So very considerable was that sum that Lavinia concluded that her numerous comments about dowdiness had not fallen on barren soil. She wished she could feel a greater gladness that Sherris was at last to be comfortably bestowed. Unfortunately, Lavinia could not stifle a certain resentment. Unstylish, unfashionable Lady Sherry had somehow managed to ensnare one of the most eligible and elusive gentlemen in all of London.
A gentleman, indeed, who could generally be relied upon to divert one with the latest on-dits. Even that pleasure would soon be denied Lavinia. Sherris would be privileged to keep abreast of current gossip, for which she didn’t care, unlike Lavinia, who liked to keep in touch with what was happening in her world. She inquired of Lord Viccars whether it was true that the regent had acquired the services of Marie Antoine Careme, master of the uniquely French art of haute cuisine. Lord Viccars spoke briefly of the chef, who had learned his art in Napoleon’s kitchens, then related an amusing account of Princess Caroline, the regent’s estranged spouse, who was currently embarked on a pilgrimage through the Holy Land and had astounded the multitudes by entering Jerusalem astride an ass.
Lavinia made only perfunctory responses. She was wishing, very uncharitably, that her sister-in-law had never come to town. Now she must share Lord Viccars with Lady Sherry, as she already shared her husband and her household and even her dog. Prinny displayed a large fondness for the book room of late. Not that Lavinia wanted Prinny to dote on her similarly, but the beast had been a present from Sir Christopher to her, not to his sister, and therefore Lavinia could not help but feel that the hound owed her some respect. As did Aunt Tulliver and Daffodil. Principles were involved. In some obscure manner, Sherris was at fault for all of Lavinia’s discontent.
Lord Viccars was looking at her oddly. Lavinia supposed she’d failed to make an expected response. Perhaps Andrew might be persuaded to explain what it was about Sherris that had inspired him to toss the handkerchief in her direction after neatly sidestepping so many other matrimonial traps.
Had Sherris set a trap for him? Lavinia realized she knew very little of her sister-in-law. She inquired whether his lordship would care to partake of some refreshment.
Lord Viccars was not in need of refreshment of the manner that Lady Childe would offer him, although a bumper of diabolino would not have come amiss. However, it was obvious that Lavinia had something on her mind. First she had talked his ear off, then subjected him to a silence so intense that she might altogether have forgotten his presence. Andrew could only conclude that Lavinia and Lady Sherry were again at odds. As he was the confidant of both, it was clearly his duty to try to pour oil on troubled waters. He agreed that he should enjoy a cup of tea.
Andrew was very quiet today. Perhaps he, too, was preoccupied with the contemplation of bride clothes. It made Lavinia very melancholy to think that she would be deprived of her dear friend. Of course Sherris would interfere with the friendship once the knot was tied. Certainly Lavinia would have in her place.
But the knot was not yet tied, and Lavinia would not be denied the comfort of his companionship so soon. Hoping to disarm him, she ventured a remark, and they spoke for some moments of the falling prices of iron and copper and the decline of other exports; of the unemployed colliers at Bilston Moor, the molders at Merthyr Tydfil, the Spitalfields silk-weavers, the Leicestershire stockingers, and the Nottinghamshire hosiers, all of whom were vociferous about their hunger and their discontent.
After a few moments of this conversation, both participants were understandably depressed. Lord Viccars attempted to lighten the atmosphere by inquiring whether Lavinia had read Glenvaron.
“I most certainly have not!” Shocked by the suggestion that she might have read that singular libel published by Caro Lamb about her family and friends, Lavinia had recourse to her vinaigrette. “I doubt that anyone would read the wretched book except to assure themselves that they are not among the unfortunate beings caricatured within! What a shocking thing. But what else could one expect from a female who pursued Byron so shamelessly that she even disguised herself as his page?” The thought of Lord Byron, suspected of all manner of abominations including homosexuality and incest, caused Lavinia to apply once more to her vinaigrette. “I shudder to recall that I actually spoke with the man several times! He and Christopher belonged to the same club. Not that Christopher had anything to do with him after the awful truth came out.” Lavinia did not add that this rebuff had more to do with her wishes than with Sir Christopher’s. He had been inclined to view the matter as a tempest in a teapot.
A tempest in a teapot? It was a very good thing Lavinia wasn’t the sort of female who leaped to conclusions, or else she might start wondering if her husband’s affection for his own sister wasn’t suspect. Sir Christopher had actually inquired whether some unkindness on Lavinia’s part had caused Sherry’s withdrawal from family life. Unkindness! As if Lavinia hadn’t done everything humanly possible to make Sherry feel welcome in this house. “So you are to be felicitated?” she inquired.
Andrew stared blankly at his hostess. He had no notion of what she was speaking about. But he knew what he wished to speak to her about, and this seemed as good a moment in which to do so as the next. “You must not be so critical of Lady Sherry,” he said. “She means no harm. Remember that not everyone has had your advantages, puss! Though it hardly seems the thing, Sherry long had the managing of her own affairs and therefore it is difficult for her to play a subordinate role now. As for her eccentricities—well, we would hardly wish her to be in the common way.”
“Hah!” exclaimed Lavinia with righteous anger, thereby so startling Lord Viccars that he nearly spilled the contents of his teacup onto his superbly tailored lap. “I should say Sherris isn’t in the common way! Certainly she has proven herself capable of managing her own affairs. And I will say to you, Andrew, though I should not, that you must take care lest you discover that you are not!”
Clearly, Lavinia was out of humor. Lord Viccars could not imagine why. Nor did he understand why she kept referring to his affairs. She had intimated earlier that they needed setting in order, he recalled. Andrew was not aware that his affairs were out of order. He wondered what she’d meant.
And then an explanation presented itself, almost causing him to drop his teacup for a second time. Could Lavinia have referred to Marguerite? A moment’s frantic reflection reassured him that Lavinia could not possibly know of his petite amie. And even if she had somehow learned of Marguerite’s existence, she would surely not be so unladylike as to mention it. Would she? Man of the world though he was, Andrew was startled that Lavinia’s loyalty to Sherris had prompted her to trespass thus the boundaries of good taste.
Lord Viccars did not wish to discuss the topic. He owed explanation to no one for the fact that he kept a high flyer for his amusement. After all, it was only human for a gentleman to wish to enjoy a bit of frolic every now and then.
Not that he had had much time to frolic these past few days. Andrew had not been seen in his usual haunts of late: not at Weston’s or Hoby’s or Locke’s, not in Brook’s Club or White’s, not inspecting horseflesh at Tattersall’s, not weighing himself on the great scales at Berry Brothers wine shop, and not disporting himself with the fair Marguerite. He had been inspecting quite a different part of town, of which he had hitherto been only peripherally aware: that part of London that lay beyond the boundaries of the polite world. Enlightening as these explorations had been, at the end of his investigations Andrew knew little more of Captain Toby than he had when he set out to run him to ground.
It was as if the highwayman had been whisked off the face of the earth. Perhaps Londoners were fond enough of Captain Toby that they’d told deliberate tarradiddles to those stalwart representatives of the law who’d set out in pursuit. Or perhaps the rogue had friends in high places who had tucked him away somewhere safe.
Still, Andrew would not despair just yet. He had come across one interesting bit of information: the highwayman’s dox
y had possessed red hair. He thought of Marguerite and Lady Sherry and mused upon the determination of Dame Fortune to introduce red-headed females into his life.
This train of thought reminded Lord Viccars of the purpose of his visit. He wished to speak with Sir Christopher on a matter of grave importance. But first he asked, “Is Lady Sherry in?”
“Sherris, always Sherris!” Lavinia made a moue. “What is it that keeps her so constantly on everyone’s mind? You will make me think that my company does not content you, Andrew. I should not be surprised, I suppose! In answer to your question, I’m sure I don’t know whether Sherris is in or not. We’ve seen precious little of her since the day of the highwayman’s escape.”
Nor had Lord Viccars, now he thought of it. “Indeed.”
Did her companion look sympathetic? Lavinia was not convinced. She tried harder to rouse him to a sense of fellow feeling. “Yes, and where was Sherris the morning of the hanging? Her disappearance has still not been satisfactorily explained. You will discover that it is not easy to live with a writing person, Andrew. One must grow accustomed to being treated like a stick of furniture. Sherris spends hours in her book room, seldom even appearing for meals. If one could read what she is writing, it would be a different thing, but Sherris very selfishly refuses to share even with her family the product of her busy pen!”
Lord Viccars eyed his hostess. He had seen these little temper tantrums before. It was best to let them run their course. “Perhaps Sherry doesn’t want anyone to read what she has written until she is satisfied with it,” he suggested diplomatically.
Lavinia was not persuaded. Previously, Sherris had not been so reticent—had even admitted that she profited from Lavinia’s criticism and advice. Perhaps she was writing something of which her family would not approve. Perhaps the highwayman was only a pretext and the wretch was in fact penning an expose of her family and friends à la Caro Lamb.
Lavinia would not tolerate it. As long as she had breath in her body, there would be no vile scandal attached to this family, this house. “No doubt Sherris is in her book room even now. I’m sure she’ll wish to see you, Andrew. Indeed, I’ll fetch her to you myself!” Even as she spoke, Lavinia hurried from the room. She had always deplored her sister-in-law’s lack of proper manners, but now she realized that her character was as gravely flawed.
She would make certain that Sherris did not refuse to see Lord Viccars, thereby lending her assistance to romance. Thereby also availing herself of the opportunity to peruse the pages of Sherry’s current manuscript while Sherry was safely belowstairs.
After Lavinia left the drawing room, Lord Viccars sank back into his chair. He lapsed again into thought, not of his fiancée but of the highwayman who had captured the imagination of so many Londoners. Where the deuce could the scoundrel have gotten to? Andrew would find out or know the reason why. This investigation offered him a challenge the like of which he had not enjoyed for some time.
Sir Christopher walked into the room then. “You are just the person I wished to see, Chris.”
“Of course you did, you lucky fellow!” Sir Christopher clapped Lord Viccars on the back. “So I am among the first to wish you happy, eh?”
Wish him happy? Still caught up in thoughts of Captain Toby and a certain red-haired doxy, Andrew was very confused. Then Sir Christopher made mention of bride clothes and St. George’s, Hanover Square. A suspicion blossomed in Lord Viccars’s mind, causing him to feel as though the ground had shifted suddenly beneath his feet. “Lady Sherry!” he murmured.
Sir Christopher recalled his own overwrought emotional state when he had at last gathered the courage to pop the question and his Livvy had said yes. “Don’t fret! You have my blessing!” he said reassuringly as he clapped his prospective brother-in-law again on the back, then bore him off to the library for a frank discussion of dowries and portions and other matters pertaining to the marital estate.
Chapter Twelve
Purposefully, Lavinia tapped on the book room door, again and then again. She heard the murmur of voices and was therefore not deceived that no one was within.
Closer application of her ear to the door did not enable her to make out specific words. An attempt to peer through the keyhole availed her only a glimpse of some dark cloth. Lavinia rose from her knees and tapped once more, peremptorily. “Sherris! Open this door at once!”
The door did open then, to Lavinia’s surprise, just as she had decided to give it a good kick. Sherry stood in the doorway, an annoyed expression on her face. “For heaven’s sake, have you run mad, Lavinia? Whatever is this fuss about?”
Run mad, had she? Ha! Lavinia was no bedlamite, though she was not certain there was not one in this house. She peered over Sherry’s shoulder into the book room, where Daffodil and Aunt Tulliver were putting together a map of Europe on the old counting table while Prinny dozed on the settee. “You are responsible for that beast’s atrocious manners. I won’t tolerate him making messes on my furniture. Nor will I tolerate you making messes, either, Sherris, or our dirty laundry aired in public, or our names bandied vulgarly about on every tongue!’’
Since Lady Sherry had no notion that Lavinia had decided she was writing an exposé, she looked in some bewilderment at the hand that clutched her arm. “I wish you would tell me what has sent you into the boughs.”
“I am not in the boughs!” Lavinia snapped, with a great deal less veracity than might be expected from the daughter of a duke. With, in truth, very much the shrill tones of a fishwife.
Those shrill tones awakened Prinny from his nap. Even when it was raised in anger—especially raised in anger—he knew his mama’s voice. Eager that she should not think him guilty of neglecting her, he lumbered down from the settee and across the room. Since Lady Sherry blocked the doorway, he contented himself with gazing soulfully at Lavinia and wagging his tail.
Lavinia looked at that pink, damp lolling tongue and shuddered. She took a deep breath, left off shaking Sherry’s arm, and sought to compose herself. “I have a right to know what you are writing, Sherris. This is my house. You would not have this room at all if not for me. Therefore I think it only fair that—”
“If not for you?” Sherry interrupted, growing annoyed in her turn. She stepped aside, allowing Prinny to push past her, then followed the dog into the hallway as Lavinia hastily backed away from him and attempted to fend off her pet. “Am I mistaken, Lavinia? I thought it was Christopher who provided me with this chamber for my own use. Over your objections, as I recall. Has my brother changed his mind? Am I now to be denied my privacy? Perhaps it is a matter that he and I should discuss.”
This suggestion filled Lavinia with such panic that she failed to sidestep Prinny, who took advantage of his mama’s abstraction to press close to her side. Lavinia knew Sir Christopher would be angry with her for badgering his sister, for so her actions must appear. Not that Lavinia had been doing anything of the sort, but she had no doubt that sly Sherris took advantage of every opportunity to present Lavinia in a bad light.
“You mistake my meaning,” Lavinia said stiffly, having counted to a hundred under her breath, thus enabling her to speak in a voice that was almost normal, albeit strained, in pitch. “I only wished to tell you that Lord Viccars has called to speak with you. He awaits you in the drawing room. But since you are determined to interpret my concern as a desire to trespass, I shall wash my hands of the affair!”
Sherry did not take advantage of this opportunity to apologize for her rudeness, but instead folded her arms and looked stern. Lavinia would be given no opportunity to peruse Sherry’s manuscript this day.
Other days remained. Or nights, after the household was asleep. If only she could gain possession of a key.
Lest Sherris guess her purpose, Lavinia must feign disinterest now. She turned, head held high, to make a dignified retreat. Unfortunately for Lavinia’s intentions, Prinny had placed a great paw on the delicate flounce of her pretty gown. As must happen when irresistible force
meets immoveable object, something had to give way. In this instance, it was Lavinia’s flounce, which parted from her gown with a loud tear.
Lavinia stared at her tattered hem. This additional frustration was more than she could bear. “Oh, you wretched beast! You brute, you oaf!” she wailed. Prinny took refuge behind Lady Sherry barely in time to escape the humiliation of having his mama box his furry ears. Lavinia gathered up the remnants of her dignity, and her favorite morning dress, and proceeded angrily down the stairs.
Sherry contemplated Prinny. He gazed woefully back at her. She could hardly praise the beast for having routed Lavinia, but the truth was that Sherry was feeling very much in charity with him. Much as she tried not to stand on bad terms with her brother’s wife, the sad truth was that Lavinia could drive a saint to try to swear the devil out of hell. And what bee had Lavinia gotten in her bonnet now to come pounding on the door like that, startling them all very nearly out of their wits and necessitating that their house-guest should be shoved willy-nilly into a closet? Lavinia was suspicious, it seemed—but of what, and why?
Yes, and Lavinia was very likely to return for another skirmish if Sherry failed to make an appearance in the drawing room. Too, Sherry could hardly refuse to see Andrew now that she had encouraged her family to think that they would soon wed.
Indeed, Andrew must be informed of this happy development. It was not an interview to which she looked forward much. Much as Lavinia might deplore her manners, Sherry had been sufficiently well brought up that she knew better than to do what she had done. And what she was about to do. But she could think of no other reasonable resolution to the imbroglio in which she now found herself.
Lady Sherry and the Highwayman Page 9