Without a Summer

by Mary Robinette Kowal

  Vincent gave a brief smile of acknowledgement with his lips pressed firmly together. The poor dear did so dislike praise, especially when he thought it unfounded. “Is Mr. Moyer here, by chance?”

  “The glamourist? He is in one of the rooms belowstairs until we are ready for—well, I do not want to spoil it, but we do have a tableau vivant planned for later.”

  Jane once again reflected on how different their lives would be if Vincent did not have the favour of the Prince Regent. The notice that they received here had nothing to do with their abilities, or their relation to Mr. Colgrove, or anything save His Royal Highness. Even being a highly proficient glamourist would have left them in the servants’ quarters. Mr. Moyer was not as good as Vincent, but Jane doubted that anyone who was not adept in glamour could have told the difference in their abilities. She would have accepted that life—and willingly—to be with Vincent, but it made her all the more conscious of how much he had chosen to give up when he abandoned his family name.

  “Then perhaps this is a good time for me to pay my respects, as he is not presently engaged.”

  Jane repressed a smile, recognising her husband’s need to flee the press of people. Though she wished him to be comfortable in groups, she knew him too well to insist that he stay when so clear an opportunity to escape presented itself.

  “Good of you to offer encouragement to the lesser talents.” Mr. Colgrove turned to look for a footman and motioned him forward. “Will you show Sir David where we put that glamourist chap?”

  Jane was tempted to go with him, but her duty to Melody was quite clear, so she stayed by her sister’s side. Turning to Mr. Allsbrook—a young dandy with dark hair of the “frightened owl” variety, and a suit so snug that he surely could not sit—Jane opened with the usual conversation about the weather.

  He replied with, “I shall be grateful when the snow has departed. Snow in May is absurd! Do you know, I have not been out to my country house once?”

  “Not at all?” Melody raised her eyebrows with curiosity. “What a pity. I have always loved the way snow clings to trees. It is so picturesque.”

  Jane need not have any concerns about bringing Melody to anyone’s attention. As she spoke, every gentleman in their group leaned unconsciously toward her. The only woman who possessed even a tenth of her grace was Miss Godwin. Once, Jane had despaired of ever escaping the shadow cast by her sister, but now she rejoiced to see her shine so.

  “You would not love snow if you were depending on fine weather to do your hunting,” Mr. Allsbrook replied.

  “The weather truly has been wretched.” Mr. Colgrove vied for Melody’s attention. “I was telling Lady Vincent that we had dismissed our coldmongers because they were an unnecessary expense.”

  Another gentleman tucked his hands behind his back with a complacent look. “As did we. They demand high wages for the little they do.”

  Miss Godwin tilted her head, ostrich feathers waving gracefully above her hair, and pointed her fan at Mr. Colgrove. “If the weather changes, what will you do then?”

  “Why, ask Mr. Moyer to cool the room. What is a coldmonger, but a glamourist who can do only one thing? Why retain one when you can hire someone who can do both?”

  Melody spread her fan and waved it slowly to stir the air. “But a coldmonger’s work is treacherous. One can hardly deny them a reward for that.”

  “Spoken like a gentle soul, Miss Ellsworth,” Mr. Colgrove said. “But would you have me pay for work that I do not require?”

  “La! From what I understand, their wages are set to take into account that a coldmonger works only part of the year.” Melody folded her fan and rested it in her open hand, in a challenge. “What of the bill that Lord Eldon has proposed to offer relief to the working poor? Coldmongers would not be in that class if the great houses retained them as they used to do.”

  Jane could hardly contain her astonishment. Where had this sudden political consciousness come from? Melody had never shown an interest in anything beyond the dictates of fashion, and in Jane’s memory read nothing but novels.

  Mr. Allsbrook shook his head. “It is more likely to cause social unrest than not, if people begin to think they deserve care without holding a job. Look at what is happening with the Luddites, if you need proof of that. They seem to think that they are entitled to weave, when there are better and less expensive ways of making cloth now.”

  “Exactly,” Mr. Colgrove said. “Let them find other work, and help them in that. But wages for doing nothing? That I cannot support, no matter how much I admire the worthiness of your good intentions.”

  “So long as you admire something, I can hope to convince you of more.” Melody flirted her fan open and peered at him over the top.

  From behind Jane, a scrap of conversation pulled her attention away. A gentleman with the hoarse tones of an older man said, “Lord Verbury, a pleasure to see you this evening.”

  Jane sent thanks that Vincent had already left the vicinity. What in heaven’s name was his father doing at her cousin’s birthday? She could not help but think of Vincent’s statement that they would have to engage. Bracing herself, Jane stepped away from Melody, confident that her sister was in her element, and turned to address the Earl of Verbury.

  He was in conversation with another gentleman, who wore the braids of an Admiral and a hoary moustache in the older style. The Admiral was shaking Lord Verbury’s hand, heartily. “Devil of a good speech about the coldmongers the other day. I might wish you could do something about the Catholic situation as well.”

  “That is likely to take care of itself. So long as His Royal Highness does not give in to the temptation to allow them to take a seat in Parliament, I think we shall have no trouble.”

  “Quite so, quite so…” The Admiral shook his head. “I still remember all that business when the Prince Regent’s illegal marriage to the Fitzherbert woman came out. I think half the kingdom was afraid he would convert to marry her, and the other half wished he would so he could not inherit the throne. Still, it is a bloody good thing they cannot marry outside their faith, or we would be a Papist state for certain by now.”

  Jane glanced back at Melody. Catholics could not marry outside their faith? She had never known a Catholic to do so, but had not realized that it was actually forbidden. And yet, hearing them speak, she remembered the uproar when the Prince Regent’s attempt to marry Mrs. Fitzherbert came to light. She had been too young at the time to pay much attention to it, but the memory made her heart sink. What did it say of Mr. O’Brien’s intentions if he could not even offer his hand to Melody?

  Much as she might wish to hear more of this conversation, it was but a matter of moments before the Earl noticed her, and she would rather have the benefit of approaching him first. Hardening her resolve, Jane stepped forward and offered the Earl a curtsy of greeting.

  “Lord Verbury, it is a surprise to see you.”

  Her surprise increased when he appropriated her hand and lifted it to his lips with a bow. “I trust you did not take a chill at the skating party?”

  “Not at all.” She arranged her face into a placid expression to hide the disquiet she felt.

  Lord Verbury turned to the Admiral and presented Jane. “This is my youngest son’s wife. May I present Admiral Brightmore?”

  “A pleasure, madam.” The Admiral beamed at her. “Verbury has been telling me all about the glamours that you have been working. Remarkable accomplishments. I saw the one at Carlton House myself. Truly a work of art.”

  “Thank you.” Jane spread her fan, trying to cool herself. She had been given to understand that Lord Verbury did not approve of Vincent’s work with glamour. To have him not only present her as a relation, but to also boast about their work for the Prince Regent confounded her beyond reason. “We are presently working on a commission for the Baron of Stratton.”

  The Admiral frowned. “Stratton? I do not know Stratton. Do you, Verbury?”

  “I have not had the pleasure of
his acquaintance, nor seen him in the House of Lords.” As a Catholic, Lord Stratton could not take his seat in parliament without forswearing his allegiance to the Pope.

  “He is Irish Catholic.” Jane paused to see what, if anything, either gentleman would say.

  The Admiral laughed. “Well, make sure he pays you in advance, then. That is all I have to say on the matter.”

  “I am certain Vincent will have no difficulties in that regard. Perhaps I might visit sometime to see your work in progress?” Lord Verbury’s question was posed with an openness of interest that Jane could not trust in the least, and yet … and yet, she recognised his smile as the one that Vincent offered her in private. Might he have been sincere in his desire to repair his relationship with Vincent?

  “In general, we prefer not to show our work until it is completed.” Which he must surely know about Vincent—or perhaps not, given their history. To turn the gentlemen’s attention from their work, she indicated Miss Godwin. “I wonder if either of you know the lady over there?”

  “Oh, yes.” Admiral Brightmore chuckled and crossed his hands upon his stomach. “I had the pleasure of serving with her father before he began working for the East India Company. Made his fortune in Calcutta with silks.”

  “She is valued at thirty thousand pounds, I understand.” Lord Verbury conveyed the information about Miss Godwin’s dowry as though he were discussing a horse.

  Admiral Brightmore concurred. “Her complexion is no impediment with that, believe you me. And her father comes from one of the best families.”

  “She seems to be elegance embodied.” It was true that the young woman was a model of good breeding in her carriage and deportment, but Jane had expected her dark skin to limit her eligibility. Apparently, a single woman in possession of a good fortune would find herself with no shortage of suitors.

  “You need not look so astonished at our approbation,” Lord Verbury chuckled. “She comes from good British stock on her father’s side. It is not as though she were Irish.”

  The look he gave Jane was so pointed, she wondered how she could have mistaken his manners for anything like charming. He could only be referring to the day that Melody skated with Mr. O’Brien.

  “Oh, bless me, no.” Admiral Brightmore chuckled, with his belly shaking in delight. “Her father’s as honest a man as ever was born. Miss Godwin takes after him in every regard save one.”

  “She will have no trouble finding a husband.” Lord Verbury tilted his head and looked at Jane, as though an idea were just occurring to him. “If you should like my help with making introductions for your sister, you have only to let me know.”

  “Have you a sister?”

  Before Jane could answer, Lord Verbury said, “Oh yes. Her sister is quite pretty.”

  His implication that Jane was not went unnoticed by Admiral Brightmore. “I should be delighted to meet her, Lady Hamilton.”

  Jane stared at the Admiral for a moment before understanding that he was addressing her. “Pardon, sir, but I am Lady Vincent. My husband no longer uses the Hamilton surname.”

  Smoothly, Lord Verbury said, “Vincent has the Hamilton pride, I am afraid. He wanted to succeed on his own merits. Stubborn fellow has been calling himself David Vincent these last few years. The Prince Regent raised him to a knighthood that way, so I suppose we are stuck with it now.”

  “Bless me. It sounds as though he is just like you.”

  Jane’s cheeks burned with anger at the way the Earl perverted the past. She tilted her chin up to address Lord Verbury. “My understanding, sir, is that you were embarrassed by him and requested that he not use your name. Perhaps that is my mistake?”

  “Yes.” Lord Verbury’s tone was cool and gave away nothing of his emotions. “Perhaps it is.”

  The Admiral’s laughter died away. His gaze darted between the two, seeming to recognise slowly that they were somewhat less than fond of each other.

  “Good evening, gentlemen.” Jane turned and made her way through the crowd, feeling as though she had attempted to manage a fold of glamour too large for her. What she longed for most was to find Vincent and depart, but she would not let that man chase her away. Even if her pride would allow it, her duty would not. Jane had brought Melody to London hoping to find a match for her, and she would do that without the Right Honourable the Earl of Verbury’s help.

  She also felt that she should warn Vincent that his father was in attendance, though what that would do to his spirits she did not like to contemplate. He should at least have an opportunity to prepare himself. She knew that he was belowstairs, so she went in search of a footman who might be able to take her to him.

  As she crossed the room, her attention was arrested by the welcome sight of a friend. “Major Curry? Is that you?”

  The good gentleman, in his smart red uniform, turned and regarded her with pleasure. “Mrs.—no, it is Lady Vincent now. Forgive me.”

  Jane blushed. “I have difficulty becoming accustomed to it, myself. My mother is beyond pleased, you may be certain.”

  “As well she should be.” Major Curry glanced around the room and lowered his voice. “And your health?”

  Jane smiled at his concern. After the Battle of Quatre Bras, he had been charged with conveying her and Vincent to Brussels. Lord Wellington had assigned him to guard them for the months they resided there, until their health permitted them to make the Channel crossing. He had proven himself to be a worthy friend. “I am quite well. We both are.”

  He sighed with relief. “I must say that it is fortunate Sir David taught me about the—you know. The Duke of Wellington has kept me in service thanks to that. I owe him a debt. So many soldiers returned that there is not work for us all, and a military glamourist … well, I would have had few prospects, were it not for that. As it is, he has quite made my career.”

  “I would not think there was much use for it, with Napoleon defeated.”

  “Sadly, the troubles in the north of England have kept us busy. The Luddites … the coldmongers … Everyone is unhappy, it seems.”

  “You do not … have you had to fire upon them?”

  He looked pained. “I dislike it.” Hanging his head, Major Curry tugged at the trimming at his cuff. “I know that it is for the good of England, but I do not like firing upon my fellow countrymen, no matter what their offence.”

  “You are a good man.” He was. And he had a promising career in the military, as well as a passion for the arts. She had thought before that he would be well matched in nature to Melody. “Are you occupied at the moment? I should like to introduce you to my sister.”

  “I am at your service, madam.” Major Curry offered his arm, which Jane accepted.

  She led him through the throng to Melody, who was engaged in conversation with a flock of young men. Jane had not often had a chance to see her sister in full form. She wondered at how Melody could give each gentleman enough attention that it seemed she wished to speak to him alone if only the others would leave them, without at any point making the other men feel slighted. It was a miracle of charm more intricate than any glamour Jane could weave.

  “Melody, may I present Major Curry?”

  Her sister’s face lit with delight as though she had been waiting to meet him for years. “Of course! My sister has spoken of you with such high regard.” She touched his sleeve with her fan. “I cannot thank you enough for your service to her.”

  Major Curry coloured and cleared his throat. “It was nothing, Miss. Merely my duty.”

  “Your duty, sir, would have been to take her to Brussels and stand outside her door with your rifle, but it was more than mere duty that kept you there reading to her during her recovery.” Melody tilted her head up to look at him. “She said she could not do without you.”

  “I—ah. You are most kind.”

  “It is one of Melody’s best features.” Jane raised a brow at her sister. “She also has a lovely singing voice. I only wish we had the opportunity to show it off to
you.”

  “And I share that wish.” Major Curry bowed his head to Melody.

  Jane offered, as though she had just thought of it, “Perhaps you could come for tea sometime this week? I know that Vincent will be sorry to have missed you.”

  “Will I? Ah, Major Curry! I will indeed.” Vincent appeared beside her and shook Major Curry’s hand with enthusiasm.

  As they completed their addresses and general inquiries about each other’s health, Melody leaned over to Jane. Raising her fan, she masked her lips and said in a low voice, “Is it necessary for you to throw me at every young man who appears?”

  Of a sudden, the room felt overwarm as Jane blushed deeply. “I did not know that my efforts were so transparent.”

  “La! I dare say half the room knows that I am for sale.” Melody closed her fan and laughed at something that Major Curry said, as though she had not cut Jane to the quick. With ease, she entered into the conversation, chatting amiably with the Major and Vincent.

  Jane did not hear that or the subsequent comments, being involved in rebuking herself. After a moment, Vincent touched her arm. “Muse? Are you all right?”

  “Yes. Only distracted for a moment.” She lifted her head, suddenly remembering why she had sought him earlier. “Oh! My love, your father is here.”

  “I know.” Vincent grimaced. “We spoke.”

  The conversation could not have been a pleasant one, but he offered nothing beyond the fact of their speaking. Jane took his hand and squeezed it, offering the only comfort that she could in a crowded room. Privately, she resolved to do better by her sister and by her husband.

  Ten

  The Catholic Problem

  Rather than eating her breakfast, Jane stirred her baked beans with her toast. Sighing, she looked across the table to Vincent. “Would you be all right without me today?”

  He looked up from the paper he was sketching upon. “Hm? Is anything the matter?”