The Rebellious Debutante

by Meg Alexander

  ‘He can’t do that, for we shan’t allow it.’ Amy slipped an arm about her sister’s waist. ‘Cheer up, love! I know that you are disappointed, but selfishly, I am not. We shall be together in Bath, which will make all the difference to me at least.’

  ‘I shan’t be able to call on you. Miss Bedlington will not allow it. I am forbidden to cross the threshold.’

  ‘She won’t refuse Aunt Trixie.’

  ‘You think not? Our aunt is such a gentle soul.’

  ‘You haven’t seen her in action, dearest. That sweet manner hides a will of iron. Aunt has an astonishing ability to get her way when it suits her to do so. You don’t know her as well as I. We were thrown much together after you left Bath.’

  ‘Oh, pray don’t think that I shall find her company a trial. She is the kindest of women. It is just that…well…I think my punishment is unjust. At least I can be in no doubt as to who is to blame.’

  ‘Don’t worry about Rushmore,’ Amy advised. ‘He isn’t worth a second thought. Let us save our pity for his wife. What must it be like to be married to that monster?’

  ‘I can’t imagine!’ This wasn’t strictly true. Young as she was, Perdita had been well aware of the latent strength in the powerful arms which had swept her off her feet and carried her from the ballroom floor. Crushed against that brawny chest, she had felt a curious frisson of excitement behind her outward rage. If nothing else, it had given her a taste for battle. It was a pity that she was unlikely ever to meet the Earl again. A longing for revenge swept over her. It was so strong that she could almost taste it. God help him if he crossed her path again.

  She wiped away the traces of her tears. ‘I’m sorry, Amy,’ she whispered. ‘I’ve been thinking only of myself. You didn’t complain when Mother and Father promised to take me to Gibraltar, though you couldn’t go yourself.’

  ‘I thought there would be another time,’ Amy said cheerfully. ‘Besides, I’m always seasick. Apart from that, the life on a naval station is too stiff for me—all those disapproving matrons, and more etiquette than one is likely to find in London.’

  Perdita smiled at last. ‘Amy, you are a jewel!’ she announced. ‘You have reconciled me to my fate!’

  ‘Oh, it won’t be so bad!’ Ever practical, Amy was ready with words of reassurance. ‘Think of the shops in Milsom Street! Papa is sure to make you a handsome allowance… And then there are the libraries. Confess it, Perdita, you haven’t enjoyed your first Season here in London…it can only be better in Bath.’

  ‘It will be quieter.’ Perdita grimaced. ‘I doubt if there will be a gentleman under the age of sixty-five…’

  ‘And shall you mind that?’ Amy gave her sister a sly look. ‘You’ve given me a scathing report on the younger men you’ve met.’

  Perdita frowned. ‘There must be something wrong with me. I can’t find a single man I care to talk to. With one eye on my dowry, they mutter platitudes, and if I try to speak of things which interest me they look quite shocked. I won’t be patted on the head and consigned to the nursery to rear a passel of children.’

  ‘You make them uncomfortable!’ Amy told her. ‘Your sympathy for the Luddites hasn’t gone down too well, nor have your views on the slave trade.’

  ‘I won’t change them!’ her sister retorted fiercely. ‘No civilised person can condone the trafficking in human lives.’

  ‘Love, you are preaching to the converted, as you well know.’

  ‘You keep your opinions to yourself far better than I do,’ Perdita said ruefully.

  ‘It doesn’t stop me making up my mind to do something about it, as soon as I have the chance.’

  ‘A blue-stocking, Amy?’

  ‘Something like that!’ her sister agreed cheerfully. ‘I’m saving my ammunition until I can hit the target.’

  Perdita was intrigued. ‘And does Miss Bedlington know of your views?’

  ‘She has not the slightest notion.’ Amy’s eyes were sparkling with amusement. ‘As far as she is concerned, I am the unfortunate ugly duckling of the Wentworth family, and much to be pitied. My ravishing elder sister gets all the limelight, in spite of her scandalous behaviour. It is much to be deplored.’

  Perdita smiled in spite of herself. ‘You are like to give her a dreadful shock. My own exploits will pale into insignificance.’

  ‘But not just yet, Perdita. You must give me time.’ Amy leaned back in her chair. Her coltish figure gave little promise of the woman she would become. ‘Is that the door?’ she asked. ‘Papa must be home. Shall we go down to nuncheon?’

  Perdita straightened her shoulders. ‘Do I look a wreck?’ she asked anxiously. ‘I don’t wish to upset Papa, or Mother either.’

  ‘I’d be glad to look as much of a wreck as you do at this moment,’ Amy reassured her with a laugh. ‘Come on! Just think of the hateful Earl of Rushmore. That will stiffen your resolve not to give way to a fit of the dismals.’

  Perdita determined to heed this excellent advice. She managed a smile for her Mama, and was greeted with a loving bear-hug by her father. No comment was made about her reddened eyes, but Perry was stricken to the heart.

  ‘What do you say to a drive in the park this afternoon?’ he suggested. ‘I’m promised that it will not rain, and I haven’t yet seen your latest toilettes. From the size of the account, they must be something special indeed!’

  ‘They are, Papa.’ Amy grinned at him. ‘Mother didn’t insist upon my choosing white this time, so mine is a heavenly shade of blue and my bonnet has delicious feathers.’

  ‘Perdita?’

  His elder daughter looked up at his troubled face and forced an enthusiastic response. ‘Mine is a primrose colour, Father. I like it above anything, and my bonnet too. Shall we need to bring a calash, do you suppose?’

  ‘Great heavens, no!’ Perry said with feeling. ‘I draw the line at that. I won’t be taken for a bee-keeper by my friends. Those frightful bonnet-protectors resemble nothing so much as hives.’

  Even Perdita giggled at that, and the slight air of tension eased. Elizabeth gave her daughter an approving look. At least the child wasn’t sulking in disappointment. Had she been too harsh? She thought not. What Perdita needed for the next few months was time to come to terms with the adult world.

  Elizabeth was under no illusions as to the nature of the society in which she and her family lived. Allow the least breath of scandal to attach itself to either of her daughters and they would be ostracised.

  Perry might claim that he didn’t care if neither of the girls were to wed. She doubted if he had given serious thought to the alternatives. She and her beloved husband would not always be there to care for Amy and Perdita. What would happen to them then? Did Perry consider what a lonely spinsterhood might mean to them?

  Women had no rights. In the eyes of the law they did not exist. She’d had some little experience of these matters herself. Even a visit to her bank to enquire about a point concerning her inheritance had brought a pained smile of sympathy and the suggestion that perhaps her husband, her brother, or some male relative would be better fitted to understand the legalities.

  With Perry’s blessing, Elizabeth had moved her account at once. Dear Perry, he understood her fiery nature perfectly. She looked across the dining-table and gave him a loving smile. If only her girls could meet men who were happy in their own skins, who didn’t feel threatened by allowing the female sex some modicum of freedom. Perry understood the need for women’s suffrage, but she doubted if it would come in his lifetime, or even that of her daughters.

  The light nuncheon of cold meats, sallets and fruit was soon disposed of. Then Perry consulted his watch.

  ‘Well, girls,’ he teased. ‘How long will it take for you to beautify yourselves? Shall I have time to answer all my letters? You must give me fair warning before I summon the carriage. We cannot have the horses standing.’

  ‘You are making game of us, Papa!’ Perdita dropped a kiss upon his brow. ‘When have we ever kept you waiting?�
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  ‘Not often.’ Perry twinkled. ‘The thought of an outing speeds you up amazingly.’ He waited until the door had closed upon them. Then he turned to his wife.

  ‘Perdita is behaving well,’ he said. ‘You must be proud of her.’

  ‘I am. Perry, I need not tell you of her disappointment, but believe me, it is for the best…’

  Perry let that pass. ‘I hear that Rushmore called this morning,’ he observed grimly.

  ‘Now don’t fly into the boughs, my dear. As far as Perdita is concerned he is as foolish as you are yourself. He would not hear of an apology—’

  ‘I thought you were determined on it.’

  A faint tinge of pink coloured Elizabeth’s cheeks. ‘The Earl announced that he alone was at fault. If I had summoned Perdita, he was determined upon assuring her of that fact. I could not allow it. She was at fault herself.’

  Perry regarded his wife with interest. ‘You crossed swords with him?’

  ‘Well, not exactly! Rushmore did not call upon us for an apology. He came to make a request of us.’

  ‘The plot thickens!’ Perry teased. ‘From your guilty expression, my love, I take it that you have agreed to the request?’

  ‘Only if you have no objection, Perry. It seems he has a ward, through no fault of his own. He doesn’t know what to do with her. I thought perhaps that we might help?’

  ‘Indeed! And what made you agree?’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know. I liked him very much. I found him generous-minded. He would not hear that Perdita was at fault.’

  Perry was not yet ready to forgive the author of Perdita’s fall from grace. ‘Overlooked, perhaps, because he needed a favour?’

  ‘No, I don’t think that of him. When you meet him, Perry, you will like him as I do.’

  ‘And this girl?’

  ‘The daughter of his friend who was killed at Waterloo. The girl has no other relations, or so I understand. Rushmore has promised to take care of her. She is at school in Bath.’

  ‘Miss Bedlington’s?’

  Elizabeth nodded. ‘Our girls must know of her. Sadly, I forgot to ask her name. Shall you object if I bring her out next year with Amy?’

  ‘Of course not, my love! When did anything you decided ever come amiss with me?’

  ‘Not recently!’ Elizabeth teased. ‘Though when we first met you found me something of a trial.’

  ‘I never heard a truer word,’ Perry said solemnly. ‘When compared with you as a girl, Perdita is an angel!’

  ‘You are biased in her favour.’ Elizabeth gave him a mock frown. ‘I’m glad you thought of driving in the Park, my dear. Perdita must not hide herself away today. That would give rise to gossip about the scene at Almack’s.’

  ‘She could always contrive to limp a little.’ Perry was unrepentant about his daughter’s behaviour. ‘But even that will not be necessary if she is seated in the barouche. I must remind her to groan a little every now and then…’

  ‘You are as bad as she is,’ his wife told him severely.

  ‘But you love me still?’ Perry took his wife into his arms and kissed her soundly.

  As Perry had predicted, the fine weather held for the rest of the day, so the collapsible roof of the family barouche stayed down, allowing the ladies both to see and be seen by the crowds in Rotten Row.

  They were soon surrounded as friends pushed towards them through the press of gigs, tilburies and curricles. Perry cast a longing glance at several dashing phaetons, but his attention was soon diverted as three of his nephews rode towards him. There was no mistaking the family resemblance. Sebastian’s boys bore a striking likeness to both his brother and himself, tall, dark, and blessed with a massive breadth of shoulder.

  ‘Out to make your fortunes, lads?’ he joked. ‘Have you thrown your handkerchiefs to any of the heiresses?’

  This sally was greeted by chuckles of amusement. ‘We ain’t ready to be handfasted yet, sir. Besides, which of them can compare with our own family?’ Thomas beamed upon his cousins and his aunt.

  Elizabeth shook her head at him. ‘Are you just come from Ireland, then? You must have kissed the Blarney Stone, my dear. Your mother must be in despair. Is she never to be rid of you?’

  ‘She hasn’t said…’ Thomas paused and cocked his head. ‘What on earth is that noise? Surely it can’t be rioting?’

  ‘Sounds more like cheering to me,’ his brother observed. ‘Some bigwig must have decided to take the air today.’

  As the noise increased a rumour rippled through the crowd. ‘Wellington! It’s Wellington! The Duke himself…!’

  At Perry’s order their coachman drew the barouche to the side of the main concourse in the Row. In the distance he could see a party of horsemen making their way towards him. They were well mounted and splendidly attired, but for the figure in the centre of the group.

  Perdita craned her neck to study this man who was dressed in the plainest of riding garb without a star, a riband, or a decoration of any kind. Even had she not glimpsed the famous profile she would have known at once that this was the saviour of her country. There was no mistaking that air of authority and assurance.

  Then her eye fell upon the man beside him and her pleasure vanished in an instant. Praying that Rushmore would not see them, she turned her head away.

  Amy had noticed nothing amiss. ‘Do look, Perdita,’ she begged. ‘The Duke is riding Copenhagen—the most famous horse in the world.’

  Perdita stole another look at the group of riders. By now they were abreast of the barouche, and as she raised her head her eyes met those of Rushmore. With a word to his superior officer he left his companions and cantered over towards her.

  His greeting was, however, for her mother. ‘Ma’am, I am glad to see you here today and to have the opportunity of making the acquaintance of your husband.’

  Elizabeth made the necessary introductions and the two men shook hands.

  ‘I understand that you are about to leave for Gibraltar, sir. Do you know Spain at all?’

  ‘No, my lord, at least, not nearly as well as you do yourself. You were at Salamanca, I believe?’

  Before the Earl could reply, a hand descended upon his shoulder. ‘Rushmore, you are the slyest of dogs,’ a jovial voice remarked. ‘Now I understand why you were so anxious to return to England…’ A pair of bright blue eyes smiled down on the ladies.

  ‘Your Grace, allow me to make the Wentworth family known to you.’ Clearly, Rushmore was unfazed by the presence of the Great Man, though his voice and manner told of his respect.

  ‘Ha! A naval man!’ The Duke seized Perry’s hand and pumped it with enthusiasm. ‘Between our navy and our army we made short work of England’s enemies, did we not?’

  It was impossible to resist this easy camaraderie and soon Perry was deep in conversation with the Duke.

  Both Perdita and Amy stared at Wellington as if they couldn’t believe their eyes. For the moment Perdita had forgotten Rushmore. Then he addressed her directly.

  ‘I trust I find you in good health today, Miss Wentworth? The foot is not giving you much pain, I hope?’

  Perdita affected not to have heard him, but Elizabeth intervened.

  ‘My love, the Earl is speaking to you,’ she said sternly.

  ‘Oh, I beg your pardon, sir, I was looking at the Duke.’ Perdita avoided her mother’s eye. Part of that statement was true, but she had heard the Earl quite clearly, and she had determined to ignore him.

  ‘Deafness is a terrible affliction,’ he whispered in a low voice. ‘A tragedy in one so young. I’m told that an ear-trumpet helps to remedy the condition.’

  Perdita would not be drawn. She kept her eyes fixed firmly upon the Duke, so Rushmore turned to Amy. ‘And how do you go on, Miss Amy?’ he asked. ‘I hear that you are at school in Bath.’

  ‘Yes, sir!’ Amy’s tone was uncompromising. ‘I am to return next week.’

  ‘And Miss Wentworth? Are you to travel to Gibraltar with your family?’


  It was the most unfortunate of questions, and Rushmore was surprised to see Perdita’s knuckles whiten as she clenched her hands. The enquiry had seemed to him to be innocuous, just part of the trivia which passed for conversation in polite society.

  She looked at him then, and he was startled to see the enmity in her eyes. It was unmistakable.

  ‘No!’ she hissed. ‘I am to stay with my great-aunt.’

  Amy moved closer to her sister as if for comfort and both girls looked away. Rushmore was no fool. It was clear to him that the younger members of the Wentworth family had decided to close their ranks against him.

  He shrugged. He’d been mistaken in Perdita. She was a silly, mannerless child, no better than the brainless females he had scorned at Almack’s. He turned away and engaged Elizabeth in conversation.

  Chapter Three

  Always an admirer of feminine charms, Wellington was quick to join in their conversation. He eyed Elizabeth with fresh admiration.

  ‘Ma’am, I trust you will be able to persuade your husband to bring you to my next reception?’

  ‘You honour us, your Grace. Alas, we leave for the Mediterranean in ten days’ time. I am so sorry…’

  ‘The loss is mine, I assure you. Perhaps when you return?’ He turned to Perry. ‘My dear sir, you are a fortunate man. I envy you this bevy of beauties.’ Doffing his hat to them, he turned to canter back to his waiting entourage. Then he noticed Thomas and nodded an acknowledgment.

  ‘Good day to you, my boy! I hope I see you well?’

  Thomas flushed with pleasure at this sign of recognition for one of his most junior officers from a man he regarded as almost a god. He bowed and muttered a reply.

  The Duke laughed as he addressed Elizabeth again. ‘This young man is also a credit to your family…a warrior who is an excellent dancer.’ Still laughing, he rode away with Rushmore at his side.

  Elizabeth was aware that her family party was the cynosure of all eyes. There could be no question now of Perdita’s behaviour giving cause for censure. The Duke of Wellington himself had honoured them with his notice. She hid her pleasure in this fact as the carriage was besieged by curious members of the ton.