“Yes. Of course.” Vincent wiped one hand down his face. “But Jane, if she cannot marry him, why does it matter what he does? You are seeing plots where there probably are none. Yes. My father spoke to Mr. O’Brien. Yes, my father harassed you. Yes, it is odd that Mr. O’Brien is here. But these do not add up to a conspiracy.”
If Jane could articulate why she felt so sure that something larger was in the works, she would have argued for staying, but none of her arguments amounted to more than saying, “But something is wrong.”
“I know. Or, rather, I understand. I am simply not convinced that I am seeing anything other than my own disquiet, and that disquiet may be explained by other events.”
He had hit upon some truth there. She sighed. “Let me just inquire about William, and then we shall be off. That will provide all the excuse that we need if Mr. O’Brien should see us.”
“If it will set your mind at ease…” Vincent relented, though his manner suggested that he was far from pleased by the prospect.
“Thank you. I know—I do know—that this is not an entirely rational urge.”
Vincent sighed heavily, his breath steaming white in the air. “Permit me to remain a little back so that we do not attract too much attention. I can well imagine that word of my presence would reach Mr. O’Brien.”
“Are you so certain of being recognised? You are usually more modest.”
Vincent gave a half-chuckle. “Yes, well. You did not witness the … enthusiasm with which young William recounted the rescue. Half the yard made note of me.”
Jane squeezed his hand in thanks for indulging her. There was no other way she could describe acquiescing to an urge that even she must acknowledge was founded on irrational thought. But the idea would not leave her alone, so she strode up to the gate and inquired with the porter about William.
The porter knuckled his cap and sent a young messenger off to fetch the boy. “Sorry I cannot let you in, m’lady. This here’s an establishment for gentlemen only.”
“I quite understand.” She was grateful, in some ways, because it meant that she did not have to worry about encountering Mr. O’Brien in the interior. Regardless of her desire to know his business, she did not wish him to discover their presence.
In a few minutes, William came out with a smile. The cut upon his temple had healed nicely, leaving only a thin red line that would fade with time. “Lady Vincent! This is a surprise indeed. Let me call the lads out so they can meet you. I’ve told them all about you and Sir David.”
Jane stopped herself from wincing. She should have foreseen that as a possibility. “I can only stay for a few moments. Are you well?”
“Getting by.” He shrugged deeper into his coat. “There’s no work, but that’s true for all of us.”
“No work? But I saw a gentleman arrive ahead of me. Surely he was here on some commission.”
“Tall, red hair, with spectacles?” When Jane nodded, young William said, “That’s Mr. O’Brien. He’s a great friend to the Company, that’s true. But it doesn’t mean work for us.”
“I am sorry to hear that.” Jane kept watch out beyond him, upon the yard, in case that gentleman should reappear. She was astonished by the great number of children there. “Does the Company run a school?”
“Eh?” He glanced over his shoulder. “Oh, no. At least not for lads as old as this bunch. There’s just a lot of us here now because there ain’t no work. We got nowhere else to be.”
Jane had understood that coldmongers tended to be young, but she had not realized how young they started work. Appalled by the youth of boys involved in so treacherous a profession, Jane could barely master her expression. William would not, in the nature of boys, recognise that fourteen was very young indeed. To see boys even younger than he in the yard, waiting for work, sent a chill through her that had nothing to do with glamour.
“What do coldmongers do in winter?”
“We take time off and recover, most of us. The Company saves so we have funds to see us through.” He shrugged again, scowling. “Don’t look like there’s going to be any work this year. It’s not so cold as we can make ice, and not so warm that cooling would be needful. Looked for a while as though Lord Eldon would help but … he ain’t.”
“The bill the Lord Chancellor was proposing, you mean?” She would have to ask Melody to tell her more about that. At the same time, Jane could not help but recollect that Vincent’s father had been in an argument with Lord Eldon. “He was a coldmonger’s son, was he not?”
“Nah. Folks say he was, but his old man made his money in brokering coldmongers.” Seeing her look of incomprehension, William jerked a finger at the gates of the Company. “This here takes care of us. We all pitch in, see? But to get work, you have to go through a broker. Someone who knows what your skills are and what the patron needs. Some of us is good at large rooms and breezes. Others at holding a weave of cold while walking. One feller is right quick in winter arts, and can make ice in any shape you imagine.”
Jane had not realised the full breadth of possibilities in coldmongering. She knew that a coldmonger had more particular control over weaves of cold than a general glamourist, but had not understood how many different ways the skill could take shape. She wondered if Vincent were aware of this. It might present some interesting avenues for exploration.
Meanwhile, she had different avenues to explore. “Well, I hope that something changes soon.” She hesitated. “Perhaps we could hire you to work at our house?”
William scratched behind his ear and kicked at the street. “That’s right kind, Lady Vincent. You and I both know it’d be a charity, with the weather the way it is. You just remember me when it changes, all right?”
Jane promised to do so and took her leave of the young man. As she walked down the street, Vincent stepped out from the empty air. Jane jumped and shrieked with surprise.
“Sorry!” He held his hands up. “I was just in a Sphère Obscurcie.”
Jane laid a hand upon her breast. “And you think that I am being unreasonably cautious.”
Vincent blushed and ducked his head. “I—um. Well. Did you discover anything of moment?” She quickly related her conversation with young William, including her attempt to hire him.
“Perhaps we can have him in to instruct us in cold sometime. It might be useful if we attempt the glamour in glass again.” Vincent rubbed his chin in thought. “Would you like to go dancing this evening?”
“Dancing? You are getting desperate to change the subject.” Jane turned their direction back toward their part of town. In the nearly two years of their marriage, they had never had occasion to dance—a fact that astonished her upon the face of it. “But that will not keep me from taking merciless advantage of your offer.”
“I have no anxiety about that.” Vincent put his hand over hers, and the warmth encouraged her.
“Where did you think to go?”
“Well … I thought that Melody might enjoy Almack’s Assembly.”
“She would, but one needs a voucher to attend.”
Vincent cleared his throat. “I … ah … I have a pass for Almack’s.”
Jane checked her pace. “You do? You? The misanthrope who dislikes crowds above all else?”
A carriage rattled by, drowning his first response. Vincent waited until it was past and repeated himself. “Before we met, Prinny and Lord Byron liked to attend, and made it clear that I needed to as well. So I did.”
The thought of her husband in the company of the Prince Regent and Lord Byron confounded her expectations. This must have been in his college days. The thought struck her before she could avoid it. “Did you take—”
“No.” Vincent spoke quickly and with force, as though to stop someone from stepping into traffic. He looked down the street, showing her his fine, high profile. “I am sorry, Jane. You know that, I hope?”
“I do.” She did not understand many of the events that surrounded them, but tonight she would let the past go and
dance with her husband.
Twelve
Corinthians and Waltzes
In spite of the patronesses who guarded the door to Almack’s Assembly and denied entry to any they deemed unsuitable for society, the floor was thronged with couples. Decorated in blue and gold, designed to flatter, the ballroom did have a lustre of elegance, but the tall ceiling only served to allow the noise to echo around and become somehow louder.
Vincent’s arm had tightened the moment they entered the room.
By contrast, Melody was in a state of rapture. She clung to Jane’s arm and exclaimed as they crossed the threshold. “Oh, Jane! Look at that ivory gown. The ruffle at the bottom is elegance embodied. And there! Oh, the gentleman with the blue jacket.”
“Everyone has blue jackets,” Vincent muttered. “Including me.”
“And I must say, it suits you handsomely,” Jane said. Vincent’s grumbles ought not amuse her, but they always did.
It was Vincent’s habit to play the artist and pay indifferent attention to his dress, so it always took Jane by surprise when he turned himself out in fashionable attire. She had married a very handsome man.
She could admire his broad shoulders and fine profile, regardless of what he wore. However, there was something about a blue coat of superfine to make those shoulders seem broader and his waist narrower. Did she need to add to the catalogue of her husband’s merits the manner in which his knee breeches fit?
Another might say that his brow was too brooding or that his manner was not calculated to please, but Jane felt no compunction in thinking that her husband was, while not the most elegant, still quite the handsomest man in the room.
But before she could dance with Vincent, she needed to find a partner for Melody. From the way the heads of young men turned as they walked through the press, it was clear that a number of them would gladly ask Melody to dance if they had an introduction.
Jane knew too few people in London. She and Vincent spent all their time at work, and only mingled at the rare event. If she had followed through on her intentions to host parties, then perhaps they would not be in this awkward social position.
Then, through the crowd, she caught a glimpse of a figure with a warm, dark complexion and heavy black hair. Miss Godwin. “Thank heavens.” If Miss Godwin was there, then perhaps Mr. Colgrove was as well. He would need little encouragement to dance with Melody, and if he were not there, Miss Godwin could introduce Melody to her set and at least get things started.
Jane guided them through the multitude to the group of young people. “Miss Godwin?” The lady did not turn. With the noise of conversation and music, it was not improbable that she had failed to hear Jane. “Miss Godwin?”
One of the lady’s friends masked a smirk, poorly, and winked at the lady, who turned with a frown. “You have mistaken me.”
“Oh. I—” With a certainty, Jane had. Where Miss Godwin was tall and slender with an admirable form, this lady tended toward plump. Indeed, once she turned, the only real thing the two women had in common was their complexion. “Yes. I have. My apologies.”
The lady worked her fan, as though to dismiss Jane, before turning back to her set. Still blushing from her mistake, Jane retreated to Vincent. “My love, do you see anyone you know?”
“A few, yes.”
She waited, then applied to him again. “Do you think any of them might be willing to ask Melody to dance?”
“Hm?” He frowned first at her, then Melody in confusion before recalling himself. Wincing, he said, “I am out of practice at this.”
“I will remind you that this was your idea.”
“And it should give you a fair idea as to the state of my mind that it was.” Vincent peered down at her. “I jest, lest that is uncertain.”
“It is quite clear.” It was also not fully a jest, she was certain of that. “May I impose, then?”
Vincent nodded with a tight jaw and offered Melody his arm. “I have an acquaintance to whom I should like to make you acquainted.”
Jane stifled a laugh at the redundancy in his language. Her poor grumbling bear always retreated into taciturn silence or exaggerated formality when distressed. Tonight, he appeared to be doing both. There was little she could do for him now, but she hoped that once he had a task he would relax somewhat. Jane followed behind them as Vincent led Melody through the crowd, around a cluster of young gentlemen of the Corinthian model.
As they made their way, a man called, “Lady Vincent!”
She stopped, turning in the throng to spy Major Curry. Of all things, this was the best of fortunes. She had been wishing to make Melody better acquainted with him, but had not yet had time to arrange the promised tea. “What brings you here?”
“The Duke of Wellington.” He rolled his eyes, but only a little. “His Grace says it is necessary to make social calls when in town, and this allows him to make them all at once. Everyone who is anyone, you know. However, he has left me at loose ends.”
“His loss, then, is our gain. Vincent and I were just searching for a dance partner for Melody. May I presume upon your kindness?”
“A privilege.” He bowed, and she thought he stood a little taller afterwards.
Together they caught up with Vincent and Melody, who had paused in their quest. Vincent was glaring over the heads of the crowd. “The people I knew have moved.” His expression of displeasure brightened when he saw who was with Jane.
For a few moments they talked of the usual things: the press of the crowd, the lemonade, and the quality of the cake. As soon as the pleasantries concluded, Major Curry turned to Melody and offered her a bow. “May I have the honour of a dance?”
She accepted his offer with her hand. “I should be delighted.”
Satisfied that her sister had been provided with the best partner Jane could wish for, she turned to Vincent. He glowered at the room, and she raised her eyebrows in expectation.
For a moment, he did not notice her questioning look, then he started. “I told you we would dance.”
She nodded. Waiting.
With the noise surrounding them, she could not hear him hold his breath, but she could see his chest expand and his jaw set. Vincent rolled his shoulders as though he were preparing to work. He expelled the breath in a sigh.
As though a glamour had passed over him, Vincent’s posture changed, becoming more erect, and Jane saw the man his father had wanted him to be. Extending his leg, Vincent offered her a full court bow with all the grace of a formal courtier. “Lady Vincent. Would you do me the honour?”
“I—I would be delighted.” Astonished beyond measure, Jane placed her hand in his as he stood.
Keeping his eye on hers, he raised her hand to his lips and kissed it. “Thank you, madam.”
All in wonder, Jane let him escort her to the floor. His carriage was smooth and elegant, but beneath her hand, his arm trembled with tension.
She pressed his arm. “We do not have to dance.”
“I made a promise.” Vincent did not meet her gaze, but smiled—smiled!—and nodded at someone across the floor.
They reached the bottom of the set and took their places opposite each other. Beside all the fine ladies in their fashion, Jane felt all her old anxieties come back. Her carriage was poor. Her features too sharp. Her hair was all wrong. And across from her, Vincent played the part of the nobleman’s son he had been born to. Had she met him then, would he have even noticed her?
He held out his hand and they progressed up the set, casting off in an arc around the next couple. The effort that had been put into his deportment showed in the way he glided over the floor, and the easy grace in his figures.
Jane was at once captivated by the sight of him dancing, and resolved never to ask him to dance again. When she thought about how each perfect movement had been purchased, of the privations and beatings that Vincent had endured for his failure, she could not rest easy with the result.
They danced through the set. Jane wanted to pull him
off the floor, but she would not draw attention to either of them by creating a spectacle. Not with Melody and Major Curry four couples above them in the dance.
As they progressed, Melody and Major Curry reached the top of the set and began the turn back to the bottom. As a matter of course, they were soon in a group with Jane and Vincent.
Melody’s eyes widened as she turned from their previous group to see Vincent offer his hand for the balance forward and back. “Sir David! You astonish me. I did not know that you danced.”
“Only rarely, Miss Ellsworth.” He inclined his head to the perfect degree as they exchanged places, and offered a smile calculated to charm. “It requires the greatest of temptations.”
Jane balanced forward and back with Major Curry. “How are you enjoying the dance, Major?”
“Quite nicely.” He exchanged places with her smoothly. “Your sister is an elegant dancer.”
He did not have time for more before Jane took hands and turned twice around with Melody. As the sisters swung each other in a tight circle, Melody said, “What has come over Vincent? He is all elegance tonight.”
Jane shook her head. “I hardly know him.”
Melody let go of Jane’s hands and turned to change places again with Vincent. “Indeed, I am not certain I would know him either.”
“I hardly know myself.” Vincent retreated to the corner of their set as Jane and Major Curry did a two-hand turn.
Passing her, the Major said, “Have you enjoyed your stay in London?”
“It has been edifying, as always.” Jane dipped her head and retreated to her corner, turning to face Vincent again as he completed his two-hand turn with Melody.
He smiled at her with a degree of charm, but the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes seemed to her to be cracks of tension. He held his hand out, and the four of them joined hands to circle to the left.
Melody laughed as they spun. “La! Vincent, I should think that it would be easier if you acted like this always.”
“But less true.” He gave her a short bow of his head as they all circled back to the right and turned to their new set.
Without a Summer Page 12