‘I fear my poor hat will not recover from its soaking.’
‘You seem to have been out in the rain for some time.’
‘Yes. We started in Bond Street very early this morning. My maid was not at all pleased, but it had to be done.’
‘You mentioned that your carriage was in New Bond Street – so how did you come to be in King Street, Miss Wyckenham? Surely it is a long way to walk in the rain.’
‘We had several calls to make on the way … I have been collecting trade cards from the silk mercers, you see.’
‘Trade cards!’
‘Yes, the small cards they give out to advertise their wares.’
Something like a growl escaped him.
‘I know very well what they are, ma’am. I am amazed that you did not wait for a better day.’
‘Oh no, that was impossible. It is for a wager, you see.’ The words were out before she realized she had said them: Clarissa risked a glance at his face and saw that the harsh look had returned. She tried to look contrite. ‘You will think that a trumpery reason for importuning you, my lord.’
‘Not at all, madam. It is, perhaps, a trumpery reason for being out in such weather.’
That made her smile.
‘I shall not melt from a little rain, sir. Besides, gentlemen will go to much greater lengths for their wagers … or so I understand.’
‘I believe they do, Miss Wyckenham.’
The humour in his voice surprised her, and she turned again to look at him, and noticed the reassuring twinkle in his hard eyes. She realized she was smiling up at him in the most idiotic way, and felt the blush stealing into her cheeks. She looked away, for the first time aware of the dangers of riding alone in a closed carriage with a gentleman. To her relief the coach turned off the road and into the drive of Norwell House. Lord Alresford took out his watch.
‘It still wants ten minutes to the hour. You are within your allotted time, Miss Wyckenham.’
The carriage drew up; the earl jumped down and turned to hand her out while a footman in Norwell livery held up a sheltering umbrella.
‘Thank you for conveying me here, my lord.’ She paused. ‘I really should not have imposed upon our slight acquaintance.’ Her fingers were gripping his and she quickly withdrew her hand: he would think she was flirting with him! He gave a stiff bow.
‘It is always a pleasure to be of service to you, Miss Wyckenham.’
Clarissa turned and hurried into Norwell House, keeping her head high, but she was keenly aware of his disapproval. It did no good to tell herself she cared little for his good opinion: the pleasure in achieving her goal was diminished.
CHAPTER TEN
Recalling Leititia Leighton-Kettering’s warning, Clarissa insisted that Lady Wyckenham order her carriage early for the soirée. The ladies set off after an early dinner, the mild May evening allowing them to enjoy the delights of an open carriage to carry them to Portman Square. Lady Wyckenham had been encouraged by the warm weather to put on a high-waisted gown of the palest green silk, and glancing at her own jonquil muslin, Clarissa felt her spirits lift as they always did when spring was giving way to summer. The entrance hall was already packed with guests and their hostess had time only to wave to them before her attention was claimed by Sir Joseph Banks and his party. Clarissa and her stepmama followed the crowds to the book-room. This grand apartment had been commandeered by the Royal Society for the evening and the paintings had been placed on special stands in front of the book-lined walls, while smaller drawings and sketch-books had been spread out on a large mahogany desk.
Clarissa saw Sir Robert Ingleton talking to a party of gentlemen, but as they entered he moved across the room to join them.
‘Lady Wyckenham – Miss Wyckenham. I hoped you would be able to come,’ he said, smiling and holding out his hand to Lady Wyckenham. ‘I have only today returned from Selborne.’
‘And are all your plants safely stored now, sir?’
‘Aye, we lost one or two during the long sea voyage, but the rest are even now being cared for in hot-houses and gardens across the country.’
Clarissa looked about her.
‘There seems to be a great deal of interest in your expedition, Sir Robert.’
He nodded. ‘Sir Joseph is very optimistic that we will find more sponsors here tonight, which means I cannot spend the evening with you, as I should like to do, but must earn my keep doing the pretty to our prospective patrons. Damnation, Sir Joseph is already summoning me. I must go – Helen, I promise I shall return later and give you a personal tour of all the paintings.’
‘So we are at liberty to browse as we please,’ remarked Clarissa, as Sir Robert hurried off.
‘You may do so,’ declared Lady Wyckenham, ‘I have seen Alicia Greynard on her own and she is looking so forlorn I must go and speak to her. No, no, Clarissa, there is no need for you to come too. Stay and look at the pictures.’
Left to herself, Clarissa strolled about the room. There were any number of well-executed paintings; birds, animals and plants depicted in glowing colours, but she particularly liked the hastily drawn sketches of the islands with natives in strange, exotic dress. They gave a tantalizing glimpse of the life lived in the grass huts, fishermen on palm-lined beaches with rugged mountain ranges in the background. She longed to learn more, and determined to accompany Mama-Nell when Sir Robert gave her the promised tour. She smiled to herself: she had no doubt Sir Robert would think her positively de trop.
As she turned from the contemplation of a particularly colourful bird, she found herself confronted by a group of people dressed all in dark colours, and she had the sudden impression of regarding a colony of rooks. She was aware of the laughter bubbling within her even before she realized that one of the group was Lord Alresford. On his arm was a young woman of slender build, dressed with puritanical severity in a dark gown relieved only by a scattering of lace at her neck and wrists.
‘Miss Wyckenham.’ Lord Alresford’s deep voice recalled her attention. She dropped a curtsy.
‘I am so sorry, I am blocking your way. Such a crowd – I had not thought so many people would be interested in Sir Robert’s expedition.’
‘Indeed.’ The earl looked down as the young woman beside him twitched his sleeve. ‘May I present Miss Florence Medway to you? And Sir Gordon and Lady Medway, of course.’
Clarissa gave them her ready smile and tried to banish the thoughts of rooks and crows that threatened to overset her gravity. Sir Gordon wore an old-fashioned bag-wig and dark frock-coat with a grey silk waistcoat stretched across his portly frame. His lady was robed in a high-waisted gown of the darkest blue brocade, relieved only by the cream lace fichu draped about her shoulders. It filled the deep, rounded neckline of her gown, the whole effect reminding Clarissa very much of a plump pigeon. She gave herself a mental slap: she must stop comparing them all with birds.
Lady Medway turned her faded blue eyes upon Clarissa and scrutinized her from the top of her luxuriant black curls to her gold satin slippers. Miss Wyckenham raised her brows, not at all sure she liked such an inspection, then she glanced up at Lord Alresford and was surprised at the disdainful look upon his face. When their eyes met briefly she thought she detected an apology there.
‘You are related to the Leighton-Ketterings, perhaps?’ asked Lady Medway.
‘No ma’am. My stepmama, Lady Wyckenham was one of the sponsors for Sir Robert’s expedition.’
There was a sudden gleam of interest in the lady’s eyes.
‘Indeed? Lady Wyckenham, you say. A sponsor – how enterprising.’ Lady Medway’s plump face creased into a smile. ‘Perhaps, Miss Wyckenham, you would give us the pleasure of your company as we go round the room and study these charming pictures.’
‘A most worthy cause,’ remarked Sir Gordon in a loud, carrying voice. ‘The advancement of science – very good thing.’
‘When it is for the benefit of mankind, Papa,’ put in Miss Medway. ‘We should all do what we can to g
ive comfort to those less fortunate than ourselves.’ She bent her earnest gaze upon Clarissa. ‘Do you know just how Sir Robert’s expedition will be advantageous to us all?’
‘I have no idea,’ Clarissa responded cheerfully, and earned a scornful glance from Miss Medway.
‘For my own part, I think there is more than enough to do here, ministering to the poor and sick. Would it not be better if Sir Robert’s energies were turned towards remedying the ills of his fellow countrymen?’
The smile deepened in Clarissa’s eyes.
‘I think Sir Robert’s enterprise is as much for the adventure as the science. Who is to say that if he did not travel the world his energies, as you call them would not be wasted in the clubs and gaming hells of London?’
‘Not all men are given over so totally to amusement,’ put in Lord Alresford.
‘Indeed not,’ she agreed. ‘Some are not given to any amusement at all.’
Lady Medway gave a little laugh.
‘Come, Miss Wyckenham. Surely you do not sneer at any gentleman who devotes himself to good works.’
‘Certainly not, but I would question the wisdom of not allowing oneself any time for pleasure.’
‘Lady Medway looks perplexed, but that remark was aimed at me, I think.’ murmured Lord Alresford. ‘Miss Wyckenham would like us all to be as frivolous and carefree as she is.’
Clarissa met his frowning gaze steadily.
‘Your opinion of me is formed upon short acquaintance. You see only my social face. One is expected to be – what were your words? – frivolous and carefree in company.’
‘Come, come, Alresford, I think you are too harsh upon the lady,’ boomed Sir Gordon. ‘I am sure Miss Wyckenham can be serious when occasion calls for it.’
Clarissa read the disbelief in Lord Alresford’s face and realized with a jolt just how angry his contempt had made her. With a heroic effort she swallowed the rebuke hovering on her lips and instead forced herself to keep smiling.
‘My lord, let us agree that our acquaintance is too brief to allow a correct character reading, on either side.’
She was rewarded with the stiffest of bows.
‘I believe many people improve upon acquaintance, Miss Wyckenham. It will be my pleasure to confirm it in this case.’
CHAPTER ELEVEN
‘… And all the while Alresford was wishing our paths had never crossed!’ declared Clarissa later, when she recounted the conversation to Lady Wyckenham over supper.
Her stepmama’s elegant brows raised in surprise.
‘You are piqued because a man thinks you frivolous? But, my dear, I thought that was exactly the impression you wanted to portray.’
‘No! Yes … that is—’
Lady Wyckenham interrupted her.
‘Since you were betrayed by James Marlow you have been at pains to show the world that you care not a whit. You are charming, polite and considerate but you will allow no one inside the defensive wall you have built around yourself. Not even me.’
Clarissa stared at her. After a small silence, she said quietly, ‘Is that how I seem to you, Mama-Nell?’
‘It is.’
‘You must think me very selfish.’
‘No, my darling, but I think it time to change. You have shut yourself away inside that shell for far too long.’
‘But I don’t know how to change.’
Lady Wyckenham laughed gently, and reached up to flick Clarissa’s pale cheek with one finger.
‘The fact that Lord Alresford’s comments have upset you shows that you are changing, my love.’
‘And what has his lordship been saying to you?’ demanded Lady Gaunt, coming up in time to overhear her words. Lady Wyckenham looked up and said with a slight tremor in her voice. ‘He had the effrontery to call Clarissa frivolous.’
‘Looked down his well-bred nose at you, did he?’ drawled the viscountess.
‘I did offer him provocation,’ admitted Clarissa. ‘I wish he were not so severe.’
‘He was not always so,’ said Lady Gaunt, sitting down at the table. ‘He changed after Elizabeth Medway died.’
Clarissa looked up. ‘Oh?’
‘She was his fiancée – the niece of Sir Gordon Medway, who is here tonight with his wife and daughter Florence.’
‘Yes, I met them.’ Clarissa gave a rueful smile. ‘I fear it was my responses to Miss Medway’s opinions that drew Lord Alresford’s disapproval. Now it all makes sense.’ Lady Gaunt took out her snuff box and helped herself to a pinch.
‘Very religious family,’ she said. ‘Well connected, of course: live in Mount Street, but never seen at anything as pleasurable as a ball or rout. It is our host’s connection with the Royal Society that has tempted them here tonight.’
‘And no doubt Sir Toby will make Sally invite them to their soirée on Monday se’ennight,’ added Lady Wyckenham. ‘Sally told me that her husband is well acquainted with the family. Clarissa and I are already engaged to attend: will you go, Dorothea?’
‘Where, my dear?’
‘To Sally Matlock’s supper party next week: poetry and play-readings.’
‘I suppose I must, if only to support dear Sarah.’ Lady Gaunt cast a roguish glance towards Miss Wyckenham. ‘Such evenings are a favourite pastime for Sir Toby, and he is so obliging in all other ways that Sally arranges a literary evening for him occasionally.’
Clarissa gave a vague smile, her thoughts otherwise engaged.
‘How did she die, Lady Gaunt?’
‘Who, my dear?’
‘Elizabeth – Alresford’s future bride.’
‘Scarlet fever, contracted while working with the poorer families in Spitalfields.’
‘Ah, how sad. It is no wonder, then, that he thinks so little of me.’
‘It is widely rumoured that his lordship has transferred his affections to Florence. It would not be an unequal match: Florence is quite an heiress, and their combined estates would be considerable.’
‘Well, I hope he will not delay in marrying her,’ declared Clarissa. ‘Then they may be earnest and worthy together, and leave lesser mortals to enjoy themselves!’
‘Talking of enjoyment,’ said Lady Wyckenham, ‘We are set for Vauxhall next week. I have reserved a supper-box and I think we shall all wear dominos, that we may wander through the gardens without being recognized.’
‘Helen, my dear, surely you do not expect us to eat our supper clothed from head to toe in a silk domino?’ murmured Lady Gaunt.
‘No, Dorothea, but I think it will be more exciting to go about the gardens in disguise,’ Lady Wyckenham’s mischievous smile appeared. ‘We can venture into the Dark Walk: I wager some of us have never been there.’
‘An excellent notion!’ cried Lady Sarah. ‘I have just had a new domino delivered, beautiful emerald green – to match my eyes.’
‘Sarah you are incorrigible,’ laughed Lady Wyckenham. ‘Clarissa, have you a domino – no? Then we shall have to purchase one—’
‘No need,’ put in Lady Gaunt. ‘I have a spare one – scarlet silk, perfect for such a frivolous lady.’
They all laughed, and Lady Gaunt sat back in her chair, holding out her hand to a gentleman who was approaching. ‘Well, Sir Robert. Have you escaped from your many admirers?’
He bowed over her fingers with careless grace.
‘I have, ma’am, and I have come to take my patroness upstairs to view the paintings.’ His lazy glance travelled to the orange and cream jelly set before Lady Wyckenham. ‘But I see you have not yet finished your supper, and I know how much you love flummery, so I will not ask you to leave it. …’
Lady Wyckenham put her hand on Clarissa’s arm.
‘My stepdaughter, however, has finished and would be delighted to accompany you.’
Clarissa felt the colour warm her cheeks, but she met Sir Robert’s enquiring glance with her own smiling eyes.
‘I would indeed be honoured if you would explain some of the sketches to me.’
&n
bsp; ‘Come along then.’
He led her back to the book-room and proceeded to guide her around the pictures, describing the islands where they had found the various plants and trying to explain the long latin names they had been given.
‘A valuable record for the Royal Society, Sir Robert. My stepmother will be fascinated: she is a very good artist, you know.’
‘I do know. I have been fortunate enough to see some of her work. In fact,’ he added, ‘I am going to give her a couple of specimens that have flowered since they were first captured. I want her to paint them for me.’
‘Indeed? That is a great compliment to her talent, sir.’
‘I know she can do it.’
Clarissa stopped to examine the painting of a brightly coloured flower.
‘Have you known Lady Wyckenham a long time, Sir Robert?’
‘Oh, for many years.’
‘You were never at Wyckenham Hall, I think, when my father was alive. And I cannot recall seeing you in London when I made my come-out three years ago.’
‘While you were making your curtsy at Court, Miss Wyckenham, I was sailing to the West Indies.’
‘You seem to have spent little time in England, sir, and yet you told me you have a property in Cheshire?’
‘Yes, Newfield Hall. I have an excellent gardener who keeps all in order for me.’
‘A gardener! That is all very well, Sir Robert, but what of the house – who keeps that in order?’
‘My steward, of course.’
‘And will you live there now, or do you have another voyage planned?’
‘I have not yet decided.’ He bent a quizzical smile upon her. ‘Has this interrogation anything to do with your stepmama?’
Clarissa chuckled.
‘Perhaps I should ask you if your intentions are honourable.’
‘And how would you respond if I said they were not?’ he countered.
A dimple peeped. Clarissa said demurely, ‘I should be sorry for you. Mama-Nell has already told me she will not take a lover.’
The Belle Dames Club Page 5