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

by Meg Alexander

  “No, miss! How lucky you are! You don’t need false bosoms.”

  Elizabeth was amused. She might appear half-naked, if she would forgo the immodesty of pantalettes. Still, she was undecided. Perhaps none of the gowns were suitable for the Earl of Brandon’s ball.

  A second shopping expedition seemed to be indicated, if she could persuade Mrs Dalloway to accompany her again. Then the humour of the situation struck her. For a girl who claimed to have no interest in the opinion of the ton, she was behaving like an idiot.

  It was all self-delusion. She did not care about the ton. Perry’s opinion was all that mattered. She wanted to look her best for him alone.

  Suddenly, she felt bereft. It was only hours since she had seen him, but she missed him quite dreadfully.

  Not for the first time she bewailed her hasty tongue and her quick temper. Why had she told him that she would not drive with him again? Now she must wait until the evening of the ball and on that occasion there would be no opportunity to speak to him alone.

  Her hopes were raised next day. At the sound of carriage wheels she hurried to the window to find Chris at the reins of a smart racing curricle, with Perry up beside him.

  She flew down the staircase on winged feet. Then she forced herself to a more decorous pace. It would not do to appear too eager.

  “There you are, my love! Here is Wentworth come with an invitation for you.” Miss Grantham held out a note.

  “My mother is getting up an expedition to Kew Gardens,” Perry explained. “We are to take a picnic. Shall you care to join us?” His eyes were pleading.

  “Tomorrow?” Her heart sank. She was promised to her aunt. Miss Grantham was most particularly anxious to attend a lecture upon anaesthesia.

  “I’m sorry,” she said in a voice made cold by disappointment. “We have another engagement.”

  Perry’s face fell. She had not forgiven him for his outburst. He felt wretched. All his efforts seemed to be in vain. He would never win her. Another engagement? He didn’t doubt it. Doubtless, some suitor had persuaded her into looking upon him kindly.

  It was Miss Grantham who took pity on him.

  “You may make your choice, Elizabeth,” she said briskly. “You must decide between the joys of a learned discourse upon the relief of pain, or a picnic by the river.” She managed to hide a smile.

  “I will go with you, Aunt.”

  “No, you won’t, you foolish child! The fresh air will do you good.”

  “Do you mean it, Aunt Mary? I did promise, but...well...I might not understand the finer points of the discussion.”

  Miss Grantham looked grave. “That is certainly a consideration. Let us agree that you will go to Kew.”

  “Oh, thank you! I have always wanted to see the gardens.”

  This information came as news to Miss Grantham, since Elizabeth had not mentioned it before, but she nodded and turned her attention to Lord Christopher.

  That gentleman was not lacking in social graces.

  “I hear that your group has been discussing the possibility of finding a safe method of anaesthesia, ma’am?”

  “You are interested?” The old lady gave him a sharp look, wondering if he’d made the enquiry merely from politeness.

  “Naturally! What a godsend it would be to all our wounded! At present we have only laudanum to ease their suffering. When that runs out, we resort to getting them drunk enough to bear the pain of amputations...”

  Elizabeth shuddered, but his words were enough to launch Miss Grantham upon one of her favourite topics.

  Under cover of the discussion, Perry turned to Elizabeth. “You didn’t mean it, did you? Forbidding me to call on you, I mean...?”

  “I thought you had called upon my aunt,” she replied in a demure tone.

  “Well, I did, of course, but the invitation to Kew was meant for you.”

  “It was kind of Lady Brandon to wish to include me in her party. A pic-nic? What is that? It is unknown in Italy.”

  “We eat out-of-doors, sitting on the grass. It isn’t a formal occasion.”

  “Is it not early in the year for that? Perhaps this is the custom here in England?”

  Perry gave her his heart-stopping smile. “It may be fine tomorrow, but I don’t really care. Elizabeth, I wanted to apologise...to tell you that I had no right to speak out as I did. May we not be friends again?”

  Chapter Twelve

  Elizabeth looked full into his eyes, and what she saw there set her pulses racing. She could not mistake the tenderness in his expression. Her colour rose, and she looked away, feeling strangely breathless.

  “We cannot go to Kew as enemies,” she murmured. “I spoke in haste...”

  “So did I. I can’t think what possessed me.” Perry devoured her with his eyes. “It was unforgivable—”

  “Yet you ask me to forgive you?” She had recovered some of her composure, and she was moved to tease him.

  “Will you? I don’t know why I lost my temper, but it won’t happen again.”

  “Will you swear to that?” She smiled.

  “I mean it. Oh, Elizabeth...” Whatever he had been about to say was lost as Miss Grantham turned to him with an enquiry about the Artemis.

  “We have heard nothing, ma’am. The refit must be taking longer than we had at first imagined.”

  Miss Grantham nodded. Apparently absorbed in her discussion, she had been watching the two young people. Now she considered that matters had gone far enough. Perry’s face wore a naked look of love. He was in danger of saying too much, too soon. She had warned him to go slowly.

  Later there were other morning callers but, though Elizabeth greeted them with her usual civility, she could think of nothing except her love. Compared with Perry, the beaux who showered her with invitations paled into insignificance. She could not even recall their names when she and her aunt sat down to a late nuncheon.

  Miss Grantham returned to the subject of their first discussion.

  “I like Lord Christopher Rainham,” she announced. “Such a sensible young man! In choosing a husband you might do worse, my dear.”

  Elizabeth blushed. “I should have told you, Aunt Mary. He offered for me when we were aboard the Artemis.”

  “Both he and Wentworth? The story of your voyage grows more interesting by the minute! Why did you refuse him?”

  “I don’t love him, not in the way he wished. I’m fond of him, of course. Chris is such a dear. He helped to hide me, though both he and Perry might have lost their preferment when I was discovered.”

  “But that did not happen?”

  “No, ma’am. When I explained to Captain Robsart...”

  “When you twisted him about your little finger, you mean? What a puss you are, to be sure!”

  Elizabeth’s blush deepened. “It wasn’t anything like that. I showed him Papa’s letter. After that, he was very kind.”

  “I see.”

  “And then, you know, both Perry and Chris are fine officers,” Elizabeth continued in an earnest tone. “Perry’s seamanship is second to none, and Chris is the gunnery officer.”

  “So he told me.” Privately, Miss Grantham considered it sad that any young man should devote his experience to weapons of destruction. Rainham should have been saving lives, instead of planning to end them. He was not insensitive. His interest in the relief of pain was genuine. A sigh escaped her lips.

  “What is it, Aunt?”

  “I was thinking only that in a perfect world there would be no need for gunnery officers.”

  “But the world isn’t perfect,” Elizabeth argued. “Without her guns, the Artemis would have been blown out of the water.”

  “I know it, but I cannot like the thought of war, and as I get older I like it even less.”

  Impulsively, Elizabeth rose and kissed her. She was growing fond of her formidable aunt. “You are sure you don’t mind about the pic-nic? I can still cry off. I should be happy to go with you instead.”

  “What a fib! I
don’t believe a word of it! Go back to your book, you minx! I shall take my work into the garden. You may join me, though you must not chatter.”

  With this stern pronouncement, Miss Grantham departed to gather up her papers.

  Elizabeth’s unexpected gesture of affection had delighted her, though she did not show it.

  For the rest of the afternoon they sat together in companionable silence, enjoying the unseasonal warmth of one of those fine spring days with which London was all too rarely blessed.

  Elizabeth glanced at the cloudless sky. Would the weather hold? If it rained, the expedition to Kew would be called off, and the disappointment would be hard to bear.

  She fell to dreaming, with her book lying unread in her lap. The flame of hope within her heart was growing stronger. Even now, she could not be quite sure, but this morning it had seemed that Perry was not indifferent to her.

  She tried to crush the thought. Once before, aboard the Artemis, she had imagined something of the kind, only to find that she had been mistaken. It would be too cruel to suffer such a blow again.

  “Are you enjoying your book?” her aunt enquired.

  “Why, yes!” In her confusion Elizabeth dropped the volume to the ground. “Have you read Clarissa, ma’am?”

  “I have, but I think that you have not. In this last hour, you haven’t turned a page.”

  “I was wool-gathering,” Elizabeth admitted. “Do you find that the breeze is growing chill? Perhaps we should go indoors...”

  “You must not expect Italian weather here,” the old lady chided gently. It was clear that Elizabeth had no wish to be questioned as to the reason for her wandering thoughts. She could well guess at the subject which preoccupied the girl’s mind, but she made no comment, other than to remark that it seemed likely that the fine weather would continue.

  In the event, this proved to be the case, and it was a merry party which set out on the road to Kew next day.

  Perry led the way in the perch-phaeton, with Elizabeth beside him. Chris followed in a racing curricle, accompanied by a red-haired youth. A larger carriage, with the Brandon coat-of-arms emblazoned on the door panels, brought up the rear.

  Elizabeth stared at the driver of this vehicle when she first saw him. This could only be Sebastian, Lord Wentworth. His resemblance to Perry was striking. That straight nose, the dark hair and eyes, the firm line of his jaw, and the full mouth, with its hint of sensuality, were unmistakable.

  Perry noticed her surprise. “That’s m’brother. Ugly devil, ain’t he? Wait till you see Frederick!” He lifted a hand in greeting to the occupants of the carriage.

  Following his gesture, Elizabeth caught a glimpse of Prudence sitting opposite the Countess. The other passengers, both ladies, were unknown to her.

  “I did not think we should be so large a party,” she murmured. “Does the Countess enjoy a picnic?”

  Perry smiled down at her. “The pic-nic is not her main objective today. My mother is a dedicated gardener. In the usual way the only time she’ll leave her home is in the dead of winter, when nothing will grow. The babes were a stronger draw this time, but I’ll swear she sends instructions into Kent each day about her precious glasshouses.”

  “They have such things at Kew?”

  “The King’s gardens are famous. He bought the house ten years ago, and the grounds are a delight. Naturally, they are private, but Frederick obtained permission for my mother to see them.”

  “I haven’t met the ladies with her.”

  Perry grimaced. “The elder of the two is Mrs Aveton. Judith is her stepdaughter. My mother is fond of Judith.”

  Elizabeth felt it best to make no further enquiries about the girl, though she was curious. Was the young Miss Aveton Perry’s intended bride? It was a dispiriting thought. She couldn’t resist one further question.

  “Do you know Miss Aveton well?” she asked in a casual tone, hoping that he would regard this as no more than the polite interest of one guest in another.

  “I’ve known her all my life,” Perry told her carelessly. “She’s quiet, you know. She don’t get much of a look-in between her half-sisters and that dragon of a mother.”

  Elizabeth glanced at him from the corner of her eye, and then she chuckled.

  “You are hard on Mrs Aveton, sir.”

  “I can’t stand the woman,” he told her frankly. “A harpy, if ever I saw one! What that poor girl goes through—” He stopped and gave Elizabeth a fleeting smile. “I’m forgetting my promise to you...I was to moderate my tone today.”

  Elizabeth changed the subject. “Who is the young man with Chris?” she asked.

  “Dan is Sebastian’s adopted son. Didn’t Prudence mention him?”

  “She told me of a boy...a friend...who ran away with her.”

  “That was Dan.”

  “He looks very young. How long ago was that?”

  “Let me see. It must be five years now. Dan would have been twelve years old, or possibly thirteen. They escaped from the mill together.”

  “A mill?”

  “A cotton mill in the north of England. They were little more than slaves. Dan oiled machinery, kept the looms in working order, and so on...”

  “At twelve years old?”

  “He’d been there since he was seven...sent by the parish, apparently.”

  “That is barbaric!” Elizabeth’s eyes flashed with indignation.

  “It goes on still, and worse than ever. My brother has tried to put a stop to it in his part of the country.”

  “And Prudence?”

  “Prudence is a famous warrior for justice. She don’t forget her early life. I shouldn’t care to be the man she catches beating a child.”

  “You think highly of her, don’t you?”

  “I do!” Perry’s voice was warm with affection. “Prudence has always stood my friend. We all love her. Straight as a die, old Prudence! With her it is pound-dealing, and she ain’t afraid to speak her mind.”

  “I can imagine!” Elizabeth looked at him with dancing eyes. So much for Perry’s claim that women must not think. She knew his true opinion now. “I like her very much,” she admitted.

  “I’m glad to hear it... She’s hoping to become a friend of yours, too.” The look he gave her made her heart turn over.

  He looked as if he might have said more, but the road had widened, and Chris whipped up his horses to draw alongside the phaeton.

  “You’ll be in trouble,” Perry called out cheerfully. “Ain’t you had your instructions? I was threatened if we took to racing.”

  “Just overtaking you, old chap. If you drive much slower you’ll come to a halt. It would have been quicker for you to walk.”

  This insult could not be allowed to pass unchallenged, and Perry urged his horses to a faster pace.

  “Do you mind?” he asked Elizabeth. “If we let him overtake, we’ll never hear the end of it.”

  Laughing heartily, she shook her head. A slight breeze had brought the colour to her cheeks, and her eyes were sparkling with excitement. At that moment her pleasure was unalloyed. She wished that the drive might go on for ever.

  All too soon they were within sight of Kew, and another few minutes brought them to a suitable picnic site beside the river.

  Perry drew his team to a halt. As the grooms hurried to spread out rugs and assemble folding chairs for the ladies, he helped Elizabeth from the phaeton.

  She stared at the number of baskets which were being laid upon the grass. There seemed to be food enough to feed an army. As bottles of wine were set to cool in a convenient pool, the party gathered in a flurry of introductions.

  Prudence came to Elizabeth at once. “I must hope that Perry didn’t frighten you. When he whipped up, we were convinced that he would race in spite of all we’d said.”

  “I wasn’t afraid,” Elizabeth told her shyly.

  “Then let me make you known to Mrs Aveton and her daughter, Judith.”

  Elizabeth found herself under inspection
from a pair of hard and button-like eyes. Mrs Aveton then became effusive in her compliments, but Elizabeth was not attending.

  Her attention was fixed upon the tall and slender girl who stood a little to one side. Judith Aveton was no beauty, but there was character in that quiet face.

  Her colouring was unremarkable. In fact, her smooth hair was of that indeterminate shade between blonde and brown, sometimes described as mousy. As she gave her hand to Elizabeth, her eyelids were lowered. Then she looked up and the effect was startling.

  There was a luminous quality about those fine grey eyes, combined with a keen intelligence. The girl gave an odd impression of maturity, though Elizabeth guessed that she was little older than herself.

  Then Mrs Aveton nudged her stepdaughter into making some conventional remark. Her words were brief, and to Elizabeth’s mind she seemed to be preoccupied.

  Was she cherishing a secret passion for Perry? There was no time to consider if it might be true, for at that moment Prudence beckoned to Sebastian.

  “This is my husband,” she announced with pride. “Sebastian, Miss Grantham deserves your sympathy. She was forced to suffer Perry’s company for many a long week.”

  “A trial, indeed, but you have borne it well, Miss Grantham. Your beauty has not suffered...” He smiled at her with all the family charm, drawing her into their circle, and making her feel less of a stranger. “But what a fate for you! I hope you kept my brother in order?”

  “If she did, it would be amazing!” Prudence asserted. “We haven’t managed it yet.”

  “Pru, won’t you give me credit?” Perry exclaimed in mock reproach. “I am become a model of good behaviour. Dan, at least, will support me...”

  The red-haired boy was bowing over her hand, and Elizabeth looked at him with interest. She had thought that he must be marked for life by his early trials, but the merry blue eyes gave no hint of it.

  The entire party seemed determined to enjoy their expedition, and Elizabeth felt a growing pleasure in the company of this close-knit family. She joined in the merry chaffing, losing her initial shyness quickly.

  As they settled down to eat, she marvelled again at the spread which lay before them. Pies and pastries flanked the platters of cold sliced beef and ham, and there was even a steaming casserole of mutton packed into a hay-box.