by Lynn Morris
And so, to Society, Mirabella was as vivacious and bright as she always was. That included Lord Trevor Brydges, who at every opportunity stayed close to Mirabella. She saw him at Almack’s on Wednesday night, and he danced with her twice (the waltz, of course), took her in to supper, and talked to her as often as possible between dances.
After one waltz, as he was escorting her off the dance floor, he said, “There’s old Knyvet, with Miss Smythe, as usual. They’re all the topic, you know, and not just from Mrs. Smythe, although I must say that she’s quite the loudest. I tried to get Knyvet to tell me all, but he’s as closemouthed as a clam.”
“Good heavens, sir, if you demand that Giles explain his feelings for Miss Smythe you’re as bad as Mrs. Smythe,” Mirabella scolded. “How should you like it if your friends interrogated you about your private life?”
“Now that you mention it, I do have one friend to whom I’d very much like to explain my private life. That friend would be you, my lady. And although I’m extremely glad that you’re coming to Levenden Lodge for Ascot, and that will afford us some time together in relative privacy, why should we wait for two weeks to start to really get to know one another?”
Lightly Mirabella said, “I hardly think that Almack’s is the place for close confidences among friends, unless you wish for them all to be known by every lady and gentleman in the place by the end of the evening.”
“Yes, that is my exact point. May I beg the honor of a more private venue? No, no, nothing improper,” he added hastily at the look on her face. “What I was thinking was that I could call on you tomorrow and take you to Gunter’s. I’ll even humble myself to allow you to drive me in your phaeton, although an acknowledged whip such as I must suffer cruel jibes from all of Society. For you I’ll gladly bear it.”
Of course Mirabella knew what was in Lord Trevor’s mind; although she had gone through a sea change in her outlook about marriage, as far as anyone else knew she still had every intention of arranging her marriage this Season. Mirabella spent another fruitless moment—and there had already been many—berating herself for her foolhardiness. Now her future was as impenetrable as a thick London fog; but all the same, she knew that someday she must marry. She wasn’t thinking specifically of Lord Trevor Brydges, but she did like him as well as any man she’d ever met (other than Lewin and Giles, of course) and he was extremely entertaining. She never completely forgot about Giles, but when she was with Lord Trevor, he was diverting enough that she forgot her sorrow. She agreed to go with him to Gunter’s.
They went to talk to Giles and Barbara, and Mirabella found that she could behave with perfect equanimity. She and Barbara began talking about their gowns, while Giles and Trevor talked of some successful maneuver in Spain by Lord Wellington.
Denys Aldington came up to them and bowed. Mirabella felt slightly guilty, for this was the first time she’d actually seen Denys face-to-face since that fateful night at the theatre. Cordially he said, “Here are two of the loveliest ladies in the ballroom, and neither of you dancing. Lady Mirabella, Miss Smythe, may I have the honor?”
“Would you like to partner with both of us next dance?” Mirabella asked mischievously.
Denys didn’t smile but his eyes gleamed slightly. “Actually, I’d like that above all things, for it would certainly make me the hero of the Season, but I’m afraid that the Lady Patronesses may take exception to it. So rather than all three of us getting blackballed, may I beg the next dance, my lady, and Miss Smythe, the one after that?”
The next dance was a lively long dance, and as usual, the partners had very little opportunity to speak to each other. When Denys took her hand and led her back toward Giles, Barbara, and Lord Trevor, he said in a low voice, “My lady, it was an honor and a pleasure…all of it. I always knew that you were a star far beyond my reach, but I shall never regret the few moments I had in that starlight.”
He bowed and slipped away. Mirabella thought that the speech had been somewhat rehearsed and artificial; and with her newfound, exquisite sensibilities about the nature of love, she detected no true sorrow in him. She still felt regret, as she had with Lord Southam, at placing him in a position that had proven embarrassing. I’ve been so thoughtless, so selfish, so careless…Lord, forgive me, may I never use anyone so callously again.
Giles asked for the next dance, and she smiled and he smiled and they danced well together, as always. Afterward he said, “You look lovely in that green frock, but I must tell you I’ve noticed an error in your consummate skill in dressing for the evening. Both you and Josephine are wearing green, and I know that you two make careful plans never to wear the same shade. In fact, Josephine says you’re a tyrant in telling her what and what not to wear. What were you thinking to so infamously neglect your calling?”
You’ll never know, Mirabella said defiantly to herself. Smiling, she replied with one of their old favorite quotes from The Rivals: “Oh mercy! I’m quite analyzed, for my part!”
Uncharacteristically, Giles didn’t play the game and reply with another malapropism. “Bella, the man or woman that analyzes you must be a genius indeed.”
It was the first time in a long time that he’d called her by his affectionate nickname for her. It smote her heart.
* * *
The stress on Mirabella had one curious but welcome effect on her. To always appear to be lively and lighthearted was very wearisome, and she was so tired at night that for the first time since she was a small child she easily fell into a deep sleep.
That night she went to bed, trying to plan what she would say to Lord Trevor the next day, again thinking what a supreme irony it had been that she’d so rashly said that she could “handle” the men. She decided that she would quite simply tell him the truth. Exactly, precisely what that truth was escaped her for the moment, but still she was comforted. Her last reflection was that if one had to make detailed plans to tell the truth, something must be wrong…
The next morning she awoke, and as on every morning recently, the weight of her unhappiness immediately pressed upon her; but with determination she reset her mind and said her morning prayers. Although she felt no special anticipation for her outing with Trevor, still she dressed carefully in one of her favorite carriage costumes, an icy pink muslin trimmed with white with a matching shawl. She had special-ordered a pink Oriental silk parasol, elaborately decorated with pagodas and pretty ladies, with an intricate white satin fringe. As Colette dressed her and chattered on in her half-French, half-English dialect, Mirabella reflected whimsically that in spite of all this tragic woe she had several things to be thankful for. For one, regardless of the circumstances, she always felt better when she took care to look her best; for another, she had decided to allow Trevor to drive her, and so she could use her pink parasol, which of course she could not when she was driving the phaeton. She thought of poor Lady Caroline Lamb, and thanked God that she wasn’t of such a high-strung disposition that the loss of her love was driving her half insane. Also she found herself looking forward to Gunter’s coconut macaroons.
Lord Trevor came at precisely two o’clock to collect her. As he helped her up into the high seat, he said, “Am I dreaming that I’m receiving a special favor, or is this a first? I don’t believe anyone has ever witnessed a gentleman driving Lady Mirabella Tirel’s phaeton.”
“I’m afraid that the only special favor I’m feeling today is for my parasol. As I dressed I realized that I’ve never been able to carry it because I’m always driving, but today the sun is so fierce that I must shelter from it, or else I risk breaking out in freckles. Obviously if that catastrophe happened I shouldn’t be able to show my face for the remainder of the Season.”
“All of Society would be devastated if that happened, especially me. And although you tell me that, alas, you aren’t bestowing a personal privilege on me in allowing me to drive, I’m still grateful to your parasol.”
Their light banter lasted for the two blocks to Gunter’s. Mirabella noted with ad
miration that Trevor was indeed an excellent whip. She herself had to maintain a certain focus and concentration when she was driving the tricky carriage and the spirited team, but he effortlessly negotiated the crowded streets and maneuvered it into a cool shady spot underneath the maple trees.
After they had received their orders—Mirabella’s macaroons, and Trevor’s cooling lemon ice—he turned to her and instead of having the usual rakish gleam in his eyes and expression, he looked grave. “I know that generally I act the devil-take-it fool, but I can be serious when I really wish to be. Such occasions are very rare, but I wish to be now. May I?”
“You may,” Mirabella said calmly.
He frowned, and it was true that such gravity was alien to him. “Thank you, madam,” he said formally. “I also think that we are both mature enough that I might speak frankly. I’ve admired you ever since you conquered Society five years ago, but I knew—all of your friends and acquaintances knew—that you were out of any man’s reach, until this year. I like you very much, and enjoy your company as much or more than any lady’s I’ve ever known. I hope these feelings are mutual?”
“They are, with one qualification. Although we’ve been acquainted for a number of years, you really don’t know me at all, nor I you.”
“That’s true. And therein lies the problem. The rules of Polite Society regarding a gentleman and a lady getting to know one another are a blasted conundrum. Young ladies must never be alone with a gentleman, except in rare circumstances such as this short outing, unless they are betrothed. And so it seems that a couple must become betrothed without ever really having much opportunity for private conversation, to truly get personally acquainted.”
Unless the couple are blessed enough to have been lifelong friends, but no, it’s surely been no blessing for me, flashed through Mirabella’s mind. It was beside the point anyway. “You’re correct, sir. In such cases, when it does represent a problem to the couple, I believe the convention is for long engagements.”
“Exactly. And now surely you must know of my direction. I think that we would do very well together, Lady Mirabella. I have no intention of repeating South—” He drew himself up and quickly went on, “Of making the error of importuning you too quickly, for I know that you’re a lady that determines your own way and will. In fact, that’s one of the many things that I admire about you. So I’m not making any demands on you now. All I’m asking is if you would grant me the great honor of allowing me to pay my addresses. Under any circumstances, for any amount of time, that you’d like.”
Mirabella stared at him with bemusement. This conversation had been completely different from what she’d anticipated. It was obvious to her that he was sincere, that his generous offer was heartfelt, and so he truly must have a great regard for her. How could she simply say, No, I’ll never consider marrying you because right now I’m suffering from being in love with another man that I’ll never have? It dawned upon Mirabella that that really wasn’t the truth, and she had vowed to herself that she would tell Trevor only the truth. Again she felt the insistent refusal to contemplate spending her life alone, the defiant clinging to the hope of marrying someone, after time and her Heavenly Father had healed her grief. It seemed improbable now that that could ever happen, but thanks to her Aunt Tirel’s wisdom, Mirabella knew in her heart that one day her love for Giles would no longer be a sorrowful, depressing burden.
And in truth Mirabella agreed with Trevor. She liked him very well, she found him amusing and even exciting. One day they might make a happy, though perhaps not sublimely joyous, couple.
She knew that she had been staring at him, wordlessly, for long moments. He waited patiently. Finally she said, “Sir, I’m honored by your regard for me, and your generous offer. But I must tell you that in spite of—that is, I’ve come to realize that this Season my—my—actions, and—oh dear, I’m making a muddle of this. As you’ve been so honest and open with me, I will do you the same courtesy. I’ve had a change of heart, you may say, and I’m not considering marriage just now. I think it will be some time before I begin to think of it again.”
He remained somber for a few moments, then grinned his usual heartbreaking grin. “I see. But I think if you correctly parse what I said, my lady, and I mean no offense, I’m not making you an offer of marriage. My original point was that we should take some time to get to know each other, as long as you like, and that in that time I wish I may be allowed to ‘pay you my addresses,’ which to me seems a sort of vague and watery thing, but there it is. That’s hardly declaring to you that I’m going to your father to demand your hand in marriage, and that we shall be married in two months, and that as the little woman, you’ll of course comply with my wishes.”
With a smile Mirabella said, “You could try that, but I think that my father might laugh so hard that he’d be unable to wish you all good luck with your intentions. Still, I’m confused as to exactly what you are asking, sir. Do you intend that we should have some sort of—status? As in—promising to think of promising to possibly become engaged at some future unnamed date?”
“That would do me very well for now, if it’s suitable to you,” he said cheerfully. “I did mean what I said, that I should like to have as much opportunity to be with you as is possible for us. Couples, or I beg your pardon, couples-perhaps-to-be-at-some-time-in-the-future do manage to sort of gravitate together at balls and parties, you know, and though I’ve seen that your dance cards are generally filled up until Season after next, is it truly necessary that you dance every dance that occurs in London? And then we’ll have some time at Ascot. And what about shooting in August? I heard you invite Lady FitzGeorge to Littlemoor. Knyvet tells me that the shooting there is without compare, even to Scotland. Couldn’t I cadge an invitation, with my newfound happy status of maybe-possibly-comparably like a suitor-to-be?”
Even with the sharp pang it caused her to hear Giles’s name, Mirabella still was amused. It seemed to her that what Trevor was saying indicated little threat that she would cause him any upset if she decided that she couldn’t marry him; and she admitted that she found him so diverting that getting to know him might help her not to obsess quite so much over Giles. “Very well, Lord Trevor. Perhaps I may forego a dance or two for the pleasure of your company, I will converse personally with you at Ascot, and I’m inviting you to Littlemoor in August. That’s as much of a commitment as I’m prepared to make today.”
“I’ll take it, and be glad,” he said. “I have only one more request to make of you, madam. Are you going to share your macaroons with me, or not?”
* * *
The slight buoyancy that Mirabella had felt in Lord Trevor’s company dissipated as soon as she left him. He brought her home, and as it was Thursday, it was their at-home day, when Lady Camarden, Mirabella, and Josephine received callers from three o’clock to five o’clock. A succession of ladies called, and Harry Smythe called, as he had done the last four Thursdays. Although the ladies were well aware that he was calling on Josephine, of course they never left her alone with him; Josephine would have been horrified.
Mirabella endured the calls, making an effort to be cordial and bright. At five o’clock she felt utterly exhausted. She had found that along with falling asleep immediately at night, she longed to take naps during the day. In fact, she thought that if she could, she would sleep for days and nights on end; it was a blessed release for her. Tiredly she took a short nap before dressing for Lady Liverpool’s dinner party.
The guests, and the conversation, at the dinner were mostly political, with only Lord and Lady Camarden, Mirabella, Josephine, Lord and Lady Castlereagh, and Count and Countess Lieven attending. Mirabella found it a great relief that none of her “set” were there, including and especially Giles. That night she slept long and dreamlessly, and didn’t awaken until almost noon.
She went down, yawning, and found her mother and Josephine, who were already dressed, and were sitting in the drawing room writing letters. Lady Camarden sai
d, “Good morning, or should I say good afternoon? I suppose you were up all night, prowling about.”
“No, actually I slept quite well. You two are already dressed very prettily, in promenade costumes, I see. Are we promenading today?”
“I thought we might do some shopping,” Lady Camarden replied. “We’ll be back in time for you girls to ride in the park this afternoon. But Mirabella, Camarden left me a message that Lewin and Giles stopped by this morning and invited themselves to dinner tonight. I’m glad we had no previous engagement, for Camarden says that they particularly wished to speak to us this evening, and asked if we might have an early dinner. I’ve arranged it for six o’clock, so your time in the park must be cut short today.”
Mirabella asked, “This is rather odd, isn’t it? Did Pappa give no indication of what they wished to speak to us about?”
“Not at all, but surely it’s important for Giles to make such a request,” Lady Camarden said.
Mirabella asked Josephine, “Do you have any idea?”
Thoughtfully she replied, “I’m not sure. I suppose we ladies must just wait, as usual, to see what the men are all about.”
Mirabella thought she knew what it was all about. As her parents were practically Giles’s surrogate parents, he must be planning to speak to them about his intention to marry Barbara. Immediately Mirabella wished that she could run back up to her room, crawl into bed, pull the covers over her head, and hide for the rest of the day, perhaps for several days. Of course it was absurd, and Mirabella told herself that she must get dressed, go shopping, and go to the park, all with a good will and a smile. How she would endure the evening she couldn’t fathom. Listlessly she thought that even though it would surely be the worst evening of her life, she would live through it.
All day Mirabella performed credibly, although she was uncharacteristically quiet. Underneath her smiles, however, she was in a state of dreadful anticipation. As she began dressing for dinner, she said to Colette, “I wish to wear my blue silk gown this evening.” It was a delicate sky blue, and Giles’s favorite color for her to wear, Mirabella thought with poignant sadness; she wondered if he would even notice, or remember.