A Lady's Point of View

by Diamond, Jacqueline

  “How do you know whether she knows them?” inquired Teddy.

  Helen laughed and answered for Rachel. “If she didn’t, she wouldn’t acknowledge them at all.”

  “Nor should she,” Edward felt obliged to rebuke, Sometimes his sister’s manner was entirely too light-hearted. “Lady Darnet knows how to conduct herself properly.”

  “Starched up.” The words appeared to have come from Aunt Emily, although the heavy-set woman hardly ever spoke.

  “Beg pardon?” said Edward, but his aunt gave no sign of noticing.

  “I didn’t mean to criticize her,” Helen put in quickly. “I know you’re fond of her, Edward, and she’s certainly a beauty. If only she would unbend a little! I’m sure she’s perfectly charming when one comes to know her.”

  Edward lapsed into silence, uncertain how to respond, for he had never developed a close enough friendship with Lady Darnet to discover whether she was charming or no.

  Should he rise now and approach the widow? Perhaps her escort was merely an old friend or relative. Could she seriously allow herself to be courted by someone so old? But then, her late husband the earl had been elderly, Edward recalled.

  Suddenly he realized that he’d been spotted. The countess and her companion were headed toward the Cockerell box. An honour indeed!

  “Oh, there they are! Over here!” cried Helen, but she wasn’t waving at Lady Darnet.

  Edward followed her gaze and saw with a shock the figures of Lady Mary Linley and her younger daughter approaching, with a groom following at a respectful distance. At the same moment, Lady Darnet observed the pair headed in the same direction and halted. After a moment’s hesitation, she and her escort moved off.

  “You haven’t invited them to join us!” cried Edward. “Helen, what can you be thinking?”

  “Oh, hush, Edward.” It was definitely Aunt Emily who spoke this time.

  “Why?” One could almost see Rachel’s ears prick up. “What’s wrong with them? Why is Lady Icicle turning away?”

  The Linleys were upon them, and with a flurry the group shifted about. Additional chairs were sent for to accommodate the new arrivals. Safely ensconced among their friends, Lady Mary signalled the groom that he might wander off and amuse himself for the next few hours.

  Even Rachel knew enough not to ask rude questions, and for a time the talk was of such impersonal matters as singers at the Opera and the latest fashions.

  The Linley chit kept her eyes lowered and said little. Milk-and-water miss indeed, not yet properly come out, Edward recalled. Reserve could be a good quality in a woman, as Lady Darnet demonstrated, but insipidity was not to be tolerated.

  He maintained a chill politeness with the Linleys. Lady Mary merited one’s respect by reason of her breeding and connexions; had she been alone, no doubt the countess and her companion would have joined the party.

  But to bring along this odious young girl, on the heels of her sister’s disgrace! Whatever had Helen been thinking, to invite them over?

  The more he regarded the girl, the more Edward took her in dislike. How dared she be so pretty, with golden-blonde curls, deep blue eyes and a hint of a smile playing perpetually around her full lips? She ought to be downcast and mousy.

  Nor could he help noticing how others of their acquaintance avoided the group, staring in amazement as Helen and Lady Mary carried on a lively conversation.

  What were they speaking of now? Something about Meg going off to the country. And a dashed good thing, too! If only her sister had gone along.

  “Edward!” Helen rapped her brother’s arm. “Woolgathering? If you’ve nothing to contribute to the conversation, then I suggest you dance with Angela.”

  Edward was too stunned to reply, and before he knew what he was about, he found himself standing up with the young lady as the band launched into a gavotte. The proposal being too awkward to decline, he offered his arm to the simpering thing and led her onto the grass, where sets were forming. Once again, he caught the disapproving gaze of Lady Darnet upon them.

  Not that he had developed a tendre for the widow, but Edward prided himself on serving as a model of respectability. He had hoped to secure a wife who would follow his example, and Lady Darnet was perfect for the role. If he’d lost his chance with her, it was because of this encroaching young mushroom.

  Edward was hard put not to glare as they moved through the figure of the dance. Why did Angela have to be so graceful and dimple so prettily when she curtseyed? It must give Lady Darnet entirely the wrong idea.

  The end of the gavotte brought with it considerable relief, until Angela said, “If you would be so kind, Mr. Cockerell, you could do me a great favour.”

  “Yes?” he asked irritably.

  “I’ve heard so much about the lovely walks one can take about the grounds, but they say it’s dangerous without a gentleman escort,” said Angela. “Could you show me one of the paths?”

  Edward glared at her. “Do you realize how improper that request is, young woman?”

  The blue eyes widened with alarm. “No. Why?”

  Edward steered her to one side, where they were not so directly in public view. “That is not a place where a gentleman takes a lady, unless they are betrothed,” he said. “Improper things may occur.”

  “Oh.” Angela bit her lip, gazing up at him with that annoyingly innocent demeanour. “I do beg your pardon, Mr. Cockerell.”

  “Furthermore, if you had the least regard for common decency—” He stopped himself abruptly, but the harm was done.

  “Pray finish your sentence.” A dangerous note lurked beneath the chit’s calm voice.

  “I should not have spoken.” He offered his arm to return her to the box, but she stood as if planted. “Miss Angela, I hope you are not about to make an unpleasant scene?”

  “I wasn’t the one who spoke of regard for common decency,” she snapped. “Pray explain yourself, sir.”

  From across the grass, Lady Darnet observed this conversation with a deepening frown. “I spoke out of turn,” Edward said, wishing only to end the confrontation. “Now let us go back.”

  “Not yet.” Angela took a deep breath. “I know people are avoiding us, and I understand that this is embarrassing to you, Mr. Cockerell.”

  “Indeed.” He could not abandon the girl, and so must hear her out.

  “But I had expected Helen’s brother to be less... less... judgmental, particularly when he is unacquainted with the facts,” she finished in a rush.

  “Oh?” This had gone far enough, Edward decided. “I believe I know enough of what happened to form my own conclusion, for I was present at Almack’s Wednesday last. Your sister, who has established a reputation for haughtiness unbefitting her station, intentionally cut a close friend of the Prince Regent, in full view of the cream of society.”

  Angela was on the point of responding when she appeared to recall something and bit her lip. “There are matters of which I cannot speak, but you are being most unfair.”

  “No, I am not.” Matters she could not speak of, indeed! Did she wish him to believe Brummell had insulted her sister? Not likely! “But your private affairs are your business. As concerns Helen, however, I will thank you to avoid her presence in public lest she too, find herself ostracized.”

  “Oh, indeed!” Anger fired through those blue eyes, turning them a deep turquoise. “Your sister thinks differently.”

  “My sister is too young to know much of the ton,” replied Edward, pleased at having regained the offensive. “She is not so unassailable as to be above reproach, should she be linked with you.”

  “And you think so highly of these friends of yours, who condemn and reject others for some imagined infraction of their rules?” she demanded. “And you wish your sister similarly to abandon her bosom bows to suit the false opinions of others?”

  “You are an ignorant child,” he returned haughtily. “Miss Angela, you are not even out yet, and I think it best that you remain that way until next seaso
n.”

  “No, I shall not!” She stamped one small foot in frustration. “Such pettiness! Such meanness of spirit! I had always believed elegant gentlemen like yourself to be noble and just, and you are a grave disappointment to me, Mr. Cockerell!”

  The thrust took him aback. How dare this little nobody chastise him this way? Yet at the same time, Edward felt a peculiar twinge of dismay, that he should have been found wanting.

  “Very well, I shall demonstrate my fairness,” he said, holding himself rigidly erect. “Explain to me how I have misunderstood your sister’s conduct, which I myself witnessed.”

  Angela swallowed and glanced over at her mother, but Lady Mary was facing the other direction.

  “Come, come,” Edward pressed. “The next dance will begin soon! We cannot stand here all night.”

  The girl faced him again, looking grimly determined. “You must promise me that nothing of what I say will be repeated to anyone save your sister, who already knows of it.”

  “Very well.” Edward prickled with curiosity, a trait he had done his best to suppress, for he despised gossip. But this was no rumour; he was speaking with the subject’s own sister. “I will repeat nothing.”

  Angela cleared her throat, a childlike gesture that he found oddly appealing. “Meg has... weak eyes.”

  Edward, who had been expecting some thunderous revelation, regarded her in perplexity. “Beg pardon?”

  “She cannot see well,” the girl explained. “She did not see Mr. Brummell.”

  “He was directly in front of her!”

  “Nevertheless, she did not see him, and Mother refuses to allow her spectacles.” Angela squared her shoulders. “If she had worn a glass to Almack’s, what would people have said?”

  “That she was young to have lost her vision, and would make a poor wife,” Edward admitted. “Or at least, some of them might have said so.”

  “Now you understand,” Angela said. “It’s disgraceful, the way women are paraded about in the marriage mart like horses at Tattersall’s, as if a happy marriage were based on the length of one’s shank and the colour of one’s coat.”

  “You must not speak that way,” he reproved in a low voice. “It is most unseemly.”

  “I beg your pardon if I’ve given offence.” Angela didn’t seem in the least contrite. “But it’s true. What choice had my sister? She must go in public without spectacles or a quizzing glass, and then she is censured when she fails to acknowledge someone.”

  Her comment contained some justice, Edward had to admit. “I suppose she cannot be held at fault, if the slight were inadvertent.”

  “Yet if she were to confess its cause, she would be no less harmed,” said Angela. “Indeed, a scandal may be forgotten, but weak eyesight endures forever!”

  This touch of pomposity issuing from those earnest lips startled a chuckle from Edward. He could see why she amused his sister.

  “You have made your point, Miss Angela,” he conceded. “I apologize for my remark, although I had no way of knowing of your sister’s weakness. I don’t agree that she would be so scorned as you think for wearing a glass, although no doubt some would find her wanting. In any event, I shan’t begrudge you Helen’s companionship.”

  “Thank you.” She laid her hand on his arm rather stiffly, and together they walked back to the box.

  If Edward thought he had finished with the business of the Linleys, however, he was very much mistaken. Not more than a half hour later, Helen clapped her hands together and said, “I have it! Edward, we shall introduce Angela to society ourselves.”

  “You’ve gone mad,” he declared before he could stop himself.

  “Edward!” cried his sister in horror.

  For the second time that evening, he blushed deeply. “Lady Mary, my apologies.”

  “Indeed.” Helen glared at her brother and then pressed her advantage. “We shall give a garden party at our house in Kensington next week for that purpose. Everyone knows how lovely our gardens are at this time of year, and they will attend out of curiosity if for no other reason.”

  “You are too kind.” Lady Mary looked as if she would prefer to decline, but dared not.

  “Helen, you’re wonderful!” Angela flung her arms around the older girl.

  Under ordinary circumstances Edward would have refused to consider it. This project was most ill advised, and could harm both his and his sister’s prospects for an advantageous match. Indeed, he suspected his suit with Lady Darnet was near lost already.

  Yet after his rude remark in front of Lady Mary, he could not object again, particularly now that he understood the elder daughter had been blameless. “Very well,” he said with what grace he could summon.

  It was with relief that Edward rose to bid the Linleys goodnight, and watched them walk away with their protective groom. His gaze lingered for a moment on the figure of Miss Angela. What a surprise she had turned out to be, standing up to him that way. Her vigorous defence of a beloved sister spoke well for her, and brought out his most chivalrous instincts.

  This business of a garden party was going entirely too far, but they had promised, and he could not back out.

  Well, reflected Edward as he resumed his seat, after next week he would avoid the unpredictable Miss Angela. If fortune smiled, perhaps she might make a match quickly with some younger son of a lord, and retire from the social scene.

  Why that thought did not entirely please him, he could not have said.

  Chapter Seven

  Meg awoke early on Wednesday, blinking in confusion as she studied her comfortable surroundings. Where was she? This certainly wasn’t the bedroom she shared with Angela in London, nor was it the attic room of their cottage in Derby.

  Lord Bryn! She sat bolt upright. Good heavens, it hadn’t been a dream!

  In the full sunshine pouring through the window, Meg’s situation struck her as even more precarious than it had the previous night. She was no governess, and what would happen when the marquis discovered that fact?

  She rested her head on her knees, letting her soft brown curls tumble about her face. How pleasant Brynwood seemed in comparison to living with the Barkers, and how free of the pressures that had pounded her from every side in London.

  What would Lady Mary say? The question reminded Meg that her mother and sister had planned an outing to Vauxhall the previous night. Had it come off? Had they been slighted? She wished she could know at once, and hoped they’d respond to her letter immediately.

  Perhaps a note was already on its way from London to Derby, and she would miss it!

  Indecisively Meg rose and dressed.

  A thin-faced maid, whose name she believed was Bertha, knocked timidly. “Will you be taking breakfast with the children, miss?”

  “Yes, that’s an excellent idea,” Meg said.

  She didn’t fancy meeting his lordship again in her present state of mind. Already she was beginning to perceive the dangers inherent in living in the household of an attractive, unmarried man.

  It might well be considered improper, even though the marquis didn’t strike her as the type of blackguard to force his attentions on a lone female. Indeed, she couldn’t imagine that he would need to force his presence on anyone. The man’s magnetism showed itself in every move, in every expression on his handsome face

  Dear me, she reflected as she rose and went to the nursery. I must guard my thoughts well. This man belongs to someone else.

  To Meg’s relief, the sunny morning faces of Tom and Vanessa quickly drew her mind to more comfortable topics. Both seemed genuinely glad to see her, and although she doubted they had permanently reformed, at least it was apparent that for the moment they accepted her.

  Meg was surprised how easily she slipped into her new role, teaching them to read from books that she found on the schoolroom shelves. The children were intelligent if undisciplined, and quickly applied themselves to their lessons. Even the rambunctious Vanessa kept her worst excesses under control, so long as Meg
agreed to answer a question now and again about life in London and how a young lady went about becoming an Incomparable.

  “I shall be a Diamond of the First Water,” declared the girl when they halted for luncheon.

  “They won’t let you go swimming in town,” protested her younger brother, misunderstanding the phrase. “Why would you want to do a thing like that, anyway?”

  Vanessa rolled her eyes in disgust, and Meg laughed. “A Diamond of the First Water is a young lady who is highly regarded,” she told Tom, “as I’m sure your sister will be, by all the gentlemen.”

  He wrinkled his nose. “Ugh. I shall never hang upon ladies. I shall be like Uncle Andrew and live here by myself.”

  Meg merely smiled, and handed him more bread and cheese.

  The next few days passed with similar pleasantness. Lord Bryn remained a polite, dark shadow along the outskirts of their awareness, only occasionally intruding upon the schoolroom.

  Despite her resolve to push his lordship from her thoughts, Meg was aware of him always. Did he watch her, or was that only her imagination? If not, why did she feel a new sense of herself as a woman whenever he came near? Never before had she noticed the way her skirts swished when she turned, or how artfully the bodice was sculpted across her bosom. Never before had her skin prickled as if a feather were being run across it.

  When she dared to observe the marquis directly, she noted a restlessness to his movements that reminded her of a caged creature. He seemed drawn to the schoolroom, where he displayed undisguised warmth toward the children. With Meg, he was more guarded, rarely meeting her gaze directly, yet from time to time he would take her elbow, or brush her shoulder as he moved past, small unintentional touches that fairly jolted through her.

  At other moments, when the marquis believed himself unobserved, she would catch upon his face an expression of sorrow mingled with something she guessed to be self-loathing. Had this anything to do with the Peninsula and the injury to his leg?

  He was a many-faceted man, unlike the shallow pleasure-seeking bucks Meg had met in London. She understood now why Lord Bryn avoided going to town. But there were other things about him beyond her understanding.