‘Oh, Alethea, what am I to do? I can’t bear it if Papa finds out — he may speak to Vivyan! And then Vivyan will feel obliged to offer for me, and then — oh, everything will be so complicated, I can’t think what will happen! You must tell me what to do — you’re so calm and always have your wits about you! And I must go to the Pantheon Masquerade — I must! What can I possibly say in excuse for not going, when it’s all settled, and the whole Allerton family knows about it? They must think it very strange that Mama should suddenly forbid it, after agreeing only the other day. Oh, what can I do? She is so unreasonable — so cruel! I detest her!’
‘Hush, you mustn’t put yourself in a taking,’ said Alethea, soothingly, putting an arm about her cousin and guiding her to a chair. ‘There, sit down, and let’s discuss things quietly.’
‘Mama is a beast!’ Lydia said, vehemently.
‘Well, I’ll agree she was very hard on you. But, all the same, Lydia, you did ask for trouble in letting Mr Allerton remain when you were alone. I can quite see how it might have come about, but why didn’t you send him off at once? He, too, must have realised he oughtn’t to stay, surely?’
‘Well, for one thing I didn’t expect Mama to be returning quite so soon,’ replied Lydia, ingenuously. ‘And for another — oh, I don’t know! He had things to tell me, and we got talking, and then the time just seemed to fly, and I forgot all about the proprieties — and everything else of the kind —’
‘But I thought you said he was with you for only ten minutes?’
‘Oh, it seemed like ten minutes, anyway,’ said Lydia airily. ‘I don’t know how long it may have been. But what does any of that matter now? Papa will be vexed, and I shall miss the Masquerade, and heaven above knows what mischief may come of it all! I am quite distracted, Alethea, truly I am! Can you not think of something to do?’
Alethea pondered for a moment. ‘I would say the best thing is for you to have another talk with my Aunt — an unemotional one, this time. She must be as alive as you are to the possible consequences of telling your father about this, and I know she’s every bit as concerned to avoid them. I don’t think it would be too difficult for you to persuade her to drop that part of the — punishment, I suppose we must call it. As for the visit to the Pantheon, well, that might be more difficult. You may have to give in about that, and concentrate instead on finding an excuse that won’t sound too thin to the Allertons, for our not being able to go.’
‘I am determined to go!’ stormed Lydia. ‘I shall go whether Mama forbid it or not, see if I don’t!’
Alethea shook her head. ‘It’s of no use, my dear. You’ll ruin everything if you work yourself up into a passion. I don’t know my Aunt as well as you do, of course; but from the little I do know, I would say that reason would influence her more than a display of histrionics.’
Lydia nodded, thoughtful now. ‘You’re quite right. Mama’s not really an emotional female at all — I’ve rarely seen her as heated as she was just now. Her anger’s more the cold kind, that withers one.’ She rose from the chair and walked over to Alethea’s dressing table, where she surveyed herself critically in the mirror. ‘I’ll go and tidy myself — I look a fright! And then I’ll do as you say, Alethea. You won’t mind, will you, keeping out of the way for a while? Until I’ve had my talk with Mama, I mean. I’ll come up and tell you how it goes.’
Alethea agreed, and her cousin went towards the door. With one hand on the knob, she turned and gave the other girl a quick, sincere smile.
‘And thank you, Alethea. Do you know, I didn’t like you above half until this minute, but now I feel perhaps we can be friends, after all.’
‘I do hope so. Now make haste; and don’t forget to let me know when I may come downstairs, or I shall moulder away here for years, like some poor hermit in his cell.’
Lydia had quite a cool head of her own, and she recognised the wisdom of her cousin’s advice. After having made herself presentable, therefore, she went downstairs in search of her mother, determined to use all her powers of persuasion, but to keep calm whatever the outcome might be.
She carried her first point with unexpected ease. Mrs Manbury agreed not to tell her husband about his daughter’s lapse from grace. The fact was that she had now had time to think the matter over, and had come to the same conclusion as Lydia. It was increasingly obvious that the Allerton boy, as she thought of him, was head over heels in love with Lydia and would soon be making a formal declaration. He must be headed off until they knew for certain what the Duke of Bedwyn’s intentions were; if Bedwyn failed to come up to scratch, then possibly Vivyan might be considered. Lord Calver would have been a better match, of course, but unfortunately he did seem to be rather taken with Felicia Allerton. Not that a determined effort on Lydia’s part — but that could all be worked out more carefully later. The immediate concern must be to keep Vivyan Allerton at arm’s length for the moment; and if Lydia’s father knew of this morning’s indiscretion, he would most likely consider it his duty to speak to Vivyan, thus precipitating an offer of marriage.
She repeated all this to her daughter, and Lydia agreed. So far, all, was harmony. But when the proposed visit to the Pantheon was mentioned, she was firmly in opposition.
‘There has been quite enough nonsense between you, and I think you must make up your mind to see far less of Vivyan than you’ve fallen into the way of doing just lately.’
‘But, Mama, you said it couldn’t signify, as we had been childhood playmates, and our family always so close to the Allertons,’ protested Lydia.
‘Yes, I know I did, but I’ve changed my mind. Something Margaret Nayland said to me the other day set me thinking how it must look to outsiders — and once people notice anything of the kind, it’s not long before gossip spreads. You know well enough how such rumours get about, and we’ve neither of us any wish to have Bedwyn frightened off by them.’
For a moment, Lydia almost forgot her resolution not to argue with her mother. She choked back the heated words, and forced herself to answer calmly.
‘But, Mama, it’s all arranged — the Allertons must think it so odd if I say now that I’m not going! What possible excuse can I give, when only this morning Vivyan and I were discussing it as quite settled?’
‘I’ve thought of that,’ replied Mrs Manbury, triumphantly, ‘and I have an excellent excuse ready for you. Eleanor wrote yesterday to say she would like you and Alethea to go and stay there for a few days, if you can possibly spare the time from your other engagements. She’s feeling a bit moped at present, naturally enough, for she can’t get about a great deal now, with only a month to go before her confinement. I had meant to suggest that you might go there for a few days after Alethea’s ball is over, but there is no reason why you cannot go at once, tomorrow. I can send a message over with one of the grooms today, and I know it will delight your sister to see you so soon. What better excuse can there be than this? You have only to say that she positively insists on seeing you at once. No one will think to question the whims of a female who is breeding.’
Chapter XIV
Lydia’s face took on a mutinous look.
‘Go to Eleanor’s?’ she exclaimed, in outraged tones, all her good resolutions forgotten. ‘To that wretched house in the depths of the country! Mama, you know quite well how I detest the country! And pray what should we find to do at Harrow, especially with Eleanor in her present condition?’
‘There is a pleasant park at Roxeth Place for you to walk in. The country air will do you good.’
‘I don’t wish to be done good to! I shall be just as moped to death as you say Eleanor feels, after I’ve been there a day or two!’
‘Nonsense,’ replied her mother, briskly. ‘Harrow is not precisely a desert — there’s always plenty going on there. Your sister has neighbours who will be calling on her, inviting you to dinner parties and the like. Devenish’s grandmother, Lady Carteret, for instance, lives quite close, and Eleanor says she calls frequently. I understand
she is very fond of a game of whist.’
‘Devenish’s grandmother!’ repeated Lydia, in stupefied accents. ‘A game of whist! Lud, Mama, what do you take me for? Such pastimes may suit Eleanor well enough in her present state of health, but I require something a little more stimulating, if I am to find my life even tolerable!’
‘Nevertheless, you will go. I have quite made up my mind.’ Mrs Manbury’s tone was firm. ‘A few days of early nights and fresh air will be no bad thing for you — we can’t have you looking peaky for Bedwyn’s return, you know, and London life does take its toll, there’s no denying. I shall send a message to Eleanor at once to expect you and your cousin tomorrow. Alethea has an engagement with Miss More for Tuesday evening, and then there is the ball on Thursday, so it can only be a short visit, but I know your sister will quite understand. You had best return on Monday — Sunday travel is not to be thought of, naturally, more especially as Alethea is a clergyman’s daughter. Now, it’s no use arguing with me, Lydia — I am quite determined. And you really have very little to complain of; four days in the country should not unduly tax even your small powers of endurance.’
Lydia wished very much to argue, but she knew from past experience that it was futile once her mother’s mind was set on a course. Compressing her lips to keep back the rebellious words, she went upstairs to acquaint Alethea with what was in store for them both.
On her side, Alethea had no very strong objection to the plan. The Masquerade would have been a new experience for her, and she liked new experiences; but her heart was not set on it. Moreover, she welcomed the thought of a few days out of London in this sudden heat of early June. Having been born and bred in the country, she felt she could face with equanimity the rigours of a short sojourn in rural Middlesex. So although she listened sympathetically enough while Lydia vented her feelings for a while, she did not share her cousin’s dismay.
‘I dare say it will not be so bad as you think,’ she said, consolingly. ‘And no doubt you will be able to attend a Masquerade at the Pantheon at some other time. Let’s make up our minds to enjoy our visit to your sister, if only for her sake.’
But Lydia refused to be comforted. Mrs Manbury announced her intention of calling on the Allertons straight away to explain how matters stood, but said she thought it would be best if she went alone.
‘One look at your sulky face, miss,’ she said tartly to Lydia, ‘and they would know at once that you do not go willingly to visit Eleanor! I prefer that they should give you credit — however undeserved it may be — for some sisterly feeling.’
This the Allerton girls did, saying again and again how good natured it was of Lydia to give up the proposed outing to oblige her sister, and how very like her. Naturally, they were disappointed, but they quite understood. Vivyan’s understanding was under some strain, but fortunately his manners were far too good to betray him into unguarded speech. He did venture to suggest to his sisters that they should wait until the next Masquerade at the Pantheon, when possibly Lydia and her cousin would be at liberty to join them; but there was an immediate outcry of protest at this.
‘We’ve ordered our costumes, and everything!’ complained Felicia. ‘And Jane is so looking forward to it — she hasn’t been to the Pantheon for an age! By all means let us take Lydia and Miss Newnham to the next one, but pray don’t disappoint us for Friday, Viv, there’s a dear.’
He was too good natured to withstand their pleas, but it was plain to see that for him all the attraction had gone out of the scheme.
‘Oh, very well,’ he said, with a laugh, ‘since I don’t doubt you’ll nag me until I give in! But a nice thing it will be if it gets put about that I’m reduced to squiring my own sisters around nowadays.’
‘You may escort us to the Pantheon,’ retorted Felicia, in an aside, ‘but I’ll be bound we’ll not see much of you once we’re there. Some fair unknown or other will soon claim all your attention!’
Naturally Mrs Manbury did not hear this, but she faithfully reported everything else that had passed when she returned home. Lydia listened without comment, her mouth set in an obstinate line. Alethea hoped fervently that her cousin would soon recover from her tantrum, otherwise their visit would certainly be of little benefit to the unfortunate Eleanor.
That same evening, Vivyan Allerton looked in at White’s Club in St James’s and met Devenish there.
‘Been playing too high?’ Devenish asked him, raising his quizzing glass and subjecting his friend to a prolonged scrutiny. ‘Got a touch of liver? Or could it be another organ that’s affected? You look demmed blue-devilled, old fellow, give you my word.’
‘Let be, James, I’m in no mood for your foolery,’ replied Allerton, with a reluctant grin. ‘I need a drink — will you join me, or are you for cards?’
‘Presently. But in the meantime let’s crack a bottle.’ He signalled to a waiter, who speedily supplied their needs.
‘Not a bad wine, this,’ said Devenish, holding his glass up to the light, ‘though not to be compared with some I sampled in Sussex a few days since. But doubtless that particular keg was not acquired through the usual channels. Such things happen in Sussex.’
‘And what might you have been doing in Sussex?’ asked Allerton, though without much interest.
‘Since you are evidently all agog to know, I don’t mind telling you that I was visiting a friend who wished to sell me a horse.’
‘Any good?’
‘Lamentable. I was forced to decline the offer. But not so lamentable, dear boy, if you don’t mind my mentioning it, as your total lack of interest in my conversation.’
‘I’m sorry James. I fear I am like a bear with a sore head tonight. Fact is —’ he paused to drain his glass — ‘I’ve something on my mind.’
Devenish leaned over to replenish the glass. ‘That, as I believe I mentioned when we first met, is evident.’ He hesitated, then said casually. ‘Care to tell me about it?’
Allerton made no reply for a moment, but tipped half the contents of his glass down his throat in one gulp.
‘Not ale, you know,’ Devenish pointed out, gently. ‘I agree it’s only a tolerable wine, but still too good to swallow without tasting.’
‘Hell and the devil, James! If you must know, I came here with the intention of —’
‘Drowning your sorrows. Capital — we’ll drown them together. But I might enter into the project with more fervour did I but know what your sorrows are. Not,’ he added, languidly, ‘that I have the least desire to pry into your concerns, my dear chap. If you don’t wish to tell me, by all means let us talk of something else.’
‘Don’t want to talk of anything else — devil take it, I don’t think I can — not tonight, at any rate,’ muttered Allerton, a trifle incoherently. ‘Of course I can tell you, James. We were at school together, weren’t we? And at Oxford? Damme, if I could confide in you then, with all that went on in our salad days, I can confide in you now.’
‘The motion is carried unanimously. And so?’
‘I think you know, anyway. It’s Lydia, of course.’
Devenish contented himself with a nod.
‘I’ve been seeing a great deal of her lately,’ Allerton went on. ‘And she’s seemed different somehow, almost as if —’
He broke off. Devenish looked at him gravely, for the moment all trace of raillery gone.
‘Oh, you know how she generally is!’ Allerton’s tone was defensive. ‘The men are always round her like flies round a honeypot, and she — well, one can’t blame her if she rather enjoys being the centre of attraction, and is not altogether averse from a little harmless flirting with one and another. You yourself — well, of course, while you were dancing attendance on her, I didn’t make any attempt to interfere. But since then, since we all went on that ridiculous sight-seeing tour, I’ve seen her almost every day. And I do think — though you may say I damned well flatter myself, and I can’t blame you —’ here he paused to finish off his wine with a gesture of bravado
— ‘I really do think that she’s beginning to care for me a little.’
‘If so, then there seems small cause for that gloomy face of yours,’ commented Devenish, with a slight smile.
‘You know better than that. It was you who told me that her parents intend her to marry Bedwyn — that doddering old man, old enough to be her grandfather, pretty near! — and though I could scarce credit it at the time, since then my mother’s dropped a hint or two. And now it does look as though Mrs Manbury is trying to keep us apart. Lydia and her cousin were to join our party for the Masquerade at the Pantheon on Friday, but Mrs M. dropped in this morning to call off the arrangement. She’d got some demmed specious excuse about Lydia’s married sister in Middlesex wanting some company for a day or two, but it didn’t need Old Moore to see there was something other than that!’ He looked at Devenish in appeal. ‘What am I to do, James? I don’t need to tell you I’m near crazed about Lydia — I dare say anyone could have seen it for this past year or more — and I fancy that at last I may be making some headway with her, however little. But it’s too soon to declare myself; and now it looks as if I won’t be given the chance to see her often enough to bring matters to a conclusion. I never felt so frustrated —’ he brought his fist down on the table in a gesture which set the glasses and bottle dancing — ‘in all my life! What in hell can I do about it? Answer me that!’
Devenish steadied the bottle in time to avert its collapse, and shook his head in gentle reproof. ‘Not wash your coat in wine, Viv, at any rate. That would serve no purpose.’
Allerton looked puzzled for a moment. ‘Wash my coat — oh, I see! I suppose it’s too much to hope that you can ever be serious about anything?’
‘Well, almost too much. For myself, dear fellow, I find that if life is to be tolerable, one must draw increasingly on one’s sense of humour. To take things seriously is to admit a breach in one’s defences.’
The Beau and the Bluestocking: Romantic intrigue in Regency London Page 10