Regency Admirer/The Merry Gentleman/The Gentleman's Demand

by Meg Alexander

  Perry picked up the reins. “I’ll try to move on. Damme, if they ain’t like flies round a honey-pot!”

  As he urged his team away, they were hailed by a familiar voice. Elizabeth craned to see the speaker.

  “It’s Chris!” she cried. “Oh, do stop, Perry!”

  “Cut out by Rainham?” Ashurst asked. “I won’t have it, ma’am! You must beware of these sailors. They have a dreadful reputation...”

  “No worse than yours, my Lord!” Chris shouldered his way through the crowd to reach Elizabeth’s side. “Go away, Ashurst! This lady is a friend of mine.”

  “No, no! I won’t be sunk by the navy. Ma’am, won’t you send this encroaching creature to the right-about?”

  Elizabeth laughed heartily at this exchange. To be the centre of attraction had, at first, been overwhelming, but now she was beginning to enjoy it. It was most entertaining to listen to this delightful nonsense. She glanced at Perry, expecting him to share in her amusement, but he was strangely silent.

  Then Chris took her hand. “No need to ask how you go on, my dear. You are in famous looks. You are happy with your aunt?”

  Elizabeth smiled at him. “She isn’t in the least what I expected.”

  “Not a dragon?”

  “She pretends to be, but she is very kind.”

  “Then I may be allowed to call on you?”

  “I’m sure she’d be delighted. No serving officer will be refused a welcome in her home.”

  “Right then. Perhaps tomorrow?” He turned to Perry. “Cat got your tongue, old lad? Or are you sickening for something?”

  “I’m well enough to lay about me if this crowd don’t move!” Perry snapped.

  Chris pursed his lips in a silent whistle. “Got out of bed on the wrong side today?” he asked. He turned away before Perry could reply to this outrageous suggestion, and dispersed the men about him by remarking that Miss Grantham was getting chilled.

  As they melted away, Chris kissed her hand. Then he, too, was gone.

  “Need you glare in quite that way?” Elizabeth demanded. “I thought these people were your friends?”

  “They are,” he growled. “But they need not keep my horses waiting...”

  “Oh! Is that the only reason why you are suddenly out of humour?”

  “No, it isn’t!” He jerked his head in the direction of the groom. “This is neither the time nor the place to discuss it.”

  It wasn’t until they reached the privacy of her aunt’s home that he gave vent to his feelings.

  “You had best take care,” he muttered darkly. “It ain’t at all the thing to flirt with all and sundry.”

  “How dare you accuse me of flirting?” Elizabeth crimsoned to the ears with fury. “I, at least, was civil to your friends, which you were not.”

  “Too civil by half, madam! I promised your aunt that you would not be exposed to gossip.”

  “It was you who took me to the Park,” she cried. “Did you expect it to be empty?”

  “No, I didn’t, but there was no need...I mean... you might have hinted people away.”

  Had she not known his opinion of her, she might have imagined that he was suffering from jealousy, but that, of course, was nonsensical.

  “I am much obliged for your advice,” she told him in icy tones. “I shall remember it. You need not fear a repetition of my poor behaviour. I shall not drive with you again.”

  “Oh, come! I did not mean to criticise...just to warn you...” Perry realised that he had gone too far.

  “I need no warnings from you, sir. What, I wonder, gives you the right to think that you may correct my conduct?”

  “Why, nothing...nothing at all. I didn’t mean to offend you. It was just that I thought... well...perhaps you understand—?”

  “I understand that you are an arrogant, interfering busybody. You need not trouble to call again. I shall refuse to see you.” Elizabeth stalked away.

  Perry’s ordeal was not yet over. Miss Grantham met him in the hall. Her lifted eyebrows met with no response.

  “At dagger-drawing again?” she enquired. “Dear me! A four-year-old would go on better. Did your well-known tact desert you?”

  “I haven’t any,” Perry told her savagely.

  “Well, my dear sir, you had best acquire some. What was it this time?”

  Perry looked injured. “I only ventured to give Elizabeth a hint. Everyone clustered about her in the Park, and, well...”

  “Your own nose was out of joint? Wentworth, what did you expect? Elizabeth is a beauty. You can’t be the only man to see it.”

  “I might as well give up,” he said in gloomy tones. “They all wish to call upon her. She may take her choice of offers, I expect.”

  “That is more than likely,” Miss Grantham agreed. “And you won’t help your cause by quarrelling with her.”

  “I won’t get the chance! She won’t speak to me again.”

  The old lady chuckled. “Why don’t you accompany your mother when she calls tomorrow?” With that she dismissed him.

  Later, she did not question Elizabeth about the outing, apart from a brief enquiry as to her first impressions of the London scene. Her main concern appeared to be the sad state of Elizabeth’s wardrobe, in which the girl was obviously uninterested.

  “But, my dear, you have barely a stitch to your back,” she protested. “Lady Mountfield’s daughter is to come for you tomorrow, to take you shopping. She leads a busy life, and it is good of her to spare the time.”

  Elizabeth was forced to agree, though she could summon up no enthusiasm for the expedition.

  She changed her mind when she met Mrs Dalloway. The lady was so very elegant that her own garments left much to be desired.

  In spite of Bessie’s efforts to wash and press her gown, the fabric was looking sadly tired. Her redingote was not in the London style, and the bonnet bought in Portsmouth lacked any claim to fashion.

  Mrs Dalloway was too well-bred to betray surprise at Elizabeth’s shabby clothing. The girl was well-connected and, more importantly, she was an heiress. A beauty, certainly, and lacking only a little town-bronze. With her looks, any modiste in London would be happy to dress her, and at a handsome discount, knowing that Miss Grantham would show off her own creations to the best advantage.

  She was a kindly soul, and Elizabeth took to her at once. Between them, they spent a busy morning, and by the time Elizabeth had ordered a number of morning-gowns, an evening cloak, several dresses suitable for balls, and a selection of devastating bonnets, Mrs Dalloway announced herself satisfied that she would be able to go on quite well for the first weeks of the Season.

  “Aunt Mary, I have spent a fortune!” Elizabeth sank into a chair and kicked off her demi-boots. “Forgive me, please, but I think I have a blister on this foot.”

  “I know the feeling well,” Miss Grantham told her drily. “Few things are more exhausting than a shopping expedition. I have avoided them for years.”

  “Have...have there been any callers?”

  “Dozens, my dear! You will find a number of cards and invitations...and flowers, too.”

  “For me?” Elizabeth looked up in surprise.

  “The bouquets are certainly not for me. Your appearance in the Park has brought half of London flocking to my door. Lord Christopher Rainham is a charming creature, is he not?”

  “Chris? Oh, Lord, I had forgotten that he was to call. Aunt, I should have asked you first. I do beg your pardon, but I thought you would not mind. He, too, is an officer on the Artemis.”

  “Quite right, my dear. He is an unexceptionable young man. What did you think of Lord Sholto Ashurst?”

  Elizabeth twinkled at her. “I thought he talked a lot of nonsense, ma’am, and so did his friends.”

  Miss Grantham felt relieved. Her niece was no fool, and it seemed unlikely that her head would be turned by flattery. Elizabeth wasn’t vain, but her beauty was outstanding, and in London gossip spread like wildfire.

  By now
, every mother of a hopeful son would have made enquiries about her niece. The fact that she was an heiress would bring the fortune-hunters too, but they would have her aunt to reckon with.

  “Shall you drive out again tomorrow?” she enquired.

  This apparently innocent question brought two pink spots of colour to Elizabeth’s cheeks.

  “I think not, Aunt,” she murmured.

  Miss Grantham raised an eyebrow. “You did not care for the Park?”

  “Why, yes, of course, but it was crowded. Wentworth did not care to keep his horses standing...”

  “I see! That would account for his odd manner yesterday.”

  “Ma’am?”

  “It was nothing,” her aunt replied in airy tones. “Simply that when I spoke to him he seemed to be somewhat out of humour.”

  “He is impossible!” Elizabeth cried in fury. “He thinks himself a model of propriety, and he is not! He positively scowled at all his friends.”

  “How strange! I find him well behaved...”

  “You don’t know him, ma’am. To be setting himself up as guardian, and to lecture me? I won’t have it! He actually accused me of flirting!”

  “Perhaps he is a little high in the instep because of his naval training...discipline, you know?”

  “Well, I am not one of his crew, and he had best remember it. As for being high in the instep, Aunt, I wish you might have seen him in Genoa, climbing up a tree to busy himself in a matter which was none of his concern. He is much too fond of interfering.”

  “A naval officer climbing trees? My dear, you astonish me! I must hope that he was not in uniform.” Miss Grantham kept her countenance only with the greatest difficulty.

  “He was, and much he cared for that! I suppose he thought it a great lark.”

  “Young men are not always wise, Elizabeth. They are strongly disposed towards adventure.”

  “In future he may seek adventure where he will,” her niece replied with dignity. “He will not do so in my company. I shall not speak to him again.”

  “That may be a little difficult, my love. Had you forgot? The Dowager Countess is to call on us today, and Wentworth will accompany her.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Elizabeth was nonplussed. “Must I meet her, Aunt?” she pleaded. “I beg you to excuse me.”

  “Certainly not. She is one of my oldest friends, and she will wish to make your acquaintance. To refuse would show a lack of breeding.”

  “Yes, I suppose it would.” Elizabeth sighed. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to offend you.”

  “You haven’t done so, my love. Wentworth won’t be a thorn in your flesh for long. When the refit of the Artemis is completed he will be off to sea again. Meantime, his mother will keep him fully occupied. She is anxious to see him wed.”

  Elizabeth was startled. “Why is that?” she demanded.

  “Do you find it wonderful? Most parents wish to see their children happily settled, I believe.”

  “I thought you disliked matchmaking mamas, Aunt Mary.”

  “I don’t class the Countess with them. She will look beyond money and a title. In fact, the girl she has in mind for Wentworth is as poor as a church-mouse, or so I am informed.”

  “I wish her joy of him!” Elizabeth snapped. “No, I don’t mean that! Oh dear, I am becoming such a crosspatch...”

  “You are tired, my dear. Rest now. Our guests will not arrive for several hours.”

  This excellent advice went unheeded. Elizabeth found it impossible to rest.

  To imagine Perry in the arms of another woman was more than she could bear. The idea had come as a shock to her. Yet the Dowager Countess of Brandon must have many friends, all of them with charming and biddable daughters. One or other of them must find favour in Perry’s eyes. At his mother’s urging, her youngest son would doubtless be persuaded to offer for the first delightful creature who took his fancy.

  Behind the unwelcome thought lay another, deeper dread. The Artemis could not lie at Portsmouth docks for ever. Perry would receive orders to report back to his ship. Then he would be gone, to face all the dangers of battle.

  She buried her face in her hands. He must not go away believing that she hated him. She must make amends. There was still time for that. Nothing...nothing he said in future would persuade her to fly out at him.

  She lay back upon the day-bed, and closed her eyes. Luck had been against her from the start, she thought sadly. Since that fateful night in Genoa, everything had conspired to give Perry a dislike of her. Now it was unlikely that he would ever change his mind.

  As her aunt had predicted, the rest restored her to better spirits. They lifted even further with the arrival of a long-delayed letter from her father.

  Mr Grantham sent fond love to both his sister and Elizabeth. He also enclosed a letter of authorisation to his London bankers, advising them that there must be no limit upon Elizabeth’s drawings for anything she might need.

  He was happy to say that his wife was much improved in health, as he was himself. This he ascribed, in large part, to the knowledge that Elizabeth must, by now, be safe in England.

  Elizabeth was moved to protest. “My father could not be sure of that. There has been no time for my letter to reach him.”

  “He seems to have great faith in Wentworth’s capabilities,” Miss Grantham murmured. “Perhaps some British ship has docked at Genoa, bringing the news that the Artemis is safely come to Portsmouth.”

  Elizabeth scanned the closely written sheets. “Yes, that is so!” Her lips curved in a smile of deep affection. “Dear Papa! Here he begs my forgiveness for his actions...as if I ever could think ill of him.” She read on, then her colour deepened.

  “Yes, my dear?” her aunt said encouragingly. “Is that all?”

  “Not quite! He mentioned Perry...Mr Wentworth... I am to thank him for his care of me, and bid him remember my father’s words. Oh, Aunt Mary, I can’t do that!”

  “Why not, my love?” Miss Grantham composed her features into an expression of surprise.

  “Ma’am, I did explain. Papa tried to force Perry into...into offering for me.” Elizabeth blushed deeply.

  “Force? I can’t imagine it, my dear. That would be unlike your father. He may have suggested something of the kind, perhaps in desperation? It was a foolish idea. Young men prefer to choose their partners for themselves.”

  Elizabeth was much struck by this remark. “You think that is why he refused?”

  “What else? You were strangers to each other, but you are no antidote, my dear. You won’t believe that he refused because you have two heads, or a third eye in the middle of your forehead?”

  Elizabeth smiled. “No, I don’t think that. It’s just that he dislikes me, and has done so from the first.”

  Miss Grantham forebore to marvel at the truth of the saying that love was blind.

  “We must give him credit for one thing...”

  “And what is that?”

  “Clearly your fortune does not weigh with him. Many a younger son would have conquered his reluctance in the knowledge that you will be a wealthy woman.”

  “I doubt if he knows of it,” Elizabeth told her stiffly.

  “Possibly not. It cannot matter, as we are agreed, I think, that you and Wentworth would not suit.”

  Elizabeth was silent.

  “Now, my love, while you were resting, your purchases arrived from Bond Street. I have told Bessie that she may unpack them.”

  “Shall you like to see them, Aunt?” Elizabeth was glad of the diversion.

  The old lady nodded her approval as she slipped on a pelisse of French merino cloth, trimmed with braid. The matching bonnet was audaciously seductive, with its curtailed poke and curling feathers.

  “Do you think it too outrageous?” Elizabeth asked anxiously.

  “Not at all! It becomes you well.” Privately, Miss Grantham considered that this was an understatement. With her oval face framed by the dashing little bonnet, Elizabeth look
ed lovelier than ever.

  “And these?” Her niece held up two filmy muslin gowns. “Mrs Dalloway says that they are all the rage for evening wear. She reads The Lady’s Magazine or Entertaining Companion for the Fair Sex to keep her up-to-date.”

  Miss Grantham’s lips twitched as she fingered the thin fabric. “Dear me! Fully clad, your clothing is unlikely to weigh more than a couple of pounds.”

  “She says that it is the classical influence... flowing draperies and such. You don’t think them indecent?”

  “Not if you wear an under-shift, my dear. I suppose we might lay in a supply of linctus against inflammation of the lungs.”

  Elizabeth giggled. “They are cut rather low in the bosom,” she admitted. “But I bought a stole to wear about my shoulders.”

  “And some walking dresses, I hope? The classical influence is well enough in its way, but the weather in Greece is somewhat warmer than it is in England.”

  “I thought of that.” Elizabeth picked up a gown of heavy cambric, trimmed with frills of broad-lace. “This has a matching spencer. That is a jacket, you know, which is worn for extra warmth.”

  “Doubtless you will need it. I’ve known it to snow here as late as June.”

  “Is that true? Perry said as much, but I didn’t believe him. I’ve only seen snow in the distant mountains.”

  “That is the best place for it. Here in town it is soon churned up by the carriages. Then it becomes a mass of grey slush, and galoshes must be worn.”

  Dismayed, Elizabeth gazed at her satin demi-boots with yellow gilt buttons, and another pair in rose-pink printed kid with loops and ties of silk ribbon.

  “Will these be stout enough?” She pointed to a heavier pair in black morocco leather, with uppers of grey silk.

  “They will serve if you wear protectors over them. Now, what will you wear today for Lady Brandon’s visit?”

  The decision was a difficult one. Must it be the charming sprigged muslin with tiny puff sleeves, or the high-necked gown of French worked cambric with the double flounce and rows of tucks? The pink silk was more suitable for evening wear, as were the half-dresses intended to be worn over slips of satin.