He was surprised when Carlisle burst into laughter.
THIRTEEN
“It is amazing,” Clarissa said with gratitude, “how quickly you have learnt to discern what is flattering, and what is not. I never can see it until it is too late. You were correct about the gold braid. It looks very well. Ruffles make me into a dowd, no matter how expensive the fabric was in the shop.”
“You are not a dowd,” Kitty said. “You have excessively pretty sisters, but I do not think they move in a room as well as you do. Ruffles do not suit someone with a graceful carriage like yours, that is all. And your hair also looks elegant in this simple Grecian style, with the flowers set at the back.”
The days were getting longer, but it was still very early in the spring, and the rays of the sun slanted across the streets and through the budding threes, giving the world a golden cast. Kitty loved going out, the streets so clean-swept, everyone so finely dressed.
Even so, her first visit to Hyde Park caused her to look about with a troubled air.
Clarissa said, “Is something amiss? I assure you, Kitty, you look very fine.”
“Oh, I am happy enough, truly. It’s just that I had envisioned the park so differently. More wild. These trees are placed so far apart.” Her voice lowered. “The ruffians who pounce upon Andromeda and bear her away in the middle of the promenade could never do it here. But how else am I to get her to the dungeon of Castle Fearmore?”
“A blow,” Clarissa acknowledged. “Perhaps if you were to send Andromeda on a picnic to Hampstead? There are portions of it that might suit your needs.”
“A very good notion,” Kitty said, and studied the ground with the eye of an author, quite unaware of the effect her appearance was having on passing gentlemen.
Clarissa noticed, however, enjoying the admiration of two fellows riding down the Row—both distant acquaintances with whom she’d gone through the motions of dancing last year, when they were inspired to try wrangling an introduction to her sister Hetty. She had never felt this enjoyment when Hetty was introduced to society, though she was fond of her sisters. And she’d been proud of Hetty’s success. But she was thoroughly enjoying the admiring looks following Kitty, the more that Kitty seemed to be completely unaware of them as she looked about with that faint pucker between her brows. No doubt she was concocting more absurd adventures for the hapless Andromeda, who, it seemed to Clarissa, would have truly earned her wealthy duke by the time her third volume was completed.
Perhaps the general wisdom is correct, Clarissa thought, laughing to herself, that we only value that which comes the least easily.
“Oh, pray, look,” Kitty exclaimed. “What a handsome carriage. And those horses!”
Clarissa glanced up at the high-perch phaeton drawn by its nervous matching chestnuts. A gentleman was driving, the lady beside him self-consciously twirling her sunshade.
“That is Sir Joseph Gates,” Clarissa said.
“And the lady?”
“His bride, Miss Plumley that was. He was quite the despair of the drawings rooms these three years. A desperate flirt. And he ended up marrying his cousin, whom he has known all his life.”
“She is not at all beautiful,” Kitty observed as the phaeton rolled by. “But she has a friendly smile.”
“She is very friendly. I expect she will be an excellent hostess when she has found her feet,” Clarissa said.
“I hope they are very happy, for I—Oh!”
A cavalcade of gentlemen on horseback rode by, many in scarlet coats, their buff facings indicating one of the infantry regiments. Clarissa took Kitty’s arm and they turned down a side path. “They will quiz you if they see you staring,” Clarissa explained.
“Oh, I did not think of that.” Kitty colored. “I was only noting the details of their uniforms.”
“For Andromeda?”
“Yes! I was just thinking of those fellows serving as models for the rescue party when she is nearly overpowered by French agents, and—oh, here is another handsome carriage. Is that a tilbury? I saw one once. But I shall not stare.”
“Good. For that is Mr. Brummel, being tooled about by Lord Alvanley. If they are here, it means the season has begun.”
“I do hope he may not dislike me,” Kitty said, stealing a quick look backward once the gentlemen were safely past.
Clarissa smiled. “The only persons he takes notice of outside of his particular set, and is quite unkind to, are the very rich, the very prominent, and the very vulgar.”
Kitty’s lips parted. “But...”
“But?” Clarissa prompted.
Kitty colored, remembering Lucretia’s much-repeated anecdote about Mr. Brummel’s compliment. Clearly there were exceptions. She said, “It might be better to have him meet Andromeda, as Mr. B—, it is much safer. Tell me more about the officers. I know so little of the army, my brother having been a naval lieutenant.”
A hail from behind caused them to turn. “Hi Clarissa, Lady Kitty! On the toddle, eh?”
It was James Harlowe, walking with two friends. All three young men were dressed in the tight coats and pantaloons of the dandy, golden watch fobs dangling at their glorious waistcoats. One was James’s age, perhaps a year out of Eton. The other was somewhat older, a tall, thin gentleman with a long face that resembled a hound dog. This gentleman raised a quizzing glass to his eyes, and interrupted James, who was in the middle of describing to Clarissa and Kitty a capital turnout a mutual friend had recently purchased.
“My dear Harlowe,” this gentleman drawled. “If you do not stop chattering and introduce us, I shall be forced to employ extreme measures.”
“Devil take it,” James exclaimed. “I forgot you were not known to one another. Lady Kitty, may I present to you Mr. Thomas Canby, and Sir Blakely Sheffield? Oh, I should rightly have got that the other way around. Gentlemen, Lady Catherine Decourcey.”
Mr. Canby, the tall gentleman with the quizzing glass, blushed when he met Kitty’s friendly gaze. She regarded them unselfconsciously, for in her mind, James’s friends fit that same mental slot as did James: brother.
Sir Blakely was far too shy to actually address Kitty himself, but by nudges and meaningful glances, he encouraged James to change the direction of their walk, and so the young ladies found themselves in the center of a group.
James asked Kitty what she thought of London so far. She expressed her delight with that same unselfconscious charm, turning to each gentleman in turn to ask their opinions. Clarissa walked along quietly, reflecting on the fact that she had never before been in the center of such a group. Kitty was fascinating without artifice, and Clarissa was able to see how it worked, for Kitty clearly found her auditors as interesting as she found the city.
Clarissa laughed to herself. Human nature was so odd. Beauty rendered the most commonplace words fascinating, and charm compounded itself when Beauty found others as interesting as they found her.
James directed their walk alongside the Row so that the gentleman might quiz the passersby the easier. Here they were interrupted by a female voice.
“Catherine, is that you?” Lucretia approached them, her sister by her side. Lucretia managed to cover the ground swiftly in spite of her tittuping steps. She was dressed in her favorite pink, her gown formed of layers and layers of ruffles. Her bonnet was decorated with bunches of pink ribbons and silken roses.
She rushed up to Kitty, greeted her with an effusion of “dearest” and “so vastly surprised” ending with, “You were dressed so beautifully that I did not at all recognize you.”
She then turned to Mr. Canby. “Dear Mr. Canby, was that not a dreadful squeeze last night? Oh, is that Mr. Harlowe? Catherine, do introduce us.”
Yes, Clarissa thought, there was definitely an emphasis on that ‘Catherine’ without the honorific ‘Lady’ preceding it. Here was Miss Bouldeston making a parade of her intimacy with Kitty, and yet she had never seen fit to invite the latter for a visit to town? That seemed so odd.
Kitty pe
rformed the requested introduction, and then Lucretia inserted herself into the center of the group. She turned to Clarissa. “So, Miss Harlowe, were you vastly diverted by your stay at Tarval Hall? It must’ve been quite a change for you.”
“What is that, Miss Bouldeston, you know Lady Catherine’s home?” Mr. Canby asked, quizzing glass raised.
“Why, yes, Mr. Canby. I thought the entire world knew that we were neighbors, and that Lady Catherine’s brother, the marquess, has been my oldest admirer.”
Kitty gazed at Lucretia, not knowing what to say. She understood that Carlisle’s and Lucretia’s engagement was not to be widely known as yet, but she had always assumed that that was for reasons of delicacy. Yet it did not seem delicate at all to be hinting that Carlisle was the pursuer instead of the pursued.
But then, she did not know Town ways. She must not judge.
Lucretia went on to present her sister, then she took Mr. Canby’s arm, saying, “I must and will know what you said to Lady Sopwith last night, at Lady Hertford’s ball. From all the laughter, I know that it must be quite witty. Do, pray, tell me, for above all things I love witty sayings. You were talking about Miss Beccles, now, weren’t you? And you men say that we gossip.”
James dropped back, having no interest in balls, especially one he had not attended. Sir Blakely showed signs of wanting to follow, but Lucretia chanced to look his way, and smile, beckoning with her free hand. “I make it a rule to always defend my sex. Come, help me uphold Miss Beccles’ sad reputation, Sir Blakely, for I once heard it said that you had an interest in that direction?”
Sir Blakely perforce joined Lucretia on the other side, losing himself in a morass of painful words as he tried to explain himself.
James took his place, exclaiming, “My word! The season is starting up already. Just as we entered the park we walked into Charlie, who was trying to get away from some duchess, and that stiff old Lady Pembroke.”
“Are you so surprised?” Kitty asked, smiling.
James kicked at a rock in the gravel forming the path. “It is just that I hate balls. Mama will be expecting me to squire Amelia around in stuffy rooms, if you two are not going.”
At that point Sir Blakely, who had been glancing back, found his moment to rejoin James. Mr. Canby also turned, saying, “There you are.”
Lucretia exclaimed, “So slow. How did we become separated? Usually it is I who is scolded for being behind. I feel the veriest infant around all you tall ladies! Dearest Catherine, I shall call in Brook Street now that I know you are here, for we have a thousand things to talk about, and I can warn you off our most dangerous flirts, like Mr. Canby, here.”
Lucretia took two steps away, but then turned back, making a pretense of dropping her fan and picking it up as she peeped coyly up sideways.
A lone horseman was riding along the Row, a few paces away. The sun was directly behind him, creating a tall silhouette of a man in a beautifully fitted riding coat. Then he moved and golden light limned fine dark hair. He reined in a well behaved dappled gray, and gave a slight bow. “Cousin Clarissa,” he began his greetings, but Lucretia moved forward and interrupted.
“Mr. Devereaux, are you arrived in town? Then the season must truly have begun.”
Mr. Devereaux bowed acknowledgment, then his gaze moved on. “Lady Catherine, I believe? How do you do?”
He was about to greet the gentlemen, but again, Lucretia interrupted, after giving a start of surprise. “Dearest Catherine,” she exclaimed. “Have the two of you met? How can that be, when you are just arrived in Town?”
Kitty looked down at her gloved hands, wishing she could sink into the ground.
Clarissa said smoothly, “We chanced to meet up with my cousins on their way to Bath, Miss Bouldeston.” And to the gentleman, “How does your mother, Cousin?”
“She is recovering, thank you, and I know she would wish me to convey her greetings,” Mr. Devereaux replied.
Lucretia turned to Mr. Devereaux. “Your sister is well, pray? I take leave to present to you my own sister, Miss Lucasta Bouldeston. She met Miss Bess while staying with some cousins in Hampshire.”
Lucasta spoke up. “Bess is as beautiful as an angel, and the sweetest girl in the world. We were instant friends. I should love her direction.”
Mr. Devereaux bowed politely, then said, “You have only to direct your letter to Miss Battersea’s Academy in Bath, Miss Lucasta.”
His horse sidled a little, and touched his hat to the group, murmuring a polite farewell that encompassed them all. Then he rode away.
Kitty breathed in relief. A horrid scrape—averted. Later, when she was safe, she would reflect on the unfairness of fate that the gentleman Lucretia had described as the handsomest in London should be the very one to witness Kitty’s faux pas. Why was he not safely on the way to Italy?
“... and you must write as soon as we reach Mount Street,” Lucretia was saying to Lucasta. Miss Bess will want to know that her brother is arrived in Town.”
“I know what to write,” Lucasta said in a slightly peevish tone, for she hated being treated as if she knew nothing.
Lucretia ignored her as she turned her widest smile on Kitty. “And so, Catherine, how long is to be your stay? A good while, it is to be hoped.”
“For the season,” Kitty said.
Lucretia’s eyes rounded. She flushed, then, if possible, her smile widened the more. “How very charming for you! I trust you will be able to turn this felicitous event to good account, for of course you will be looking for a good marriage.”
“I should like to help my brother,” Kitty said with heartfelt sincerity.
Lucretia’s smile turned to a smirk that Clarissa found puzzling. “And that is just like you! I shall be able to tell Mama the good news. I know she will wish to call.” Lucretia pinched her sister’s arm, causing a muffled gasp, and then smiled at the group. “That puts me in mind of the time. Mama will be looking for us. Good afternoon!” The sisters walked off, Lucretia’s low scolding punctuated by Lucasta’s higher voice in protest.
James then declared a wish to walk on to White’s, to which he had recently been elected, and as his friends offered to accompany him, the party separated with polite words on both sides.
As soon as she and Clarissa were at a distance, Kitty said guiltily, “I know I ought to have written to Lucretia on our arrival.”
“It is understandable,” Clarissa said. “I am afraid I have kept you very busy.”
“Which I have enjoyed beyond anything,” Kitty said wistfully.
They waited for a fast-moving carriage to roll by, during which Clarissa gazed thoughtfully at the hats in a milliner’s shop. On becoming aware of Kitty’s regard, Clarissa said, “Do but look, pray. Is there anyone who would not appear ill in that puce bonnet?”
Kitty’s eyes narrowed. “You think I have done wrong, then, in neglecting to write to Lucretia?”
“That is not at all what I think.”
Kitty sighed. “The truth is, I have been a little afraid.” Then she straightened her shoulders and said, “Did I never tell you about my one fateful visit to Tunbridge Wells?”
Before Clarissa could answer, they were hailed by a familiar voice, “Clarissa! Lady Kitty!” Amelia came down the other side of the street, accompanied by Mrs. Latchmore, who began scolding Amelia in an undertone for the vulgarity of making a present of her sister’s and guest’s names to the street.
Amelia twitched impatiently, and as soon as the scold was ended, addressed the two who had drawn near, “Lady Sefton is to call upon Mama tomorrow, and she is bringing Lord Molyneux. Mama says that she is sure to promise vouchers for Almacks, so you must be there, too, Lady Kitty. Did you know about Almack’s Assembly Rooms, and the weekly balls?”
“I am still not certain I approve of a gambling den giving itself over to dancing,” Mrs. Latchmore scolded. “At all events, these matters are better discussed at home.”
With Mrs. Latchmore ready to animadvert upon the do
ubtful respectability of Almack’s (which Lucretia had told Kitty was become known as The Marriage Mart), the inclination for walking left the three young ladies, and they soon reached the Chadwick house, where Clarissa found amid the early invitations a long letter.
She opened it, and discovered a closely written, crossed and recrossed screed from Lady Wilburfolde, outlining the reasons why the future Lady Wilburfolde need only spend a week or at most two in the metropolis, before returning into Hampshire to prepare for her wedding. She wished to set a date for their first conference on the matter.
Clarissa thrust the letter into her escritoire to deal with later, and went out to consult Kitty about bonnets.
FOURTEEN
The next day the ladies sat in the front parlor, hosting a constant stream of callers. Between visitors, Amelia could not be got to sit long. She kept flying to the window to peer out for sight of anyone she knew, or to count the fine equipages. When she recognized Lucasta Bouldeston walking up the street with her mother and sisters, she scowled and flounced to her chair, but behaved politely enough when the three were announced.
Lady Chadwick welcomed them as Kitty’s acquaintance. After a strict fifteen minutes of polite utterances, they took their leave as more visitors arrived, Lucretia looking back to promise in languishing accents that she would see her sweet Catherine again soon.
There was a lull at last, causing Amelia to wail that Lady Sefton would never come.
Undercover of Mrs. Latchmore’s stream of fretful remonstrances, Kitty observed to Clarissa, “If only I were not so aware of the crushing importance of this meeting. What if Lady Sefton discovers that I have no accomplishments, besides a small talent for watercolors?”
Amelia shot her a sympathetic glance, then reluctantly sat down on the sofa yet again.
Clarissa could not help a small laugh. “Unless you offer this information, she will not ask. She is not known for being inquisitive. Really, she is the kindest of women. Here is my suggestion.” She lowered her voice conspiratorially. “You must think of yourself as Andromeda. Here you are, ready to take the town by storm. Three dukes will lay their lives and worldly goods at your feet, swearing they will expire if you do not choose them. But you will spurn them because your heart is given to a mysterious highwayman whom you glimpsed only once, on Finchley Common at midnight when he single-handedly saved you and your carriage from being overcome by a set of mysterious ruffians sent by Bonaparte.”
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