III #3
“Brighton Downs,” Rory repeated thoughtfully. Even as Nell saw the pit yawning before her, the golden eyes sparkled with enthusiasm and the lithe young body in the slipper chair showed even greater animation than before. “Is that not where the prince’s regiment is encamped?”
“It is,” Nell replied, carefully keeping her voice even. “We shall not ride near the encampment, however.”
“Oh.” The single word expressed a good deal of disappointment.
“For heaven’s sake, Rory, surely you would not wish to parade before a bunch of unruly soldiers!”
“Well, no, not common soldiers, Aunt Nell, but there are officers as well, are there not?”
“Now, see here, young lady,” Nell began sternly.
But when her niece only looked interested to hear what she would say next, she broke off with a laugh.
“I daresay now you are roasting me. But it will not do, you know. In your own village, where you are known, your behavior must generally be excused, but here in Brighton I beg you will be circumspect. Pranks will not be well accepted, and your behavior, good or bad, will reflect upon both your grandmama and myself. I hope you will remember that before you do anything improper.”
“Oh dear,” Rory said. “Then you, too, expect me to do outrageous things. I know that Huntley fears the same thing.”
“I don’t expect anything of the sort,” Nell returned.
“But from what I have heard and seen so far, I believe you to be as high-spirited as you were at twelve, and I’m persuaded that you rarely think before you act or speak.
And that,” she added when her niece looked stricken, “is plain speaking, indeed.” She leaned forward, holding out a hand.
“I have accepted the duties of a chaperon, my dear, but I am truly not a dragon. I do hope we shall be friends.”
Rory flashed her a brilliant smile and grasped the outstretched hand warmly. “We shall be, Aunt Nell. I just know we shall be. And I shall try very hard not to do anything that will bring discredit to you or to Grandmama. I may still roast Kit occasionally, may I not?”
“With my goodwill,” Nell laughed, giving Rory’s hand a quick squeeze.
“It may help prevent him from putting himself on too high a form.” She got up and moved to pull the bell.
“I believe I shall ring for tea now, dear. I know the hour is not yet far advanced, but you have had a tiring journey and will wish to be at your best tomorrow. An early night will be good for both of us. I doubt that we shall see many of them in the days ahead.”
“Shall we be very busy, ma’am?”
“Indeed we shall. Once word gets around that I am sponsoring my beautiful niece, we shall have more invitations than we shall be able to answer.”
“Shall we be invited to the Pavilion?”
“Oh, dear.” Nell paused, with her hand on the tapestry bell pull, staring at her niece in dismay.
“It never occurred to me to ask Clarissa whether she meant that for you or not. However,” she added quickly when Rory moved to protest, “I daresay she would have mentioned it if she objected.” She pulled the bell.
“Just see that you remember to show proper respect to Mrs. Fitzherbert if you should chance to meet her.”
“The prince’s mistress?” Rory looked more excited than shocked by the possibility.
“Here in Brighton many look upon her as the prince’s true wife,” Nell told her.
“She is very kind, and many think she has not been fairly treated. ’Tis all on account of that infamous Marriage Act, you know.
Her marriage to the prince was never annulled, because it was not considered to be legal in the first placed—not having the King’s blessing and all. ”
“Were they actually married, Aunt Nell? I heard ’twas nothing but fudge.”
Nell nodded. “We believe so, at any rate. ’Tis on account of Mrs. Creevey, Mama’s good friend, telling us last autumn—I believe ’twas just before the action at Trafalgar, you know—that Prinny had suffered a curious slip of the tongue.
He was telling Mrs. Creevey how he had spent the day quietly alone with Mrs. Fitzherbert at her house on the Steyne, which—and these were his very own words, mind you—was certainly very unfashionable.
Now, does that not show that he, at least, believes himself to be her lawful husband?
For how else could he possibly have thought his actions unfashionable? ”
Rory went into a peal of laughter, startling the maid who entered just then with the teatray. “Oh, Aunt Nell, ’tis unanswerable proof, to be sure.”
“Well, we thought so,” Nell replied with a smile. “Put the tray on that table, Katy. We mean to help ourselves.” The maid bobbed a curtsy and left them to investigate the covered dishes. “Oh, good. Cinnamon muffins,” Nell said. “Cook makes excellent muffins. Do have one.”
“What about the Princess Caroline of Brunswick, then?” Rory asked once she had buttered her muffin.
“We do not see Prinny’s wife here or his daughter, either,”
Nell replied simply, pouring them each a cup of hot tea. “Indeed, he seems a good deal less interested in poor Princess Charlotte than in Mrs. Fitzherbert’s little Minny. You will often see him with them as they stroll among the visitors on the Steyne or drive in his carriage along the esplanade.”
Rory frowned suddenly. “You told Huntley we would drive with him on the esplanade tomorrow,” she said slowly. “Must we?”
Nell sipped her tea, watching her companion over the rim of the fragile cup.
She did not reply until she had replaced the cup in its saucer.
“We must. He wants to get to know you better, my dear, and I must say that considering you will soon be his wife, I should think you would agree that his intentions are admirable and do all in your power to help him achieve his purpose.”
“He did not even say what time he means to call for us.” Rory sounded sulky.
“Never mind that, child,” Nell said comfortably. “I daresay that if we do not chance to meet him at Donaldson’s Library, he will contrive to send a message here to the house. He is a gentleman who is perfectly capable of dealing with such minor details.”
Rory sighed and reached for another muffin.