by Carola Dunn
“Yesterday we went to the—” began Geoff. Jamie kicked his ankle.
“Hester will wish to see the Tower,” he interrupted, throwing his brother a minatory glance, “and Vauxhall Gardens.”
“And the docks,” put in Robbie.
“It’s a grown-up party,” Susan told him. “They won’t want to look at boats.”
After some discussion, Hester, Alice and Lord Alton agreed on an itinerary.
“Will Thursday suit you, Miss Godric?” his lordship asked at last. “I must go out of town for a day or two on Tuesday. As it happens, I shall pass through Henley. Will you allow me to drive Miss Susan to her grandfather? I should be happy to renew my acquaintance with Mr. Stevens.”
“I am sure he would be pleased to see you, but you must not go out of your way. Jamie may very well escort his sister.”
“I assure you it is not the least out of my way.” Since I must in any event call on your grandfather soon, he added silently. “Susan, should you not like to keep me company on my drive?”
“Oh yes, sir. Shall you take the curricle? That would be beyond anything great.”
“If it is fine and Miss Godric is not afraid that you will be chilled.”
“Hester, say I may! Please? Think how surprised Grandpa will be to see me arrive so grandly!”
Hester found it impossible to refuse, though she suspected Lord Alton of fabricating a nonexistent errand. She had not been entirely easy about allowing her little sister to travel with only Jamie as escort. However willing, he did tend to be absentminded. Not that she imagined his lordship could have guessed her misgivings. She must be glad that his love for Alice joined with his natural kindness to make him so solicitous for her family.
“Allie, you have not told us about your grand party last night,” said Geoff. “Did you enjoy watching the toffs dancing?”
“Indeed I had no opportunity. Everyone was so friendly and obliging that I had no leisure to observe.”
“Miss Alice danced every dance,” Lord Alton corroborated, “and had to disappoint a throng of admirers. I was fortunate to secure her company for supper. And if others were obliging—which is possible, I suppose—then she herself was the soul of benignity, for she would not stand up until her cousin was provided with a partner.”
Alice had not the least idea of the meaning of “benignity” but recognised a compliment when she heard one and blushed becomingly.
“I am glad she was capable of thinking of others while enjoying herself,” said Hester approvingly. “I would wish her to have a kind heart more than any amount of social success. But I confess it is very gratifying to know you were so sought after, Allie.”
She would have liked to enquire whether her sister had found any of her partners especially attractive, but it did not seem tactful to do so in Lord Alton’s presence. Alice was looking particularly fetching in a walking dress of canary yellow jaconet muslin trimmed with mull, all her own work from a fashion plate in Ackerman’s Repository of Arts, and Hester wished she had seen her in her evening gown. Suddenly she felt dowdy in her old kerseymere round dress. She had never had time or inclination to hanker after finery, but now she wondered how she would look arrayed in the first stare of fashion. A tiny sigh escaped her unnoticed as she decided it would be wasted on her face and figure, even if the expense were not out of the question. Abandoning unprofitable daydreams, she joined in the general conversation in time to hear Jamie bemoan the fact that he and Geoff had nearly exhausted the respectable amusements of London.
“Though I shall happily return to my books,” he added. “I have sadly neglected them this fortnight. But Geoffrey has not that occupation, and he can hardly do much gardening here.”
“I’m sure I shall contrive to amuse myself,” said Geoff shortly. “Just because I am not a swot doesn’t mean—”
Seeing Hester about to intervene to head off an incipient quarrel, Lord Alton broke in.
“Geoff, I wish you will consider exercising my horses occasionally, and James also, of course. I have little time for riding at present, and my groom, Jerry, has been complaining that Jettison and Orangepeel grow fat and lazy and he is too busy—”
“Why is it called Orangepeel?” demanded Robbie. “That’s a funny name for a horse.”
“His dam was Orangeblossom and his sire Repeal. Blossom was my mother’s horse. Jettison is really more interesting as a name. He is not named after his parents, but he is black as jet, and in early youth he had the unfortunate habit of throwing off anyone who had the temerity to mount him.”
Geoff and Jamie laughed, but Robbie had to have the joke explained to him. Even after this, Alice was left looking rather blank.
“I hope he does not still behave so naughty,” she said anxiously. “Geoffrey might be hurt if he fell off.”
“No horse can throw me,” boasted Geoff unwisely. “Besides Lord Alton would scarcely keep in his stable a horse with such a habit. May I really ride them, sir?”
His lordship assured him that he would be doing a favour, while Hester began to wonder how she had ever contrived to manage her family without his assistance. It was an unwelcome thought. She was used to believing herself capable of bringing up her brothers and sisters by herself, and she might not count on his continued help if Alice rejected him.
* * * *
Tuesday proving fine, Susan departed in Lord Alton’s curricle at nine o’clock in the morning, well wrapped in a fur rug and with a hot brick at her feet. Mr. Stevens had been warned of their coming, and they reached his cottage in time to partake of a nuncheon prepared by Ivy Hewitt.
“And how’s the leg, yer lordship?” she enquired.
“It still hurts me when it is cold and damp,” he answered, anxious not to disappoint her.
“Artheritus setting in. Be crippled afore yer forty, mark my words, just like Tom Black’s cousin’s ma.” To his relief, she did not also produce any young girls who had pined their way into the grave, though she did hurry Susan off to bed right after lunch.
Mr. Stevens had heard all about his lordship’s quarrel and reconciliation with the Godrics, and did not believe in raking over old coals.
“It’s kind o’ ye to bring our Sue down, m’lord,” he said. “Hester says ye’ve another errand, so I expect ye’ll be on your way.”
“To tell the truth, my other errand was to you,” confessed Lord Alton. “I’ve come to tell you that I wish to marry Hester.”
The old man did not bat an eyelid. “Ye’re asking my permission to court her?”
“No, I’m afraid not. Informing you of my intentions, rather.”
“Hester’s not said owt to me o’ this.”
“I’ve not said anything to her yet. You see, sir, she is used to looking on me as just another nursling. I must make her see me as a real person, as a man, before I can even begin to attempt to win her affection. Besides, I rather think she has an understanding with the Reverend Collingwood, so that I have a rival to consider.”
‘Ah,” said Mr. Stevens cryptically, “that’s as may be. Well, lad, ask it or no, ye’ve my permission, which is more nor this Collingwood ever sought. ‘Tis little I saw o’ the young fella, but he struck me as a milk-and-water chap. Our Hester has a mind o’ her own, and it’s my belief she’d do better wi' a man o’ spirit. There, m’lord, ye’ve my vote along wi’ my permission. So now it’s up to you to persuade the lass.”
“Thank you, sir. I’ll do my best, I assure you. The thought of losing her does not bear contemplation.”
“I’ll not push her, mind!”
“I do not expect it. The knowledge of your support is all I wanted. Now, how about a game of draughts?”
Lord Alton drove back to London that afternoon perfectly satisfied with his journey.
* * * *
The sight-seeing excursion had to be put off when the weather changed abruptly. Thursday dawned grey and dreary, and by eight a light drizzle was falling, growing steadily heavier as the morning wore on. When Jerry
arrived in Paddington with a note from his master suggesting postponement, Hester was disappointed. A little rain would not have stopped her, but she supposed it would not be very comfortable to be climbing in and out of a carriage with dripping clothes.
She had been looking forward to seeing Alice and to meeting Cousin Sophie and George Charworthy. Now she wondered if they might venture out to take tea with her. She would not have presumed to invite them directly, especially Miss Bardry, whose mother so obviously disapproved of her, but perhaps Lord Alton might prevail upon them to join him in a visit.
She dashed off a quick note to his lordship proposing the scheme, and assuring him that she would not take offence if he considered it ineligible.
Promptly at three o’clock, the Alton town carriage drew up in the narrow village street. The earl and his nephew descended, bearing huge black umbrellas, and escorted the young ladies to the door. Robbie had been on the lookout, and before the knocker could be plied, he flung the door open.
“Hello, Allie,” he said. “You look like a bird with all those feathers on your hat. Is that cousin Sophie?” Belatedly remembering his manners, he bowed as the visitors crowded into the cramped hallway.
It became even more crowded as Hester, James, and Geoffrey arrived to greet the guests, and Bessie to see why there was such a hubbub when no one had summoned her to the door. Gradually the confusion was sorted out, introductions made, damp pelisses and greatcoats carried off to the kitchen to dry, and the two younger boys banished thither, to their mutual and outspoken disgust.
The rest of the party repaired to the parlour, where a cheerful fire burned in the grate—a pleasant contrast to the wind-lashed rain beyond the window. The ladies were seated; Lord Alton placed himself firmly beside Hester; and Jamie took a hard chair against the wall between his sisters, where they might shelter him from the gaze of the alarmingly stylish young gentleman to whom he had scarcely been introduced. Mr. Charworthy found himself between his redoubtable uncle and his forbidden sweetheart, a veritable Scylla and Charybdis, though if he had ever heard of those perils of the Ancient World the impression had not been lasting. Philosophically, he took his seat and commenced sucking on the knob of his cane, his rather protuberant blue eyes firmly fixed on Miss Alice and Uncle David alternately, in accordance with his mother’s instructions to watch their behaviour in each other’s company.
Since he had very little idea what he was looking for, and would have been unable to present a coherent report if he had observed anything worthy of note, he felt scarce a twinge of guilt when he found his gaze wandering to the face of his inamorata, where it presently fixed. A modest young man, George was fully aware of his own deficiencies in the area of the brain-box. He had been known to refer to himself in a fit of despondency as a “regular Jack-pudding.” It was a source of constant amazement and gratification to him that Sophie Bardry, who was certainly wide awake on every suit, should have taken a liking to him.
They had known each other forever, as the Charworthy and Bardry estates in Staffordshire shared a boundary. Though three years his junior, she had often protected him from the starts of his younger brother, Terence, an enterprising youth of her own age. George had long admired her ability to deal with situations that left him floundering like a fish out of water, and if there was any fault to be found with her appearance, he was as unaware of it the sixth time his mama pointed it out as he had been the first. It had come as a shock when her debut had been postponed for a year in the vain hope that time and constant applications of Distilled Water of Green Pineapples might erase her deplorable freckles. He liked them.
Though in general an obedient, not to mention docile, son, George had not intention of submitting forever to his mama’s frequently announced opposition to his choice of a wife. Now that Sophie had formally left the schoolroom behind her, he was biding his time, awaiting the appropriate moment to act. He hoped he would recognise it when it came.
In the meantime, he listened admiringly as Sophie opened the conversation.
“I am happy to have the opportunity of making your acquaintance, Miss Godric,” she declared. “Alice has told me so much about you.”
“Thank you, Miss Bardry,” said Hester, wondering just what Alice had disclosed. “I am glad your mama permitted you to visit me—though a little surprised, I confess.”
“Mama does not know,” the young lady admitted blushing. “I told her only that Alice and I were going out with Lord Alton and George. She was quite thrown into transports and did not think to ask where we were going. I have been determined to meet you this age.”
“Determined!” affirmed George with a nod.
“My dear, I do not like you to deceive Lady Bardry.”
“She did not forbid me to see you, though truth to tell I believe that was because she never expected I might wish to do so. Mama does not know me very well. I am grateful to his lordship for bringing me here.”
George looked at his august uncle to see how he took this. Lord Alton was contemplating Alice, who was ravishing in a walking dress of rose Circassian cloth.
“Grateful, Uncle,” George pointed out to him, afraid he had missed the comment.
“My pleasure, George,” assured his lordship indulgently. In general he had little patience with his mutton-headed nephew, but he was prepared to put up with his asinine remarks so long as Lady Bardry was eager to push Sophie into his company. He wanted Hester to begin to feel at home in fashionable society, and though Miss Bardry was not precisely what he would have chosen, her manners and breeding were unexceptionable, and she had the advantage of being a close connexion. She would do for a start.
Another point in George’s favour was that Lady Ariadne ought to prove gratified by his sudden and belated interest in his heir, and her gratitude might with luck persuade her to receive Miss Godric with complaisance. That she would receive her in one way or another, and sooner or later, went without saying. But it would be much more comfortable for Hester if she did so with a good grace. He would have to invent some good reason for desiring her to take up Miss Godric. Once more his gaze settled, this time speculatively, on Alice. The germs of a plot began to take shape in his mind.
Even George could not fail to be conscious of his lordship’s abstraction and the way his eyes lingered on Miss Alice. So silent was David that Hester, who had noticed a slight limp as he entered, thought he must be in pain, and she revised her decision not to mention it to him for fear of embarrassing him. She waited for a moment when Jamie had entered the conversation, emboldened by Mr. Charworthy’s monosyllables, and was describing to the young ladies a trial he had attended with Geoffrey at the Old Bailey. Turning to Lord Alton, she spoke in a low voice.
“I am afraid your leg is not as well healed as we had hoped, sir. Is it very painful?”
“It aches a little when the weather is cold and wet,” he admitted, “but nothing to signify. Mistress Ivy warned me, you know! I expect it would be the better for some of your grandfather’s liniment, if I could bring myself to submit to being sent to Coventry.”
“That is not at all necessary. I have discovered an embrocation which works almost as well and without any odour that might lead to the end of your social life. I shall have an apothecary make some up for you.” Hester surprised herself with a distressingly unladylike desire to rub the ointment into his injured limb with her own hands. Only to be certain it was properly applied, she assured herself hastily. She would see that his lordship’s valet had precise instructions.
Lord Alton noted her faint blush and wondered what had caused it. He was afraid that his accursed leg had negated all the progress he had made in removing himself from the number of her dependents. He thanked her and hurriedly changed the subject.
“I hope you do not mean to cry off our excursion because of the delay. March is nearly here and the sun will surely show itself again soon. We must reschedule both the tour of London and Rob’s river trip.”
“The season will soon be in f
ull swing, will it not? You will have little time for such things, and you must not consider yourself obliged to carry out plans laid in a more leisurely hour.”
“Hester, you have a poor opinion of me if you think I break promises so easily. Besides, both outings offer far more amusement than another round of breakfasts, ridottos, card parties, and balls. I am shocked to realise that I have been on the town these ten years and more, and have never been on a Thames steamboat nor climbed the Monument. And I am sure you will agree with me that one’s companions make all the difference to the enjoyment of any occasion.”
“Robbie was certainly very relieved that you did not mean to hand him over to a secretary.”
“Now that reminds me! How could I have forgotten? Bella and Barney asked me to convey to you an invitation to dine in Russell Square on Sunday. They generally ask a few close friends to take pot-luck. I shall be going and will be happy to fetch you and bring you home again.”
“David, I must not. You know I am determined to avoid entering society. If you will take me to see Mrs. Rugby one afternoon, I shall be vastly obliged, but not a dinner party.” Hester twisted her handkerchief in her agitated fingers.
“My dear, I do understand your scruples. However, the Rugbys do not move in the same circles as your sister’s aunt, and it is highly unlikely that you will meet anyone who is acquainted with her.”
“The circles must overlap. Indeed I know they do, for do not you belong to both?”
“Only because Barney and Bella are such very good friends of mine. You must not become a hermit for Alice’s sake. With her beauty and sweetness, she will do very well even should you proclaim from the rooftops that you are her sister.”
Hester smiled but was not convinced. His lordship decided it was time for stronger measures.
“I shall pick you up at quarter past six,” he announced. “You will not wish to make me come all this way for nothing. If you are not ready, I shall carry you off as you are. Must I apply to James and Geoffrey for assistance in the abduction?”