‘Why not? You were not supposing me to be totally illiterate, ma’am?’
‘How absurd you are at times! No, not that, of course! But I hardly imagined that —’ she stopped, afraid of giving offence, and glanced at him to see how he was taking this.
His expression showed nothing but amusement.
‘You think me a frippery fellow who never gives a thought to anything more serious than the set of a coat or the points of a horse,’ he accused her. ‘Come, now, you may as well confess it! I see it writ plainly enough in your face — and that,’ he added, with a warmth in his eyes which disconcerted her, ‘is the only plain thing I do see there, for the rest is perfection.’
This outrageous flattery had the effect of forcing the truth from Alethea. ‘Yes, I did think so,’ she admitted, defiantly. ‘After all, everyone calls you Beau Devenish, and that title indicates a pre-occupation with fashion.’
‘A touching tribute,’ he replied, mockingly. ‘Do you know anything about icebergs, Miss Newnham?’
‘Icebergs?’
She was so amazed by this non sequitur that her hold on the rein momentarily slackened and Dulcetta, docile as she was, swerved slightly. Quickly Devenish put out his hand to right matters, and for a moment it rested on hers. He removed it almost at once, as she was soon in control again, of the horse, if not of her emotions, for that brief touch had stirred something within her. She fought it back angrily.
‘Icebergs?’ she repeated, in acid tones.
He nodded. ‘I don’t claim to be an expert on the subject myself. But I’ve always understood that only the very tip of an iceberg appears on the surface.’
‘And you mean to draw a parallel with yourself, I collect?’ She sounded scornful.
‘I certainly intended that, but if the present climate continues, my figure of speech is like to become a reality,’ he answered, with a doleful expression. ‘I don’t know how it is, ma’am, but I seem to have the unfortunate gift of putting you quite out of humour with my poor self. And yet “my true intent is all for your delight”, as another poet said.’
She had to laugh at that; and just then Sir Roger, who had been riding ahead with the curricle, dropped back again to join them. Devenish, who knew to a nicety when to let well alone in his dealings with the fair sex, rode forward to take his place, leaving Alethea to think over what had passed between them.
She was puzzled. He was trying to flirt with her, of course; that much was clear. And presumably since pretty speeches did not appear to serve his purpose, he was searching for another means to interest her, an approach through her intellect. But why go to so much trouble? There were plenty of other females, as she had been informed, who were only too eager to engage with him in this kind of light dalliance. Why expend time and effort on a girl who was determined not to respond to his overtures? That it must involve considerable effort for him she was certain, for she did indeed consider him a frippery fellow, as he had phrased it. Fashion, the pleasures of the Town and the pursuit of young women were obviously the chief preoccupations of his life. To pretend to any intellectual interests was the merest sham, and she wondered indignantly that he could hope to take her in by such a pitiful ruse. She would show him, though, that she saw through him, and had not the least intention of allowing herself to be known as Devenish’s latest flirt.
She did her best to put these wise precepts into practice when they met again that same evening at Rushdene Park. Although she found herself seated next to Devenish at the dining table, she contrived to avoid a tête-à-tête, either by joining in the general conversation or, whenever this lapsed for a few moments, by giving all her attention to her other neighbour, Sir Roger.
In this way, they had reached the third course without more than the barest civilities passing between them. Then he leaned towards her.
‘I trust you’re fond of strawberries, Miss Newnham.’
She gave a little start, for at that moment she had been studying Lydia and Allerton, who still seemed to be so absorbed in each other that they scarcely noticed the rest of the party.
‘Strawberries? Oh, yes, I like them prodigiously.’
‘Good, for that is to be our next course, and I particularly wish it to put you in a good humour,’ he said, in a low voice.
She raised her brows. ‘I am not out of humour, sir. Why should you suppose so?’
‘No? Well, perhaps you’re not in general; but I can quite see that you mean to ignore me. I wish you will tell me what I have done to get in your bad books.’
‘Now you are talking nonsense again,’ she replied, in a matter of fact way.
‘Ah, yes, and you don’t like nonsense. We established that long since, did we not? I must think of something Johnsonian to say, or perhaps scribble a verse or two in the manner of Paul Tracy before I can command your attention.’
She was amused, but could not resist trying to give him a set-down. ‘Pray don’t put yourself to the trouble of such a Herculean task on my account, Sir James.’
‘Ah, now you’re showing your claws, ma’am! But you underrate me, you know. I have written verse in my time, even if it was very bad verse, as my tutor at Oxford did not scruple to inform me.’
‘So you were at Oxford?’
He nodded. ‘They were unable to think of any way to avoid having me, although much midnight oil was burnt in considering the matter.’
This time she could not help laughing.
‘That’s better,’ he approved. ‘You have the most enchanting way of laughing, Miss Newnham. Your nose wrinkles and your eyes dance — such fine grey eyes, too. But —’ he added, as her expression hardened at this unwanted compliment — ‘I am sorry to say that they can look distressingly stony at times.’
She turned away, ignoring him for the rest of the meal. When it was over, the ladies retired to the drawing-room, leaving the men to sit over the wine. On this occasion, they were not absent for very long; when they came into the drawing-room, Devenish was seen to be carrying a book under his arm.
‘Are you about to read to us, Sir James?’ asked Eleanor, who was comfortably seated in an ample wing chair with her legs supported on a footstool.
‘God forbid!’ exclaimed Allerton fervently.
‘No, ma’am, I had no intention of inflicting so much tedium on you,’ replied Devenish, seating himself on the sofa between Lydia and Alethea. ‘I merely brought in this volume of Shakespeare’s play Twelfth Night in order to continue a discussion I was having with Miss Newnham.’
‘Lud, a discussion on Shakespeare!’ said Lydia, in mock dismay. ‘Pray let me sit somewhere else where I may not disturb you.’
She moved to a chair close to Eleanor, and Allerton drew one up beside her. Soon the rest of the party were chatting together, leaving Alethea and Devenish to themselves.
This both embarrassed and annoyed Alethea. She certainly did not wish to be singled out by Devenish in so marked a way. Surely she had made it abundantly clear to him already that she had no intention of taking part in one of his meaningless flirtations? He must find someone else for that game; it was not to her taste.
At first, therefore, he found her disinclined to say much; but he pursued his nonsensical thesis with so much wit and real knowledge of the play that before long she could not help relaxing her guard and entering into the spirit of the discussion. It ended by his closing the book on a mutual agreement to differ.
‘At any rate,’ he said, ‘we have both learnt something, if not about Olivia’s character, then at least about each other’s.’
‘Yes,’ she agreed, laughing. ‘I have learnt that nothing you say, sir, may be taken seriously!’
‘No, no, that is too severe.’
She shook her head. ‘Not a whit! And what, pray, have you learnt about me? That I am obstinate, for instance?’
‘Possibly.’ His eyes, unusually serious, met hers and held them for a moment. ‘But everything I do learn about you, ma’am, only serves to convince me that I would like to
know more. Will you not give me the opportunity?’
To her consternation, once again Alethea felt that faint stirring of the senses. She made no reply, but hastily looked away from him towards the others. Eleanor unconsciously came to her aid at that moment by asking if their literary discussion was at an end. Devenish assented briefly, rising to place the volume on an occasional table. He seemed a trifle subdued, thought Alethea; or perhaps it was just that her own sensitivity was abnormally heightened for the moment.
Lady Carteret suggested that they should have some music, and Lydia was eventually persuaded to sit down at the pianoforte. Allerton came to stand beside her, ostensibly to turn over the pages; but in fact he frequently neglected this duty because he could not take his eyes off the performer.
‘Delightful, my dear,’ said Lady Carteret, when Lydia had finished, ‘Will you not oblige us now, Miss Newnham?’
A quick panic rose in Alethea. If she sat down to play, she was quite sure that the irrepressible Devenish would be standing close beside her with the same excuse as Allerton had used while Lydia was performing. It was not to be risked in her present mood, so she refused as vigorously as civility would allow.
Once again, Eleanor inadvertently came to her rescue by suggesting that the three gentlemen should join in singing some catches and glees.
‘I so much enjoy male voices, do not you?’ she asked her hostess. ‘And perhaps Alethea would not object to playing the accompaniment.’
The men demurred a little, but finally agreed, and Alethea felt bound to do the same. Since they chose catches which were well known to them all, they were not obliged to peer over her shoulder at the music, and she began gradually to recover her poise.
‘Encore!’ cried Eleanor, when they had ended and made their bow with a flourish. ‘I had no notion, Sir James, that you had such a fine voice! Will you not sing something for us on your own?’
Devenish hastily disclaimed the compliment, saying that he had no wish to inflict any further suffering on the company; but Lady Carteret, pleased, like most grandmothers, at any tribute to a member of the junior branch of her family, persuaded him to give them just one song.
‘It must be short then, ma’am,’ he conceded, going to the pianoforte and sorting through some music, ‘since I know that some, at least, of our recent performers must be suffering from dry throats, and will require a remedy.’
He selected a sheet from among the music, and handed it to Alethea with a bow.
‘May I hope to prevail on you to accompany me, Miss Newnham?’
She accepted it hesitantly, scanning the sheet.
‘Oh, dear. I’m not at all sure that I can manage this — I don’t know it —’
‘Shall I leave you for a few minutes to try it over to yourself?’ he asked, encouragingly. ‘I’m quite sure you’ll manage famously.’
She placed the music on the stand and obediently sat down to make an attempt at playing it. At first she found some difficulty in concentrating; but this was made easier in a few seconds, as he walked away to order some wine for his male guests. By the time he returned to her side, she had mastered the piece and was ready to accompany him.
‘Appropriate, is it not?’ he asked her, as she poised her fingers over the keys.
She nodded. He had chosen Oh, Mistress Mine, the clown’s song from Twelfth Night.
She had to agree with Eleanor that he certainly possessed a very good voice. There was a certain mocking quality in it, too, that fitted both the words of the song and the personality of the singer. Her enjoyment of the performance was marred, though, by a guilty consciousness that he was deliberately aiming the song’s message at her.
‘What is love? ’tis not hereafter;
Present mirth hath present laughter;
What’s to come is still unsure.
In delay there lies no plenty;
Then come kiss me, sweet and twenty,
Youth’s a stuff will not endure –
Not endure.’
There was no doubt about it, she thought uneasily in the privacy of her bedchamber that night, she had underestimated his power to charm. He was a dangerous man — very — and she had best keep out of his way in future.
Chapter XVII
Her misgivings faded in the optimistic light of a new day, and her thoughts were given a new direction when they all set out soon after breakfast to call on one or two of the Middleham’s nearest neighbours. They were all pleasant, friendly people, and there was no lack of invitations to dine or attend evening parties. Owing to the shortness of the young ladies’ visit, these had to be regretfully declined; but Eleanor had come prepared with one of her own for the following evening. Fortunately there were no previous engagements to prevent acceptance, so that by the time they left the last house they were able to expect the company of at least a dozen friends of varying ages on Saturday.
‘As long as you’re sure you won’t find it too fatiguing, my love,’ remarked Sir Roger, handing his wife solicitously into the coach.
‘Oh, gracious, no, Roger! The only thing I find infinitely fatiguing is the boredom of my own company. I am so glad you girls could come,’ she added, turning to her sister and Alethea. ‘I haven’t been so diverted in months, I assure you! I only wish you could stay longer — but, there, I mustn’t be greedy, and Mama did explain.’
They reached home to find two callers on their own doorstep. Devenish and Allerton had ridden over so that Allerton could take his leave of the Middlehams since he was to return to Town that afternoon.
‘Oh, dear, and do you go, too, Sir James?’ asked Eleanor, when they were all sitting in the parlour. ‘What a melancholy business these partings are, to be sure!’
‘No, ma’am, I am settled here for another day or two,’ replied Devenish. ‘My grandmother refused to part with me just yet, although I’m sure she must find a man about the house more of a penance than a pleasure.’
‘That’s all you know of it,’ laughed Eleanor. ‘Why she’s for ever talking of you, and wishing she could see you more often. There’s nothing solitary females like more than to have a man about the house. But since you’re to stay, may we prevail on you and Lady Carteret to join us here for an evening party tomorrow? Nothing formal, you understand, just a group of neighbours — the Lesleys, the Mainwarings and the Colefords — all amiable people, and known well to your grandmother, if not to yourself.’
Devenish accepted gracefully on his own account, and promised to let them know later if Lady Carteret would also be at liberty to come.
They stayed almost an hour chatting together, without any opportunity for private conversation between Lydia and Vivyan Allerton, although his eyes never left her face; and for her part she seemed much quieter than usual. As for Alethea, she never looked once at Devenish, yet to her annoyance she was all the time conscious of his presence in the room.
At length they rose to go. Vivyan took leave of Lydia last of all, holding her hand much longer than mere courtesy required as he bowed over it.
‘We shall meet again in Town,’ he said in the voice of one who would be held in suspended animation until then.
‘Oh, yes. You will be at Alethea’s ball on Thursday, won’t you? I hope your sisters enjoy the Masquerade this evening — I do wish I had been coming!’
‘So do I,’ he replied, in a low voice. ‘It will be stupid and boring without you.’
He released her hand at last, and with many backward glances managed to take himself off. They all watched from the window as he and Devenish rode down the drive.
Eleanor then retired for her afternoon rest, and Sir Roger went out on some estate business, leaving the two girls together. Lydia began prowling restlessly round the room, a sullen scowl marring her pretty face.
‘It is beyond anything tedious in the country!’ she exclaimed, pettishly. ‘I knew it would be.’
‘You seem to have been tolerably well entertained up to now,’ answered Alethea, soothingly. ‘And there’s to be a p
arty tomorrow evening, with plenty of new faces.’
‘Country parties!’ scoffed her cousin. ‘’Pon ’rep, I am amazed that Devenish, of all people, should consent to attend one! As for his singing yesterday evening, it’s the most remarkable thing I ever did see — only wait until I tell everybody in Town! They will never believe me!’
‘What should be so remarkable about that? It is quite customary for gentlemen to sing at evening parties, among friends.’
‘Yes, but Devenish! I ask you! It is not at all in his line.’
‘I should suppose,’ said Alethea, severely, ‘that it is in any gentleman’s line to accede to a request of that kind made by a lady who’s a visitor to his house. And your sister Eleanor did press him, as I’m sure you’ll own.’
‘Yes, yes, Alethea, but you don’t know Devenish as I do! He has not the slightest regard for what is commonly done, and will edge himself out of such tiresome obligations in the most accomplished way, without ever giving offence. If he does anything to oblige anyone else, it is usually because he has some motive of his own.’
‘What an odious character you give him!’
‘Yes, well he is odious, really. Oh, of course he’s the most prodigious charmer, and all that kind of thing, and has turned more heads than there are bonnets to fit them. But he’s utterly selfish and — and unscrupulous!’
Alethea made no reply to this. It was very much what she had been telling herself during the past few days; strange that it should in some way hurt her to hear it from someone else.
‘He’s doing his best now to get up a flirtation with you,’ went on Lydia, disagreeably. ‘You can see he doesn’t care who it is.’
‘Thank you. A very graceful compliment, if I may say so, Cousin. Did you study for it, or did it come by the fair light of nature?’
‘I must say you know how to give one a sarcastic set-down yourself, Alethea! But I didn’t really mean to be disparaging towards you — it was just a manner of speaking. What I meant was that one would think he’d leave you alone, as you’re not at all in his style. Though why in the world,’ she added, wonderingly, ‘you don’t amuse yourself by indulging in a little harmless flirtation with him for a while, is more than I can understand. What possible harm can there be, so long as you don’t allow yourself to become too deeply involved? And I dare swear you’re by far too level headed for that, in spite of your romantical notions.’
The Beau and the Bluestocking: Romantic intrigue in Regency London Page 12