Chapter 3
Thea took a deep breath, closing her eyes and searching for a minute of peace before the next, inevitable interaction.
‘Had fun with the gents?’ Thea turned to find Harriet with a huge grin on her face.
‘Shut up.’ However annoyed she was, Harriet never failed to make her feel a little better, or to bring out the child in her.
‘So many words, so little substance,’ said Harriet.
‘As ever,’ Thea said drily, but she was still a little buoyed by the tiny snippet of conversation with Speckle. ‘Your apprentice seems nice.’
‘Excellent man,’ said Harriet, as they turned towards the back of the room, but then she grasped one of Thea’s arms firmly in her hand. ‘Oh lord,’ she muttered out of the side of her mouth. ‘They’re coming.’
And they were. Emma and her retinue of polite ladies were on their way. Thea felt a small, exasperated noise leave her body.
‘Difficult to tell where one ends and the others begin,’ muttered Harriet, as six wide floral gowns advanced in a menacing array.
‘It’s so you can’t pick off the weakest.’
‘They’re all f– flipping formidable.’ Harriet checked her language as Thea bumped her with a hip.
‘Scared, Mrs Henry?’
‘Never.’
‘Ready?’ The florals were coming closer.
‘Also, never.’
‘You first.’
‘Ladies,’ boomed Harriet, spreading her arms wide. ‘What a delight to see you on this most excellent of occasions.’ Thea chose a bob and a demure tilt of the head. They settled into a circle, Cecily happily shuffling in next to Thea.
‘Your Grace,’ said Emma, nodding to Thea.
Thea had never seen a less deferential nod – not that she felt she deserved one – but while she did rank as the highest amongst the group, Emma had a way of being technically respectful whilst maintaining an undertone of derision.
‘And Mrs Henry.’ One comfort Thea could take was that Emma was almost as cool to Harriet as she was to her.
Despite the scandalous rumours about what their early relationship had become – perhaps because of it, Thea thought – Emma made sure to maintain a friendly demeanour without any hint of warmth or affection.
As ever, she was exactly who she was supposed to be.
Monty’s wife, lady of society, always polite.
She and Helena Crowe were a constant reminder to Thea that this life did not come naturally to her, as it did to others.
The ladies greeted one another in turn. Thea could take or leave them all, apart from Cecily, for whom she had an inexplicable soft spot.
They had met in Scarborough over five years ago when Cecily had been searching for a husband.
The conversation with Cecily was never awkward, and she hardly had to make any effort at all.
Also, she assumed social occasions provided respite to Cecily as the husband she had found was Neville Knatchbull, and that had to be worse than being married to George.
Cecily squeezed Thea’s arm with both hands.
‘I am so excited to see you. Alice and Catherine have been telling us all about their most recent visit to the theatre. It is fascinating.’ Thea could never help be impressed by Cecily’s enthusiasm about everything society.
She smiled across at the two ladies, standing primly with their hands clasped at their fronts.
‘How wonderful.’ She affected interest. ‘What was the play?’
‘The Discovery by Sheridan,’ said Catherine.
‘Nothing too highbrow but quite amusing. The lead was played by David Garrick…’ Thea drifted off in her own mind.
When wasn’t the lead played by David Garrick?
A play about boring men, adulterous flirting and unfulfilled longing.
Just for a change. She peered around the circle at the party and mused that they probably only bothered going so they had something to talk about at the drawing room.
There was only so much conversational distance one could gain from the lavish furnishings of St James’ Palace.
After talk of the play dried up, Emma smiled politely, and Cecily stared in rapt attention as Winnie Hatchett droned on about her latest piece of porcelain.
Thea was busy wondering if she could arrange to be at Harriet’s when Doctor Speckle came to care for her boils so they could talk more about plants, when she realised that six pairs of eyes were trained on her.
‘I beg your pardon?’ she asked, hoping she could feign mishearing, rather than inattention.
‘Winnie asked if you had picked up any new oddities recently,’ said Emma, glancing sideways at her disciples. ‘You always seem to have picked up an additional one or two whenever we meet.’
‘I, er…’ said Thea, the duchess demeanour wavering whilst she considered how to respond to this blatant hostility. She knew the ladies thought she was strange, but it was another thing entirely to come right out and say it.
‘Your curiosities, Thea,’ asked Cecily kindly. ‘Winne was wondering if you had acquired any new specimens?’
‘Oh.’ That was a relief at least. She knew Winnie would be asking out of dutiful politeness rather than genuine interest, but that was better than them openly highlighting her social awkwardness.
The truth was that she had few new specimens, as George dissuaded her collecting in his passively effective way.
‘I had a haliotis from Valtrevers recently,’ she tried, thinking of her most prized acquisition of the last few months. ‘A little unexpected.’
‘Oh dear,’ said Winnie, moving almost imperceptibly backwards.
‘Oh dear?’ asked Thea, confused.
‘That is bad luck,’ said Catherine in her always gentle voice.
‘It is?’ asked Thea, by now thoroughly confused.
‘I didn’t know you could catch it,’ said Winnie, from her greater distance. ‘I always say that one needs to be wary of a proximity to tradesmen.’
‘I think the apothecary in Flint Street has a peppermint preparation that can help with that,’ said Alice kindly. Emma simply looked horrified. Thea tried to contain her physical reaction as she realised their meaning. Nevertheless, she felt her cheeks pink.
‘Not halitosis.’ The words fell out messily. ‘Haliotis. It is the shell of an herbivorous marine gastropod.’
‘Oh.’
‘Ah.’
‘I see.’
Thea scavenged her mind for words to retrieve the situation. She drew herself up into her tall hairpiece. ‘It is very shiny,’ came out of her mouth, ‘and the tentacles are almost all gone.’
No, definitely not better. Everyone but Cecily looked like they would rather she needed the apothecary’s assistance. Thea saw Harriet press her lips together, and her eyes glistened with unshed mirth as she looked to the ceiling. An awkward silence fell.
‘I would love to see it, sometime,’ said Cecily, placing a kind hand on Thea’s arm. ‘Isn’t that abalone?’
‘Yes, it is,’ said Thea, wondering why she hadn’t thought to lead with its non-scientific name. ‘And so you shall see it, shall we find some time?’ She placed her hand over Cecily’s to keep it in place and steered her away from the group for some respite.
‘They are nice, aren’t they?’ asked Cecily, peering back at the group as she and Thea found a space in the throng. ‘They do make me feel welcome.’
‘That’s because you fit in,’ said Thea dully.
‘I have had to try hard,’ said Cecily, her brow furrowing. ‘They are very particular.’
‘They are,’ said Thea, no more enthusiastically.
‘I’m sure they would love hearing about science and plants if they only gave it a chance,’ said Cecily.
‘Perhaps,’ said Thea, smiling weakly.
‘Neville is quite in the grump with his plants,’ said Cecily. ‘You know how he spends so much money on it, and he is having such trouble.’ Thea’s ears pricked up at that, to listen to him one would think he had a jungle.
‘Is he?’ asked Thea, trying not to sound too gleeful.
‘It’s the protea,’ said Cecily. ‘The one from South America. No success at all from his last sowing.’
‘Oh that,’ said Thea, deflating a little. ‘Nobody can do anything with it from seed. It layers, tolerably though.’
‘Ah, but–’ started Cecily, but was cut off by the man himself.
‘Home,’ said Knatchbull, gesturing to his wife and scampering towards the exit without waiting for her. The withdrawing was obviously at an end.
‘Your Grace,’ said Cecily, bobbing. Thea had been a duchess now for almost two years, since George’s father died, but she had yet to get used to the deference, especially from her friends.
‘Your Grace,’ those words again. Thea turned. The friendly Doctor was smiling at her. ‘I would be most appreciative of hearing more on your experiences of milkweed, if you ever have the time, Your Grace.’
The possibility of a like mind that didn’t dismiss her was almost intoxicating. So much so, that she almost forgot he was a potential risk to her lecture cover.
‘Doctor Speckle, wasn’t it?’ she asked, keeping a check on her interest as was proper.
‘Yes, Your Grace,’ he said quickly. ‘Christopher Speckle, but everybody calls me Kit.’ Thea smiled at his slightly nervous manner, but every awkward interaction she had had in the past five years made her wary.
‘I wonder that you consider my council at all an addition to anything you could hear from Mr Knatchbull or Doctor Herbert?’ she asked. ‘I am sure they have opinions.’
‘Their opinions are both abundant and energetically supplied.’ The corner of Kit Speckle’s mouth twitched up a little, but then he moved a little closer and fixed her with an earnest stare. ‘But I am in need of more consequential and substantive interactions in the pursuit of improved cultivation.’
Thea blinked at him. His passion excited her, but she didn’t yet match that fervent stare.
‘Any lover of plants is a friend of mine,’ she settled on, but then thought of Knatchbull, and checked herself so hard she knew it was physically obvious.
A smile tugged again at Kit Speckle’s lips, his eyes dancing with recognition and amusement.
It gave her confidence, and she leaned in. ‘Almost any,’ she whispered.