Ridiculous

by D. L. Carter

  “I prefer comfort to fashion,” replied Millicent coolly, “and make my own decisions regarding my clothing. In consultation with my tailor.”

  “It is clear you do not take your tailor’s advice.” Standing before her the comte raised his lorgnette to his eyes as he scanned Millicent from head to toe.

  The urge to raise her arms across her breasts had her hands trembling. Millicent flushed and kept her hands at her sides through will alone. Her disguise had survived for months, but she had never been subjected to such intense scrutiny. The comte glanced down at her hands and smirked at this proof of her nervousness. Turning away from his examination Millicent smiled at one of the nearby ladies and with a bow appropriated her fan. By now no lady would consider refusing Mr. North’s request for a fan. This lady would boast to her friends for weeks and probably save the fan as a memento, such was Mr. North’s current reputation. For now waving it gave Millicent a little confidence and helped calm down the flush that threatened to become a wholesale burning blush.

  “My tailor requires that I enter from the alley and not reveal his name,” said Millicent, smiling at a nearby wallflower. “I do not blame the fellow as I do not display his works of art to their best effect.”

  “Oh, I think with a little effort you could be improved,” purred the comte. He pointed at Millicent’s thighs and crotch with his lorgnette. “A little padding here and there and you would receive the acclaim of the crowd.”

  There were a few snickers from those listening.

  “I believe I am receiving as much acclaim as I can accommodate,” said Millicent, “there being only so many hours in the day and so many days in the season. Poor mortal that I am, I can attend only so many functions.”

  “You have a high opinion of yourself for one of such low estate,” murmured the comte.

  “Oh, sir, you are mistaken. At least two of my estates are at the top of hills and my hunting box is on one of the higher mountains of the Pennine Chain! They are not low at all.”

  The listeners laughed louder at that.

  The comte flushed at that since every member of the ton knew that he was title proud and penny poor since the Grande Revolution had robbed him of all material goods.

  “I suppose,” continued Millicent, as she waved the fan under her chin, “when considering padding one’s clothes, I prefer honesty, since at some point in one’s life one is required to provide proof and one does not wish to disappoint under those circumstances…” She allowed her voice to trail off, then continued, “as you well know, my Lord Comte.”

  His flush deepened as those mature ladies within earshot either giggled or nodded. The débutantes pretended they did not understand the jest.

  “I would be willing to testify as to your honesty, Mr. North, after a suitable period of examination,” said the earl.

  Millicent permitted the fan to still and she regarded the earl through narrowed eyes.

  “I have no need of your testimony on any subject, nor at any time,” she said in the most chilling tones she could summon.

  Before the earl could manifest his offense at her reply Millicent noticed one of Lady Beth’s young admirers hurrying through the crowd toward her.

  “Mr. North! Mr. North, you must come at once!” He clutched Millicent’s arm and turned her about. “She has gone quite pale and he will not listen to any of us. This is to be my dance and he dismissed me. Me!”

  By this time Millicent recognized the lad as being the heir to a respectable baronetcy. As far as she could tell from the lad’s babble there was some quarrel about precedent within Beth’s circle. Since Shoffer had given Lady Englethorpes a list of those who were approved to dance with Beth, Millicent was tempted to refer the lad back to the chaperone, but at that moment the crowd parted and she could see Attelweir looming far too close to a cringing Beth. Her approved suitors were hovering a few feet away watching with expressions of distress, but making no move to rescue her.

  Lady Englethorpes was wringing her lace handkerchief, frowning. Obviously, she lacked the spine to dismiss a duc on the hunt.

  Millicent took one step forward, then halted as her arm was caught in a surprisingly sharp grip. She glanced down first at the beringed hand that held her, then up to meet the comte’s glittering gaze.

  “Uh, uh, ah,” said the comte, waving a finger under her nose. “No, you will not. It is not for you to interfere in the concerns of your betters.”

  Millicent seized the littlest of the comte’s fingers and yanked it back, hard. The man screamed shrilly and released her.

  “There are pigs in their wallows who are better than Attelweir,” Millicent hissed, then crossed the room at as close to a run as she could manage, given the crowding.

  Millicent did not bother with subtlety or jests. She pushed through the watching crowd and placed herself firmly between Attelweir and Lady Beth. As soon as she was in place, Lady Engelthorpes moved in, hartshorn in hand, to support the girl who was, from what Millicent could assess, actually near fainting.

  Millicent turned her back on Attelweir, a move sure to set him to fuming and leaned close to Beth.

  “My dear girl, whatever is the matter?”

  Beth’s only reply was to close her eyes. Her lips were pale and tightly clenched and she shivered in the embrace of her chaperone.

  “His Grace has been speaking to Lady Elizabeth of matters unsuitable for a girl of her age,” Lady Englethorpes glanced toward Attelweir and away, “When His Grace’s conversation grew too warm, I chastised him and reminded him of Lady Elizabeth’s youth and innocence and his response was quite crude.”

  Millicent stared over her shoulder at the duc. “Sir, you should be more careful in your speech.”

  “As should you be,” shot back Attelweir, “or do you presume to correct your betters?”

  Millicent straightened. “Before God, I swear I do not regard you as the ‘better’ of those gathered here. But our opinions of each other does not matter. Lady Beth does not wish for your company. You should honor the young lady’s wishes and depart.”

  “I shall not since a courtship requires a maiden to be persuaded of where her best interest lies, even if at first she does not realize it.” Attelweir smirked and attempted to push past Millicent, but she stepped sideways and blocked him. “Now, get out of my way, you mushroom. You…”

  Before he could gain traction for a rousing tirade, Millicent leaned forward and hissed in his ear for a few moments, then leaned back and laughed, full-throated and loud. Attelweir gazed at her in shock.

  “What? What did you say?”

  Millicent leaned in again and whispered. “You may outrank me, Your Utterly Gracelessness, but you cannot defeat me. I am the joker, the royal fool. I may with impunity mock the pompous, heckle those of High Estate and make light of their pretensions.”

  She stepped back and laughed again. All around her the matrons, the débutantes, the young bucks, and older gentlemen laughed with her. Attelweir glared around, confused by their imitation.

  Mr. North had not made a joke and they could not possibly have heard what he had said. Why were they laughing?

  “What you do not understand,” continued Millicent with a smile, whispering again in his ear, as she stalked around his taller form, “is that I have a reputation for outlandish jokes and subtle insults. No one here wishes to admit they cannot hear my joke or that they misunderstood it.” She broke off to laugh again, echoed by the crowd – louder and longer. “Tomorrow it will be all about the ton that I mocked and ridiculed you and you were disgusted at yourself for being destroyed by it.”

  “I am not disgusted!” cried Attelweir and colored when all near him burst into gales.

  From one side of the hall to the other all the guests were looking at them, all laughing and pointing, some near to tears with hilarity. Attelweir turned burning eyes on Millicent who smiled and bowed.

  “Your servant, Your Grace.” Then Millicent took Beth by the hand. “Let me take you in to the suppe
r room, my dear Lady Beth. I think you need a little sustenance to restore you.”

  Millicent did not glance behind. She could judge by the stares of those she passed that the other guests continued to watch Attelweir. Lorgnettes turned to follow him as he stalked through the room and away. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the comte and earl hurry after him.

  More fool them. In Attelweir’s current state, they were likely to receive the toasting that Attelweir was thwarted from raining down on Mr. North.

  “He will have his revenge on you,” said Beth, leaning heavily on his arm. “Oh, Mr. North, I am so sorry for being so weak. If only I had a stare like Timothy’s, I would have sent him away, but I am too young.”

  “Oh, please Lady Beth, do not worry so. The ducal stare is granted only to the duke. With it he can ignite the coal in the grate when the mood is upon him. If age would grant such a thing, I would have it myself, but, poor, pathetic creature that I am, I cannot even cause a dry leaf to wither.”

  It was a feeble joke, but Beth chuckled anyway, and straighted her spine. Millicent glanced about and caught the eye of the youth who had alerted her to the problem. A nod of the head was enough to bring – what was his name? – running to draw out a chair for Beth. Millicent studied the room and caught the eye of a few others of Beth’s approved court. Within a few minutes the chosen table was filled with chattering young men, flattering and gently teasing Beth into a better frame of mind. Millicent did not think for a moment that Attelweir was permanently routed. She would have to consult with Shoffer and determine the best way to go on.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Millicent reported the exchange in full to Shoffer that night, waiting in the ducal study until near dawn when Shoffer returned from a night’s dissipation. She tried not to feel hurt that Shoffer chose to spend time with other companions when he was supposed to be sleeping off Parliament. While it was a compliment of sorts that he had trusted her with his sister, it hurt to think Shoffer spent time with ladies of a “certain reputation” rather than with Millicent and Beth.

  Consequently, Millicent gave a brief report of Attelweir’s actions, and stated that Mr. North was available to offer whatever aid was required and departed.

  At home she lay sleepless in her bed for hours.

  * * *

  The season was half done and the family sitting at the luncheon table, silent and preoccupied, when Felicity recalled Millicent to her primary responsibility.

  “I do not understand it,” she said. “We have gentlemen visitors every day, flowers in every room, and still the girls have received no proposals. There is nothing for it, Mr. North, you must increase their dowries and make certain all the gentlemen know about it.”

  Felicity had not been informed about Millicent’s concerns regarding dowries, merely the result, and she had to be prevented from literally putting an announcement in the papers once she had heard about Millicent’s solution.

  Two girls, pretty and talented with Five Thousand Pounds in the Exchange, to be wed. Apply at Maricourt Place …

  Millicent shuddered to think of it.

  “I hardly think that is the way to go on,” Millicent glanced down at the plate before her and was surprised to see she was eating fish. Generally, she despised fish. When neither of her sisters spoke she looked around the table. “You are all quiet today.”

  “Silence is not a crime,” said Mildred.

  “Oh, I do grant you that, it is just unusual in this house. Perhaps you are all tired. We need not go out every night. It might be as well that we stay at home tonight and be comfortable beside the fire.”

  “Oh, no,” cried Felicity. “Tonight is the Earl of Decrent’s ball. We must go for Maude’s sake.”

  Millicent blinked at that information and sat up to regard her youngest sister with interest. “Oh? Am I to expect a visit from a gentleman of that family?”

  “I doubt it very much,” said Maude stiffly. “You need not put yourself out for me; we can stay home tonight with my blessing. I have no expectations.”

  “Maude, what are you saying?” said Felicity. “You know very well that the earl’s second son has been paying you the most pointed attention.” She turned to Millicent. “He danced twice with her at the Henderson’s ball and took her in to supper there and last night at the musicale he was most attentive. When we go walking in the park he appears most days to keep us company.”

  Millicent glanced toward her youngest sister who was studying the contents of her wine glass with particular attention. “I think if we were to ask Maude we would find that the earl’s son has been dancing at her heels for longer than a few days. Did you not meet him at your very first ball?”

  It took only one glance at Maude’s reddened cheeks for Felicity to judge the truth of Millicent’s words.

  “I wonder why has he not called on you here?” asked Felicity. “He has had enough time, it seems, to be certain of his affections.”

  Maude declined to answer. To stave off an inquisition from Felicity, Millicent rose from her place at the head of the table and went to sit between her sister and mother and instead asked the necessary questions gently.

  “Are you being courted? Are his eyes framed with dark lashes?” teased Millicent. “Do his legs show to good advantage in stockings?”

  A dimple appeared in one of Maude’s cheeks and she shot a sidelong look toward Millicent. “He looks very fine and is very graceful in the dance.”

  Millicent leaned a little closer and whispered in Maude’s ear. “And how does he kiss? I admit, I am a little jealous that you are the first of us to find out about kissing.”

  Maude blushed again as Felicity began to cry and fuss. “Kisses? Oh. Oh. The scandal.”

  “Oh, be still, please,” said Mildred, from her place on the other side of the table. “Kisses behind curtains in ballrooms do not a scandal make. It would be more of a scandal, or at least a cause for shame, if we managed to get from one end of the season to the other with neither of us kissed at least once.”

  “Mildred, how can you be so casual?” demanded Felicity.

  “Because I have been at Maude’s side at every event, just as you have. I know very well Maude has had no opportunity for truly wicked behavior. And I have been in her confidence. While the earl’s son is handsome and an excellent dancer, he is also impoverished. He has come to the conclusion that Maude’s dower is far from sufficient for his needs and he has so informed her.”

  “Oh,” cried Millicent, drawing back. “The scoundrel. I shall seek him out and teach him better manners. To say something so unkind to a young lady is unforgivable.”

  “Oh, no. It was not like that,” Maude clutched at Millicent’s sleeve. “Please do nothing to him. I know you and the duke could discredit him up and down the whole of town, if you wished. No. I told Mildred that he said how very sad he was he could not pursue a courtship with me however much he might be tempted to. He does not have an independence and cannot keep me as well as I deserve.”

  “Was this before or after a kiss?” demanded Millicent. When Maude lowered her gaze to the table, Millicent rose and began to pace the room, swearing under her breath.

  “Please, Mr. North, do not be cross with him. I am not.” Maude pulled a kerchief from her long sleeve and sniffed into it. “I forgive him. He is not responsible for his secondary status or his family’s lack of estate. But I would prefer not to discuss the matter and I would rather go to a different entertainment tonight.”

  “You are too disinterested.” Millicent paused in her pacing and turned to face her other sister. “And you, Mildred. Am I to expect a caller on your behalf?”

  “No.”

  Felicity and Millicent exchanged a glance.

  “No? Just no,” said Millicent. “I am certain that is not so. Surely, I have seen you with a half dozen bucks dancing attendance upon you each evening.”

  Mildred shook her head. “They are no one of consequence.”

  “Now I am confused. I would
have thought from your manner that you found them pleasing. Has no one engaged your affection?”

  This time Mildred did not answer. Maude, happy to have the family’s attention on someone else, leapt into the fray.

  “Oh, ho. Silence speaks loudest. Mildred has a beau!”

  “She has not,” declared Mildred, with some heat. “She has no such thing and is in expectation of remaining … alone.”

  “Come, Mildred,” demanded Millicent. “I must know. Have you met someone?”

  “I have met several people.”

  Millicent waited for more and when there were no words forthcoming, again began pacing. “This is impossible. Have you forgotten you can confide in me? Mildred? Am I so changed that I am unworthy of whispered secrets?”

  There was stunned silence from the three women, then Felicity, for a change, shook herself as if coming out of a trance and laughed. “You cannot be cross that your disguise has worked so well. Are you truly shocked that we keep feminine secrets from you, the man of the house? I thought that was the objective!”

  Mildred and Maude began to giggle. Millicent stopped and crossed her hands over her chest.

  “And now you do look as stern and cross as Papa used to,” observed Maude.

  “I now understand his reasons,” muttered Millicent.

  “Sit down and eat, Mr. North,” commanded Felicity, amused at Millicent’s frustration.

  Millicent stood for a moment completely stunned, then burst out laughing. When she regained her composure, Mildred smiled upon her sister.

  “I am sorry, dear. You have been out and about dealing with the tenants, making money, and other such masculine things and I have not had a chance for a long coze with you for months. I have come to rely more on Maude in your absence.”

  “I suppose I have only myself to blame. Please forgive me, I have been neglecting you.” Millicent sighed. “I have been busy, but that does not mean I do not want to know if some young buck has caught your eye. For both masculine and feminine reasons.”

  “Not a young buck,” said Mildred softly. “A gentleman.”