Lord Baddersley bent over her hand, kissed it, as his wife stared coldly at the woman. Alastair caught the look, and understood. The woman was becoming notorious. She was not the sort one invited to balls. In fact, he began to realize, no matter how one felt she was not the sort one married. No matter how exciting she was, how thrilling, how intriguing, she was not the sort one married.
He fixed a smile on his face and asked one of the younger girls to stand up with him. Over her shoulder, he saw Daphne giving one of his rivals a dazzling smile. He held her wrist in his hand and was pointing to it. She nodded. And Alastair felt a deep pang of jealousy. Was the cad preparing to buy a bracelet for her, one of rubies?
Alastair managed to ask his host’s daughter to dance, but Angela was more insipid than ever, and more stupid. She could not manage more than a sentence of conversation at a time. He wondered if her children would be just as idiotic. How horrible, to have an idiot as a son and heir!
He stood up with several other young beauties, and was a little horrified at himself for studying them critically with a view to matrimony. Most of them had small fortunes. He knew to a thousand pounds the dowries of each of them, for the talk over cards and at horse races was frequently of marriage and the heiresses currently in favour in London. He flinched for himself and for all the other men of his acquaintance. And also the women. The season was frankly a marriage mart, and the highest prizes were much sought after.
“You’re sober tonight,” smiled one of his friends, Sir Frederick Toland. “Worrying about Maurice? He’s all right, he’ll settle down.”
“I expect so,” said Alastair, who had been worrying about himself. “Seen him today?”
“At the races,” laughed Sir Frederick. “He cannot resist a bet, but really, he hadn’t a chance today. His nag was a sleepy-eyed dunce if ever I saw one. And to bet such a sum on that! He wouldn’t, if he hadn’t been in his cups. I expect you gave him a piece of your mind.”
“Not yet, but I shall tomorrow,” said Alastair grimly, for this was all news to him. Maurice gambling heavily — how much had he lost? Another problem, to add to the ones that weighed all too heavily on him.
He was coaxed to come along to the gaming room, but refused firmly. He knew his own weaknesses along that line. Some sharp-eyed fellows were there; and they would fleece him, and no gentleman could accuse another of cheating at cards, not at the ball of a friend.
He remained in the dancing room, though his legs grew tired. He had not slept much the night before, and he kept looking at the ladies there as though he had never seen them before. Betsy had such a sharp long nose — was that inheritable? And Angela — how had he endured her before? He watched Daphne more jealously, for she was so stunningly beautiful. He could find no flaw in her, except that she had no fortune of her own, and he needed one. How he needed one…
Alastair went up to the lovely Mrs Porter and took her arm. She turned from the bevy of men surrounding her, gazed up at him , and laughed her high charming laugh. She tapped his arm with her silver fan. “La, you are so sober tonight, Alastair!” she rebuked, softly, so none else could hear. “What is wrong with you? Laugh! The world has not come to an end.”
His mouth stretched in a false laugh, and she giggled. “Does that please you?” he asked, half-savagely.
She half-closed her eyes, and tapped his arm again. “Come again tomorrow,” she whispered in his ear. “And bring me a darling bracelet of rubies, and all will be forgiven! I promise to make you very happy, love!”
Someone claimed her attention imperiously. “This is my dance, Mrs Porter. You promised me — faithfully —”
She laughed, and glided away with him, her face charming as she glanced back over her shoulder at Alastair, standing numbly where she had left him.
A bracelet of rubies! And he could not now afford a single unset little gem! A bracelet of rubies! He wanted to laugh, but thought he would sound hysterical.
He turned and walked out of the large ballroom, into the hall. He felt stifled, choked. He took a deep breath of air, and found it powdered and hot. He must have air — he must have air —
He found himself walking stiffly down the stairs, like a man in a nightmare, into the lower hall, where a butler and footmen waited, faces impassive, hands in white gloves, ready to help the ladies and gentlemen into their cloaks.
Alastair accepted his black velvet cloak, and swung it around his shoulders. He had not meant to leave, he had not said farewell to his host. And he had walked out, walked away from Daphne! It did not seem to matter.
He had dismissed his carriage. He would hire a hack — no, he would walk. It was about two miles, the walk would do him good. His brain seemed fogged and dazed.
He strode along, in his black cloak over his blue silk suit, the silver trim shining in the street lights. A beggar crouched in the shadows, crept forwards. “Sir, oh, sir, I begs you,” he whined. “I’s hungry tonight —”
Alastair tossed him a silver coin and strode on, scarcely remembering later what he had done. The blessings of the beggar followed him, but he did not hear the words.
“What can I do?” he muttered to himself, swinging his cane savagely before him. “What the devil can I do? What answer? I found myself looking over the marriage mart tonight. Oh, God, am I sunk so low? Yet what other answer — what can I do?”
He was responsible for so many. His brother, his two sisters, aged aunts and uncles and cousins, the many retainers — there must be more than a hundred at the townhouse and in the country. The footmen, maids, cooks, grooms…
“Good evening, my lord!” The deferential words brought him up short. Why, he was before his own door, and had no recollection of having walked there! Had he gone mad?
He muttered some response, walked in, gave the butler his cloak and cane, and went up to his rooms. The beautiful apartment in his favourite blue and silver gave him little pleasure tonight. He strode unseeing across the Persian carpets, to the long windows, stared out at the deepening purple sky, to the stars, the slim sickle of new moon, and did not see them.
He went to bed, to lie awake, and think, and think. His brain seemed to go round and round and round, like some desperate animal in a trap.
What can I do? What can I do? With so many dependent on me? What right have I to marry for happiness and love and joy? I must marry for heirs …
Fairley needed an heir — he needed money. He was responsible for so many — yet whom to marry? Could he marry for money? How would he ever have respect for himself again? Pride, he thought, devilish pride. He should go to some marriage broker and ask her to find him a bride, fair if possible, but full of money! Maurice could marry and have sons, and Fairley would go to them. Yet — yet, he wanted children, he wanted children of his own, he had always thought that one day he would find the perfect woman and marry her, and they would have a happy home — such as he had never known with his stern father and frail mother. To lose everything, he thought, tossing restlessly on the wide bed. To lose — everything…
He slept late, woke with a headache, and went down to luncheon, having missed breakfast, with a fiendish temper. When Maurice told his sisters about his bet and how much he had lost, Alastair lost his temper.
“How dare you be so stupid?” he cried, as his sisters stared at him and Maurice flushed with temper. “How can you? Do you think we are made of money? To make such a crazy wager, and lose thousands of pounds —”
“My God, Alastair, you talk as though we were for the poorhouse,” said Maurice sullenly.
“Speaking of money,” said Edwina, hopefully changing the subject from wagers. “Henrietta and I wish to shop for dresses today, dear Alastair. You said we might buy something really grand for Henrietta’s presentation this winter. And we need other dresses: day gowns, tea gowns, ball gowns. I thought the new lady from France might be a splendid dressmaker. I can see Henrietta in white with silver trim, and me in cloth of silver —”
Alastair held his head. “Do you
not any of you understand me?” he shouted, then saw the footmen staring at him. “Come to my study,” he said, curtly, then flung down his napkin and left the table. As they followed him, he shut the door with a bang.
He surveyed them, his lovely sisters, his handsome brother, and set his mouth grimly.
“Now, I see I must explain it all again. We are in debt. Do you understand me? We are — deeply — in debt! We cannot afford to throw away money —”
“But dash it all, Alastair, you have tossed away twice this amount and laughed about it!” protested Maurice sulkily, throwing himself into a deep crimson chair near the desk.
“Do you mean we cannot have any new dresses? But mine are so shabby — and all last winter’s are black!” wailed Edwina.
“Am I not to be presented?” protested Henrietta, her full pink lips quivering uncontrollably. She stared at him reproachfully, her violet eyes swimming with tears.
He passed his hand over his damp forehead. “We are — very low in funds,” he said, more calmly, deeper in despair than they could realize. “You must be patient, you must not toss money about. Of course, you will go ahead and purchase some dresses, Edwina, but be careful! Father — Father was deep in debt —”
“Oh, you do sound like Father now,” said Maurice, discontentedly. “It was all right for him to throw money about on horses and females. But when we have a little fun, it’s all wrong for us! You spent plenty last month on the beauteous Mrs Porter — all those rubies, you know you did! But when I go out and bet a little on the nags, you cry poverty! You’ve lost your sense of humour, old boy, that’s it!”
“I’ve lost more than that,” said Alastair, sitting down heavily at the desk. “I have been to the money-lenders, and they won’t advance any more. The size of the debts —” He paused and bit his lips. He could not tell them, it might slip out and be all over London. He sighed heavily. “It is enormous, and we must pay the interest this month. I tell you, I am not joking. We must cut back on expenses, and — well, cut back.”
“Now you are being a wet squab,” said Maurice, standing to stride about excitedly. “I don’t believe it is so bad. Father was always moaning about money, but he managed to have himself a good time, even when —” He stopped abruptly, his mouth set.
They all knew what he meant — even when their mother was dying. Their father had been notorious for his affairs, and he was not one to sit and hold his wife’s hand at her sick-bed. The night she had died, he had been with one of his mistresses.
He had continued in his profligate ways, and had died in a drunken rage at a gambling party. Alastair had been called home from the wars, to sell out from his regiment and take over the title and the many duties of his new position. He had found out only gradually the extent of his father’s debts. Today — and yesterday — now that he knew, he felt the full burden of the responsibility on his shoulders. He looked at his brother hopelessly. His sisters were quietly weeping.
“Well, well,” he said heavily. “We will manage somehow. We must manage somehow.”
CHAPTER 4
Sonia went down reluctantly to the drawing room where she received clients. She had sketches in hand, her pencils, and blank paper.
Think of it as a business. Uncle manages to do so, and not think of them as guests, she told herself firmly. She stood at the closed door for a moment, drew a deep breath, then went in, smiling.
The several women stared at her curiously. They sat on the deep couches, or in comfortable plush chairs, waiting for her.
“Good morning,” she greeted each one of them by name and title. “Lady Morrison, you are most welcome, I have not seen you for a time. Mrs Hendrick, how do you do?” She went down the line, speaking, bowing her head slightly, then went to her small desk at the end of the room. It made her feel more comfortable, and she had space for her drawings. She laid them down before her, and folded her hands.
Lady Morrison was first. “My dear Miss Goldfine, you did such splendid work for me,” she gushed graciously. “Everyone remarks about the jets you did so swiftly, and the pearls are beautifully restrung. And with the pendant — beautiful!”
“Thank you. I am so glad you were pleased with them.’ She waited for them to get to the point, managing to smile at their praise and remarks. She was always keenly aware that they looked down on her as a businesswoman and a Jewess. Their remarks were full of patronage and sneers.
“At the opera the other evening — oh, we went to the opera, Miss Goldfine, and our box was across from that of Lord —”
She managed to keep a smile fixed on her face. She had been there also, she had seen them, though they had cut her. She always remained quietly in her box, and stared right at the stage. But Leah would whisper to her, pointing out the women who were her clients and the jewels of her own design that they wore.
Finally one of them came to the point. “I have received some fine sapphires, Miss Goldfine. I would like you to look at them and tell me what might be done with them.” Mrs Hendrick stood and came over to her with the jewel box. She opened it on the desk. “They are already counted and weighed,” she added, and put the list beside the box.
Sonia picked up the list, scanned it, then gazed at the jewels. Even without her jeweller’s loupe, she knew they were not first quality. The colours were dull, there were obvious flaws. She touched them lightly with her tweezers, turned them over on the jeweller’s cloth before her. “Um, yes,” she said absently. Several large ones were irregular in shape, they might make pleasing designs: ladies always liked flowers or snails, or dragonflies.
“They are beautiful, aren’t they?” beamed the woman.
One of the women said in a low voice, but audible to them both, “Her lover has good taste!”
The other women laughed. Mrs Hendrick flushed, her eyes sparkled angrily, then she shrugged. Sonia compressed her mouth.
“You will note, Mrs Hendrick, that the shapes are irregular. That lowers their value in the market,” she said firmly. “And these are flawed, note the scratches and the faults. Those should be noted on the list.”
One of the women laughed nastily. “Maybe he doesn’t have such good taste after all! Cheap stuff!”
Mrs Hendrick bent over the gems, peered at them nearsightedly. “Why, I thought they were perfect!” She sounded distressed.
Sonia hardened her heart. If she set the gems, and then later a jeweller told Mrs Hendrick the true value, they might accuse her of having substituted poor gems for good. “I’ll write down the size and weight of the larger ones, and the flaws,” she said firmly. “Also the combined weight of the small ones. Then you will sign this list, please.”
Mrs Hendrick clucked over this, but had to obey. Lady Morrison came over to witness for them, peering at the gems. “Well, she is right,” she said reluctantly. “Not without flaws. Yes, yes, I can see that.”
The matter was taken care of, then Sonia began to speak of designs. “Should you like a slim necklace of silver, with the best sapphires in a pendant design? I might suggest a rose, or a lily —”
“No, no flowers! Everyone has flowers! They said you could do something different, something that will have folks talking about my jewellery!” Mrs Hendrick was flushed and eager, after the first disappointment.
Sonia glanced through her sketches, musing. This was the part she liked best, doing something different and creative with the gems. As she thought, she caught snatches of the conversation.
“… saw Lord T with Mrs P the other night, now there’s a pair for you! What he sees in her is beyond me — coarse and over-blown! But she’s willing, and he has a wife who is always expecting, with nine children, what can you — well, I know my husband, and if I can’t accommodate him at times, off he’ll go to the whores —”
Sonia flinched at the conversation. She tried to block it out of her mind. The doings of Society did not intrigue her, and who went with whom, and who was unfaithful to whomever. Their language was filthy, their chuckling coarse as any
fishwife’s.
“You’re not married, are you?” asked Lady Morrison, picking up one of the sketches to glance over it.
Sonia started, realized the woman was addressing her. “No, my lady. Now, Mrs Hendrick, may I suggest that I study the gems for a time, and come up with some unusual —”
“I would have thought you would be. You have money and presence, and I thought Jews always married early,” said Lady Morrison, tossing down the sketch and picking up another. “Something about having many children and marrying well, isn’t it?”
The other women turned from their gossip to stare at Sonia. Their eyes were bold, curious, as though she were some dog or horse they were evaluating. Not another woman, more sensitive and gentle than themselves.
Sonia ignored the question, and studied the gems through her jeweller’s loupe. “This might make a brooch,” she said, moving one large gem and three smaller ones into a design. “They are similar in colour.”
“Well, do make up some sketches for me, and I’ll come back and decide,” said Mrs Hendrick self-importantly.
“I would think you would have beaus hanging on your skirts,” persisted Lady Morrison, staring down at Sonia at the desk. “You’re quite pretty, for a Jew. Your nose isn’t long at all, is it?”
One of the women caught her breath. Sonia stood up, smiled faintly with an effort. “If that is all, I have much work to do. Mrs Hendrick, please believe I shall exert every effort to create a splendid series of designs for you. Shall I send you a note when I have completed something for you to look at?”
She moved them to the door, by moving there herself. Reluctantly, they left their gossiping, and picked up their reticules and gloves to depart.
In the hallway, the neat maid approached. “Pray, ask Simeon to see the ladies into their carriages,” Sonia managed to say.
The ladies half-bowed haughtily to her and departed, muttering. Sonia caught the clear high voice of Lady Morrison. “You notice she answered none of my questions? Snobbish, they are, all these Jews, for all they are here on sufferance! Lord Morrison says we should never let any more into the country —”
Star Sapphire: Love and wild adventure in Regency England Page 4