Alissa Baxter

by The Dashing Debutante

  Alexandra was in a far from docile mood, therefore, when Higgins informed her that her grandmother wished to see her. She was about to walk up the stairs, when Mrs Grantham came out of the Drawing Room, and said in a faltering voice, “May I talk to you, dearest?”

  Alexandra suppressed a sigh. The last person she felt like speaking to at this moment was her aunt, but she followed her dutifully into the Drawing Room, and sat down beside her on the couch.

  Mrs Grantham raised a trembling hand to her face. “Dearest, Mrs Hadley has just discovered that the man we thought of as Mr Chanderly is in actual fact the Duke of Stanford! She told me so earlier this morning.”

  “Yes, he is.”

  “But, my love — he is the leader of Polite Society, and because of what Mrs Hadley has said to him, he knows that you are bookish! My dear child, you are ruined. Quite ruined!” she cried tragically.

  Alexandra tried to hide her impatience at her aunt’s histrionics, and she said in a calm voice, “Aunt Eliza. Try not to distress yourself so. No harm has been done.”

  “Oh, my sweet, ignorant child. You do not know what you are speaking of! So untried in the ways of the world as you are. This means destruction. Complete social destruction!” And upon these words, she sank back against the couch, shaking uncontrollably.

  Knowing that it would be useless to try to reason with her aunt in the state she was in, Alexandra rang for Higgins, and asked him to send for Mrs Grantham’s maid. When the girl arrived, Alexandra handed her aunt over to her expert ministrations, before leaving the room.

  Hurrying up the stairs to Lady Beauchamp’s bedchamber, Alexandra knocked on the door and entered.

  “There you are child,” Lady Beauchamp said with a smile, looking up from the book she was reading. “Sit down, my dear. We have so much to discuss!”

  Her grandmother was reclining on a daybed, and, after Alexandra had kissed her on the cheek, she sat down in the armchair beside her. “Before we do so, Grandmama, I think I should let you know that Aunt Eliza has had one of her ‘attacks’.”

  Lady Beauchamp raised her brows. “And why is that?”

  Alexandra looked down at her hands. “She is in a rare taking because Mrs Hadley, the Squire’s wife, described me to the Duke of Stanford as bookish a few weeks ago.”

  Lady Beauchamp frowned. “She did? But why?”

  Alexandra shrugged. “On his arrival here, the Duke met Mrs Hadley and mentioned to her that he had heard that I was a lady of considerable beauty, or some such nonsense. Mrs Hadley, who has set her sights on Stanford as a possible suitor for her daughter, Jane, was in all probability not happy to hear this, and promptly told him that I am bookish and that I have no feminine accomplishments at all.”

  “Insolent woman!” Lady Beauchamp said, annoyed. “I always thought that female had a distinct lack of breeding. Shabby-genteel. That’s what she is, Alexandra. The Squire made a very poor choice when he married her. His first wife was a charming woman, you know — it was such a tragedy when she died in childbirth.” Lady Beauchamp sighed and shook her head, but after a moment she continued, “However, be that as it may, my love, do you realise that this could mean social ruin for you? Why — if the Duke allows it to be known that you are interested in book learning, the gentlemen will not be at all interested in courting you!”

  “So Aunt Eliza said,” Alexandra said, shrugging her shoulders. “But I am not concerned.”

  “Not concerned!” Lady Beauchamp said in rising tones. “My dear child, you don’t know what you are saying! I personally admire you for your intellectual leanings, and I am proud of your intelligence, but it is not at all modish for a young lady to appear interested in anything but the latest popular work in poetry. You may admire Lord Byron’s “Child Harolde’s Pilgrimage”, and even recite a few lines from it, but to profess an interest in works such as the “Odyssey” and the “Iliad” for example, would be akin to inviting social disaster. My dear, this could make your London Season unbearable!”

  Alexandra looked contemplatively at her distraught Grandmother, wondering whether she ought to tell her about what had just passed between her and the Duke. Deciding that it would be prudent to confide in that worldly wise lady, she gave Lady Beauchamp an edited account of her recent meeting with Stanford. “And he told me, Grandmama, that he has decided to make me the rage,” Alexandra finished quietly.

  Lady Beauchamp took a full minute to assimilate all that her granddaughter had said. In truth she found it difficult to believe. She had known Robert Beaumont since his infancy, being a close friend of his mother, the Dowager Duchess, and knowing her friend’s son as she did, she found his actions highly suspicious. Finally, coming out of her reverie, she said in a puzzled voice, “I wonder why Robert has decided to bring you into fashion, my dear? Usually he does not pay any attention to the Season’s débutantes. He has said on numerous occasions that he considers simpering young ladies to be a dead bore, and that they should not be inflicted on the rest of the ton.”

  “To recall his exact words, he told me that he wanted to make the high sticklers of Society accept such an unconventional creature as myself,” Alexandra explained. “You see, Grandmama, I have given him good reason to believe that I am not a — er — simpering female.”

  “That sounds just like Robert! He always enjoys stirring up the old tabbies,” Lady Beauchamp said in an exasperated voice.

  “Does the Duke really wield so much power, Grandmama?” Alexandra asked, frowning slightly.

  Lady Beauchamp nodded her head. “Indeed, he does. If he has decided to give you his seal of approval, my dear, you will be an immense success. Stanford is acknowledged as one of the arbiters of fashion, and as the leader of Society. You did very well to tell me about his plans for you, Alexandra. But, I must warn you, my dear, that I totally endorse what he said about respecting the conventions of Society. It is remarkably foolish of you, my love, to disregard them. Your Aunt should be stricter with you than she is. But knowing you, my dear, she probably does not have much say in the matter, does she?” Lady Beauchamp continued, looking shrewdly at her errant granddaughter, who had the grace to blush. “However, Alexandra, be that as it may, when you are under my aegis, you must have a care to appearances, you know.”

  Alexandra nodded. “His grace has told me that, Grandmama.”

  “Yes — well I hope that you have the sense to take our advice, my dear. And now, I think I should go and see how your aunt is feeling, and try to reassure her.”

  Alexandra looked at her doubtfully. “Once Aunt Eliza has succumbed to the vapours, Grandmama, she usually takes to her bed for the day.”

  Lady Beauchamp sighed as she stood up. “I know. But I must at least try to set her mind at rest.”

  A few hours later, Lady Beauchamp looked across the parlour and smiled fondly at her granddaughter who was seated on a chaise-longue at the other end of the room. The ladies, sans Mrs Grantham who had retired to lie down prostrate in her bedchamber, had removed to the Yellow Parlour after partaking of a light luncheon of fruit and cold meats. John excused himself after the meal, laughingly shaking off his grandmother’s and sister’s protestations that he bear them company with the assurance that he would find looking over his accounts of far more interest than talk of London fashions, and Society gossip.

  Viewing Alexandra now, Lady Beauchamp thought that the pretty parlour provided a perfect backdrop for her lovely, young granddaughter. Dressed in a charming yellow sprig muslin gown, with a matching yellow ribbon threaded through her Titian hair, Alexandra presented a very fetching picture indeed. She was engaged in the timeless ladylike occupation of embroidery, and looked the personification of a gently-bred young woman as she threaded her needle in and out of the cloth. Lady Beauchamp found herself romantically wishing that Alexandra could be captured on canvas in that particular pose, and even went so far as to name the imaginary portrait: It could be called “Lady at Leisure”, she mused. Or “A Gentlewoman’s Laudable Pastime.” Or ev
en, she thought more expansively, “An English Woman Seen at Her Best.”

  Alexandra, however, abruptly ruined her grandmother’s imaginative line of thought by giving a most unladylike howl of pain as her threaded needle pierced the soft flesh of her thumb. “Ouch!” she said, and grimaced as a drop of blood splashed onto the cloth lying on her lap. She laid the embroidery to one side and looked ruefully at her grandmother. “I have never been able to master embroidery, Grandmama. I constantly prick my fingers, and drip blood all over the cloth. It is most vexing and I loathe it! I would not embroider if I had the choice, but Aunt Eliza says that a young lady should have at least one feminine accomplishment to be acceptable to Society.” She sighed, then continued, “It is strange, is it not, that I managed to master Latin, French and mathematics with ease, yet all the feminine accomplishments that a young lady should have, have eluded me. I cannot paint with watercolours, or embroider, or carry a tune, or play the pianoforte. I am a dismal failure at all these things, and am sure to be a great disappointment to you in London, Grandmama.”

  Lady Beauchamp looked kindly at her disconsolate granddaughter, and said bracingly, “Nonsense, my love! No matter how much Society prates on about feminine accomplishments, which, in my opinion, are utterly useless in themselves, you have what it takes to be a true success. I can tell you what the ton, especially the gentlemen, really value, and you have those qualities in abundance, my dear. You have a wonderful face and figure, and a sizeable fortune. No matter what anyone else says to the contrary, Alexandra, this is what truly matters in our world,” she finished rather cynically.

  “Well, Grandmama, if that is all so true, all I need do to obtain an overwhelming success, is put on a certain vapid air. I shall simper and defer to the gentlemen at all times when I am in London, and I am sure to be even more sought after than the legendary Gunning sisters were!” Alexandra said with a deadpan expression.

  “Alexandra! Don’t even contemplate it!” Lady Beauchamp said in a horrified voice. “Why, if you do as you say, you will become a dead bore, and...” she broke off suddenly as she saw the mischievous twinkle in her granddaughter’s eyes. “Oh you are roasting me, Alexandra! What an infuriating girl you are!” This was said sternly, but the lurking smile in Lady Beauchamp’s eyes and her deep chuckle belied her stringent words, and she was smiling as she continued, “However my dear, funning aside, you must have a care to what you say in London. No gentleman likes the idea of a woman being more knowledgeable than he. When your poor mother died, I suggested to your papa that he send you off to a select Ladies Seminary in Bath, but he was totally set against the idea. He said the things that such an institution would teach, would be utterly useless to you. And when you professed an interest in sharing your brother’s lessons he was overjoyed. But, your father was a rather eccentric man, my dear, and a notable exception to the rule. Most men would not be pleased to know that you are in all probability as well educated, or even better educated than they are themselves. A bookish female is looked at askance in Polite Society, my love. Therefore, you must have a care to what you say, Alexandra. The male ego is a very fragile thing, and you will not be easily forgiven if you contrive to shatter it, no matter how beautiful you are!” Lady Beauchamp finished forcefully.

  Alexandra wrinkled her nose in distaste as she contemplated what her grandmother had said. Because John had so often been ill as a boy, Sir Henry had decided against sending his son to Eton and had hired a succession of tutors to educate him at home instead. From a very young age, Alexandra had studied alongside her brother. She had excelled at her lessons, and consequently found it extremely irksome when the gentlemen of her acquaintance blindly assumed that, because she was a woman, she lacked knowledge in the traditionally male-dominated fields of learning. Yet, Alexandra saw the logic in what her grandmother had said, and realised that it would be prudent to follow that wise lady’s advice. So, with a grimace, she said in a resigned voice, “I shall have a care to my conversation, Grandmama, and try not to sound too bookish. In fact,” she continued magnanimously, “I shall only bring to the fore my education if someone I dislike is plaguing me. I imagine that one or two well timed comments about Plato’s or Socrates’ philosophy on life, should send the most tiresomely arduous suitor running for cover!”

  “My dear, you would not!” Lady Beauchamp exclaimed in horror.

  “But, Grandmama, it is a most effective ploy,” Alexandra said innocently. “Last year, when Alfred Hadley was making a nuisance of himself by constantly showing up on our doorstep, and showering me with bouquets, and his even more flowery compliments, I started spouting on about the great philosophers. I have never seen a man turn tail as quickly as he did when I asked him to discuss the merits of the different philosophers’ works with me. He has not returned to see me since,” Alexandra finished, smiling reflectively.

  “Well, do not play your tricks in London, my love,” Lady Beauchamp said faintly. She had nightmarish visions of her granddaughter driving all suitors away, by philosophising about the meaning of life. Shuddering at that dreadful thought, Lady Beauchamp said urgently, “Promise me that you will not do so, dearest.”

  Alexandra, realising that her grandmother was in earnest, meekly promised to guard her mouth. “And I shall not speak about my interest in archaeology, either, Grandmama,” she said expansively.

  “Certainly not, my dear. Certainly not,” Lady Beauchamp said in a failing voice. Closing her eyes, she tried to regain her composure. If her hair had not already been white, she was sure that her tiresome grandchild would have succeeded in changing its colour by now! Opening her eyes again, she looked in a dazed way at Alexandra who had her head on one side and was regarding her Grandmother in a concerned fashion.

  “Are you quite all right, Grandmama?” she asked solicitously. “You have gone quite pale!”

  “I am surprised that I have not fallen into a decline by now, child,” Lady Beauchamp said. “You are quite outrageous, my dear!”

  “I realise that, Grandmama, and I assure you that it is a great trial to me,” Alexandra sighed unhappily.

  Lady Beauchamp made no reply to this, but snorted in a most inelegant fashion, much to the surprise of the new under butler, Meadows, who at that moment was bringing in the tea tray. After he had set the tray down, and had retreated to the hall, he shook his head dismally, and reflected that Lady Beauchamp was a rather strange lady. Snorting in that odd manner! Now Miss Grantham, he thought on the other hand, would never lower herself by making such unladylike noises. Indeed, she seemed to be a model of decorum and propriety. In fact, Meadows thought as he absent-mindedly polished an already spotless doorknob, he would go so far as to describe his new mistress as the perfect example of how a gently reared young lady should aspire to behave. Miss Grantham was a meek and proper lady, through and through, he thought. There was absolutely no doubt about it!

  Chapter Ten

  A week later, Lady Beauchamp and Alexandra made an early start for London. Settling back against the luxurious squabs of the carriage after they had bade goodbye to John and Mrs Grantham, Lady Beauchamp gave a sigh of heartfelt relief, and remarked to her granddaughter, “I must say, my dear, that much as I have enjoyed my stay at Grantham Place, I am pleased to leave. A week in the country, and I am already pining for the city! I am so looking forward to the Season, Alexandra. Bringing you out is going to prove most enjoyable.” Darting a quick look at Alexandra, Lady Beauchamp continued, “More especially, my love, I am looking forward to seeing you in some decently fashionable clothes.”

  Alexandra looked at Lady Beauchamp in surprise. “But Grandmama, I have plenty of clothes!”

  Lady Beauchamp shook her head. “Your wardrobe is woefully inadequate for a London Season, Alexandra. Some of your gowns, I grant you, are pretty enough, but it is all too easy to detect the hand of a country dressmaker in them. Rusticity is not at all in vogue, I can assure you, my dear.”

  “Well, if that is the case, Grandmama, I place myself tota
lly in your hands. When Mama was alive, I remember her saying that you have exquisite taste in fashion, and a remarkable eye for colour.”

  A shadow of pain crossed Lady Beauchamp’s face at the mention of her deceased daughter, but she resolutely put her grief at the loss of her only child aside, and said brightly, “Well, your Mama was quite right, my dear. And you, Alexandra, will be a joy to clothe! Your lovely figure and striking colouring will present a challenge that any modiste worth her while will be eager to take up. I think that I shall entrust you to Madame Fanchon,” Lady Beauchamp continued thoughtfully. “Although she is the most expensive of the Bruton Street modistes, she is also by far the most talented. She can be relied upon to turn you out in style, especially for your first appearance at Almack’s, my love. You must make a good impression then.”

  “I heard, Grandmama, that if one fails to receive vouchers for Almack’s, that one is socially damned. Can that really be so?” Alexandra asked.

  “That is so, indeed,” Lady Beauchamp replied. “A young lady who fails to be approved of by the Patronesses of Almack’s — Countess Lieven, Lady Jersey, Lady Sefton, Mrs Drummond Burrell, Emily Cooper and Princess Esterhazy — may as well pack up and return home, for all the good staying in London will do her. Fortunately, it will not be difficult for you to obtain vouchers, my dear. Maria Sefton is a close friend of mine, and has already, on condition of first meeting you, of course, promised to send them.” Lady Beauchamp looked at Alexandra thoughtfully. “Speaking of Almack’s, my dear, do you know how to waltz?”

  “No, Grandmama, I don’t. I am familiar with the country dances, the quadrille, the cotillion and the minuet, but Aunt Eliza nearly had hysterics when I suggested that I learn the waltz. She described it as extremely ‘fast’.”

  “It certainly is fast — but since Countess Lieven introduced it into Almack’s, it has become accepted everywhere. Consequently it is vastly important that you become familiar with it. Immediately we arrive in London I shall engage a dancing-master to give you some lessons and teach you the steps. However, you may not waltz until you have gained the approbation of the Patronesses,” Lady Beauchamp cautioned. “Only when they have approved of you will one of their number give you permission to dance it by introducing you to a suitable partner.”