Raven's Shadow (Book 2, the Ravenstone Chronicles)

by Louise Franklin

  Mr. Gordon arrived in evening dress, and Lydia grew quiet and withdrawn, as she always did in his presence. Major Price in his smart uniform had arrived with him and she wondered if they had shared transportation. She noticed that Edward’s friends had straightened their posture at the entrance of the two gentlemen, one handsome and the other made handsome by his uniform.

  Lady Cloverdale and Georgiana exchanged smiles. The newly arrived gentlemen could not have guessed that their appearance would be so appreciated by anyone but the females present. In outward appearance, everything was proper and correct, but Georgiana wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all.

  When Elton announced a Captain Markham, Rupert jumped up from his position in front of the map and made his way to Nicholas’s side. He bowed deeply in front of him and introduced himself as a future seafaring pirate to be feared by all maritime captains. Nicholas thanked him for the warning, and promised to do his best to stay out of the Atlantic if at all possible. He greeted all as manners dictated, then allowed Rupert to drag him to the atlas. Sitting by the fire with great dignity, Rupert on one knee and James on the other, he showed them which routes proved most hazardous for ships.

  Georgiana smiled, thinking Rupert was probably committing each word to his permanent memory. His small face was transformed from his usual scowl to one of wonder as he asked questions and Nicholas patiently answered them. She watched the little scene, trying to conceal just how fascinated she was by it.

  Then the Kingstons arrived fifteen minutes late, as required, and with Caroline’s entrance, Nicholas rose. Rupert took an immediate dislike to her and Georgiana watched him search the room for a decent flying object. She briefly thought of supplying him with one, and eyed a delicate vase of the perfect size. She sighed in disappointment at herself; Caroline had barely entered the room, and already Georgiana wanted to supply ammunition for her defeat. She caught Rupert’s eye and shook her head at him, frowning. He seemed, however, determined, and she turned to Edward who still stood behind her.

  “Edward,” she whispered, gaining his attention, then turned to glare at Rupert who had moved next to the vase and was about to pick it up.

  Edward moved quickly, and taking his son’s hand from the vase, he pulled him to sit next to Georgiana. Rupert sat glaring at her, and she wondered what he had in mind for those who betrayed him. He hated traitors almost as much as he hated baths. He probably thought traitors should be drowned in baths. She concentrated on making Rupert amiable again, but failed terribly at coaxing him into a better mood.

  After a while, she had no choice but to send for Miss Blackwell, who escorted the boys out, dragging Rupert as she went. He glared at Caroline with a deathly promise as he passed her. Fortunately, Caroline’s eyes were for Nicholas alone. Georgiana smiled, realizing she and Rupert had found another common objective. She glared at Caroline briefly, and then forced herself to pay attention to the conversation around her.

  Mrs. Jones, Lydia’s mother, and Lady Kingston had joined the small group seated around Georgiana, while Dorothea preferred to anchor herself between Mr. Gordon and Major Price. It seemed she had been forgiven for her last offense at Lady Kingston’s dinner.

  Georgiana was aware that Lady Kingston was talking with great animation but the meaning of her words were completely lost on her as her mind wandered to the couple standing to one side across the room. Nicholas said something that made Caroline laugh, and she hated him for it.

  She forbade herself another glance at him or his fiancée. She was a strong woman, and refused to become unhinged by a mere man, she told herself, a scowl on her face.

  “You do not agree,” Lady Kingston asked and Georgiana realized she was the focus of the discussion around her. They all looked at her inquiringly, and she swallowed and raised an eyebrow, glancing at Lady Cloverdale to rescue her.

  “Lady Kingston is of the persuasion that the mysterious Madam M of her Ball must be none other than the mistress of some gentleman that was present.”

  “Oh,” said Georgiana, flustered, and giving her a thankful look. “I could not possibly know, having myself not been a witness.”

  She wanted to scream in frustration at her own lack of comportment, but smiled pleasingly instead and Lady Kingston gave her a description of the said madam.

  “A character of truly fashionable dress and beauty, perhaps, but no manners and in want of delicacy. Her attentions spoke clearly of misconduct and disgrace. A truly disagreeable person who should not have been present and one can only speculate as to how such an unfortunate came to be invited.”

  She listened with a fixed smile. To subdue the need to defend herself, Georgiana finally addressed herself to the duties of a good hostess and, with a whispered request to Edward, made sure that Major Price would escort Lydia into the dining room. Mr. Gordon would naturally escort Dorothea, even though the devil in her rather wished she had asked Mr. Gordon to escort Lydia instead. However, she knew that Dorothea would not relinquish her prize easily, and for Edward’s sake, she reined in her devil, and allowed her genteel side to rule for now.

  At dinner, she was seated at one end of the table with Edward at the other. On her left sat Major Price with Lydia next to him, while Nicolas and Caroline sat at the other end with Edward. On her right was Lord Cloverdale and next to him Lady Cloverdale. She had no formal seating arrangement, as having four extra gentlemen made it impossible. Still they seemed to have spread themselves out well. Dorothea had made sure Mr. Gordon was seated next to her.

  The first course arrived in perfectly polished silver dishes and was placed in the four corners with the entrees. She picked up her spoon, and taking a tentative first spoonful of consommé, she was pleasantly surprised by its delicious taste, and she glanced with joy at Lady Cloverdale, who returned the glance with conspiratorial delight.

  Georgiana concentrated on her soup, trying to ignore Major Price’s remarks about smugglers. Lydia’s attention was caught by the gentlemen on her left who asked about the maker of her fabulous cream gown. She did look quite pretty, Georgiana thought.

  At the center of the table, a lively discussion was under way on the benefits of assassinating Napoleon to end the war on the Continent. Attempts had been made before and failed. The Emperor had been on his way to the opera, Creation, and ordered his driver to travel quickly as he did not want to be late. The explosion, set along the route, had instead killed a good many bystanders after the Emperor had passed.

  Lord Kingston blamed the Royalists for botching the job, while Napoleon blamed his political opposition, the Jacobins. Still, that attempt, which came the closest to succeeding, had occurred many years ago. Lord Kingston was able to find support for his belief that another attempt was vital. He knew of secret meetings, he said in a loud whisper for all to hear, in which another attempt was being organized. No one was to talk about it, but he saw no harm in the matter as long as he divulged no details.

  She noticed Major Price had begun to pay attention to Lord Kingston’s conversation as had the rest of the guests. “Do you see how easy it is, Lady Fairchild, to obtain valuable information?” Major Price asked.

  She glanced at those around her but no one paid any attention to the Major’s comment and Lydia began again the story of the mysterious Madam M.

  “It is rather disappointing that a gentleman of such great character as Lord Kingston does not have the mental fortitude as to protect his country’s secrets better,” Georgiana admitted. “Fortunately, our Frenchman is not present.”

  “Is he not?” the Major asked his eyebrow raised.

  She studied him, annoyed, and then said, “You suspect someone at this table?”

  “You do not?”

  “No one here is French,” she said.

  “Perhaps it is an Englishman then who betrays his country under the guise of being French.”

  She glanced at Mr. Madden, and the Major smiled.

  “You suspect him?”

  “Why not?” she said. “He is n
ever where he should be, and his presence here proves he has access to the circles where such information would carelessly be revealed.”

  “And you base this conclusion on what?”

  “The cut of his clothes,” she smiled. “It suggests he has expensive tastes which go even beyond what rents he can collect from Ravenstone.”

  “I sense, Lady Fairchild, that you mean to rid yourself of Mr. Madden,” he said, amused. “Why is that?”

  “You asked me to help you, and when I do, you mock me,” she said angrily.

  The Major smiled and glanced along the table. She realized she had raised her voice and had drawn some attention. She caught Nicholas’s glance and looked down at her plate.

  The dinner table was no place to discuss this, and in her anger, she imagined tearing that neat little mustache off the Major’s face. Instead, she smiled sweetly and glanced at her neighbor and his, and begging pardon, bid them continue their conversations.

  She made sure to modulate her tone to that of a pleasant and somewhat dull discussion so others would not turn to her to listen.

  “Perhaps this is not the appropriate time,” she said.

  “No, you are right.”

  Major Price turned to answer a question from Lydia while Georgiana’s thoughts turned to Mr. Madden. If he had indeed been the one to lead the excise men to her door, why did he not inform the Major of the identity of the man in charge? Surely, Madden knew this was the information the Major hoped to gain.

  Why had Mr. Madden not only warned Mr. Gordon of the raid, but also protected his identity, unless he had need of him to pass information? She was also puzzled as to why the magistrate still had not appeared at her door. Despite the presence of many excise men to apprehend smugglers on her property, not one official person had come to call the following day. She had thought it most peculiar.

  There was no talk of it even in the village, Peter had reported. As far as anyone else was concerned, the skirmish had not taken place. Save for poor Holm, whose body had disappeared, and Harry, she might have dreamt it all. She had been relieved, but puzzled.

  She turned her attention back to her guests. Lord Cloverdale regaled them with a story of a riot he had only barely been able to escape without harm. The unrest in London had not yet found its end.

  “It is ludicrous for the rioters to claim they are hungry when it is well established that London has been well supplied by food,” said Lord Cloverdale.

  “That is not the argument they are making,” Nicholas answered. “They are rioting because despite the fact that London is well supplied, the price of food, especially wheat, has not been lowered now that shortages are over. The poor may grumble at the shortages, but it’s injustice they refuse to stand for.”

  “The middlemen are to blame for that,” Lord Kingston said. “The price of wheat is low again, I assure you. The profits from my wheat crop are not what they should be.”

  “The government needs to better regulate the market,” Lord Cloverdale said. “But we all know the government is slow to change, if it changes at all.”

  “Nothing wrong with our Government,” Lord Kingston disagreed. “Except too many Whigs slowing down the process with their talk of change. But mark my words, the Tories will remain in power because they are the better men.”

  Lady Cloverdale raised an eyebrow. “Surely, Lord Kingston, you do not wish a revolution in England.”

  “Certainly not,” he said, his face red and annoyed.

  “England will have just that if we do not change with the times, and the times, Lord Kingston, are changing whether you agree or not,” said Nicholas. “England will find itself in much the same position as France, and I for one would rather not see a guillotine in St James’s Square. The only question that remains is will you change with them.”

  “I see no change necessary, and will thank you to not speak of guillotines in the presence of females with delicate constitutions.”

  “Females are a lot less delicate than you would wish them to be,” Georgiana said.

  “Please,” said Edward attempting to regain the good humor of all. “Consider my delicate constitution then, for I am likely to faint at the thought.”

  A good-natured chuckle followed his comment and the first course was replaced by the second course of salmon and eel. Unfortunately, the eel was set at Georgiana’s side. She much preferred the salmon, but knew better than to ask a servant for it. It would be considered bad form. She took a small piece of the eel, and spoke to Lydia of her favorite dishes. The fish was followed by goose and French beans, also ham and cauliflower, game hen and venison. The dinner was delicious and she had Lady Cloverdale to thank for it.

  ***

  “It must be tiresome to be so carried about the place,” Lady Cloverdale stated as she seated herself next to Georgiana. “I don’t think I would like it at all.”

  The women had left the dining room to the men and their port.

  “It’s quite pleasant, actually,” Georgiana smiled. “Dixon has such strong arms, all muscled and hard. And his countenance is even prettier close up.”

  Lady Cloverdale laughed as Lady Kingston looked scandalized. Caroline went to stand next to her sister, who had seated herself at the piano and begun to play a new piece she had learned, her fingers not quite confident yet.

  “Lydia, come sit here next to me,” Georgiana said, having noticed her sitting by herself at the window, looking dejected.

  Lydia moved next to Georgiana as Lady Kingston stood to leave, apparently offended by her hostess’ remark about Dixon. She joined the group at the piano.

  “He is a fool to not see your beauty,” Georgiana said to Lydia, and Lady Cloverdale raised an eyebrow in question. Georgiana said, “It’s the vicar.”

  “Ah,” said Lady Cloverdale in understanding.

  “She has set her cap far too high,” replied Mrs. Jones in a whisper from across the coffee table. “She could not hope for Mr. Gordon’s attention. She has neither the purse for it, nor the looks. Dorothea will land him, I’ll wager.”

  Lydia’s face fell into utter dejection at her mother’s words, and Georgiana scowled at the woman, wishing she could have her removed at once.

  Lady Cloverdale rose. “Would you take a turn with me about the room, Mrs. Jones?”

  “Delighted to, Lady Cloverdale.”

  Georgiana turned to Lydia. “Lydia, your mother is misled about your chances. Did you want it, you could have any man.”

  “It is kind of you to say,” she smiled weakly, not believing a word.

  “Besides your happiness should not depend on a man.”

  “How can it not, for I must marry,” she said, an edge of panic in her voice. “I do not wish to be an old maid without children. How am I to live?”

  She had a point. Women were unfortunately much dependent on men as much as Georgiana hated the idea. To try to convince Lydia otherwise would be an injustice to the young woman. She was not Lydia, and she had no right to advise her on how to live without a man.

  “There is little hope for me,” Lydia said.

  “You are beautiful, perhaps not the same kind of beauty as some in this room but still a pretty picture. Do not allow others to dictate how you must feel about yourself. I am sure that you will find a husband, but make sure he is deserving of you. Mr. Gordon is not that man, for he cannot see your fine qualities.”

  “But how do I stop loving him,” she cried softly. “Could I so wish it, I would have long ago.”

  Georgiana gave her a handkerchief to dry her eyes, and glanced at the other group in the room. Dorothea was watching their little scene with lavish enjoyment, her fingers flying over the keys now. Mrs. Collins seated herself across from them, curious to see what the trouble was.

  “It is unseemly to create such emotion in company,” Mrs. Collins said to Lydia.” You must stop instantly before the men rejoin us.”

  “Mrs. Collins,” Georgiana snapped. “See to your own comportment and leave others to their
s.” But it was too late, for Lydia stood and flew from the room.

  “You have upset her,” Mrs. Collins said, admonishing her.

  Dear God, she wanted to throw something at the old cow, but she was right. Georgiana should never have approached Lydia in the first place. She had only set off the powder keg that had been Lydia’s ragged emotions. Now her mother had more reason to chide the poor girl, and no doubt, punish her with more unkind words. She watched as Mrs. Jones left the drawing room to go after Lydia.

  “Oh dear,” Dorothea breathed, having relinquished her seat at the piano to her sister. She sat down next to Mrs. Collins, a smug smile on her face. “What could all that fuss be about?”

  Georgiana refrained from answering her, and the door opened once more as the gentlemen joined them. Nicholas moved to Caroline’s side at once, she noticed, and she wondered to whom he was trying to prove his devotion.

  Mr. Gordon followed him, much to Dorothea’s annoyance. She had saved a seat for him next to her, and had expected him to acquiesce to this. Her face was set in a smile but her eyes looked rather stormy. Georgiana gave her a self-satisfied glance, which did not help Dorothea’s mood. If the woman were to move toward Mr. Gordon now, she would look desperate, and so she was forced to remain seated.

  Edward seated himself next to Georgiana, his legs crossed and his arm resting on the seat behind her. It was a territorial gesture, not easily missed by anyone, and she glanced at him, but his eyes were on Nicholas. She frowned, confused, for Nicholas returned the eye contact. Was Edward fickle? He did not even like women.

  He turned to her and smiled. “Was it dull without us men here to entertain you with our silly ways? I have always wondered what it is women talk about when removed from the presence of us men.”

  “Why we talk about men, of course,” Georgiana said sweetly.

  He laughed and taking her hand in his, he held it, playing with her fingers. Mrs. Collins watched them with an expression of disapproval. Physical contact in public, especially affection, was frowned upon. It went against the highest rules of etiquette. .Georgiana thought about removing her hand, but then changed her mind when she saw the expression on Mr. Madden’s face.