Lavinia’s cousin, on the other hand, did not seem to be the least bit appreciative of this as she stood surveying the scene, a look on her face that only barely escaped being scornful. Caro glanced over at Lavvy as she eagerly greeted the marquess and his mother, and the ironic glint in her eye became even more pronounced.
Nicholas should have ignored it, but for some reason he could not help remarking on her lack of enthusiasm. “You do not appear to be deriving much amusement from all this, Lady Caroline.”
“Oh, this,” she indicated the entire brilliant assemblage with a derogatory wave of her hand. “It is merely an arena for those intent on making a splendid marriage to show themselves off and for those who have already done so to prove their continued attractiveness by collecting adoring cicisbei.”
“A remarkably cynical view for one so young. Do you not believe in love, then?” he asked, forgetting entirely that he had been entertaining very similar thoughts himself as he had mounted the stairs to the ballroom.
“We were not speaking of love, sir, but of marriage,” Caro responded tartly.
“Presumably they become one in the same.” Her patent expression of disbelief irritated Nicholas for some inexplicable reason and he continued, “You speak as though it were all some desperate sort of charade, but I find that it can all be very agreeable—pleasurable in fact.” He shot a challenging look at her.
“Undoubtedly you find it so, but then, you are a man,” Caro responded. Her tone was low, but there was a bitterness in it that took him by surprise.
“This is unarguably true, though I am not at all certain, given the tone of your voice, that it is a state to be wished.’’ Then, seeing that she was deadly serious, he dropped his bantering tone. “Would you care to elaborate? Are you so scornful of the male sex in general or only of some of its particular members?” The marquess could not picture Caro having suffered some unrequited love in her past, but he supposed it was possible. It was certainly an interesting thought and offered a plausible explanation for her cynical outlook.
Catching the drift of his thoughts, Caro was highly incensed. “My views have been formed entirely apart from my personal experience,” she responded stiffly, “and even if I had been so stupid to have endured some disastrous affaire de coeur, I am not such a poor creature as to let it color my opinion of the entire sex.”
Taken aback by the intensity blazing in her eyes, he could well believe it. “No, I don’t suppose you are,” he agreed mildly, glancing over at Lavinia who was carrying on a desultory conversation with his mother, all the while surveying the ballroom with an eagle eye.
But Caro was not about to be so easily dismissed. For some reason she could not explain, she wanted desperately to prove to Nicholas that her opinions sprang not from some disappointment, but from a high moral level. “It is not that I am so critical of men: they are all very well in their own way. It is society in general and the behavior it engenders in both sexes that disgusts me. Women are led to believe that the only way they can excel or provide for themselves is by marrying well, and this puts an unnatural burden on both men and women. Women devote their entire existences to dressing, flirting, and acquiring accomplishments purely to attract the attention of the most eligible males for which they compete with their sisters. Thus, they can be friends neither with other women, whom they view as a threat, nor with men, whom they view as their quarry. The men, in turn, measure themselves in terms of the incomparables they can win with their social address or the diamonds of the first water they can lure with wealth and position. It becomes no more than a competition, with each side viewing the other as some prize to be won or lost. And, of course, the entire performance is only significant if it can be conducted in full view of the Upper Ten Thousand.”
The marquess was not at all accustomed to having young ladies state their opinions with such fervor, and somewhat nonplussed, he stared blankly at her.
In spite of herself, Caro was the tiniest bit disappointed that someone who seemed, from the concern he exhibited for his sister and the attention he lavished on Clarence and Cedric, to be different from the rest of his empty-headed peers, was no more perspicacious than the rest of them. She sighed to herself and turned to Helena, hoping for a sympathetic look or some show of support for her beliefs.
“I had not looked at it quite that way, Lady Caroline,” Nicholas’s chastened voice broke into her thoughts. “I can see that you, along with Mary Wollstonecraft, believe that the capacities of women are neither fully appreciated nor utilized by our present society. But how would you suggest we remedy such an unfortunate situation?”
It was Caro’s turn to look blank. Not only had he listened to her little emotional diatribe, he appeared at least to be familiar with her point of view. “Actually, I believe that if women were given a proper education, it would be better not only for them, but for society as a whole. Instead of being merely ornamental, they could aid in the instruction of their children and their servants, be greater helpmates to their husbands and, in short, by their example, they could contribute to the moral well-being of those nearest and dearest to them.” She blushed. “Forgive me, my lord; this is not the time or the place to advance such radical opinions, even for a bluestocking. It’s just that I cannot help but feel sorry for so many people here who seem to think that their entire existences rest on the approval accorded to them by the leaders of fashion.”
Nicholas smiled in spite of himself. At first, hearing the ironic note in her voice, he had been prepared to write Lady Caroline off as just another future ape-leader who, embittered by lack of social success, had turned against the ton, cloaking her anger in moralistic criticisms. But then he had realized that the undertone he had heard in her voice was not so much bitterness as passion and he had begun to reconsider. After all, as an independent woman in her own right, thanks to a considerable inheritance from her mother, and mistress of the estate left to her by her father, she was not likely to have been subject to the pressures she described with such vehemence. Recalling their contretemps in the library at Berkhamstead, Nicholas realized that, to do her credit, the only way Lady Caroline Waverly wished to win acclaim or satisfaction was as an agriculturalist and a landlord. As his eyes took in the glossy black hair, the compelling gray eyes, and the elegant figure, he was forced to concede that she was not precisely an antidote either. Then why was she here if she harbored so strong a distaste for such things? Casting back, Nicholas remembered an offhand remark uttered by the viscount about Caro’s immediate, though unwilling, compliance to Lavvy’s demand for her support. If that were true, he had been misjudging her for some time and she was a creature of rare generosity and loyalty, even to those whose mode of existence was abhorrent to her. Reluctantly, Nicholas was forced to revise his opinions of Lady Caroline Waverly and accord her a begrudging respect.
He was not allowed the luxury of such serious reflection for long. Annoyed at the amount of time Nicholas was forcing her to converse with his mother—really, it was more than politeness warranted—Lavvy glanced peevishly around. There he was, kind-hearted to a fault, expending far more attention than was necessary on her cousin. Nicholas had always had a sympathetic spot for those weaker and less privileged than himself, but he was carrying it to the extreme in his efforts to make Caro feel at ease. Was he not able to see that her cousin would never feel comfortable until she had returned to that rustic retreat of hers and tromped around the village hobnobbing with the greasy locals and exchanging the latest farming news with the squire?
Lavvy snorted in disgust. It was time to rescue Nicholas from his own good intentions. Smiling sweetly at the marchioness, she began, “I can hear them striking up the waltz, and Nicholas made me promise the first one with him. Excuse me.” And she glided over to where Nicholas was deep in conversation with her cousin, arriving in time to hear him respond in a most serious tone.
“I quite agree with you that universal education is the best, most lasting way to ensure the dignity of our
fellows and the true progress of mankind. I have seen that you are reading the article entitled ‘The Causes and Cures of Pauperism’ in the Edinburgh Review and no doubt you subscribe to the views expressed by the author that education is essential to alleviating the condition of the poor.”
Caro’s eyes widened in astonishment, “Why, yes, as a matter of fact I do, but ...”
The rest of her sentence was lost as her cousin, taking Nicholas’s arm, smiled entrancingly as she cooed, “This is the waltz you promised me, Nicky, and I am longing to escape this crush for the dance floor.”
The marquess was not altogether certain he had promised any such thing, but he was no proof against the imploring look in the big blue eyes. “Then, by all means, let us make haste to join the rest of the couples. You will excuse us, ladies?” He bowed to Helena, his mother, and Caro, who nodded absently, her mind still reeling from Nicholas’s last remark. She knew him to be an intelligent man, but to discover that he read and discussed topics such as the article on pauperism was something of a surprise and she began to look at the marquess in a new, more appreciative light.
“There, you see, Nicky, I can play the knight errant too,” Lavvy teased as she followed him to the floor.
“Oh?” he responded vaguely, his mind still on the previous conversation.
“Why, yes. There you were caught in dull conversation with Caro and I could see you were never going to extricate yourself without some help. Of course, I love Caro dearly, but she is sadly blue and forgets that other people do not wish to exhaust themselves in long tedious discussions of elevated topics.”
“Just so,” Nicholas agreed, thinking how very boring Caro must be finding London if her cousin’s acquaintances were all of the same opinion. It had taken Lavvy’s artless prattle to make him realize just how unusual Caro was and to make him appreciate how very stimulating serious conversation with an intelligent woman could be—far more enjoyable, in fact, than the empty exchanges one was usually treated to. It was a most intriguing thought, and continuing to consider it, he led his partner unconsciously around the floor, replying mechanically to her sly animadversions on various other members of the ton.
Observing the marquess’s bemused expression and misinterpreting its cause entirely, Caro was experiencing a variety of emotions, none of which was particularly comfortable. First and foremost was incredulity that any person could apparently be so besotted over another, especially over someone as vain as Lavvy. But mainly she felt distaste, disappointment, and something else that was too upsetting to identify. How could the marquess, who had experienced firsthand Lavinia’s self-centeredness, still count her a friend, much less look at her as he was looking at her now? How could a man who was familiar with the writings of Mary Wollstonecraft bear to associate with the epitome of all that noble authoress condemned? There was only one conclusion and that was so dispiriting that Caro rebelled mightily against acknowledging it. However, it did appear, unfathomable though it was, that no matter how intelligent or worldly wise a man might be, he was at the mercy of his baser instincts where a pretty woman was concerned. But why did it have to be a man whom she had begrudgingly grown to like? True, this state of affairs did not negate his kindness to the boys, his affection for his sister, or even his appreciation of such serious concerns as education of the poor, but such blindness did render him suspect.
Caro sighed. It all seemed so unfair. There was Lavvy with no thoughts to recommend her receiving admiration from men like the marquess. No matter that other women were genuinely concerned for their fellow creatures, no matter that they tried to cultivate their minds instead of their physiognomies. In the end, it was a beautiful face, no matter what emptiness lay behind it, that spoke to men. How hopeless it all seemed.
And then, quite suddenly, Caro was angry. Why should someone as vapid as Lavvy have everything she wanted? She never should have come to London. She had known how it would be. Hang Lavvy and her obligations! Caro resolved to return to Berkhamstead as soon as possible and forget her disillusionment. Disillusionment? The word stopped Caro short. If she had never aspired to the fashionable world in the first place, then why was she feeling this way? It was a question she did not like to consider, but, never one to suffer illusions, Caro forced herself to examine it. As she half suspected, it had to do with the marquess.
Somehow she had hoped he would be different from all the others. Certainly he had seemed so that evening so long ago when, dressed in his regimentals, half a head taller than everyone else, and carrying himself with the pride of a military man, he had made all the other young bucks look like the merest Bartholomew babies. When he had vowed to return to the Peninsula and cover himself with glory, she had felt sure of it. Truth to tell, she admitted shamefacedly to herself, she had secretly kept him in her mind as a hero— not one to fall in love with and sigh over as the other girls at school did, mind you—but someone she could look up to who would be brave and idealistic, just as Caro herself wanted to be. She had suffered a shock when she had discovered the identity of the grasping Marquess of Everleigh, so anxious to get his greedy hands on her lands, but as she had come to know him, that image had receded and the heroic one, the one that was attentive and kind to those weaker or more unfortunate, had begun to reassert itself.
Had she but known it, Caro would have been extremely surprised to learn that much the same thoughts were occupying the marquess’s mind as he whirled his partner around the floor. Responding at random to Lavinia’s idle remarks, he reflected how unfortunate it was that those who used all their arts to attract won the acclaim of society. Perhaps that was why he had always been so bored by it all and why he had done his best to absent himself during the Season and to escape to the more honorable existence of a soldier.
Nicholas could not help smiling at the irony of it all. Here he was, lamenting over the fact that he was forced into the position that so many years ago would have given him his dream—Lavinia. And now he could hardly wait to escape so he could continue his discussion on female education with her cousin. The more he thought about it, the more he agreed with Caro, and, being a man of action, the more he determined to remedy the situation.
Knowing full well that Lavvy would never allow him further opportunity for rational conversation or even a chance to talk to Caro, he resolved to call in Grosvenor Square the next morning at an hour so unfashionably early that he was likely to encounter only congenial companions. That decided, Nicholas returned Lavvy to her companions and, much to the disgust of a significant number of the Duchess of Beckford’s female guests, devoted his attention to his mother.
Chapter 15
Accordingly, Nicholas arose at the crack of dawn the next day, ate a leisurely breakfast, perused the papers, and rode around to Grosvenor Square as early as he thought such a country riser as Caro could be counted upon to be up and abroad. But he had apparently underestimated even this particularly unusual young lady, for when he requested Lady Caroline Waverly, Wigmore, barely able to hide his disapproval under the customary mask of impassive dignity, informed my lord that she had gone riding. Really, what was the world coming to, the butler wondered, people calling on people at such awkward hours. Was there no sense of decorum left?
“Thank you, Wigmore. I shall catch her in the park, then,” he replied, turning to descend the steps. But something in the butler’s face gave the marquess pause. There was an uneasy look, a look that seemed entirely incongruous in someone who was the soul of propriety. The marquess stopped and was trying to fathom the meaning of it all when he heard shouts of encouragement and boyish laughter issuing from the direction of the stables.
On impulse, Nicholas left his horse and sauntered towards the commotion. He reached the stableyard to find Ceddie, Clarence, several of the stable lads, and one pony all breathlessly watching a youth, carefully balanced on the back of the other pony, ride slowly ‘round and ‘round the pump in the center of the yard. Judging by the looks on the boys’ faces, he could only suppose they wer
e to be next to essay this feat and he shuddered to envision the tongue-lashing in store for the viscount were Lavinia to discover the outcome of the excursion to Astley’s.
There was a cheer and he looked up to see the youth leap lightly off the pony’s back, remarking, “You see, it only takes a little practice, but I believe you boys should wait to try until you have something more forgiving underneath you than cobblestones.”
With a shock, the marquess recognized the voice as that of Lady Caroline Waverly. He looked again. Yes, the black hair escaping from underneath the concealing cap was definitely Caro’s, but the slender figure clad revealingly in breeches that he presumed had once belonged to the viscount, was disturbingly unfamiliar. Knowing her views on the emancipation of women, the marquess tried to put the enticing line of her thigh out of his mind, but it was with difficulty that he tore his eyes off the gentle curves revealed under the thin cambric shirt, which, hastily thrust into the top of the breeches, also enhanced the tiny waist. He took a deep breath and looked down into the clear gray eyes which betrayed not the least hint of self-consciousness at being caught in such a compromising position and such outrageous attire.
The expression with which Caro greeted him was unabashed and friendly. “Good morning, my lord. We are discovered. As you can see, one visit to Astley’s has had a most deleterious effect on all of us. At least, though, I have kept Clarence and Ceddie from running away to join them.’’
The Bluestocking's Dilemma Page 12