The Battling Bluestocking

by Scott, Amanda

  Lady Susan inclined her head slightly. “Very kind of you to invite us to dine, my lord.” She turned immediately to his wife. “You have neglected us, Georgeanne. We have not seen you for several days. I trust you have not been suffering ill health.”

  “Nothing to mention, Aunt Susan. Merely a bilious attack, I believe. I’m feeling wonderfully well tonight,” her ladyship said, hugging her. “’Tis delightful that you and Jessica were able to join us. Your schedule has been so full, I scarcely dared to hope you would honor us.”

  Lady Susan chuckled. “We have been gadding a bit, have we not? Well, I vow the change has done me good, and I do like to see your sister enjoying herself.”

  “Oh, so do I,” Georgeanne replied, shooting a look brimful of mischief at Jessica. “Come along into the drawing room, both of you, and meet our other guests.”

  The look warned Jessica, so she was not in the least surprised to see Sir Brian standing near the drawing-room chimneypiece, looking very natty in his evening attire. If it had not required the help of two or three other men to assist him into his dark coat, as Lord Gordon often assured her was the case with himself and any other gentleman aspiring to sartorial heights, it still became him well, and as always his shirt and neckcloth were starched and snowy, and his black shoes shone enough to reflect the light of the cheerful little fire crackling away on the hearth. He was wearing dark pantaloons, as was his nephew, who stood a little distance away in conversation with a thin brown-haired woman, but another, older gentleman, who was conversing in low tones with Miss St. Erth near the front window, was, like Lord Gordon, wearing the knee breeches that were still de rigueur for formal occasions.

  Jessica was soon introduced to Lady St. Erth, whom she had not had the pleasure of meeting before, and of renewing her acquaintance with General Potterby, a stiffly erect gray-haired old gentleman whom she knew to be a longtime friend of her aunt’s. When she had an opportunity to speak privately with her sister, she accused Georgeanne of matchmaking, then flushed delicately when Lady Gordon’s eyes involuntarily shifted toward Sir Brian.

  “Not that, you goose. I meant the general and Aunt Susan.”

  “Oh.” Georgeanne grinned at her. “I was merely making up my numbers. We’ve another couple yet to arrive, and I’ve arranged for Mr. Wellesly Poole to be Lady St. Erth’s dinner partner.”

  “The fortune hunter?”

  “The very same. He asked me to arrange an introduction to Miss St. Erth, you see, and though I agreed to do it, I decided it would be as well to hint him away at the same time. This evening should accomplish both purposes to a nicety.”

  “Georgie, you are a rogue.” Her sister’s eyes twinkled, but Jessica noticed suddenly that she was looking rather pale. “I say, you are feeling all right, are you not?”

  Georgeanne nodded, her eyes still atwinkle. “I am fine, Jess. Truly. Don’t say a word to anyone, but I may be in an interesting condition.”

  Jessica’s eyes flew wide. “Good heavens, does Cyril know?”

  “No, and he isn’t to know until I’m quite certain, so don’t say a word to a soul. Promise!”

  “Of course. Oh, Georgie, how wonderful if it is true.”

  “Well, yes.” Lady Gordon eyed her speculatively. “You don’t think I am too old?”

  “Of course not, love. You will make a charming mother. Why, Mama was past thirty when Madeleine was born.”

  “Yes, but she had had two daughters already. The first is supposed to be the most difficult, you know.”

  It occurred to Jessica that the topic was a most improper one for the setting, but she took several moments to attempt to reassure her sister before changing the subject to one that would be more acceptable if anyone were to overhear them. A few moments later, in response to an unmistakable look of entreaty in Sir Brian’s eye, she moved to his side, greeting him warmly.

  “All clear in Hanover Square?” he asked, smiling.

  “The smoke has cleared, if that’s what you mean,” she replied with an answering smile. “And Aunt Susan has given orders for a sweep to be hired. One who will promise to use the machines you told her about. What a day this has been, to be sure. I only hope we do not encounter Lady Prodmore tonight.”

  He lifted an eyebrow. “Any particular reason why not?”

  Her smile widened to a grin. “Well, ailing and weak as I am, I’m sure she would be surprised to see me out and about like this.”

  He chuckled. “We’ll simply tell her that our stroll cured everything that ailed you.”

  Remembering the high point of that stroll brought a rush of color to her cheeks, and Jessica glanced around hastily to see if anyone was near enough to have overheard him. Everyone else seemed reassuringly engrossed in his or her own conversation. She looked back at Sir Brian to find his eyes dancing wickedly.

  “No one is paying us any heed, my girl, nor would they have noticed anything in my simple words to give them pause. ’Tis merely your own imagination at work. And the roses in your cheeks, I might add, that will cause them to wonder what I’ve said to you.”

  Her color deepened, but she managed to answer him with relative calm. “You are quite right. I confess I have lived in dread all afternoon that one of Aunt’s neighbors, paying a call to discuss the fire, you know, might say something about having seen us in the garden.”

  He nodded, his serious expression still belied by the dancing twinkle. “You will be the talk of Hanover Square by midnight.”

  Jessica shook her head at him, then turned to greet General Potterby, who had stepped up to speak to Sir Brian. A few moments later her own attention was claimed by Miss St. Erth. Jessica had seen the younger girl from a distance upon several occasions since her arrival in London, but until now she had had no opportunity to engage her in conversation. As they moved away from the others toward the window, they made, had they but realized it, a charming picture.

  Janet St. Erth was looking her best in a simple white-muslin evening dress, tied with a pink sash that matched the ribbons wound through her flaxen curls. Her lovely blue eyes were sparkling with enthusiasm, and her slim body fairly radiated her youth and good health. Standing next to the magnificent Miss Sutton-Drew, who had chosen a gown of deep-rose-colored silk trimmed with creamy lace, Miss St. Erth looked almost ethereal, while her slim, fragile beauty seemed to underscore Jessica’s earthier, more blatant sexuality. More than one eye turned in their direction as they conversed amicably together.

  “I’m so glad to have this opportunity at last, Miss Sutton-Drew,” Janet said in her mellow voice. “I’ve never thanked you properly for stopping to come to my rescue that dreadful day.”

  “Well, I didn’t precisely stop to rescue you, you know,” Jessica said honestly, but with a smile. “Our coach could not pass, because you and Mr. Hayle were blocking the road.”

  “I know, but you accomplished my rescue, nevertheless, and I am quite, quite grateful.”

  Jessica remembered Sir Brian’s criticism of her attempted intervention. “I think,” she said with a little smile, “that it is rather Sir Brian whom you ought to be thanking, you know.”

  “Oh, but I have, and Andrew…that is, Mr. Liskeard…as well. But Sir Brian said I must thank you, too, and indeed he is right, for that dreadful Hayle might well have pushed me over the cliff before ever he and An…Mr. Liskeard arrived to save me, if you and Lady Gordon had not come along as you did.”

  “Well, I don’t think Hayle had any real intention of harming you, you know.”

  “No, I daresay he didn’t, though I certainly didn’t understand that at the time.”

  “I collect that everything is all right in that direction now?”

  “Indeed, that is why my father has not yet come to London. He had meant to accompany us, you know, but after Sir Brian spoke with him, he went down to that mine himself and discovered, much to his astonishment, that everything was just as Hayle had said. He is overseeing many shockingly expensive changes, but Mama had a letter from him o
nly today, and he will arrive next week. He said it is all going most satisfactorily.”

  Jessica glanced involuntarily at Sir Brian. He was no longer conversing with the general, and his gaze had drifted in her direction. His look was a quizzical one, which made her realize that her own feelings were very likely reflected in her expression. She smiled vaguely at him and turned back to Miss St. Erth, but her thoughts had been stirred again by the younger girl’s ingenuous words. Just as Andrew had suggested to her earlier, Sir Brian had indeed listened to Hayle’s complaints, and seemingly he had gone further than that and had successfully acted upon them. Truly, she thought, as she followed the others in to dinner some moments later, there were still a good many things to learn about Sir Brian.

  “What were you and Miss St. Erth discussing so seriously?” he asked her once the first course had been passed. He was seated at her right, and she had General Potterby on her left.

  Mr. Wellesly Poole sat across the table from her, next to Lady St. Erth, so Jessica did not feel that she could explain the matter there and then. Instead she returned a glib response and asked him if he meant to accompany them to Carlton House.

  “Oh, yes. Gordon has assured me that I shall have a splendid time. Upon his word.”

  Jessica chuckled, darting a quick glance at her brother-in-law, who was deep in conversation with Lady Susan. At least, she amended to herself, Cyril was conversing. Lady Susan looked a trifle glazed about the eyes. Turning back to Sir Brian, she commented that if the Regent were blessed with, more supporters like Lord Gordon, he might be a happier man.

  “That’s not likely to occur so long as the war debt remains as high as it is now, I’m afraid,” he replied. “There are men out there in the streets who firmly believe they’d be better off if Napoleon had won. It has not been a good year for Prinny.”

  Jessica knew his words constituted an understatement of the facts. The year had not even begun well for the Regent. He was so unpopular that when he had opened Parliament the previous January he had had to drive through a hostile crowd, and upon his return to Carlton House that day, it was said by many that shots had actually been fired at him. There was certainly no doubt that gravel and stones had been thrown at the royal carriage, nor that some windows had been broken, and Lord Liverpool’s government had seized upon the incident as an excuse to suspend the Habeas Corpus Act, which meant that anybody under suspicion of anything could be thrown into jail and kept there. Indeed, the lawmakers had gone even a step further, bringing out and dusting off an unrepealed act dating back to Edward III, which gave magistrates everywhere the power to send to prison any persons they thought even likely to commit an act prejudicial to public order.

  “I cannot pretend that the Regent is a man whom I can admire particularly,” Jessica said now, “but it does seem a trifle unfair that he must bear the blame for such stuff as the suspension of habeas corpus, when in fact he had nothing to do with it.”

  “A fact of royal life, my dear,” Sir Brian said. “The common man knows little of the workings of government, but he does know that the Regent is the man at the top. I cannot tell you what wickedness motivated Liverpool and the others to overreact the way they did, but the habeas-corpus business is certainly something to be abhorred.”

  “I should think so. Why, I’ve heard of men being thrown into jail for little more than pulling a face or making a rude noise.”

  “I hope you don’t think I would throw anyone into jail for such a reason.”

  “No, of course not, but most men on the bench these days are not inclined to be very tolerant toward the lower orders, are they?”

  Sir Brian could not deny that fact, and his attention was claimed a moment later by the lady on his right, a pretty young friend of Lady Gordon’s whose name Jessica could not immediately recall to mind. Jessica herself turned to General Potterby, hoping he had not felt neglected. There was nothing in his attitude to show it if he had, however, and he conversed with her quite charmingly until the second course was brought in. When she turned back to Sir Brian, he was watching Wellesly Poole attempting to charm Lady St. Erth, and there was a glint of unholy amusement in his eyes. Jessica stifled a chuckle, but he realized just then that she was watching him and turned to face her.

  “An interesting display, everything considered,” he said, smiling.

  “I don’t suppose he’s making much headway,” she murmured.

  “None at all, in fact. He’s wasting his time, but I daresay Lady Gordon had a wish to entertain his dinner partner. Have you any other deep political topics you wish to discuss with me?”

  His question caught her off guard, and her expression revealed her confusion. “I don’t believe so. Do you dislike discussing such matters?”

  “Of course not. I merely wondered if you will always attempt to steer our conversations into encumbered channels.”

  “Encumbered channels?”

  “I always suspect there may be snags in the water ahead. As if you are waiting for me to trip myself up by taking some route you disapprove of.”

  “Good gracious, sir, do you suppose I desire you to agree with my every principle?”

  “Not every one, perhaps, but the ones you hold most dear, certainly. And I am not certain I’ve yet discovered what all of those may be. Hence, my fear of snags.”

  “Well, I hope I am not so uncompromising as all that,” Jessica muttered. “Surely I can allow other people their own opinions on any matter.”

  “Even the people you care most deeply about, my dear?”

  Feeling the rush of warmth in her face again, Jessica stared at him speechlessly. Talk of snags in the water, she thought. General Potterby’s voice startled her, but realizing that he was speaking to her, she turned, trying desperately to compose both her countenance and her emotions.

  “You have such becoming color in your cheeks, my dear,” the old gentleman said benignly.

  Hearing a choking cough from Sir Brian didn’t help matters at all. Jessica smiled at the general and managed a murmur that sounded like an expression of gratitude, but she realized a moment later that she needn’t have worried that the general might notice anything out of the ordinary, for he merely wanted to know if her aunt was really changing her ways and getting back into the social whirl.

  “Why, yes, I believe she means to go on as she has begun the Season, sir,” Jessica replied, her voice nearly steady again.

  “Excellent, excellent. High time Susan caught herself a husband. Been saying that for thirty years. Thought I’d be saying it for thirty more. Maybe not, though,” he mused, shooting a speculative look across the table at Lady Susan, who was now speaking animatedly to the gentleman on her right. “Maybe not.”

  “Oh, but I don’t think…” Jessica broke off, realizing that the old gentleman wasn’t listening to her. A moment later, Lady Gordon arose from the table, signaling that it was time to leave the gentlemen to their port, and Jessica followed the others, feeling as if she had escaped from more than one snag in the past ten minutes.

  The rest of the evening passed harmlessly enough, with no further opportunity for private speech with Sir Brian, but Jessica found her thoughts returning constantly to various things he had said, as well as to what Janet St. Erth had told her. She wondered if she had become a trifle rigid in her thinking, if she truly did demand that the people she cared about think as she did. Surely not. Surely she could accept dissent from her friends. But a simple difference of opinion and a commitment of any kind to a man whose very way of life was in opposition to all she believed…

  Her thoughts had a tendency to become confused at that point. No commitment had been requested of her, so what on earth, she asked herself, was she thinking of? Although Sir Brian had once told her she was exactly the sort of woman he had been searching for all his life, he had never actually indicated a wish to marry her. To be sure, he had seemed—before he left Cornwall, at least—to be working himself up to such a declaration. But her responses then had been anyt
hing but encouraging. And since they had been in London, though she had given every sign of being willing now to accept his advances, and though that very night at dinner he had as much as admitted recognizing that she held at least a tenderness for him, he had quite failed to take advantage of the situation. If, in fact, he had not been merely trifling with her and still wished to affix her interest, that was all very well and good—at least, she had no objection to such an attempt on his part—but if he were to ask her to marry him, how could she possibly give an affirmative reply, knowing that she would be marrying a man who…

  Here again, her thoughts consistently took a confused twist. Who what? she would ask herself. What did she really know about what he thought? She certainly knew nothing about the way in which he conducted his affairs. Or only what she had imagined from what she knew about coal mining and slavery. Had she perhaps been unjust to assume that he was the embodiment of the wicked men she had learned about over the years?

  With all these thoughts in mind, she tossed and turned in her bed that night, and it was with circles under her lovely gray eyes that she faced her aunt over the breakfast table the following morning.

  “Shall you accompany me to King’s Bench today, my dear? The defense is speaking its piece, you know, and Mr. Hatchard can use any amount of moral support.”

  “I’m afraid not, Aunt Susan,” Jessica replied, stifling a yawn. “I didn’t sleep well last night, and I fear I should be poor company.”

  Her aunt accepted her at her word and soon went away, leaving Jessica with one of her favorite romances to read. But since the heroine seemed particularly stupid and the hero particularly misunderstood, for once, Miss Sutton-Drew found little solace in her favorite pastime.

  So it was that when Andrew Liskeard called to inquire whether Miss Jessica might not favor him with her company on a ride through Hyde Park, she decided that a breath of fresh air was just exactly what she needed. Besides, a little voice deep inside whispered, Andrew undoubtedly knew a good deal about the workings of Sir Brian’s mind.