Louise

by Oliver, Marina

  The rooms were crowded for it was the first assembly of the Season. Matilda's glance surveyed the room, and she nodded, looking satisfied.

  'Most of my admirers are here,' she said to Louise, who swiftly hushed her and, after they had curtsied to the patronesses, led her to some chairs next to where one of Matilda's girl friends sat with her mother.

  The girls chatted animatedly, while glancing from the corners of their eyes to see if a prospective partner was approaching. Louise amused herself trying to identify the older people she had known years ago, and the young men who had driven Matilda out in their sporting carriages. Cedric Dubarry was not present, but he was, after all, only twenty years of age and probably considered Almack's dull. There was far more entertainment to be had at private balls, as well as copious amounts of champagne rather than the insipid fare the patronesses provided.

  Sets were forming for the quadrille. Matilda's friend was claimed, and Matilda began to look anxious when none of her male acquaintances came to ask her to dance. She and other debutantes without partners were forced to sit watching, smiling and chatting as though unconcerned. Matilda, urged by Louise, had a fixed smile on her lips, but a furious look in her eyes.

  A cotillion followed, and still Matilda had no partner. Louise frowned. Why had none of the patronesses who were present brought a young man to her? Neither of those who had issued her with vouchers was in the rooms tonight, and perhaps the others disapproved? At last, a rather shy young man who stammered painfully asked her for a country dance. For a moment Louise was afraid Matilda was going to refuse, but she got to her feet, smiled at the young man, and joined the set just forming. Louise breathed a sigh of relief.

  When Matilda returned to her side she sat in silence for a while. No one claimed her for the following quadrille, and Louise heard her muttering imprecations under her breath, including words normally heard only in stables. She knew that if she reprimanded the girl it would result in a tantrum, so she had to hope no one else could hear. Then Matilda turned to her.

  'Cedric isn't here, and he promised faithfully to come,' she said. 'I wonder where he is? Do you think he can have had an accident?'

  Louise hesitated, then gave her true opinion. She did not like the young man, and did not want Matilda becoming too friendly with him, even if he was one of her most frequent companions. He was not the sort of man Joseph would approve of, and he was far too young. She could only hope someone more acceptable would soon appear.

  'I imagine he has just forgotten.'

  'How could he! When he claims he – well, he said he would be here and it's almost eleven o'clock. Is it true no one is admitted after then?'

  'No one.'

  'Then we might as well go home. I hate all these men who drive me out, and then ignore me!'

  'We may as well wait a while. It's early yet, and you don't want to admit defeat, do you, and have people laugh, or make unkind comments. Here is Clarice, she hasn't a partner either, and you can talk.'

  The girls began to talk, and from what Louise heard they were abusing the young men who were standing about without partners, yet had not asked them to dance. She glanced over at the doorway and stiffened. It was a few minutes to eleven, and two men had just arrived and were making their bows to the patronesses. Then they turned to survey the room, and she was able to consider them. They were both tall, the Earl of Newark perhaps an inch taller than Sir Henry Goodger. She had not thought of the latter as tall, for he seemed elderly and often slouched. Their height was all they had in common, though they both wore the evening dress of long-tailed coats, white waistcoat and satin knee breeches which were obligatory at Almack's.

  The Earl wore his hair in the Brutus style, while Sir Henry's seemed to have been combed and left to fall as it would. The Earl was slim, but muscular, and his clothes fitted him closely, with not a crease or wrinkle to be seen. Sir Henry was plump, and though many men chose to wear coats that did not need the help of a valet to put on, Sir Henry's was more than comfortably loose. It hung on him. Had he perhaps lost weight recently? The Earl wore just his gold signet ring, while Sir Henry, as well as a diamond fob and a quizzing glass, wore an ostentatious ruby ring.

  Until now Louise had not considered his age, simply thinking of Sir Henry as middle aged, but she saw that he was only in his early thirties. The impression of age had, she decided, been because of his dreadful horses and his steady habits. He could not be much older than the Earl.

  Matilda had stopped talking to her friend, and was looking eagerly across the room.

  'They are coming to ask us to dance,' she whispered to Louise. 'But you are not dancing, so Sir Henry will have to ask Clarice.'

  *

  The Earl simply nodded towards Matilda, then turned to Louise.

  'You are not dancing?'

  'I am a duenna tonight, my lord.'

  'Then may I sit and talk with you?'

  Louise could feel Matilda's resentment throbbing in the air between them, and she broke into their conversation unceremoniously. Louise frowned at her bad manners, and knew she must once more take the girl to task, a wearying experience for Matilda rarely heeded her advice.

  'Where is Cedric? He said he'd be here tonight.'

  The Earl stared at her for a moment before replying. 'I may be my nephew's guardian, but I do not require him to tell me all his movements. I imagine he has forgot the engagement, and is absorbed in a card game. Or he may have gone to some cock fighting. Or just be too inebriated to know what he should be doing. It's too late now for him to come here, it's just past eleven.'

  Matilda scowled, but contrived to smile when Sir Henry held out his hand. He was better than no one.

  'Come, Miss Hoyland, will I serve as a partner instead of your young admirer?'

  Louise tensed, hoping he girl would be polite. Matilda had seemed about to refuse, then she rose to her feet, gave her hand to Sir Henry, and ignoring Louise and the Earl, permitted him to lead her into the set just forming.

  'I do apologise for her,' Louise said. 'I'm mortified by her behaviour, but if you can believe it she was far worse when she first came to London.'

  'As I understand it she has been in your charge for a matter of weeks. You can scarcely be blamed for how she has been reared, nor can you correct her faults in so short a time. Come, let us go and investigate the uninspiring refreshments we are given here.'

  Louise laughed, and took the hand he held out to her. She glanced at Matilda, who seemed to have recovered her temper and was smiling at her partner.

  'How old is Sir Henry?' she exclaimed. 'Oh dear, how rude! I do beg your pardon.'

  'He's nine and twenty. He was a year below me at Eton.'

  He led her into the supper room and found a small table while Louise absorbed this information. He was younger than the Earl? It was hard to believe. He fetched some of the thinly sliced bread and butter and glasses of orgeat, and sat down opposite her before she recovered her voice.

  'He looks much older! I suppose it's his staid demeanour, and his old-fashioned clothes.'

  The Earl laughed. 'And his knock-kneed horses and hair that appears to have been trimmed with a pair of shears.'

  'You are just as rude as I was,' she said, laughing. 'Was he always the same? So much older than his years?'

  'Oh yes, and what is worse, we all felt we had to take heed of his opinions, which he stated with such authority we thought they must be correct, until, that is, we grew accustomed to him and began to tease him instead.'

  'He's never been in the army?'

  'No, of course not. He considers warfare demeaning. He's more interested in growing larger turnips.'

  'Whatever for?'

  'To feed the larger cattle he's intent on breeding. But enough of him and your less than amiable charge. Has she set her cap at Cedric?'

  'I'm afraid so. He is one of her most assiduous escorts, and since you show her no special attention, and have never danced with her, she is content to have the heir, not the Earl! Oh
dear, I shouldn't have said that! What has come over me tonight? Pray forget it!'

  'No, it's refreshing to hear the truth. Too many people think they must dissemble to be considered polite.'

  'It must be the effect of these hallowed rooms. When I last was here I was a frightened eighteen-year-old, I scarce dared open my mouth. But how are you? Have you had any more fainting fits?'

  'No, and that one was so mild it hardly counted.'

  'Did you tell Sir Arthur?'

  'Yes, Madame nurse! And because of that you will be inflicted with my company for at least two more months. He won't permit me to return to duty until I have been free of them for that time.'

  Louise tried not to show her pleasure at this news. Several men had taken her driving, asked her to dance, and shown they enjoyed her company, but she wanted none of them. Of them all the Earl was the most interesting companion. Now she could look forward to his company for most of the rest of the Season, and she tried not to admit the true reason, even to herself, nor to feel selfish when she knew his one desire was to return to Spain.

  'You are on duty at the Foreign Office, and of value there,' she told him. 'How is the war going?'

  'It's hard to tell. Napoleon's attempt on Russia has been a disaster for him, but his troops in Spain have been doing well. I think this year's campaign will be the decider.'

  'And naturally you wish you were there instead of doing the pretty in London!'

  He laughed. 'Come now. It would surely be most ungallant of me to agree with you!'

  'But truthful.'

  'Refreshingly so. Will you drive with me tomorrow? There is so little to do at the Foreign Office these days it seems pointless to keep going in.'

  *

  Matilda was in a strange mood all morning. She was angry that Cedric had not been at Almack's, and declared she didn't want to know where he had been instead. It had, she said, probably been somewhere disreputable. At the same time she was eagerly awaiting Sir Henry's arrival, for he had invited her to drive with him that afternoon. Louise marvelled at the girl's excitement to be driving behind the sluggish pair, until Matilda said he was going to teach her to drive. Louise, feeling cowardly, decided she did not wish to know, only hoping his attempt would be less calamitous than her mother's effort.

  Sir Henry arrived early, saying he meant to be in the Park before it became too crowded. Louise waved them off and went back to the letter she was writing to a friend in Devon. She was feeling guilty. She had been so occupied with social engagements she had neglected her old friends.

  She had written just a few more lines when the butler announced Cedric. He came into the room looking jaunty.

  'Hello, is Matilda ready to drive out? I've acquired a new pair, and mean to try them out this afternoon.'

  Louise was able to reply with inward satisfaction, especially when his smile disappeared.

  'Oh dear, how unfortunate. I'm afraid she has just driven out with Sir Henry Goodger.'

  'What? With that old slow coach?'

  'He is a very good hearted man, older than you, and it is not polite for you to abuse him,' Louise said sternly. 'And she was a little upset you did not come to Almack's last night. She had thought you were promised there.'

  He did not look abashed, simply shrugging. 'Oh lord! I forgot. I was with some friends, and, well, we forgot the time, and when I remembered it was after eleven, so there was no point in coming. Besides, I wasn't wearing the wretched breeches the old dowdies insist on.'

  'I expect you were drinking, and I don't appreciate the manner in which you speak of your elders. Now I suggest you go and try out your new pair. It's too cold to keep them standing.'

  He frowned, then shrugged and slouched from the room. She heard him running down the stairs, and the front door slammed. Curious, Louise went to look from the window and smiled when she saw Cedric struggling to control two rangy chestnuts who were being held, rather insecurely, by a diminutive groom. As she watched one of the chestnuts reared, the groom was swung off his feet, then, as he let go the reins and dropped to the ground, scrambling to get out of the way of the hooves, the pair set off at an untidy canter towards Piccadilly. The groom ran after them for a few yards, then appeared to realise it was pointless, and halted. He turned to retrace his steps, presumably going back to his stables. Louise breathed a sigh of relief that Matilda was not with the boy, and hoped he did not cause any accidents.

  *

  Shortly afterwards the Earl arrived and Louise compared his well-behaved blacks with Cedric's new acquisitions. As they drove towards the Park she told Rupert about them.

  'I trust he doesn't break his neck,' she said.

  'He's more likely to break their knees. I haven't heard of these new horses, and I'm wondering if he expects me to pay for them. If they are as wild as you say I'll make him take them back. Did he say where he'd bought them?'

  'No. Would he have bought them from a friend?'

  'If he did, and they are as half-broke as it sounds, that was no friend. Did he say what kept him last night? At least it may have cooled Matilda's ardour.'

  'With friends, he said, and they forgot the time, and he was not dressed for Almack's. It did sound as though he was protesting too much. He didn't reply when I accused him of drinking.'

  They had turned into the Park, and a short distance ahead saw Cedric engaged in a loud altercation with a man driving a curricle. It looked as though Cedric's phaeton had collided with the curricle and the wheels had locked together. Without his groom to help Cedric's pair were plunging wildly, and the phaeton's groom, holding onto his own frightened pair, could do nothing to try and disentangle the mess.

  The Earl sighed, drew his pair to a halt a few yards away, and glanced back at his own groom.

  'Go and do what you can, Foster,' he said wearily. 'Drive them back to my stables, and tell Mr Cedric I'll talk to him later. He's to wait at the house until I come back.'

  Foster nodded and sprang down. He went across to the frightened horses and within minutes had calmed them.

  'How did he do that?' Louise asked.

  'He's a magician with horses. He seems to know just what they are feeling, and how to get them to do whatever he asks.'

  As the two grooms, now in control of the horses, managed to separate the carriages, the Earl drew nearer.

  'My deepest apologies for my nephew's cow-handedness, Sorley. If there is any damage, come to my house later and we can settle it,' he called to the driver of the curricle. 'As for you, Cedric, walk back to Grosvenor Square and I will see you later. Foster will drive your pair home.'

  A furiously angry Cedric began to protest, but the Earl drove on and he was left shouting after his uncle, until he realised the crowd of onlookers were either laughing at him or commenting on his poor driving skills. Louise looked back to see him scowl and turn towards the gate of the Park.

  'His only excuse is that his father died when he was in the nursery,' Rupert said with a sigh. 'His mother was a foolish woman to begin with, and after she was widowed she grew worse. She gave in to him all the time. It was only because my own father insisted he went to school, and paid his fees at Eton, that he had any decent schooling. Not that it did him much good. He wasn't capable of going to Oxford, so he's been making a fool of himself in town for the past three years. My being in the army hasn't helped, it's only since I was wounded and came home that I've been able to try and repair some of the damage. I haven't been successful,' he added. 'But enough of him. Do you have any brothers or sisters?'

  'No, and neither did Richard, so I'm rather short of relatives. There are only my mother and Richard's, and I suppose you can count my grandfather, and Matilda. And my mother's second husband.'

  He pulled up his pair, and Louise saw coming towards them a phaeton drawn by a team of elegant match greys. They drew to a halt alongside, and Louise blinked hard. It was Sir Arthur driving them, and seated beside him the Dowager Lady Rushton. She was looking rather embarrassed, and Louise wondered whet
her this was the first time she had driven out with Sir Arthur.

  'Is the Foreign Office not busy?' Sir Arthur asked. 'Well met, my lady. I trust my nephew is an adequate whipster?'

  Rupert grinned. 'Not especially busy. Is he capable of controlling a team, Lady Rushton? And how about your patients? Have they all recovered suddenly?'

  'Cheeky young devil. I taught you to drive.'

  'So any of my faults can always be laid at your door. Shall I see you later at White's?'

  'If none of my patients are in urgent need of me. Well, mustn't keep the nags standing.'

  He nodded to Louise, laughed, and drove on. Rupert was laughing too.

  'His parents were aghast when he said he wanted to train as a medic. People think of him as a Society doctor, but he spends two days each week seeing patients down by the docks. There are porters with broken limbs and strained muscles because they are expected to carry loads too heavy for them, sailors with strange diseases, and the wives and children with all sorts of problems, many to do with poverty. Half his income goes on food and medicines for them.'

  'My mother-in-law is very interested in herbs and such. She is in demand in our village. I imagine they have much in common.' Perhaps, Louise thought, that was the explanation for their apparent friendship.

  'He's been very lonely since his wife died. He married late. I think he was too busy studying and working before he met his wife.'

  They talked about their families during the rest of the drive, and when he took her back to Half Moon Street Louise felt she knew him well.

  *

  Chapter 7

  Matilda sat at the small writing desk in her room, making lists and puzzling over what they revealed. First came the one of all her partners at the various private balls she had attended. The next list contained the names of all the men she could recall who had been at Almack's the previous night. They had all danced with her previously. Then came the very short list of the men who had asked her to dance last night. They had not all danced with her at private balls, but two, very young and shy, had. So had Sir Henry, who always danced with her if he attended the same balls. There was Cedric, too, who danced with her whenever he came to the same balls, but he did not always attend. So that left all those who had danced with her previously but not asked her last night, even though she had been sitting partnerless and most of them had been propping up the walls, also partnerless. Then something struck her, and she turned back to the first list, frowning. Most of these men had danced with her once only at the private balls, but she recalled that some of those who had asked her a second time had been virtually forced to because the hostesses had brought them over to be introduced and out of politeness they had asked her. Was it only politeness? Did they dislike dancing, but attended balls simply because it was expected? She'd thought it was to meet and perhaps find a girl to marry.