Chapter 37 #2
Rory was friendly and open, without any suggestion that he wished to fix his interest with a Miss Constantine, or indeed anyone else.
Marriage was out of the question for him, of course, unless he wanted to lose his prestigious academic position and his home.
He didn’t sound very much like a sober Cambridge Fellow, though, when he said in a low tone, ‘Why is that oily creature Oliver Pallant always at my heel whenever I turn around, and if it’s not him, it’s his fool of a brother?
If they get any closer, I’ll suspect them of wanting to pick my pocket. ’
‘Lord Pallant is wooing Miss Cecilia,’ the Major told him quietly, ‘and Sebastian is wooing Miss Bianca. You must be literally the last person in the room to have noticed this, including people in their dotage who don’t know what year it is or who’s the current monarch; I daresay it’s not the sort of thing that goes on in the lofty halls of academia, and that’s why it has completely escaped your scholarly notice. ’
‘It isn’t something that happens in my circles in Cambridge, and I’m glad it isn’t,’ Rory muttered, apparently used to this brotherly teasing. ‘I gather that their attentions aren’t welcome, ladies? Which can hardly be a surprise to me.’
‘If you can think of a way to make them stop, sir, I wish you’d tell us,’ Bianca said flatly. ‘We can’t, heaven knows. Cecilia has been behaving as if she isn’t entirely right in the head for days now, and even that doesn’t put Lord Pallant off.’
‘Set about the rumour we’ve lost all our fortunes on Change – that would make them stop,’ Cecilia told her acidly. ‘I dare you to do it.’
A welcome distraction occurred: a new group of people entered with a great deal of noise and bustle, and the throng appeared to part before them, like the Red Sea for Moses.
‘Oh, Lord,’ the Major said ruefully. ‘Lady Synett is here, with a group of hangers-on, come to condescend to the rustics. You haven’t met her before. She’s the one in the middle who looks like a monkey from a menagerie that’s somehow got loose in the Princess of Wales’s wardrobe.’
Cecilia was obliged to bite her lip hard to prevent from laughing.
The new arrivals were all very splendidly dressed, far too much so for the informal occasion.
The ladies were in silks, feathers and dripping with diamonds, and Lady Synett herself was done up in garish purple and yellow, topped by a turban that supported tall, nodding plumes, quite as if she were at Court.
Here, plainly, was the fashion-plate Mrs Bardwell chose to follow.
The Viscountess was tiny and wizened, her face heavily painted in the fashion of thirty years ago, and there was no denying that the Major’s uncivil simian comparison had some truth in it.
‘I wouldn’t criticise her appearance,’ he whispered close to Cecilia’s ear, ‘or anyone’s, for that matter, if she wasn’t… But you’ll soon see what she is. She’s coming over. You are about to be greatly honoured; I hope you are duly sensible of the fact.’
The Constantines dropped into the deep curtseys that were clearly expected of them, and Lady Synett said imperiously, ‘Mrs Bartrum, please present these young ladies to me instantly, and to my son. Lord Synett and I desire to know them.’
Mrs Bartrum performed the introductions, and Cecilia found herself surveyed thoroughly up and down through a jewelled quizzing glass, as did Bianca.
Her Ladyship smiled graciously, and said, in penetrating tones, ‘I believe we share some acquaintances in common – no, rather more than that. How is your sister, the dear Duchess? I last had the pleasure of seeing her at my close friend Lord Granville’s house, just before her second marriage, and then again at Court, last year, when she was presented to Her Majesty.
On the first occasion, I believe Mr Brummell proposed marriage to her quite publicly; it caused a great deal of vulgar comment.
But she had the sense to refuse him and take Ventris, I was glad to hear.
I hope he is quite well, and the sweet children?
’ She then turned to the lady at her side and said, in slightly lower but still perfectly audible accents, ‘Very handsome man, Ventris. Terrible reputation with women. But not a traitor or a murderer, apparently, so still received everywhere. Honoured by the Regent, not that that signifies anything. Huge estate in Yorkshire.’
Bianca and Cecilia stood slightly stunned under this perfect barrage of name-dropping and highly indiscreet gossip, but after a moment or two, Cecilia recovered herself somewhat and replied rather at hazard, ‘My sister Viola and her family are very well, thank you, ma’am.
They are not in London at present; the Duke says that no business can be done in the Lords or anywhere else, with everyone in such an uproar about the situation on the Continent and so many baseless rumours flying about. ’
‘Indeed,’ Her Ladyship responded majestically.
‘I have myself been accused of reckless folly in travelling to the east coast when a French invasion might happen at any moment, but I said, no, I will never neglect my duty to my tenants, no matter what the risk.’ She looked about her, as if expecting praise for her courage; her entourage all murmured appreciatively.
‘As to that, ma’am, Bonaparte would have to overcome Wellington and the whole Allied army in order to even think of invading, and since he has never done so before, it seems most unlikely that he will now,’ the Major said levelly.
‘I believe there is no need for excessive apprehension, therefore. Be assured that our shores are well guarded, in any event.’
‘I am not apprehensive, Major,’ the lady replied in arctic tones, clearly unused to being contradicted on any topic.
‘I do not suffer from nerves. Or if I do, I overcome them through the power of my will, as everyone might if they merely use a little resolution. I have always been of a courageous nature, even from a girl. My father often remarked approvingly upon it.’
Several of the persons present were seized by a well-founded fear that Lady Synett was about to begin recounting anecdotes from her childhood illustrative of her remarkable bravery, and Mrs Bartrum said hurriedly, with the air of someone who would do almost anything to avoid that fate, ‘Is it really true that your sister was wooed by Mr Brummell, Miss Constantine?’
‘I believe so, ma’am,’ answered Cecilia, since a glance at Bianca’s face suggested that she was not to be relied upon to take any useful part in this extraordinary conversation.
‘Viola felt that he was not serious, but was merely seeking to cause a sensation; certainly, that was the light-hearted spirit in which she took the offer, though I think Lord Ventris, as he was then, didn’t necessarily feel quite as sanguine. ’
‘Have you met him? The Beau, I mean, naturally.’
Mr Brummell was an object of general speculation in most circles, high or low; however, Cecilia was not sure that Mrs Bartrum had any real interest in the celebrated leader of fashion, but was motivated only by a desperate desire to stem the flow of Lady Synett’s self-regard, and perhaps a fear of what other outrageous things Her Ladyship might say if left to herself to direct the conversation.
‘I have. He told me to my face that I was well enough, in my way, but not as handsome as my sister. It’s perfectly true, so I was not offended.
He still likes to maintain the fiction that he nurses a great unrequited passion for Viola, and was left desolate when she remarried, but I’m quite certain it’s all said in jest.’
Lady Synett had clearly tired of no longer being the focus of attention, and said rather rudely, ‘Well, handsome or not, no doubt you will be glad to have my son Algernon as a partner. Algernon, you will take Miss Cecilia Constantine out for the next set this instant.’
‘Yes, Mama,’ the young Viscount said meekly. He was a thin, nervous-looking youth who bore a decided and unfortunate resemblance to his mother, and he did not give the impression that he had any great desire to dance with Cecilia, or anyone. But plainly, his formidable parent was not to be denied.
The musicians had been taking a break to refresh themselves with foaming tankards of ale, but they had returned to their seats now, and the fiddles began to scrape again.
Cecilia took her place with Lord Synett – who addressed not one word to her directly – at the head of a set just forming up, and Bianca came to stand beside her with Mr Rory Bartrum as her partner, both shooting her droll looks that she steadfastly ignored.
When the music paused at the end of the dance, Cecilia was annoyed to see Lord Pallant lurking again, clearly meaning to claim her for the next reel.
This wasn’t Almack’s; unfortunately, nobody was going to tell him that to step out three or four times with the same lady was impermissible.
But no – it seemed he meant to engage her in conversation rather than to solicit a dance, which was even worse.
And his first words made it plain that he’d been eavesdropping, to some effect.
‘I did not realise that your sister was a duchess; you have never spoken of the matter, Miss Cecilia, in my hearing.’ He sounded subtly annoyed, though he was trying hard to conceal it, as if they were intimate friends and this was information she should have given him long ago.
‘Why should I?’ she said flatly, ruthlessly abandoning her empty-headed persona, since it didn’t seem to be working to deter him.