Sir Philip's Folly (The Poor Relation Series Book 4)

by M C Beaton

  ***

  The fashionable crop that was to have been Arabella’s was now adorning Miss Tonks’ head. “What do you think?” she asked nervously after the hairdresser had left.

  Arabella put her head on one side. “You know,” she said consideringly, “it makes you look years younger, and I wonder what he used to get that shine. I asked him but he said it was a secret recipe.”

  Miss Tonks’ hair was now a cap of shining curls. “And you should not wear these starched caps,” went on Arabella. “Some pretty lace ones, I think, to show those curls to advantage. Come upstairs with me and let us see if the others are still there.”

  The others were still there, going through the books, Sir Philip’s face looking sour. “So you say,” Lady Fortescue was declaiming in a measured voice, “as we have no intention of selling up, you will be only entitled to your cut of the profits, profits from which your lady’s food and clothes and rent have been deducted. You are an extravagant man, Sir Philip, and so I do not think you would be able to exist very comfortably in a separate establishment.”

  “A pox on’t,” muttered Sir Philip. “What’s this girl doing here again? Is she to be party to all our discussions?”

  “Miss Carruthers is a friend,” snapped the colonel. “Mind your manners, sir!”

  Sir Philip’s gaze focused on Miss Tonks’ capless, shining head. “What have you been doing to yourself?” he growled.

  The colonel took Miss Tonks’ hand and bent and kissed it. “You look most charmingly.”

  “I must say,” remarked Lady Fortescue, “that André has done wonders. How very young you look, Miss Tonks!”

  “Pah!” said Sir Philip Sommerville, and went out and crashed the door behind him.

  “He does not like you looking pretty,” Arabella whispered to Miss Tonks. “I wonder why?”

  And Miss Tonks, who had been on the point of crying, suddenly felt very happy indeed. No one in her whole miserable life had called her pretty before.

  Lady Fortescue, who had overheard the aside, reflected that no one could ever call Miss Tonks pretty, and yet the new hair-style made her look undoubtedly interesting and mundane.

  ***

  “Did many gentlemen dance with you last night, Mama?” asked Arabella. For to her dismay, early the next afternoon, her mother showed every sign of preparing to go out on calls.

  “Oh, so many I have lost count,” said Lady Carruthers.

  “In that case, would it not be better to await calls rather than going out?”

  “Oh, there was no one of interest, no one worth waiting for.”

  “Was Lord Denby there?”

  “Denby? Denby?” Lady Carruthers affected a yawn and tried to look as if she were hard put to remember the name of the only man who had danced with her. “Oh, yes, the fellow who is staying here. Yes, he danced with me. Terrible flirt.”

  The footman came into the sitting-room. “The Earl of Denby is called, my lady,” he announced.

  “Show him in,” said Arabella quickly before her mother could order her from the room.

  The earl, reflected Arabella, although her heart gave a painful lurch, was surely as good an actor as Mr. Davy. He came in and bowed low to Lady Carruthers. Then he turned and affected to see Arabella for the first time and gave a little start.

  “I pray you,” he said to Lady Carruthers, “please introduce me to this beauty.”

  Lady Carruthers looked wildly about the room as if expecting to see someone else there. “Arabella?” she asked faintly. She rallied with an obvious effort. “My daughter, my lord. Arabella, make your curtsy to his lordship and then I am sure you will be glad to get back to your books.”

  But the earl had taken Arabella’s hand and was smiling down into her eyes. “You must not waste your beautiful eyes over books, Miss Carruthers.” He turned back to Lady Carruthers. “May I persuade both of you to come for a drive with me?”

  “I shall be glad to go,” said Lady Carruthers. “But my child is…”

  She saw the slight stiffening of Lord Denby’s face and realized with a shock that he might, just might, change his mind if Arabella were not to be of the party.

  “Arabella, change into your carriage dress, my chuck, while I entertain Lord Denby.”

  When Arabella had gone into her bedroom, Lady Carruthers said, “Such a dear child.”

  “Not a child, my lady, despite her juvenile gowns. I would have estimated her to be about nineteen years.”

  Lady Carruthers coloured under her paint but said nothing.

  “Have you brought her out yet?”

  “No, my lord, this is not the Season.”

  “And yet, with such beauty, you would have the men flocking around her—were she suitably gowned, of course. And she is trifle old to be still wearing her hair down.”

  “Oh, let us not discuss my tiresome child,” said Lady Carruthers gaily. “I confess I am fatigued. So many dances!”

  Lord Denby restrained himself from pointing out that apart from one dance with him, she had not danced at all. He talked about various people they both knew, for most of society at least knew one another by sight and by gossip, while Lady Carruthers fretted as the minutes dragged by, wondering what on earth her daughter was about, to take so long to put on her carriage gown.

  The door from Arabella’s bedroom opened and she entered followed by Lady Carruthers’s worried-looking maid. Lady Carruthers’s eyes looked daggers.

  Arabella was wearing one of her own, that is, Lady Carruthers’s, own carriage gowns, and one of her mother’s best hats. And worse! For under that dashing little hat her hair was piled up on her small head in shining curls and waves. The earl smiled his appreciation. Arabella was transformed into a beautiful and modish young lady.

  They made their way down the stairs to the hall. Miss Tonks was standing there, talking to one of the guests. She saw the party approaching and cried, “Arabella! How very fine you look.”

  Lady Carruthers gave Miss Tonks a contemptuous look. “You will kindly be less familiar with my daughter. I do not like familiarity from hotel servants.”

  “Good day, Miss Tonks,” said the earl easily. “Your hair looks splendid, very fetching.”

  “Is Letitia not grand,” cried Arabella. “But then, Monsieur André is the very best.”

  Nonplussed and feeling that life was treating her very unfairly, Lady Carruthers made her way to the door but found to her mortification that she had to wait there alone while the earl and her wretched daughter finished talking to that wretched hotel woman. She was bewildered. Arabella, she kept thinking. Is Arabella then so very beautiful? I never noticed.

  When they were seated in the earl’s carriage, she kept darting little looks at her daughter from under the shadow of her bonnet. For the first time Lady Carruthers was bitterly jealous of her daughter. Her own face was a mask of paint; her daughter’s, free of paint, glowed with good health. Not one line marred that beautiful face opposite, and the hazel eyes were wide and clear. On the other hand, the earl had called to pay his addresses. Lady Carruthers preened. All her vanity, which had taken a sad blow at the ball, came flooding back. Once more she saw herself as irresistible and began to flirt with the earl so that he had little opportunity to speak to Arabella. Had Lady Carruthers allowed him plenty of time to get to know Arabella better, then the earl might have tired of the game. But the fact that his every move to engage Arabella in conversation was thwarted by her mother made him more intrigued by the girl.

  “Your daughter is attracting all eyes,” said the earl as they drove in the Ring in Hyde Park.

  But Lady Carruthers’s vanity was fully restored and she thought it was charming and kind of the earl to flatter her little daughter so as to please her. After all, Lady Carruthers knew that it was obviously herself that all the men in the Park were admiring.

  Chapter Four

  What woman, however

  old, has not the bridal

  favours and raiment

  st
owed away, and

  packed in

  lavender, in the inmost

  cupboards of her

  heart?

  —WILLIAM THACKERAY

  The earl found himself feeling increasingly frustrated. He had initially made up his mind that when Lady Carruthers started to take her daughter out and about, he would favour the girl with a few dances and then forget about her. But during the following two weeks, only Lady Carruthers herself was present at various social functions. At last, after flicking through his cards, he noticed there was to be a musicale on the following night, hosted by a Mrs. Sinclair. He approached that lady and said that he had learned Lady Carruthers had a very pretty daughter also staying at the Poor Relation and perhaps Mrs. Sinclair might oblige him by sending a note to Lady Carruthers saying that her daughter would be welcome also.

  Mrs. Sinclair smiled indulgently, assuming the earl to be smitten with Miss Carruthers, and said she would send a note right away.

  Lady Carruthers scowled down at that note. She felt she was making progress with the earl. Into every indifferent remark he had made to her she read growing passion. Then he always asked her to dance and the fact that healways asked about Arabella she considered a very hopeful sign. The earl obviously had a fatherly interest in the girl. And so she shrugged and crumpled up the note and threw it into the empty fireplace.

  Arabella found it later that day, smoothed it out and read it. She was feeling increasingly angry because her mother showed no signs of wanting to take her anywhere and doubted very much whether she would take her to this musicale. Also Arabella was weary of wandering the corridors of the hotel hoping to bump into the earl. Her mother did not even take her to the dining-room but had her meals sent in from a chop-house.

  The only thing that brightened her days was the fact that Mr. Davy’s clothes had been made at great speed and he was to arrive in his new guise the next day. Lady Fortescue had decided it would get him closer to Mrs. Budge if, instead of staying in the hotel, he stayed at the apartment next door, which would also underline the fact that he was the son of a friend of the colonel’s.

  The following evening, Arabella wistfully watched her mother getting ready to go out. Arabella was going to go up to the “staff” sitting-room the moment her mother disappeared to judge how well Mr. Davy was playing his part. It had been decided to let him keep his own name, as Sir Philip never went to the theatre and Mr. Davy had not trodden the boards for some time. Sir Philip, she knew, had gone off with Mrs. Budge to her flat which she had rented out because the tenant was behind with his payments, but Lady Fortescue had left a note for him telling him to be in the sitting-room at ten o’clock.

  As soon as her mother had left, Arabella put her hair up and took a fashionable gown out of her mother’s wardrobe and put it on. She would look like a young woman for this one evening, although the only people to appreciate the result would be the poor relations.

  The gown she had chosen was of thin white muslin ornamented with sprigs of forget-me-nots. It showed off her excellent figure to advantage, although it was slightly tight across the bosom. She had a Norfolk shawl draped around her shoulders and some of her mother’s perfume behind her ears. She had been modestly pleased with her reflection in the glass, and as she left the room she wistfully thought that it would be wonderful if the earl could meet her and see her in all her grown-up glory.

  She walked to the main staircase and met the earl, who was dressed to go out in black evening dress, sculptured cravat and hair pomaded so that it shone like gold.

  He automatically bowed and then his eyes widened. “Miss Carruthers! You look so very charming. You will break all hearts tonight.”

  Arabella laughed. “You mean Sir Philip might transfer his attentions to me?”

  He frowned. “But I understood that you were to attend Mrs. Sinclair’s musicale. In fact, Mrs. Sinclair told me that she would send a note to Lady Carruthers suggesting you attend.”

  Arabella gave a rueful little shrug. “I found that note crumpled in the fireplace and Mama said nothing of it to me, so here I am, but looking forward to the first meeting of Mr. Davy and Sir Philip.”

  He felt a sudden spasm of anger against the absent Lady Carruthers and then found he was not looking forward to the evening at all. On impulse, he said, “I would like to attend the first act of this play. Do you think Lady Fortescue would mind?”

  Her eyes lit up. “No, for Miss Tonks has already told her that you know of the plan. But Mama will be expecting to see you.”

  His blue eyes danced and he held out his arm. “I think you deserve to enjoy yourself thinking about her disappointment. Shall we go?”

  She put her hand on his arm and he led her up the stairs.

  When they entered the sitting-room, Arabella’s eyes immediately searched the room for Mr. Davy. “He is not here yet,” said Lady Fortescue. “Why, my lord, to what do we owe the pleasure of your visit?”

  “I was anxious to see Mr. Davy’s performance and Miss Carruthers was sure you would not mind.”

  “Delighted to have your company, my lord,” said Lady Fortescue smoothly, although her shrewd black eyes fastened on the transformed Arabella. The girl was a trifle young for Denby, she reflected, but Miss Tonks was looking as happy as if she had created this new Arabella herself and Lady Fortescue reflected that anything that made Miss Tonks happy these days was worth her indulgence. Not that she wanted to see anything of a romance between Miss Tonks and Sir Philip should the dreadful Budge creature disappear. Sir Philip had certain… em… appetites, thought Lady Fortescue, which might shock a genteel virgin.

  The door opened and Mr. Davy came in. “Splendid! Oh, how splendid!” said Miss Tonks, clapping her hands.

  Clothes had transformed the actor from a shabby player into a smooth and elegant gentleman. From his well-tailored evening coat to his silk breeches and clocked stockings to his new and fashionable Brutus crop, he looked like a wealthy man without a care in the world.

  “Your servant,” he said, bowing low before the colonel.

  “Jewels,” said the earl. “You must have jewels, Mr. Davy. That will attract Mrs. Budge’s greedy eyes. I will fetch something.”

  He left the room and returned some minutes later with a diamond stickpin, a large ruby ring and diamond studs. “The studs in your shirt,” ordered the earl. “Quickly now. Perhaps you would be so good as to help him, Miss Tonks; your assistance would be welcome.”

  Mr. Davy was bedecked just in time. Sir Philip entered with Mrs. Budge, holding her hand high above his head, as if the pair were about to perform a minuet.

  Sir Philip stared in surprise at the earl and said rudely, “What’s he doing here?”

  “Lord Denby,” declared Lady Fortescue repressively, “is escorting Miss Carruthers. My lord, may I present Mrs. Budge.”

  “So charmed,” fluted Mrs. Budge in a crimped-up sort of voice.

  “And Mr. Davy here is the son of an old friend of Colonel Sandhurst who will be residing with us. Mrs. Budge, Mr. Davy. Sir Philip, Mr. Davy. Mr. Davy, Mrs. Budge and Sir Philip Sommerville.”

  To Arabella’s surprise, Mr. Davy gave Mrs. Budge a low bow but did not show any signs of being interested in her at all.

  “Where are you from, Mr. Davy?” asked Sir Philip.

  “I now live in Buckingham,” said Mr. Davy, “but I like to visit the City from time to time to see my man of business.”

  “Business doing well?” asked Sir Philip.

  “Very well. I wish Colonel Sandhurst had told me of your venture at the beginning. I would have been glad to help.”

  “And why didn’t he?” demanded Sir Philip crossly, thinking the colonel had kept this rich friend well hidden.

  “Colonel Sandhurst and I had become disaffected owing to my behaviour,” said Mr. Davy. “I fear I was a very wild young man. But now I have made my fortune, I had an impulse to come to beg his forgiveness.”

  “Hey, sit by me,” said Sir Philip expansively, his eyes fi
xed on that diamond stickpin. “Any friend of Colonel Sandhurst is a friend of mine.”

  “I had heard of Lady Fortescue, Miss Tonks and Sir Philip from Colonel Sandhurst,” said Mr. Davy. “Are you a partner, too, Mrs. Budge?”

  Mrs. Budge had taken a place on his other side. She was reaching out one plump hand for a cake. “I am by way of being a friend of Sir Philip,” she said.

  Arabella saw Mr. Davy’s lips move in a whisper and then the actor said aloud, “Allow me to hand you the plate of cakes, Mrs. Budge.” She saw how Mrs. Budge after that whisper had given Mr. Davy a gratified look and then how her piggy eyes fell from the actor’s face to the diamond nestling among the snowy folds of his cravat.

  “I don’t think I will have a cake, sir,” simpered Mrs. Budge. What Mr. Davy had whispered to her when she had said she was a friend of Sir Philip had been, “Oh, my heart. What a pity. What a waste.” The import of these words had sunk into her ample bosom. Mrs. Budge was suddenly aware of her own great girth set against the elegant slimness of Mr. Davy and resolved to eat less, just a little less.

  “Sir Philip!” commanded Lady Fortescue. “Join us for a moment. There appears to be a discrepancy in the accounts.”

  “As Miss Tonks has been doing the accounts lately, I am not at all surprised,” said Sir Philip. “That widgeon cannot even add two plus two.”

  Arabella saw anger flash in Mr. Davy’s eyes, but Miss Tonks said, “Don’t be such an old fool, Sir Philip. If there is any discrepancy in the accounts it is no doubt you, sir, trying to hide your extravagance.”

  Sir Philip sat down beside Lady Fortescue, took out his quizzing-glass and examined the accounts.

  “It is a while since I have been in Town,” said Mr. Davy quietly to Mrs. Budge. “I miss female company. My poor wife died some years ago. She never lived to see me make my fortune.”

  Mrs. Budge looked thoughtfully at the cake plate so temptingly near and restrained herself with an effort. “Well, sir,” she said archly, “I am sure when Sir Philip is busy about his duties I could find time to accompany you, although perhaps, on second thoughts, he might not like it.”