Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
Viola was almost disappointed when supper ended and the ladies withdrew, for she had been enjoying such an interesting conversation with Professor Tolliver.
Truly, she ought to have brought along her pen and notebook to take notes, for it had been rather like attending a miniature lecture at the anatomy school.
When he congratulated her on being a better listener than many of his students, she beamed at him.
The man had no scruples at all about describing, in considerable detail, how he went about cutting open a cadaver.
And when he described, in even greater detail, the precise colour and odour of a decaying body while they were partaking of the third course, she decided they must surely be kindred spirits.
“This is all tremendously useful information,” she told him, quite transported. “Now tell me, how long do the body’s death throes last after it has ingested too much arsenic?”
She did not notice the odd silence that had fallen over the table, nor that she had blurted her question straight into the pause after Liverpool had asked, in general, whether everyone was in readiness and in good fighting spirit for the upcoming election.
The ladies gasped and tittered. Mr Eldon spluttered. Mr Green’s monocle dropped neatly into his pudding. The Prime Minister blinked, bemused, then turned inquisitively to Fane, who looked on with a resigned and slightly pained expression upon his face.
Later, when the ladies were gathered in the salon for tea and coffee, Viola stood about awkwardly, conscious of every eye upon her, yet feeling oddly set apart from the others.
She wondered whether she ought to retreat quietly and spend the rest of the evening in the ladies’ retiring room, when a lady descended upon her.
“Finally. I thought I should never escape them. A frightful lot, those Tory wives. And I am permitted to say so, as I am one myself,” she chuckled. “But what a truly unexpected pleasure to see you here, my dear.”
A lady in burgundy red, with a peacock’s feather rising boldly from her headwear, took Viola’s arm and steered her with purpose toward a fauteuil in the room’s corner.
“I have been attempting to catch your attention the entire evening, but you were quite absorbed, first with the Prime Minister, and then with Professor Tolliver. He is quite a character, is he not?”
“Lady Penworthy,” Viola exclaimed, genuinely delighted. “But what brings you here?”
“Josephine, please. We are friends, are we not?” She patted Viola’s hand.
“And what is this I hear? You are truly married to that man, Fane? How can it be? I had always believed you to be the most determined spinster. I thought my eyes deceived me when I saw you arrive together, but then Lady Hatherleigh announced to a group of ladies that you are his wife. My first thought was she must be mistaken. But it appears to be true after all?”
“Er, yes. I am afraid it is,” Viola said, a little contrite.
“But, my dear. Why did you not tell me sooner?”
“The truth is no one was meant to know at all. Fane is far better served without a wife dangling about his neck. I fear I do him very little justice.”
“Nonsense,” Lady Penworthy said briskly. “On the contrary, I must say he has risen considerably in my esteem, knowing that he is married to you. He also seems to be the jealous sort, doesn’t he? He hasn’t stopped watching you the entire evening.”
“He hasn’t?” Surely, she must be mistaken.
Josephine waved her hand airily. “But let us not speak of our husbands. It is such a dull topic. Let us speak, instead, of our next book club.” She leaned forward, lowering her voice. “Though we must be far more circumspect in the future. I am afraid I am the bearer of bad news.”
“What has happened?”
She cast a glance to the left and right before murmuring, “William has uncovered our secret. He is not amused.”
“Oh dear. How did that come about?”
Josephine grimaced. “Our little Amelie pulled out every book I had concealed behind a false panel in my desk. Along with them, she found the invitation cards I had prepared for our next meeting. I had them especially prettily made, with gilt decoration and lettering. And Amelie, bless her heart, wanted to share her newly found treasure and took them straight to her papa.” She sighed.
“He caused something of a scene, I am afraid.”
Viola shook her head. “But why is it so dreadful to have a book club? Surely we are not the first. There must be many such meetings, and it is entirely harmless. Is it merely because it concerns romances?”
“He calls them wanton, depraved tales of unnatural passions.” Josephine rolled her eyes. “I don’t think his reaction would have been nearly half as severe if Mr Eldon hadn’t been with him just in that moment.” She winced. “And he was thoroughly scandalised.
“A Tory’s wife reading such sensationalist filth,” Josephine went on bitterly. “Books of corrupting influence, he claims. Tales of forbidden appetites that unsettle the female mind and ought to be prohibited. He even spoke of raising the matter in Parliament.”
“What balderdash.”
“Precisely. Any sensible person would dismiss such nonsense at once. But that is not the heart of the problem.”
“No?” Viola said faintly. What more could there possibly be?
“The problem is that Eldon is spreading the story, and it is already damaging William’s, I quote, ‘moral integrity’.
The virtue of our entire household is called into question.
He has been cut by more than one person because of it.
” Josephine sighed. “He insisted I attend this evening, together with him. I am here to conduct what he calls damage limitation.”
Viola swallowed. “And what is the worst that could happen?”
“That he falls out of favour with influential backers.” Josephine said bluntly. “If he loses his patrons, he may not keep his seat at the next election.”
“Is it as bad as that?” Viola exclaimed.
“He would lose his seat in Parliament merely because his wife reads romances? That sounds tremendously far-fetched to me. How can that make any sense?” Viola wrapped her arms about herself.
It was unthinkable what might happen if they were ever to discover what Fane’s wife was truly occupied with.
“Politicians are expected to be of the highest and most virtuous character. Did you not know?” Josephine’s voice was edged with bitterness.
“They all have their hands dirty, of course, but so long as it remains neatly swept under the carpet, everything proceeds as it should. Bring it into the open, however, and the situation becomes quite another matter. It has made William terribly vulnerable. Having a Whig wife who advises him on how to vote is one thing. But an outspoken Whig wife who publicly reads sensationalist rubbish is quite another.”
Viola flinched. “Please do not call it rubbish. Call it licentious, shocking, dangerous, even poisonous, but never rubbish.”
Josephine’s face broke into a smile. “You are entirely right, my dear. To call the literature we most enjoy rubbish is belittling, and quite unjust to our intellect. We are not less intelligent for enjoying romances, nor are our interests of less consequence simply because they do not involve passing bills and governing the country. I daresay our little book club contributes more to the harmony of society than the squabbling of the men in parliament.” She sighed, lowering her voice.
“You are not truly one of them, either, are you? A Tory, I mean. How delightfully delicious that Fane, of all men, is married to such a little rebel!”
“Shush.” Viola cast a quick glance about and continued only after assuring herself that no one was near enough to overhear.
“The truth is, I don’t really fit into any political category.
I suppose I am rather too liberal-minded for most people here.
But neither am I a Whig.” Sebastian had once suggested, jokingly, that she might be a radical.
Was that what she was? She could not really identify with that term either.
“Ah.” Josephine flicked her gaze toward the door. “I understand perfectly. Here they come, the gentlemen. And there you may observe William, already hard at work, licking the Prime Minister’s boots. He must ensure he does not fall from grace, even if his wife is deemed somewhat lacking in it.”
The men had indeed reentered the salon. Sir William was officiously holding the door open for Liverpool, all eagerness and deference, which was rather sickening to behold. Sebastian followed close behind.
Their eyes met briefly.
There was a quick, but definite flutter in her stomach. Viola’s fingers tightened in the fabric of her dress. “Who would have thought that such innocently written tales might possess the power to cause such havoc among powerful men,” she murmured.
Josephine snorted softly. “My dear. Say what you will, but our reading material is anything but innocent. Ahem.”
They looked at one another and burst into simultaneous giggles.
“I did not know you were so well acquainted with Sir William’s wife,” Sebastian said the moment they were settled in the carriage on their way home. He was leaning back into the shadowed corner, so that Viola could not see his face. “You appeared to be very friendly.”
“Josephine? Yes. We get along well.”
“Interesting,” he murmured. “You are even on a first-name basis with her. How long have you known her?”
Viola considered. “Several weeks, I believe. She was one of the first people I met when I arrived in London.” Has it really been so long already?
There was a pause.
“I should like you to invite her to supper one of these days,” he said pleasantly. “Along with her husband, of course.”
“Certainly.” Viola shrugged. “Though why so suddenly? Oh.” She leaned forward, attempting to peer at his face in the darkness. “I remember. It is that matter for which you need his vote.” She snapped her fingers. “I forget what it was exactly. Something to do with punch? Negus? Ale?”
“Whisky,” he said sharply. “Taxation on whisky, to be precise.”
“Ah yes. That was it. You wanted it lowered.”
He nearly sprang from his seat. “I most certainly do not!”
She waved a hand. “Whatever. It matters very little to me. But I see what you are about.” She wagged her finger at him. “You do not approve of her, yet you intend to use me to influence her.”
“And if I do?” he asked evenly. “What is the harm? Lady Penworthy is widely understood to be the one who wears the breeches in her household. Sir William votes as she advises. It is no secret. One must therefore secure the goodwill of the wife.” He paused.
“A goodwill which, alas, I do not possess. But you do.”
“It will not work,” Viola folded her hands on her lap. “She is not a fool. If we suddenly invite her to supper, she will know at once that you mean to use me to manipulate her.”
“I require Sir William’s vote,” Sebastian said quietly. “Without it, the motion will pass, and the Irish administration will lose millions in revenue, funds that would otherwise support poor relief, hospitals, and the reform of public institutions.” He paused. “The asylums among them.”
Silence fell between them, broken only by the rattle of the carriage wheels.
“Oh.”
“I seem to recall you saying you care about those asylums.”
“I do indeed. You are saying that if the motion does not pass, there would be more money available to address the situation there.” She hesitated. “But what of private charities? Have you not received donations as well?”
“We have,” he said. “In fact, only yesterday a tremendous sum arrived from an anonymous donor. Whoever he is, he is unbelievably generous.”
“She,” Viola muttered under her breath.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Nothing. Pray, go on,” Viola said hastily.
“As I was saying,” Sebastian continued, “the donor’s generosity is remarkable, but it does not meet the full expense.”
“Lawks.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Nothing. Go on.” Then she shook her head. “No. Do not go on. Because I see perfectly well where you are leading me. You are attempting to manipulate me into manipulating Josephine, so that she may manipulate her husband, so that you may secure your vote. Have I understood you correctly?”
She could hear the smile in his voice when he replied, “Quite.”
Viola sighed. “There is no need to throw a lavish supper party for that purpose. I can simply try to manipulate her the next time I see her. Which is, in fact, in two days.” They would have another book club meeting regardless of Sir William’s discovery; only now it would be held at Mrs Burney’s house instead of the Penworthy home.
Hopefully, Mr Burney did not share Sir William’s dislike towards romance books.
There was a brief pause.
“Would you truly do that?” he asked. “That would be extraordinary. Lady Penworthy bears the nickname the Rock of Gibraltar, for once her mind is made up, nothing will move her. But if you were to sway her…”
“Then you would be eternally grateful to me, and stand in my debt forever and always,” Viola said darkly.
“Then the entire Tory cabinet would be eternally grateful to you,” he replied softly. “But me most of all.”
Viola’s pulse quickened. How very vexing. For she discovered, to her considerable dismay, that his gratitude was precisely what she wanted most of all.