Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
Eight weeks and one game of Questions and Commandsuntilthewedding
T he Earl of Cumberland wasn’t at the Upper Assembly Rooms.
It did seem, however, as though most of Bath were, and from the moment she’d shinnied down the old maple with her petticoats tucked into her stays and ball slippers between her teeth, Phoebe had begun to feel quite hopeful, indeed. The private Hackney carriage hire had proven a lot easier to navigate than the packed stagecoach, no one had stared suspiciously at her powdered hair, and the cap had elicited only respectful glances – including one sympathetic nod from a society matriarch.
The Assembly Room was also just as Sophie predicted: full of starry-eyed debutantes, a handful of eligible gentlemen – and a concerning supply of ineligible ones, too.
All in all, apart from one small misunderstanding with a nosy footman – who actually turned out to be the Assembly Room announcer – Phoebe was convinced things had started as well as they could for any girl in search of adventure.
She sipped her ratafia and allowed herself a small smile. She’d made it – she’d escaped, and so far, no one had given her so much as a second glance.
‘Mrs Smith?’ a lady in lime chiffon, with a matching ostrich plume enquired. ‘Do excuse me, but I believe the announcer mentioned your family name was Kemble? Are you, by chance, any relation to the wonderful Sarah Kemble? I believe her stage name is Sarah Siddons?’
Phoebe swallowed, feeling as though the first chink may have just appeared in her otherwise very shiny plan.
‘Oh, why, yes!’ She smiled, praying the lady’s knowledge of the actress was limited. ‘I’m a much younger cousin, recently bereaved.’
‘Oh, I was hoping you’d say so!’ the lady exclaimed, clasping her hands dramatically. ‘I mean in regard to the cousinly connection,’ she added hastily. ‘I just adored her Lady Macbeth!’
She lowered her voice and fluttered her fan.
‘My artistic soul pines for the stage, and though this is far from common knowledge, I’m certain that were my circumstances different…’
‘Really, Cordelia, I don’t think your Cheltenham Tragedies are any sort of secret in Bath!’ a sharp tone interjected. ‘Clearly, Mrs Smith is here to enjoy Bath society, and does not wish to be bothered with your theatrical nonsense, am I not right Mrs Smith?’
To her great consternation, Phoebe found herself looking directly into Lady Aurelia’s perfectly peachy countenance. She was wearing the extravagant yellow silk gown that Phoebe had glimpsed in Madame Paragon’s, and even she had to admit it became Aurelia’s golden hair and forget-me-knot eyes very well. Tonight, she’d finished her ensemble with a cloak of midnight blue, set back off her fair shoulders, and a pair of delicate, white kid gloves that Phoebe would never dare wear herself, for fear of them being a completely different colour within the hour. She thought briefly of her scramble down the maple earlier that evening, and bit her lip. Aurelia was undoubtedly a young lady of quality, and the sort of girl who really should marry the earl, and produce a whole troop of purple-faced, onion-scented offspring for his pleasure.
‘Delighted to make your acquaintance, Miss …?’ she murmured, keeping her eyes low as she dipped a curtsey.
‘… Lady Aurelia Carlisle,’ Aurelia supplied airily. ‘Do walk with me a while, Mrs Smith?’
Phoebe exhaled silently. She was certain Aurelia would not be the type to withhold should she have seen through her disguise. She nodded politely, and together they began to perambulate around the busy room.
‘Though you may call me Aurelia,’ she added after a few moments, ‘for I’ve a feeling we’re going to be the best of friends, don’t you think?’
Phoebe smiled, the ratafia creating a safe and fuzzy comfort in her stomach. This was proving easier than she thought.
‘Are you enjoying Bath, Mrs Smith?’ Aurelia continued. ‘I must say, I am finding it rather ennuyeux after London.’
She paused to flutter her eyelashes at two young men in gleaming army regimentals, who bowed low as they passed by.
‘These soldiers are such incorrigible flirts, don’t you think?’ Aurelia added, accepting a sherry from a passing footman. ‘One can’t believe a word they say.’ She smiled and held up a kid-gloved hand at a portly gentleman, who was ogling the room.
‘That’s Lord Avery, one of Mama’s dearest friends… He makes my skin crawl – do you know that feeling?’
Phoebe pictured the earl’s moist, purple lips and nodded. She knew the feeling exactly.
‘Is he your intended?’ she asked tentatively, wondering if she and Aurelia had more in common than she first realised.
‘Good gracious me, no!’ she exclaimed with wide-eyed horror. ‘I’d rather marry a codfish! I mean, he’s offered, and he’s tried to…’ she paused to screw up her nose. ‘… kiss me on more occasions than I care to recall. But I’ve been promised to someone far younger and wealthier since the cradle.’
‘Oh well, that’s a relief,’ Phoebe mumbled, wishing she’d taken a glass of sherry when she could.
‘Yes, but I would welcome your advice with a little spot of bother all the same?’ Aurelia continued in a hushed tone.
She glanced around, before turning back with a demure smile.
‘Given you are a married woman of the world, and I merely a debutante?’
‘Married and bereaved,’ Phoebe amended swiftly.
‘And excessively content with it, too, I warrant!’ Aurelia tittered.
‘Oh no,’ Phoebe started awkwardly, ‘it’s just I?—’
‘Don’t worry, I completely understand,’ she reassured, guiding Phoebe into the corridor, before lowering her voice to a whisper. ‘In truth, I know all about the duties of a married woman too.’
She smirked knowingly while Phoebe stared, starkly aware they were now leaving the protective bustle of the Assembly Room, for a quiet corridor with much more lighting.
‘And that it doesn’t always have to be a duty at all?’ Aurelia continued, bestowing a dazzling smile on a passing gentleman who gazed as though enraptured.
Phoebe stared at Aurelia’s cherry-bow lips, hardly knowing what to think. As Mrs Smith, she’d really only just met the marchioness’s pretty daughter, and yet she seemed determined to share some deep, dark secret that Phoebe had absolutely no desire to hear.
‘Lady Aurelia, much as I’m enjoying this delightful tête à tête, I really should––’
‘I think I may be with child.’
Phoebe blanched, while Aurelia continued to smile as though she’d just confessed a slight headache.
‘I beg your pardon?’ Phoebe whispered.
Aurelia leant closer. ‘I said, I think I may be with child ,’ she repeated, as though Phoebe might be hard of hearing.
Phoebe inhaled silently, feeling every polite response forsake her. Her thoughts whirled, while every hushed whisper and innuendo she’d ever overheard at Knightswood – courtesy of the butcher’s boy, the domestic staff, and the gamekeeper – spun to the forefront of her mind.
She’s fast… He’s always been frisky… Needs the herd to sow his oats… Her flank is thickening.
She dropped her gaze to Aurelia’s tiny waist, and frowned.
‘You don’t look…’ she began.
‘It’s early yet,’ Aurelia whispered. ‘But I am a little late… And as you are a widowed woman of the world, I wondered if you know how to know … for sure ? ’
Phoebe swallowed, feeling wholly inadequate to the moment, before it struck her. Aurelia had done the thing married people do – the thing she’d possibly wanted to do with the viscount! She closed her eyes and forced his golden silhouette from her mind. Now was not the time.
‘From my experience of such things,’ she whispered, in what she hoped was a convincing, maternal tone. ‘Being late for anything, has no bearing on … one’s flank thickening.’
Then she added a smile for reassurance, and waited for Aurelia’s relief.
To her great surprise, Aurelia only stared with narrowing eyes, before tipping her head back and laughing as though she might never stop.
‘Oh, that’s good! Very good! I needed that.’ She sighed, wiping her eyes.
Briefly, Phoebe wondered if she wasn’t a little touched in the head, and considered her with new sympathy.
‘I trust your betrothed has been understanding?’ she tried again. ‘Perhaps family could be informed? Arrangements brought forward?’
At this Aurelia stared.
‘My betrothed?’ she repeated, before collecting herself. ‘Oh yes, my betrothed… He is, most blissfully , unaware, and as we are not contracted to marry until I reach my twenty-first birthday, long may it continue! After all, there’s little point in not enjoying some freedom while we can, is there?’
A million conflicted thoughts flew through Phoebe’s head. She was all for freedom, but if Aurelia and her betrothed had done the thing she’d possibly wanted to do with the viscount, there seemed few good reasons to exclude him now.
‘I just thought that someone as worldly as yourself,’ she continued, ‘might be able to assist me with–– oh Captain Elliot! How delightful to see you!’
Phoebe stared at Aurelia’s adept change in tone, as three young officers in regimentals approached.
‘I do declare this Assembly is a positive squeeze, and yet no gathering is of any interest without you, of course.’
The officers approached them with varying levels of interest as Aurelia morphed into the very epitome of a society debutante. Phoebe shifted uncomfortably – she wasn’t used to being the object of curiosity, disguise or not.
‘You are ever the gracious flatterer, Lady Aurelia.’ Captain Elliot smiled, bending low over her hand before turning to Phoebe.
Phoebe stiffened, taking in the captain’s perfectly coiffured hair, strong jaw and fine chestnut eyes, which were brimming with mirth. He was immaculately dressed in crisp white pantaloons and spotless boots, while his regimental coat was decorated with a clutch of gleaming medals that belied his ready charm. Yet all of this paled next to Phoebe’s growing certainty that, somehow, they had already met… Before she realised.
Captain Elliot was none other than Captain Damerel, the viscount’s amiable brother!
‘Mrs Mary Smith,’ she murmured as she curtsied, feeling the least like Mrs Mary Smith she’d felt all evening.
‘Enchanted to meet you, Mrs Smith!’ he returned, his eyes dancing. ‘Any friend of Lady Aurelia is a friend of mine!’
Phoebe blinked.
‘These soldiers are such incorrigible flirts, don’t you think? One can’t believe a word they say.’
Could Aurelia have been suggesting her little spot of bother wasn’t down to her betrothed?
Phoebe began to feel a little warm beneath her wig, as her head filled with myriad new possibilities.
‘Why don’t you join us for a game of whist, Captain?’ Aurelia cajoled. ‘It is so hot in the Assembly Room.’
‘I wish I could, but I’m promised for the quadrille,’ the captain returned with one of his dazzling smiles. ‘My friends would be honoured to make up a four, though, if that would be agreeable? Lady Aurelia, Mrs Smith, it has been a pleasure.’
Phoebe sunk into another curtsey as the charming soldier made his parting bow, exhaling beneath her breath.
‘Well then, who’s for a round of faro?’ Aurelia exclaimed, all her previous cares seemingly forgotten.
‘But, don’t you also wish to return to the dancing?’ Phoebe attempted, the bustling Assembly Room holding considerable new appeal.
She was suddenly and glaringly aware that if the captain was at the Ball, then the viscount could be, too, and she would be far better off in the busy Assembly Room than a quiet corridor.
‘Heavens alive, no! That’s the last place I wish to go!’ Aurelia rolled her eyes as she led the way to one of the private card rooms. ‘There’re far too many boring people when my new favourites are right here! Now do let’s go, before someone else takes the table…’
The soldiers, introducing themselves as Smithfield and Brent, didn’t need a second invitation and reluctantly, Phoebe accompanied them.
‘What about stakes?’ Smithfield asked, with hair that reminded Phoebe forcibly of a mop.
‘I don’t play too deep with the ladies, don’t like to steal their pin money!’ he added before turning to guffaw with his friend for far longer than was necessary.
Aurelia closed the door with a smile.
‘Oh, don’t you worry about that,’ she returned, a glint in her eye. ‘I never play for money!’
‘Then, what do we play for?’ Phoebe frowned, worrying how long her disguise would last at these close quarters.
‘I can think of a few options,’ Aurelia smiled coquettishly. ‘But for today, how about a Question or Command?’
The soldiers started to grin, while Phoebe stared doubtfully into Aurelia’s narrowed eyes. Firstly, she’d closed the door, which didn’t seem awfully proper at an Assembly Ball; secondly, she’d downed two drinks quite swiftly, and Phoebe could still recall the ill effects of Briggs’s devil’s brew with alarming clarity; and thirdly, while she rather enjoyed Questions and Commands at home, it could prove rather challenging for Mrs-Mary-Smith-younger-cousin-to theatrical-darling-Sarah-Siddons .
Yet, Aurelia had offered the hand of friendship, and wasn’t the purpose of the evening to enjoy some freedom? To experience a little of Bath life before everything changed?
She shook back her sleeve frills with determination – unlike Thomas, she rarely lost at faro.
Phoebe began losing straight away. It wasn’t so much bad luck, as the fact that the soldier with the mop-head kept shuffling his seat towards her, which ruined her concentration.
‘I’ll take a question,’ she conceded when the first game was lost, certain it had to be better than a command.
Mop-head smiled.
‘Certainly… Have you been widowed long, Mrs Smith?’ he asked in a foppish tone.
‘Pooh! Mary doesn’t wish to answer boring questions about her dead husband!’ Aurelia pouted. ‘Her cousin is a famous actress! And everyone knows actresses live the most exciting lives!’ Her eyes lit up as she leant forward and lowered her voice. ‘They go to all the best soirees, wear the latest French fashion and have as many secret liaisons as they wish!’
She paused to titter into her sherry.
‘So I think Mary must have many daring stories to tell,’ she continued, her eyes gleaming. ‘And better questions might be… Did you ever join your cousin on the stage? Fight a valiant duel? Kiss a prince perhaps?!’
She emptied her glass, as Phoebe forced all persistent and vexing thoughts of the highwayman and the viscount from her head.
‘Yes, do tell us about your theatrical exploits, Mary,’ the mop-head soldier leered suddenly, closing his hand over hers. ‘Especially those involving soirees and secret liaisons …’
He paused to guffaw as Phoebe recoiled, and retrieved her hand.
‘That’s three questions!’ She objected, decidedly grateful she’d not opted for a command.
‘My game, my rules!’ Aurelia flashed, refilling her glass once again.
‘Well, I might have performed in a few productions,’ Phoebe conceded slowly, grateful none of them had actually witnessed Fairfax Theatrical Company’s production of Hamlet , when Sophie’s raft ran aground and Ophelia’s deathbed became a decidedly muddy affair, ‘… and fought a duel…’ The moment Sarah Siddons’s blade chose to take flight, flew through her head. ‘ And worn miracle trousers – which, I assure you, are far more exciting than all the French fashion in the world! You don’t know how lucky you are,’ she added, side-eyeing mop-head.
‘I knew it as soon as I saw you!’ Aurelia exclaimed, reaching for another drink. ‘You have the look of an adventurer! But what of kissing princes? Or kissing anyone? I’m in favour of kissing generally, you see.’
She giggled at Brent, who shifted his chair closer.
Phoebe frowned, conscious they now appeared to be squashed along two sides of the table, when there were four very good ones available.
‘Yes, do tell us about the kissing!’ the mop-head soldier echoed, picking up her hand and doing something wet and slimy to the back of it.
The earl’s moist lips came to mind, and she felt a swell of nausea.
‘Are stage kisses as real as they look, or did you save those for your admirers after the duels?’ Mop-head smirked.
Much against her will, the night in the viscount’s library reached out of the fog of her brain again. She was certain he’d wanted to kiss her. Had he admired her? Or was she merely a distraction?
‘I’ll respect you more now I know who your brother is.’
She gritted her teeth and yanked her hand away, aware that Aurelia was not going to give up. ‘Command – I choose command!’ she substituted swiftly, hoping her change of mind would turn all thoughts from kissing.
‘What fun!’ Aurelia giggled. ‘As you lost the game and haven’t answered the question, it now becomes a matter of honour. And there are really only two commands that settle a matter of honour in my book – a race, or…’
Phoebe swallowed, picturing Aunt Higglestone’s face if she were to ask to borrow a horse to settle a card debt, when she wasn’t even permitted to ride.
‘Or?’ Phoebe frowned, crossing her fingers beneath the table.
‘Or a kiss!’
At this, everyone around the table began to laugh in a way that Phoebe found highly unnecessary, as it really wasn’t funny at all.
‘But because we are all friends, I’m quite prepared to share your debt with you!’ Aurelia added archly.
Then she lurched towards the younger soldier, and pressed her lips to his in a way Phoebe had only read about in a novel Harriet had once banned.
Phoebe stared in shock, before realising Smithfield had also slid his roving hand around her waist, and was starting to loom towards her. Horror-struck, she recoiled from his pursed lips, but the more she leaned away the more her chair leg locked, and he seemed only too happy to interpret squirming as encouragement.
Which left her no choice at all.
Muttering one of Fred’s favourite curses, she made a grab for Aurelia’s half-drunk sherry, and emptied it over the soldier’s leering mop-head.
Which was also precisely the moment that the door opened. For a second, no one moved and then slowly, Phoebe turned her gaze towards the doorway to find a curious footman, a dancing-eyed captain, and a belligerent marchioness looking back – and behind them all, a haughty stare that made her want to retreat inside her widow’s cap for good.
Phoebe inhaled raggedly as she glanced back at Aurelia, only to find that she’d somehow managed to slide away from Brent, leaving herself and mop-head looking very cosy indeed. She flushed to the very roots of her powdered hair.
‘What is the meaning of all this, Aurelia?’ the marchioness demanded, making all the candles in the candelabra flicker uncertainly.
‘When the captain said you were enjoying a round of cards with an unknown Mrs Smith and two gentlemen of the regiment, I must admit to not being best pleased, but to find you in a private room , with an actress , and two foot soldiers ? Do you not realise what the world might think? Thank goodness the viscount knows us well enough to trust your behaviour stems from childish innocence, and nothing more!’
Phoebe’s chest thumped as she lifted her eyes to the viscount’s, but they were so heavily lidded they revealed nothing. She glanced back to Aurelia.
Why would it matter what the viscount thought – unless they had an understanding?
Briefly, she stared, feeling as though a bucket of icy water had been emptied over her head.
Could the disagreeable viscount actually be Aurelia’s betrothed?
‘If I may be per … permitted to def—’ mop-head began to stammer through a shower of sherry drops.
‘You may not!’ the marchioness snapped so fiercely he blanched.
‘Might I recommend a more discreet tone, Marchioness?’
The viscount’s tone was dispassionate and his eyes cold, taking Phoebe back to the Swan Inn in a heartbeat. He closed the door, before directing one of his piercing stares at all those gathered. Phoebe felt herself wither instantly, certain he would see straight through her disguise, yet, when his gaze swept the room, it seemed to pass over hers without a flicker of recognition. She exhaled silently, relief coursing her veins plus something else, too – a shadow of disappointment – despite it making no sense whatsoever.
‘While the reputation of actresses and officers are of lesser concern, Lady Aurelia is still enjoying her first season, and you would not wish her name to be blemished by inadvertently stirring up the same interest you are seeking to avoid.’
It was the marchioness’s turn to blanch.
‘You are quite right of course, Viscount,’ she conceded, as the captain avoided eye contact with everyone, his lips twitching.
‘Aurelia has only been out a short while, and there mustn’t be the slightest hint of scandal…’
‘Oh, Mama!’ Aurelia cooed suddenly. ‘What a fuss to be making when I have behaved just as I ought.’
She got up and slid her arms around her stiff mother.
‘I must admit to being a trifle surprised when Mrs Smith offered a brief enactment of a romantic tragedy but I’ve never been in the company of an actress, or her cousin, before, and certainly didn’t wish to appear rude. I do see now , of course, that it was entirely unsuitable behaviour for an Assembly Ball, no matter how innocently instigated.’
Then she fluttered her china-doll eyes so hard they actually began to water – while Phoebe stared, unsure whether to feel aghast or impressed.
‘There, there, child, I did not consider your behaviour would be anything but what it should be,’ the marchioness consoled, throwing Phoebe and the mop-head soldier a caustic look. ‘Whereas the pair of you should be ashamed of yourselves! Trying to lead my child astray with your … ignoble behaviour!’
Phoebe flinched.
‘Count yourselves fortunate I’ve no wish to make this evening’s events public, otherwise I’d ensure no one in Bath ever opened their doors to you again!’ the marchioness proclaimed.
‘Aurelia?’
Then she swept from the room, taking Aurelia with her, while the captain finally gave in to his mirth.