The Beau and the Bluestocking: Romantic intrigue in Regency London

by Alice Chetwynd Ley

  ‘But, had I not forced the issue,’ he protested, easing the horses to a quiet pace which made few claims on his attention, ‘you would have refused me, wouldn’t you?’

  She made no answer.

  ‘Come; you were given the name Alethea, and that means “Truth”, does it not?’

  She nodded. ‘But I’ve learnt, sir, that truth is a commodity to be dealt in sparingly.’

  ‘Well, I concede you that, in a general way, of course. In this instance, you may safely answer my question truthfully, however. I promise not to take offence.’

  ‘Why should I put myself to so much trouble, when you seem to know the answer?’ She relented sufficiently to give him a small, twisted smile.

  ‘So you would have refused to come? May I ask why?’

  ‘You may, but I don’t undertake to reply.’ She spoke repressively.

  He surveyed her with an amused light in his eyes. ‘I do believe, Miss Newnham — odd as it may seem — that you dislike me,’ he stated, in his most elegant drawl.

  ‘I hardly know you, Sir James.’

  ‘But obviously you dislike what you do know. Pray tell me, ma’am, what I have done to incur your displeasure?’

  ‘You talk a deal of nonsense, sir!’ She flushed a little under his amused scrutiny. ‘Pray let us discuss some other topic.’

  ‘But of course! You don’t like nonsense, I collect? You never indulge in any conversation of which the great Dr Johnson himself would not approve?’

  To his surprise, she laughed with evident enjoyment.

  ‘You are absurd! It is positively of no use to try and tease me, because, you know, I have no less than six brothers about me at home!’ She sobered, then added thoughtfully. ‘But all the same, you have surprised me.’

  He gave a theatrical sigh. ‘And I suppose it’s not of the slightest use to ask you why. You are shockingly bad at answering questions. I wonder they did not beat you at school. But I suppose that rarely happens at girls’ schools — a pity, one sometimes feels.’

  ‘Well, it certainly didn’t happen at the Misses More’s school, thank goodness,’ said Alethea. ‘And I propose to ignore your final comment, sir!’

  ‘As you ignore most of my questions,’ he pointed out, flourishing the whip at her. ‘Now, pray don’t be so provoking! Do tell me why you said I had surprised you.’

  She was feeling decidedly more in charity with him now, so she did not hesitate. ‘Oh, because you were teasing me,’ she admitted. ‘Somehow I did not connect you with anything of the kind. Not in a kindly way, that is —’ she broke off, conscious of having made a blunder.

  He raised one eyebrow, a pained expression on his face. ‘Egad! She thinks me a very monster — no wonder she didn’t wish to drive out with me today, or any day, come to that! I am shocked, madam, shocked to the core that you should hold such a wretched opinion of me.’

  ‘More of your nonsense,’ she said, smiling a little shamefacedly, for she realised that her tongue had outrun her civility. ‘But in excuse I must urge that — as I said before — I do not know you very well.’

  ‘Then we must remedy that,’ he said, promptly. ‘I can no longer endure to leave you in any doubt as to the true amiability — not to say nobility — of my disposition. It shall be my earnest endeavour from this day forward to see that you are afforded every opportunity of studying my character at first hand. I have observed already that you are a keen student of human nature. And you may as well have a willing subject on which to exercise your talents, don’t you agree, ma’am?’

  She felt all her antagonism towards him ebbing away, and her grey eyes were dancing as she raised her face to his. ‘It certainly seems a reasonable supposition,’ she agreed, demurely.

  ‘Then you will drive out with me again tomorrow?’ he pleaded.

  She was quite surprised how difficult it was to refuse, but prudence won. ‘Thank you, but I have a previous engagement.’

  ‘Then possibly on Monday?’ he persisted.

  ‘I’m sorry, but we are to go to the play that evening and dine with the Fothergills. There would not be time.’

  ‘But at this rate,’ he protested, in his usual drawl, ‘we shall never contrive to become better acquainted. Egad, I see I must carry you off by force — there’s nothing else for it.’

  She was still laughing at this outrageous statement when a vehicle approaching from the other direction pulled up beside them. Glancing across at it, they saw Vivyan Allerton with Lydia seated beside him, her eyes wide in astonishment.

  ‘Gracious, is it you, Alethea?’ she asked, in a shrill tone. ‘Well, this is a surprise, to be sure!’

  Alethea quite expected a display of temperament on Lydia’s part once they were alone again indoors, but to her surprise little was said.

  ‘So Beau Devenish took pity on you, did he?’ remarked her cousin. ‘Well, I hope you won’t be refining too much upon that, because I’ve already warned you how it is with him.’

  ‘You need have no alarms on my account,’ replied Alethea carelessly.

  ‘I dare say, but for all that he’s prodigiously attractive! And you wouldn’t be the first female by any means who had meant to keep a cool head, and ended by becoming hopelessly infatuated.’

  ‘Sir James Devenish is not at all the kind of man who has the power to raise the slightest interest in me.’

  ‘Who is, then, I wonder?’ mocked Lydia. ‘I suppose you’ll say you find your staid poet more to your liking? He is the greatest bore in nature, and not to be compared to Devenish in any way!’

  ‘One can only be thankful for that,’ retorted Alethea, drily. ‘But I wish, Lydia, you would rid yourself of the notion that I am set on attaching myself to some gentleman or other. Nothing is further from my thoughts, I assure you.’

  ‘Ay, so you say, but I think it a great piece of nonsense, cousin. However, we have said all this before, and I am not in the mood for argument.’

  ‘Did you have a pleasant drive with Mr Allerton?’ asked Alethea, glad to turn the subject.

  Lydia’s face glowed. ‘Oh, delightful! I feared, you know, that he was taking too much for granted after yesterday, and that I might have trouble with him. But he was so gay and amusing, exactly in the way that Devenish is, and though his looks told me he admired me, he didn’t utter one single embarrassing word. I think,’ she added, flippantly, ‘that I shall make him my new flirt — one must have someone, and I am quite tired of Devenish, who never means anything.’

  ‘Is that quite fair?’ asked Alethea, before she could stop herself.

  ‘Fair?’ Lydia stared, then laughed, ‘All’s fair in love and war, don’t they say?’

  Alethea shrugged, tired of the conversation, and picked up a book. It was none of her business, but she could not help feeling some qualms for Vivyan Allerton. His feelings for Lydia obviously went deeper than the ready admiration she aroused in most men; and although Lydia herself could evidently see this, she was still not prepared to spare him.

  The two went driving together again on the following day, Lydia looking charming in a russet riding dress and jaunty feathered hat to match. She had kept Allerton waiting almost half an hour while she put the finishing touches to this costume; but he betrayed no impatience, in the meantime chatting amiably to Mrs Manbury and Alethea in the parlour. As he rose to greet his dilatory passenger, Alethea noticed the glad light that sprang to his eyes. She looked quickly away, embarrassed. It was altogether too bad of Lydia.

  She herself spent a pleasant afternoon with the two Allerton girls, although the arrangement had been made hurriedly after she had told Devenish of a previous engagement for today. She wished to make quite certain that, if he should call, he would find her from home. She was uncertain what caprice could have made him call to take her out yesterday, but she had no intention of allowing it to be repeated. Let him play his sophisticated games with someone who could enjoy them. According to Lydia, there must be plenty of candidates.

  Chapter XI
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  Alethea had been looking forward to her visit to the theatre, but her enjoyment was somewhat overcast by the dinner party at Caroline’s which preceded it. Lydia’s sister seemed in a particularly scratchy mood, continually arguing over trivialities with her husband, who did his best to placate her by turning the other cheek. Alethea reflected impatiently that, although this was no doubt exemplary conduct for a host, it was obviously the worst way of dealing with Caroline. Every soft answer seemed to inflame her bitterness and increase her bickering. A sharp retort, if bad manners on his part, might have reminded his wife of what was due to her guests.

  Lydia and Allerton seemed unaffected by this display of matrimonial disharmony. For the most part, they were completely absorbed in their own conversation, which seemed to be affording Lydia a great deal of amusement. Allerton did not laugh nearly so often, but his expression radiated pleasure. Evidently he was bent on entertaining his partner, and succeeding in spite of the uncongenial atmosphere surrounding them.

  Unfortunately, Mr Tracy was unable to throw off the effects of his surroundings in the same way. A shy man at best, he became more awkward and tongue-tied than usual, even though Alethea tried her hardest to initiate conversations on literary topics likely to interest him. He simply answered her in monosyllables and stared down at his plate; one might have thought that he found food the most interesting object in the room, but for the fact that he ate very little.

  For some members of the party, at any rate, it was a welcome relief when the meal at last came to an end and they all set out for the theatre. Once they entered the box, Alethea speedily forgot all that had gone before in her eager anticipation of what was to come. She paid scant heed to her cousins, who kept craning over the side to scan the audience and exclaim whenever they recognised someone.

  ‘There is Sheridan in the next box with the Linley family,’ Caroline informed them, scarcely troubling to lower her voice. ‘Oh, and look, Lydia! Devenish is over there, with Calver, and some others whom I don’t know — yes, they’ve seen us.’

  She broke off for a moment to acknowledge the bows from a box opposite before beginning her commentary afresh.

  ‘Devenish acquiring a little culture, eh?’ asked Allerton, with a laugh. ‘That’s a new start, egad!’

  ‘But everyone comes to see Mrs Siddons,’ said Lydia. ‘She’s quite the latest craze.’

  ‘Well, Devenish usually likes to make the fashions, not follow ’em. I’ll wager he’s got other reasons for being here tonight than watching the Divine Sarah perform,’ replied Allerton, knowingly.

  ‘For shame, Vivyan!’ Lydia dimpled at him. ‘I dare say you judge the poor creature by yourself. Tell me, do you have other reasons for being here?’

  For a moment his eyes rested on her bewitching face with an intense look which made her catch her breath. Then he looked away, laughed, and answered her in a light tone.

  ‘One reason only, but a very good reason.’

  She was too accomplished a flirt to let this pass. ‘Oh, but I must know it — I am beyond anything curious! Do, pray, tell me!’

  ‘I think you know it already,’ he said, keeping his glance turned away from her provocative smile. ‘But see, the curtain is rising.’

  There was a momentary hush as the curtains swished back revealing the stage; but the chatter soon broke out again, though not quite so loudly as before. Alethea turned to Paul Tracy with a gesture of annoyance. Playgoing was an infrequent pleasure in her life, and she wanted to become completely immersed in the play from the very start, not to be distracted by a chattering audience. His answering look showed her that he sympathised with this view. She felt vaguely comforted; since coming to London, she had found few people to share any of her preferences or opinions.

  But when Sarah Siddons herself appeared on stage, the silence was such as even Alethea and Mr Tracy could approve. Although the actress was not much above middle height, she seemed to dominate the scene. She had strong rather than beautiful features, with a particularly brilliant eye and a mobile expression, and her hair was red. Her movements, though graceful, were never languid, but performed with the energy required by her part. But it was her voice which carried the audience with her, spellbound; a voice which ranged through all the emotions from tender melancholy to impassioned fervour.

  The play was an old favourite by Southerne entitled Isabella or The Fatal Marriage, and it gave full scope for the pathos and emotion which the actress was so well able to convey. The plot concerned a poverty-stricken widow who re-married to provide security for her child, only to discover afterwards that her previous husband was still living. The emotional impact of the play was considerably heightened by the fact that the part of the child was being played by Mrs Siddons’s own eight-year-old son, Henry.

  The first act ended with an awed hush from the audience. Then shouts and plaudits began to ring out, and it was some time before people started to move from their seats to stretch their legs before the second act began.

  Alethea and Mr Tracy strolled out with the rest, deep in discussion of the play. They were both so absorbed in their conversation that they barely interrupted it to respond to the greetings of Beau Devenish and Lord Calver, who had come over to join their party.

  Devenish moved over to Allerton’s side, as Lydia’s attention was caught by someone else for a moment.

  ‘Who the devil is that fellow?’ he asked.

  ‘What fellow? Oh, Tracy, you mean. You’ve just been presented to him this minute, my dear chap.’

  ‘I know his name, yes,’ drawled Devenish. ‘But what is he, and how does Miss Newnham come to be so very thick with him?’

  ‘According to Lydia, they met at one of these Bluestocking Soirees of Mrs Montagu’s that Miss Newnham attended,’ replied Allerton in an undertone. ‘Fellow’s a poet, I collect — would you believe it? Curst rum customers they get at those gatherings, by all accounts! Wouldn’t catch me going there at any price, give you my word.’

  ‘A poet, eh? I’ve never heard of him.’

  ‘No, well, hardly likely you would, old fellow, now is it? I’ve yet to learn that you’re a keen student of literature, what?’

  ‘It may be, dear boy, that you have much to learn about me,’ reproved Devenish, taking a pinch of snuff and eyeing Paul Tracy intently under cover of the manoeuvre. ‘What kind of chap is he, would you say? You’ve spent most of the evening in his company, so you must have some idea. I must say he don’t look one to set the Thames afire.’

  ‘That he’s not,’ replied Allerton, with a laugh. ‘Stuffy, that’s how I’d sum him up — when he’s not positively tongue-tied, that’s to say.’

  ‘Which he’s certainly not at present,’ said Devenish, watching Alethea’s animated expression as she listened to something Tracy was saying.

  ‘Oh, well, Miss Newnham understands his kind of conversation. They seem to go on famously. But, I say, James, did you ever see anything like that coat the fellow’s wearing? I ask you!’

  ‘Not since I was breeched, certainly. Seem to think that style was high fashion then. Still, the chap must have something to make Miss Newnham hang on his every word.’

  Allerton stared, then chuckled. ‘I say, can it be that you’re jealous, old fellow? I’d no notion the girl meant so much to you, must say!’

  ‘What she means to me,’ said Devenish, languidly, ‘is that she’s a quarry who seems to be eluding my grasp. And that, you know —’ he shook his head solemnly — ‘is something we can’t have. No, decidedly not. Instincts of the chase, and all that.’

  ‘Seems to me —’ began Allerton, then stopped. Devenish raised an inquiring eyebrow. ‘Well, must you?’ went on the other, slightly on the defensive. ‘Mean to say — she’s a nice girl, a sincere girl, and not really up to snuff. Intelligent as they come, oh, yes, but not quite versed in the ways of the Town. She might — well, she might get hurt,’ he finished, quickly, reddening a trifle under Devenish’s mocking gaze.

  ‘You’ve b
een seeing a good deal of the fair Lydia lately,’ remarked Devenish, by way of reply.

  ‘Yes. Have you any objection?’

  ‘Not the least in the world, for myself.’

  ‘What d’you mean?’ asked Allerton, quickly.

  ‘Only —’ Devenish paused to flick a speck of dust from his sleeve — ‘only that perhaps I, too, dislike seeing people get hurt.’

  Allerton did not answer for a moment; then he said jerkily, ‘I thought perhaps — if I didn’t rush things —’

  Devenish shook his head. ‘They mean her for Bedwyn,’ he said gently.

  ‘Bedwyn! Good God, you can’t mean that! Of all the infamous —’

  At this point they were interrupted by the others, and soon they all resumed their places for the second act. During the rest of the play, the audience sat spellbound while Mrs Siddons played upon their emotions with such consummate artistry that as the curtain fell, there was scarcely a dry eye in the house. Caroline, making copious use of her own handkerchief, drew the attention of the others to the next box, where Sheridan was standing to applaud, the tears streaming freely down his face.

  When they at last emerged from the theatre to seek their carriages, the three girls were shivering a little; though whether from exposure to the night air or to their recent emotional experience, none of them could determine.

  Chapter XII

  During the week that followed, Vivyan Allerton contrived to see Lydia almost every day. She had too much prudence to permit him to take her out driving as frequently as he would have wished, so he had to fall back on such devices as persuading his mother and sisters to pay more than their usual number of calls on the Manburys. He racked his wits endlessly to hatch schemes which would throw him into her company, and eventually came up with a suggestion that they should all attend a masquerade to be held at the Pantheon on the following Friday.

  When the Pantheon was first opened about twelve years previously, Horace Walpole had described it as ‘a new winter Ranelagh in Oxford Road — the most elegant edifice in England.’ Assemblies, balls, concerts and masquerades were regularly held there for subscribers, who were for the most part, people of fashion. An attempt was made to exclude the gay ladies of the town and other undesirable elements; but, as subscribers could take what friends they pleased, this was not always successful. Nevertheless, there was nothing at that time in the Pantheon’s reputation to cause Mrs Manbury to object to the inclusion of her daughter and niece in the Allertons’ party, once she was assured that one of Vivyan’s married sisters would be present.