"Harriet, my love, Lord Francis must now believe that we three ladies will be positively desolate without his presence," said Isobel, who had seized the opportunity of Harriet’s outpouring to school her emotions and expression. "I can assure him that it is not at all the case. We shall be so busy preparing for our own departure that I vow he would fear having the very sheets removed from beneath him were he to dare to stay another se’ennight." There was a pause, and she gave an artificial laugh.
Lord Francis turned to her with a faint look of surprise in his eyes. "That would be very uncomfortable, indeed," he said in his well-bred way. "I suppose I must be glad that I will be well away before the fury of three women preparing to remove to London is fully unleashed upon the household."
Isobel fought back the urge to snap at him for implying that she was less than organized, and then grew even more annoyed when she realized that her feelings had been unjust. After all, he was merely following her conversational gambit. She turned her attention to her breakfast, and subsided into silence.
The remainder of the meal was uneventful, with conversation turning on the horrors of travel in the spring, the distance and quality of the roads between Kitswold and Strancaster, the food to be had at various posting houses, and other pleasantries. When Lord Francis had completed his hearty meal of ham, toast, fruit and eggs, the four of them moved to the hall, where through the windows a luxurious traveling carriage emblazoned with the Strancaster arms could be seen drawn up before the door.
"I must thank you ladies for your care of me," said Lord Francis with a bow. "If it had not been for your gracious help, my recovery would have been far more difficult and far less enjoyable. I am greatly in your debt."
"Nonsense!" exclaimed Miss Harriet. "As though we did any more than was our duty, and as though you have been anything less than pleasant as a guest. Why, I could wish that members of our family were as delightful to spend time with as you. My cousin Phillip, for example. He came to stay with us when I was a girl, and I blush to recall the things my father said about it as his visit extended from one month to two, and from two months to three. But there, it is not of Cousin Phillip we speak, and just as well too, as he has long since gone to his reward, which I trust is such a one as we all might wish for. I was speaking of you Lord Francis. I quite count you one of the family and expect you to wait on us frequently in London. Do you not agree, Isobel?"
Isobel was spared having to respond when Lord Francis laughed and took Miss Harriet firmly in his arms and kissed her soundly on the cheek.
"I will miss you more than most of my own cousins," he declared.
Harriet seemed well pleased by this, hugging him back with a smile. Lord Francis then bowed gracefully over Lady Morgan's hand. "I regret that our paths crossed so briefly, Lady Morgan, and that I had not more time to know you better," he said. "I hope to continue our acquaintance in London."
Letitia smiled up at him. "I would enjoy that greatly," she said sunnily. "Please do call upon us."
Lord Francis promised to do so with alacrity, and then turned to Isobel, who was a bit nervous, lest she would receive the same treatment as Miss Harriet. She was therefore relieved when Lord Francis bowed formally before her taking her hand. "I wish to kiss the hand that has healed me," he said gallantly.
Isobel smiled at this, while Harriet and Letitia murmured their pleasure with the prettiness of the sentiment. However, rather than the formal brush of his lips on the back of her hand that Isobel expected, Lord Francis turned it slowly and pressed a burning kiss into her palm. He lowered her hand but continued to hold it and stood looking at her in silence. Isobel at first lowered her eyes from his as she felt a blush rise in her cheeks again--the second time in two hours she reflected angrily—but then she firmly removed her hand from his grasp and gazed at him boldly.
"Upon my word, Lord Francis," she declared. "I hope you will not treat the young misses at Almack’s so. Their matchmaking mamas will take your bold ways amiss, and you will not be welcome in refined drawing rooms. But perhaps it is not the company of refined ladies you will principally be seeking this Season."
She had the mixed pleasure of seeing that she had made him angry by the spark deep in his eyes. But he shrugged slightly, thanked her politely for her hospitality, bowed again, and said a farewell to all the ladies. He stepped out the door as Haggock held it open, and ran lightly down the steps, springing into the open door of the coach held by a liveried footman. Isobel felt for a moment as though a light was gone from the hall, and then chastised herself firmly. Of course the light was gone; Haggock had closed the door. She would not allow herself to miss Lord Francis, for Harriet's laments on that point would be entirely too frequent for her taste, she knew.
In the event, Isobel found herself with little time or energy to miss his lordship. The date of the ladies' departure was not far away, and in the intervening ten days there was a host of activities to undertake. Servants must be dispatched to London with instructions for opening the town house, meetings with her estate agent increased to every other day, plans for travel must be made, horses must be sent to her stable in London, and a host of other details remained to be worked out.
In addition, the second of her papers to the Royal Academy was incomplete and must be finished. Nor must Letitia be neglected; Isobel did her best to encourage her friend to walk and ride everyday and to eat large helpings at every meal. All this activity required great exertion, and Isobel found herself rising early each day, and often working in her library by candlelight after Miss Harriet and Lady Morgan were abed. But finally all the trunks were packed and sent ahead to London, the grooms and horses had departed, the servants had readied the dust covers against the ladies’ departure, and all was prepared. On the last night at Kitswold House Isobel worked far into the night, but was rewarded at last as she put the final pen strokes to her second effort, with a feeling of satisfaction that it would create quite a stir at the meeting of the Society. She felt her usual pang of regret and envy that her cousin, Alexander, would present her work in the name of the "invalid" "Marcus" Paley, but she had already wept bitter tears over this in the past and saw no further use in them.
Chapter 9
Isobel's comfortable and elegant traveling coach transported the three women to London as quickly as possible, and within three days Isobel had the pleasure of having the door to her house on Clarges Street opened by her London butler, Pierce. They shed their capes and hats and repaired to the drawing room, where a blazing fire roared in the hearth. Steaming tea soon arrived and in fewer moments than anyone with a less organized staff could have deemed possible, they felt as though the trials of travel were vanquished and Isobel was animatedly outlining the shopping expeditions that must be undertaken in order to equip themselves in the latest crack of fashion before beginning their social rounds.
Morning found them abed late, but in the early afternoon Isobel determined that the most important item of business was a visit to the modiste to ensure that she and Letitia were both armed with several divine new ensembles before the social whirl began in earnest. She whisked into Letitia's bedroom to find her friend lingering over her toilette.
"Come, Letty," she said. "We must hurry to Madame Celine's if our dresses are to be ready before the round of entertainments begins."
Letitia smiled at her friend, but shook her head. "I will be happy to come with you, Isobel, but I fear I cannot buy any new dresses."
"Nonsense, Letitia, the outfits you wear look lovely on you, but are sadly out of mode, due, I am sure, to your being immured in the Welsh countryside the last few Seasons. Surely you want to refurbish your wardrobe?"
"I would love to Isobel, but I have no funds. Even if Alfred allowed me access to his money, there is not enough in the bank to cover the mortgages on our land, much less to outfit me with new clothing for a Season in London. Indeed, I am beginning to think that accompanying you here was a sorry mistake; I will be a drag on your pleasure."
I
sobel was taken aback. She knew Letitia had said Alfred had wasted their money at the tables, but she had little realized how severe her friend's penury was.
"You could never be a burden to me in any way, Letitia. I feel only pleasure to have you here, no matter how you are dressed. I am afraid I have sadly neglected your plight in my frenzy to close Kitswold and finish my work; now it is time to turn my attention to it. We must visit my lawyer as soon as may be. However, first we shall go shopping. I shall outfit you with a new wardrobe."
"I cannot possibly allow you to spend your money on me, Isobel," said Letitia. "I may be unfortunately placed, but I am not a charity case. I thought I would not go much into society this Season anyway; I have never taken great pleasure in it."
"Of course you are not a charity case," said Isobel with asperity. "But you are my friend. I cannot have you hiding yourself away in this house like a ghost! You know I have plenty of money, and who do I have to spend it on but my friends and myself? I have no children with a claim to it, and the dressmakers always need business. They need to feed themselves, too. Would you be so cruel as to deny a modiste her daily bread out of pride?"
Letitia had to laugh at her friend's nonsense. "Really Isobel, I cannot allow you to..."
"You cannot allow me to go to a modiste with my friend in attendance and buy myself many dresses and have her return home without a single one," interrupted Isobel. "Please give me this little pleasure, Letitia. With your fair hair you can wear all the lovely colors I cannot; do give me the joy of ordering a sky blue dress for once in my life!"
"I give up," cried Letitia, throwing up her hands in mock dismay. "You have won me over! I will allow you to buy me a hundred dresses if you will!"
The ladies left the house in high spirits and took themselves off to Bond Street. The visit was highly satisfactory, and Isobel left Madame Celine’s establishment confident that her reputation as a tastemaker would remain intact. She had selected well-cut carriage dresses, a riding habit whose close fit and dashing ornamentation a la Hussar would make other ladies swoon with envy, morning dresses, dinner dresses, and two ball gowns which would ensure that she would be widely acclaimed as a setter of fashion. Letitia was likewise outfitted, with Isobel only having to urge her a little to indulge in the lovely rose silk ball gown and the sarsenet walking dress with a matching spencer trimmed in passementerie. A quick trip to the Pantheon Bazaar resulted in the purchase of several bolts of fine muslin, so that morning dresses could be made up for Letitia by a fine but less modish seamstress known to Harriet.
The ladies were seldom unoccupied that week, busying themselves with all manner of shopping as they prepared for the social whirl of the Season. However, returning from still another expedition (this to the milliner, where Isobel had purchased a ravishing chip villager hat, a poke bonnet for driving in the park, several exceedingly fine headdresses for evening wear, and other indispensable items of head gear required for cutting a dash, and Letitia had been coerced into a truly magnificent shako to accompany her riding habit), they made the decision to drive in the park at the fashionable hour, advertising to the world their presence in town and interest in receiving visitors.
Isobel considered taking out her phaeton for her first appearance of the Season, but decided to pursue the more conservative option of being driven in her carriage. Her pair might be quite fresh since they had just been brought to town, and it could not add to any lady's consequence to be seen having difficulty controlling her cattle. In addition, she anticipated the need to stop every few minutes to greet her acquaintances, which would also mix poorly with fresh horses. So she settled for donning her most dashing carriage dress, a bronze green silk lavishly trimmed and braided, with vestigial echoes of the many caped great coats worn by the Corinthians. Matched to a very fetching bonnet, she was prepared to sally forth. Letitia and Miss Harriet accompanied her, also dressed in the first stare of fashion.
As they rolled into Hyde Park to join the parade of Society’s elite, it could be seen that London was still somewhat thin of company, for it was possible for the carriage to maneuver along the track with some facility. However, Isobel was able to spy many of her most influential friends. She almost immediately encountered two of the frostiest doyennes of the ton in the persons of the Countess Lieven and Mrs. Drummond-Burrell, taking the air together in the former’s carriage.
"Ah, Miss Paley," pronounced the Countess with a gracious nod and the faintest hint of a smile. "I see that once again you will be setting a target of beauty and taste for the younger set to emulate. And it is so good to once again see you in the company of the lovely Lady Morgan. We will welcome you both at Almack's soon, I believe?"
Almack's, irreverently known as the marriage mart, was not Isobel's preferred social activity, for livelier conversation was to be had at dinners in the diplomatic and government circles to which she had access, and better food and dancing at private balls. However, no single lady with any pretensions to fashion could snub Almack's, and she expressed her eagerness to return there and said that she had looked forward to seeing the patronesses during the dreary winter months.
"For there is nothing like the undiluted company of one's relatives over the winter months to make one long to hear the latest gossip, you know. Indeed I am so anxious to see Lady Jersey and hear all that she has to say--" Isobel broke off, realizing in the middle of her comments that she had made an error, for Countess Lieven's eyes gleamed and she unapologetically interrupted Isobel’s flow of words.
"Ah, speaking of gossip, one hears that the company of your family was not entirely undiluted, my dear Miss Paley. You were able to rescue Lord Francis Wheaton from a most uncomfortable situation were you not? You have stolen quite a march on the matchmaking mamas who have a great interest in his lordship's intriguing prospects. The older brother is childless and quite sickly, one hears."
The Countess fixed her gaze on Isobel, who, to her utter horror, felt a blush rising in her cheeks. She glanced down, hoping that the very modish long poke of her bonnet would shield her face sufficiently to hide it.
However, for once Cousin Harriet's leap into territory where angels might have feared to tread rescued her. "My dear Countess, Lord Francis is quite the most charming invalid, I assure you," she said eagerly. "Always so considerate of the staff who attended him, even though he was confined to his chamber during most of his stay and might have been excused for a little bad temper. I am sure that Isobel and I hardly knew he was in the house, although that foolish Honoria Wereham would have it that there was something not quite the thing about it and even suggested that Isobel should do something so unchristian as to deny a disabled traveller care and hospitality--so ridiculous, and unkind besides, but there. I found Lord Francis delightful and not at all the rattle one might expect given that he is a young man just back from the wars. I believe he may seriously be hanging out for a wife you know, for a young man will confide in a woman who he thinks of as an aunt and tell her things one might not expect. He will certainly be found with the other fashionable men, but I don’t think you will discover him causing trouble with the Bloods, or at really low haunts, why--"
Mrs. Drummond-Burrell's eyes had just begun to glaze over, and Isobel was thanking her lucky stars, for her cousin's timely over-abundance of information was clearly vanquishing the two ladies' interest in the topic of Lord Francis, when she saw that gentleman approaching their group on a stunning chestnut hack with four flashy white socks. Inwardly she groaned, for it was clear that they had gone from the frying pan to the fire. She could only pray that his lordship did not choose to display any particularity for her after their rather cold parting.
Mrs. Drummond-Burrell suddenly was all attention, as his lordship maneuvered his horse up to the carriages, while the Countess Lieven, who had appeared to be on the verge of giving Harriet a mild version of one of her famous set downs, actually allowed a smile to cross her face. Lord Francis had just greeted the two Misses Paley and Lady Morgan when the count
ess inclined her head and requested that Lord Francis be introduced to her acquaintance. Isobel complied gracefully, and soon he was busily engaged in charming the two formidable women. Isobel allowed her attention to wander from this conversation for a few moments, while she examined her feelings, which were in some disarray after the arch comments on Lord Francis' stay at her home, and the disturbing effect on her that his presence produced. She had managed through great effort over the past weeks to put him out of her mind, but now his nearness made her acutely aware of her previous warm feelings towards him.
"You must come to Almack's, Lord Francis," pronounced Mrs. Drummond-Burrell. "All of the new Season's young misses and their mamas will be anxious to meet you, and surely now that you are home from those dreadful wars you must be considering setting up your own establishment."
"As to that ma'am, I certainly plan to dance with as many English roses as I may this spring, as I have longed for such an opportunity. But I fear that the matchmaking mamas may find me rather disappointing. Too many years in the Peninsula have left me with a distaste for young milk and water girls with no sense in their heads. One such as that would be quite incapable of maintaining the type of establishment I envision. I plan on taking up a career in diplomacy or government, and the wife I am looking for will be someone with a few Seasons to her name and substantial taste and elegance to her credit, along with a well-informed mind." He glanced quickly at Isobel and gave her a mischievous smile. "If you know of any such women Mrs. Drummond-Burrell, I should be very pleased to make their acquaintances."
Isobel blushed furiously, but the Countess Lieven merely laughed. "Wicked creature!" she said. "You must be the only young man in London capable of putting Miss Paley out of countenance. I wish you will make a habit of it, for she is entirely too self-possessed, you know, and is in danger of growing insufficiently animated."
A Lady of Passion: Isobel's After Dark Regency Romance Page 7