CHAPTER XIV
IT was a widely held custom of many universities to invite, on occasion, a visiting professor to lecture upon their particular area of expertise, and in the education of Hetty Clithero, Arthur felt no hesitation in following suit.
When it came to ridding oneself of an unwanted guest, conversation or dance partner, he counted himself competent, but Lady Allerton was the expert.
Fortunately, he had only to broach the subject to his mother for her to deem it an excellent idea (though Arthur felt this had as much to do with her unwillingness to discuss her most recent bill from Gunter’s than anything else).
‘Do we truly need lessons in such a thing?’ Trixie wondered sceptically, for Lady Allerton had thought her tutelage would benefit her daughter, too.
‘It is so easy to get rid of people. One says one’s grandmother is unwell, or one has a pressing appointment on the other side of the room – or that one expects one will soon be sick and then one can simply leave! ’
Lady Allerton, who did not subscribe to the belief that sickliness was a beguiling trait in young women, forbade this instantly.
‘I suppose it does look rather obvious when one does not vomit,’ Trixie allowed. ‘Unless one can pretend, briefly—’
‘There will be no sickness or fainting,’ Lady Allerton instructed, ‘however brief or pretend. Such fictional excuses may always be uncovered, and that is unforgiveable, no matter whom one is trying to escape: to alert a person to their own tedium is the height of discourtesy.’
At this, Arthur – who had retreated to a corner table with a pile of correspondence – raised his gaze to exchange an appreciative glance with Hetty.
‘What else is there to be done?’
‘One simply has to utter the following phrase.’ Lady Allerton took a fortifying draught of tea, straightened and then uttered: ‘It was so wonderful to see you!’
‘That is it?’ Trixie’s tone was rather derisive.
Lady Allerton turned to Hetty, who was sitting beside her upon the sofa.
‘It was so wonderful to see you.’ Her ladyship gestured authoritatively to her own face.
‘Beaming smile, profound warmth and a light …’ She reached out to press Hetty’s arm in such a way that Hetty felt – without quite knowing how – gently propelled from her presence.
It was quite magical. As ever, Hetty found herself deeply impressed by Lady Allerton’s prowess, and just as deeply certain that she would never be able to replicate it herself.
‘We shall practise upon our morning callers,’ Lady Allerton proclaimed, when Hetty voiced this doubt. ‘You will see.’
Ordinarily, of course, Lady Allerton managed the morning visits to Berkeley Square with elegant efficiency: even the most lingering of gentlemen found themselves, after no more than twenty minutes inside her drawing room, stepping happily on to the pavement without the faintest idea that they had been as good as thrust from the premises.
Predictably, in Trixie’s hands, the effect was a little less elegant. On the one hand, she took to the technique as a duck to water, but on the other, she disposed of Messrs Welham, Sinclair and Fakenham all within half an hour.
‘Perhaps allow them to stay a little longer, darling,’ Lady Allerton advised.
Hetty, just as predictably, had a little more trouble: when Sir Marcus Kirkham had spent twenty minutes upon the sofa with them, with no sign of departing, she managed to utter the fateful words, but rather bungled the execution: ‘It is so wonderful to see you!’
With an accompanying pat upon the arm, Sir Marcus took this as encouragement to remain for a further ten minutes before Lady Allerton dispensed with him.
‘It was so wonderful seeing you! Was!’ she told Hetty severely.
‘The tense is crucial! The touch upon the arm is a press away not a pat – never a pat!’
Hetty had better luck with Lord Fenton, who arrived soon afterwards, and even more so with Colonel Davenport, who followed on his heels full of vim from a recent visit to Tattersall’s.
‘I saw the most magnificent bays imaginable,’ he told Hetty. ‘In fact, several of the fellows thought they looked the spitting image of your pair, Allerton, though I told them, of course, that you would not part with them for the world – isn’t that right?’
Arthur’s smile became rather fixed, and Hetty reached out a hasty arm. ‘It was so wonderful to see you!’
‘Very good, Hetty!’ Lady Allerton praised her. ‘That was perfect.’
Such was her ensuing success that when Timothy came into the room at two o’clock to tarry a little with his family, Hetty was struck by a spirit of mischief and managed to utter – ‘It was so wonderful to see you’ – with such perfect inflection that Timothy found himself rising from the sofa before he quite knew what he was about.
‘Dash it,’ he said indignantly, catching himself. ‘This is my home, too, you know!’
When Mr Hargan came, however, Hetty refused to chase him away, for he had come to educate her on a subject of particular interest.
‘What’, Timothy said with a great deal of suspicion, ‘is a mangel-wurzel?’
Mr Hargan coloured, but between them, Hetty and Arthur soon reassured him of his welcome, asking a great many questions to which Mr Hargan provided a surprisingly knowledgeable array of answers, and even giving Arthur the direction of a gentleman named Coke who had been heard of doing marvellous things with the Rotherham plough.
‘Didn’t know you knew about ploughs, Hargan!’ Timothy remarked, regarding his friend with a scandalised eye.
‘I shall discuss this with Holland at once,’ Arthur told Hetty in an undertone, as Timothy accused a blushing Hargan of hiding his light under a bushel. ‘He and Thimbleby will arrive soon. Would you like to join us?’
The invitation was a sudden impulse, but not one he regretted. It might not be usually done, but who cared a fig for that?
Hetty’s eyes widened. ‘I should be delighted.’
Her racing thoughts were interrupted by the opening of the door, and the appearance of the footman, who announced the arrival of the Marquis de Nicolet and Mademoiselle de Nicolet.
Hetty was slow to react. Trixie, however, was not, clapping her hands in glee. ‘Oh Hetty, he’s here.’
‘Do send him up directly,’ Lady Allerton instructed, hands fluttering in excitement.
‘At least keep him waiting,’ Trixie begged. ‘Or even send him away! Gentlemen adore such treatment.’
‘Not sure that’s true,’ Timothy muttered from the corner of the room. ‘Prefer it when you’re nice, y’know.’
‘Oh, Timothy, what would you know of the matter,’ Trixie said impatiently.
‘Dash it, I’m a gentleman, aren’t I?’
‘Hetty …’ Trixie tripped across the room to sit next to Hetty, pressing her hand. ‘Would you mind if I flirted with him, just a little? I wouldn’t mean anything by it, of course – just curiosity!’
‘She will mind.’ Timothy was disgusted. ‘Any dolt would know that.’
‘I was not asking you! Hetty?’
‘Mother, tell her!’
‘Trixie, I forbid you from flirting with Hetty’s beau,’ Lady Allerton ordered loudly – and, naturally, it was at this moment that the Marquis and Mademoiselle de Nicolet appeared on the threshold.
‘Good morning.’ By the quivering corner of his mouth, Nicolet had certainly heard at least some of this exchange. ‘I trust we are not imposing?’
Lesser persons would have been mortified; Lady Allerton was made of stronger stuff. ‘Not at all.’ Her face was wreathed in smiles as she ushered them towards the sofa. ‘We are so very delighted to welcome you to our home – pray be seated.’
It was, Arthur felt, a rather excessive welcome.
Excitement at Hetty’s new admirer was one matter, but they did not, after all, yet know if he was worthy of it.
He had, admittedly, a great deal of address and the sort of easy charm that would make him widely liked, but in Arthur’s opinion that was no proof of good character.
Mr Hargan raised himself rigidly up. ‘I shall – I shall take my leave.’
Mademoiselle de Nicolet dimpled at him. ‘Don’t, pray, do so on our account – I am certain there is enough room upon this sofa for the both of us.’
In the face of Mademoiselle de Nicolet’s extraordinary beauty, which somehow seemed even more noticeable in a morning dress of twilled French silk than it had in her evening gown, Mr Hargan fairly blanched in terror.
Murmuring disjointed apologies, he nearly ran from the room, causing Mademoiselle de Nicolet’s brow to wrinkle in confusion, for this was not ordinarily the reaction she inspired in gentleman.
‘His grandmother is not well,’ Trixie told them sagely.
At this, Arthur had to bite back a smile, and looked to catch Hetty’s eye – only to find her already locked in gaze with the Marquis.
‘It is so dear of you to pay us a visit,’ Lady Allerton was saying, ‘for no doubt you have morning calls of your own to accept.’
‘Oh no,’ Mademoiselle de Nicolet demurred.
‘The house has been riddled with the fellows,’ Nicolet told Lady Allerton confidentially. ‘At one moment, squeezed together upon one sofa, we had the Duke of Sussex, a Lord Devereux—’
Trixie narrowed her eyes.
‘—and a Mr Korkit or some such.’
Timothy visibly stiffened. ‘Mr Corcott?’
The Marquis snapped his fingers. ‘Just so. I did not think we would ever get rid of them!’
His aggrieved air prevented the remark from being a boast, though Lady Allerton was conscious of having to hold herself aloft from stirrings of envy that Lady Davenport should have achieved such a coup.
Whatever her cool feelings towards the Nicolets’ aunt, however, Lady Allerton could not begrudge the charming pair their imminent success – especially given the telling glances which were being exchanged between the Marquis and Hetty, directly under her nose, as Hetty tried to convey to Nicolet, with her eyes alone, the need for caution.
‘I understand that you have a prior acquaintanceship with our dear Hetty,’ her ladyship noted. ‘One, I confess, I only learnt of recently.’
‘As did I,’ Mademoiselle de Nicolet agreed, sending her brother a rather quizzical glance.