This, in fact, had been precisely the opinion that Lavinia had voiced when lamenting the tedium of the evening to Caro the day before. But having recently accustomed herself to seeing the world through her cousin’s eyes, Caro had divined the true cause of her boredom: the celebrated performer and his student had been the focus of attention, leaving Lavinia with little to do but tap her foot in annoyance and appear as interested as possible. Without being precisely aware of her own feelings and motivations, Caro had resolved to do what she could to make Clarissa a more active participant in situations where she would be appreciated for her accomplishments and her intelligence.
“I am afraid that I quite disagree,” Caro responded firmly, “for I am persuaded that he only takes on those pupils who show a great deal of promise. I know of several people he has quite kindly but most definitely refused to teach and rustic that I am, even I have heard that he declined an invitation from the Royal Family itself. So you see, I am not at all inclined to take you at your word. In fact, I should very much like to hear you play. I am a less than indifferent musician myself, but that only adds to my appreciation of the skill in others. I . . .” But here she was interrupted by an exuberant Ceddie who came trotting up, his back very straight, hands holding the reins at the correct angle.
“Look, Cousin Caro, the marquess taught me how to trot and I can do it already.”
“So I see.” Caro smiled at him. “And very well you do it too.” She cast an eye about for Clarence to see how he was faring, knowing him to be somewhat more cautious than his intrepid brother, but he was eagerly questioning the marquess about his experiences on the Peninsula and was oblivious to the rest of them.
Catching a phrase here and there—”the wagons and cannon bogged down in the mud . . . and then we charged up the hill with no thought but to get to the top”—Clary chuckled. “I am afraid that those of you who come to the park for exercise will be sadly disappointed. Once Nicholas had begun his stories, he will hold his audience spellbound.”
“How well I know,” Caro replied, remembering back to a winter evening long ago when she had been as enthralled as Clarence was now. “How lucky men are to lead such adventurous lives,” she sighed. “How lovely to be able to go wherever one chooses without having to be accompanied by a respectable companion.”
“Yes, it’s dreadful to be dependent upon others,” Clary agreed. “I love the fresh air, but in order to indulge myself, I am forced to cause such a fuss that I feel quite shockingly selfish ordering a carriage and a coachman just for a quick turn around the park.”
Though her words were uncomplaining, there was a wistful note in her voice that made Caro realize how she must chafe under her enforced reliance on other people. If the rest of the ton spoke of Clarissa Daventry in the same pitying tones as Lavinia had, calling her “a poor crippled thing and such a worry to her dear brother,” then Clarissa’s life must be frustrating to no end. She appeared to have an active mind and, if Caro’s impressions were correct, a great deal of talent. To be dismissed by someone like Lavvy as though she were a hopeless invalid or feebleminded must be galling in the extreme.
Struck by a sudden thought, Caro inquired, “Why do you not ride then? To be sure, one must still send for one’s horse in the stables and be accompanied by a groom, but it is less of an undertaking for all involved.”
“Ride? Why, I can only walk with the greatest of difficulty and in the most ungainly manner.” Clary was staring at her companion as though she had calmly suggested she take to the air and fly.
“But that is just the point,” Caro insisted. “You say you can walk, so that means you must have the use of your legs, however awkward, and when you sit there is nothing to distinguish you from anyone else. Therefore, you ought to be able to ride a horse,” she concluded triumphantly and cocked her head in such a quizzical, friendly way that Clary, ordinarily wary of discussing her disability, was forced to smile.
“To be perfectly honest, I had never thought of it,” she began hesitantly. “However, I suppose I might be able to.” Clary remained thoughtful for a moment, trying to picture herself in the role and realized that she liked it very well indeed. To someone who had always compensated for her physical awkwardness by burying herself in books and music, the idea of moving as gracefully and easily among her peers as others was extraordinarily appealing. “Well, I shan’t know unless I try,” she responded firmly. “I shall inquire if we have any mounts docile enough to handle not only a novice, but a cripple as well. I doubt that my brother possesses any such horseflesh, but we shall see.”
“Wonderful! I should be delighted to help you if you need it and I look forward to having someone to share my morning rides.” Caro was impressed at the decisive way Clarissa had reacted upon being introduced to the idea. From her experience, females, with the exception of herself and Helena, were not inclined to show the least resolution and she found herself warming to the marquess’s sister.
For her part, the more she considered it, the more Clary was becoming enamored of the idea. Not the least of her pleasure arose from being treated like an ordinary person rather than a helpless invalid. Caro’s confidence in her gave her faith in herself and she was most grateful. “Thank you so much. If it works, it will be a splendid idea. How very clever you are. However shall I repay you?” she wondered shyly.
“Oh, as to that, you could do that by allowing me to hear you play,” Caro replied.
Recognizing from her insistence that Caro’s interest was genuine. Clary responded, “Very well, then. Why do you not follow us home? The boys can proceed to Grosvenor Square with Dimmock, and Watkins or Nicholas can accompany you later.’’
“A splendid idea, but why not allow Clarence and Ceddie to. enjoy the treat as well? I am sure that they will be worn out enough from the excitement and exercise to be on their best behavior.’’
“But will they not find it deadly dull?” Clarissa was skeptical. The marquess’s sister enjoyed the company of Lady Caroline Waverly, but she did come out with the oddest suggestions.
“Why should they? Even animals are soothed by music. They have no friends their own age so how are they to know that the rest of society expects little boys to be heartily bored by such things? Besides, how else are they to discover music? Not from their mama, I’ll wager.”
Remembering the fixed expression of polite attentiveness that had never varied on Lavinia’s face during Signor Clementi’s entire performance. Clary had to agree with her new friend. She laughed. “Very well then, but I leave it to you to extend the invitation.’’
They rode along in silence enjoying the fineness of the day and the sight of the boys trotting along so happily and proudly next to Nicholas, who seemed to be enjoying himself as much as they were.
In point of fact, he was. There was something so refreshing about Ceddie’s forthright candor and Clarence’s shy admiration, both untinged by any of the ulterior motives that so often governed the behavior of adults. He found the boys to be interesting and curious companions whose questions about his life as a soldier were as intelligent and probing as adult’s. And their reasons for asking them were inspired by a more genuine desire to know about life in Wellington’s army than any he had yet encountered except, perhaps, that of Lady Caroline Waverly. The thought of her made him turn in his saddle to see the two ladies progressing slowly along, deep in conversation. He smiled to himself. Nicholas had not seen his sister looking so animated in years, but he had known how it would be. There was just something about Caro that encouraged people to relax and be themselves around her.
The piping sound of Ceddie’s voice recalled his attention to his companions. “I am sorry, Ceddie, I was not attending. What did you ask?”
“I was wondering, if you were fighting all over the countryside for so long, where you got food?”
“A crucial question, my lad. In an extended campaign, finding supplies is almost as important to the final outcome as winning battles. You must ask Thompson how he di
d it. He was my batman and a perfect genius for discovering a chicken or onions or flour in what you would swear was a totally deserted and barren countryside.” Then, seeing that the reins were beginning to slacken and that some of the rigidity had gone out of the boys’ spines, he continued, “But, come, I think the ponies have had enough exercise for one day. After all, they have been standing idle eating their heads off until now and they are unaccustomed to all this activity.’’ He turned Caesar around and headed back to his sister’s carriage.
“I can see you have ridden your mounts to a standstill,” Caro greeted them. Then turning to Ceddie and Clarence, she remarked casually, “It seems a shame to end our outing so soon, though I can see the ponies are quite done up. Lady Clarissa has graciously consented to play the pianoforte for me and she has even more graciously included the two of you in her invitation.”
“The pianoforte?” Ceddie was patently skeptical about the dubious pleasure of such a treat.
“Why, yes. I feel quite certain you have never heard such a talented performer as the marquess’s sister. Her teacher is the celebrated Clementi. I have heard that he even played for Marie Antoinette—before she had her head chopped off, that is.”
Overhearing this last, Nicholas could not help smiling at Caro’s clever appeal to the bloodthirsty tastes of a six-year-old.
“He did?” Ceddie’s eyes were round. “Was he in the revolution too?”
“No,’’ Caro apologized. “I am afraid he was here in London during all the upheaval, but he was in a pianoforte contest with Mozart at the court of Marie Antoinette’s brother.”
“Someone who knew Mozart teaches Lord Daventry’s sister?” Clarence, intent on proving his worldly, knowledge, broke in.
“Yes,” Caro replied. “So you see, Lady Clarissa must be very skilled. But come listen for yourselves. I am persuaded you will enjoy it.”
Ceddie remained unconvinced. However, Cousin Caro had never steered them wrong before so he acquiesced and dutifully joined the little cavalcade, which soon came to a halt in front of the curved steps flanked by torchères that marked the marquess’s imposing residence in Berkeley Square. A bevy of grooms and stableboys hurried out to take care of the assorted equine companions while the butler, somewhat surprised by the party on the doorstep, ushered them in.
Watching Clarissa make her awkward ascent of the stairs on her brother’s arm, Caro understood why she so assiduously avoided life in a society where grace and beauty were such necessary prerequisites for success. A young woman, no matter how well-born or how well-endowed with a handsome portion, was unlikely to attract an eligible parti if she could not dance. And any appearance in the fashionable world would amount to an invitation to the inveterate gossips of the ton to comment pityingly on her unfortunate condition. Such a situation would be intolerable to one as intelligent and sensitive as Lady Clarissa Daventry. Small wonder, then, that she preferred her isolated existence in the country. But it was such a dreadful shame to think of such a charming person without companions who could appreciate and encourage her. Caro became more determined than ever to do just that.
By now they had reached the music room and Clary, seated at the pianoforte and running her hands lightly over the keys in preparation, already looked a different person. She was happy, assured, and aglow with a special radiance that attracted her listeners even before she began to play. Accustomed to a life of quiet observation. Clary had remarked on Ceddie’s lack of enthusiasm and so began with a series of jolly country dances and a march or two. From there she proceeded to the Harmonious Blacksmith and ever so gradually into the more complicated keyboard works of Mozart and Beethoven.
Even though she had expected a skilled rendition, Caro had been unprepared for the magnificence of Clary’s performance. Her technique was flawless, and the feeling with which she managed to imbue the works would have moved the most indifferent of listeners, as indeed it did.
Perched uncomfortably on the edge of a footstool, Ceddie was the picture of resignation, while his brother’s face wore an expression of polite interest remarkably reminiscent of his mother’s. As the music flowed around them, they gradually relaxed and ever so slowly were drawn into the performance until they were completely absorbed in Clary’s playing.
Only Nicholas, accustomed as he was to his sister’s skill, retained enough sense of detachment to observe the little group. Leaning his broad shoulders against the door of the music room, he smiled at the picture of rapt attention the three of them presented as, chins on their hands, Caro and the boys sat spellbound. It seemed impossible that the two little bodies recently so active could be so still and attentive. Once again, Caro had known how it would be and had somehow phrased things in just the right way so as to encourage everyone.
There was a rousing finale, and with a resounding chord, the performance ended. Immediately the little audience burst into applause as Clary, flushed from her exertions, smiled happily at them. How did Caro accomplish it? Nicholas wondered. Without seeming to do anything, she had brought together the unlikely group in such a way that they all brought each other pleasure and enriched each other’s lives. He had seen her do it before—a remark here, some encouragement there—and even people as rigid as Lavinia were doing the strangest things: welcoming stray dogs into their well-ordered households and allowing their children to ride in the park.
“Ride in the park.” A voice echoed his thoughts and Nicholas realized that it was his sister speaking. He looked up as she added, “That is, if Nicky can find me a horse.”
Nicholas stared. “Find you a what?”
“A horse, brother dear,” she continued serenely.
“A horse. But what for?”
“Don’t be obtuse, Nicky. To ride, of course. Caro has pointed out, and very cleverly too, that although I cannot walk very well, I can sit beautifully. However ill-suited to each other and to the rest of me, my legs are strong enough to allow me to remain on a horse. I cannot think why it had not occurred to us before.”
Nicholas was dumbstruck. And why had it not? It was a perfectly obvious conclusion, but it had taken someone with a different view of the world, someone unaccustomed to accepting things as they were to point it out to both of them. The marquess turned to catch Caro watching him with a guarded expression in her gray eyes. He smiled and the wary look was replaced by an answering smile that left him feeling oddly comforted and reassured, as though he had rediscovered a long-lost friend.
“Thank you,” he whispered softly so that only Caro could hear. “An excellent idea. I shall be delighted to find a mount for you, but only if you promise not to follow in your brother’s reckless footsteps.” He winked at his sister who had also been waiting uneasily for his reactions.
“Hooray, then we all can go riding in the park,” Ceddie clinched the matter and the group from Grosvenor Square soon departed, well satisfied with the morning’s accomplishments.
Chapter 14
However, several days later in his next encounter with Caro, at the Duchess of Beckford’s ball, it was borne in upon the marquess that there were also distinct disadvantages connected with those who took an individual and original approach to life. Having seen how the briefest of appearances at the Countess of Mortmain’s rout had revitalized his mother, Nicholas had offered her his escort to another of the Season’s most brilliant events. He expected to be thoroughly bored. Here the most hopeful of the Upper Ten Thousand appeared religiously—mothers with unmarried daughters to dispose of, fathers hoping to advance or repair the family fortunes by introducing their child to an eligible bachelor, young misses certain they would be hailed an incomparable if they could only attract the attention of the Earl of This-and-That or Lord Such-a-One. Ordinarily, Nicholas found these affairs tedious in the extreme, if not ludicrous. But the chance of feasting his eyes on Lavinia and indulging in a mild flirtation with her while sharing his delight at his sister’s equestrian progress with Caro made the prospect bearable—attractive even—and with these
cheering thoughts, he sought out the Countess of Welham’s party the moment he entered the ballroom.
The marquess identified them almost immediately. Despite the crush of people, Lavinia, as always, drew the eyes of everyone who entered. She was standing a little apart with Tony, Helena, and Caro in a small alcove next to a torchère that cast a halo of warm golden light around her. Her curls glistened and the glow of the candles caught the sheen of the magnificent strand of baroque pearls draped over the beautifully rounded bosom revealed by her décolletage. Their shimmer drew the eyes downward to the blush-colored satin slip which clung to her figure underneath a white lace dress. In spite of himself, Nicholas caught his breath.
His mother glanced up and, following his gaze, smiled grimly to herself as she saw the look of welcome on Lavinia’s face at the sight of them. In the main, the Marchioness of Everleigh adored her son. He had always been her favorite. Far more intelligent and adventurous than her staid first-born, he had been more responsive and loving as well. But where Lavinia Mandeville was concerned, he had always been a fool—more so now because he knew her for what she was and still he seemed to find her irresistible. So it came as no surprise to her when Nicholas casually pointed out the Countess of Welham’s coterie and suggested they exchange a few words with their country neighbor.
In fact, Nicholas himself was pondering the reasons that Lavinia drew him to her. First and foremost was her undeniable beauty, and the marquess, possessed of a highly developed though carefully concealed aesthetic sensibility, simply delighted in feasting his eyes on the straight nose, delicately sculpted lips, and perfect figure. There was no denying that the Countess of Welham was a work of art. Every movement was grace itself, every gesture called attention to pearly teeth, dainty hands, and beautifully molded arms, while every article of dress, every ornament was precisely selected and designed to enhance this exquisite creation. Not the least of her attraction was her absolute confidence in her capacity to draw all eyes and hold them. True, this assurance was somewhat self-centered, but it also made her irresistible. For what man could be indifferent to someone whose entire existence was devoted to enslaving and charming him and other members of his sex? Lavinia’s blithe assumption that, despite her former rejection, Nicholas Daventry was as besotted as ever, worked a remarkably powerful and persuasive effect even on someone as accustomed to running his own life as the Marquess of Everleigh. There was a certain bravado in her absolute conviction of the power of her beauty and he could not help being drawn to her.
The Bluestocking's Dilemma Page 11