lady Allerton nodded distractedly. ‘Hetty, will you …’
Hetty did not need persuading. Though she had no evidence yet to support the prickle of suspicion that had run up her spine, it certainly behoved them to keep a close eye on Trixie this morning.
‘Arthur, will you ask Lambert to move the barouche over a little?’ Lady Allerton requested, once the girls had been handed down. ‘I wonder if the Grandduchess is not more likely to select a spot on the edge – away from any grasping persons, you know?’
They moved twice more before Lady Allerton was satisfied.
Sending Lambert off to fetch an umbrella for her, for she did not at all like the look of the grey skies ahead, she arranged herself into a posture of elegant indifference, one calculated to make any passing lady – Grandduchess or otherwise – pause to wonder quietly to themselves: Who is that graceful creature, and how might I make her acquaintance?
This achieved, she turned her attention to her eldest son, who she was pleased to comment looked a great deal more cheerful than he had the day prior.
He thanked her, though did not explain the reason for his improved mood.
Lady Allerton had made no further mention of the proposed match between himself and Hetty, and he did not wish to give her any whisper of encouragement.
‘I am so glad for it,’ Lady Allerton continued, pressing his arm. ‘The weight of the world: it does not suit you, you know – indeed, there were a few moments, yesterday, when I felt you looked the spitting image of him!’
‘Of Papa?’
‘No,’ she said. ‘Of Thimbleby!’
Arthur could not help but laugh. ‘Mama, how can you say such horrors to me!’
‘I don’t wish to pinch at you,’ she assured him, ‘but truly I feel it is my duty to ensure you do not become all dreary and dull.’
Arthur thanked her for her assistance in this matter. ‘Nonetheless, Mama, I must insist that we practise the very strictest economy while I find a way out of our predicament.’
‘Economy?’ Lady Allerton put a hand up to her throat. ‘Darling, no! If Hetty does not suit, I will certainly be able to put you in the way of some very eligible young ladies, for I do not think you will struggle.’
Her gaze dwelled appreciatively upon his lordship’s new coat of olive-green, which became him so nicely, and she heaved a satisfied sigh, thinking how impossible it was for anyone to find three more handsome children than her own.
‘I should not wonder if even the Grandduchess herself were to take a shine to you – though goodness knows I should not like to lose you to Russia! Though,’ she continued on fairly, ‘Her Grace doubtless summers elsewhere, and it would be a very interesting life, would it not?’
Arthur agreed that it would. ‘However—’
‘An errant notion, no more!’ she forestalled him with a pat on the arm. ‘You mustn’t listen to the runnings-on of your silly mama!’
However financially illiterate Lady Allerton might be, when it came to social machinations he considered her ‘runnings-on’ about as silly as the despatches from the Duke of Wellington – as he told her.
The comment so pleased Lady Allerton that it only took a little prompting to have her promising to supply the remainder of her bills and to make a concerted effort to reduce the household expenditure.
‘Though I shall warn you, Arthur,’ she said, pulling her sable muff more closely about herself, and sinking back into cushions newly reupholstered with the feathers of a bird who could, no doubt, trace its ancestry back to William the Conqueror’s prize goose, ‘I am not sure what economy there is left.’
He was saved the necessity of replying to this by the arrival of Mrs Torrington, who drew up in her barouche alongside them. Arthur excused himself as soon as he might politely do so, and went off to join Hetty and Trixie.
Trixie, he saw, had located Miss Corcott, and the pair were busy asking questions of the gentleman guarding the enclosure – a curiosity that Arthur, now that he could see the machinery up close, entirely understood.
‘Have you seen one of these things before?’ he asked Hetty, reaching her side. ‘I must say, it does seem remarkable that that bag of fabric will be able to just …’ He wafted his hand towards the sky. ‘It’s a miracle.’
‘It’s hydrogen,’ Hetty corrected absent-mindedly. She had attended a lecture upon the subject in Goettingen.
‘The things they’ll see,’ Arthur marvelled.
‘If they live,’ Hetty said, eyes sharp upon Trixie’s back. ‘The likelihood of fire is very high, hydrogen being so highly flammable.’ Arthur snorted. Hetty turned enquiring eyes upon him. ‘Did I say something silly?’
‘Certainly not silly,’ he assured her. ‘Shall we take a turn about the lake? Trixie seems perfectly well occupied, and I think we might be here a while.’
Hetty cast one last searching glance towards Trixie – who was now saying something to one of the young fellows to make him blush – before agreeing, she and Arthur turning their backs upon the enclosure and heading towards the Serpentine.
The view was gratifyingly English to Arthur’s eye: the ducks snoozing along the shore of the lake, surrounded by greenery made lush from ample sun and rain alike, a gentle wind fretting the treetops.
Even the few scudding clouds overhead had a sort of pleasing quality to them, he felt – though he did not know if this boded well or ill for the balloon.
‘I hope it does not take too long,’ Hetty said. ‘I should have liked to have begun tackling your father’s desk today. Perhaps your mama will let me cry off from morning visits.’
Arthur shook his head. ‘We cannot have that – I will not have your aid come at the expense of your gentlemen callers.’
‘I should not mind that.’
This chore was far from her favourite part of the day.
Arthur grinned. ‘Are there any gentlemen whose visits you do welcome?’
Hetty considered the matter. ‘Mr Hargan is not so bad.’
Arthur regarded her with some incredulity. ‘Timothy’s schoolfriend?’
‘They’re not at school any longer!’ Hetty said defensively. ‘He does not ask me to dance, for he is afraid of stepping upon my toes, or pay me awful compliments, or ever cause me the least embarrassment.’