Louise

by Oliver, Marina

  'I think not yet, but Lady Rushton mentioned she was planning a ball, now they know more people. It would have been somewhat pointless earlier, when they had very few acquaintances.'

  'Hm. With both her mother and mother-in-law there in London they could have invited the entire ton. The dowager must have many friends from the past, and Emily seems to know everyone. Did they acquire vouchers for Almack's?'

  'Yes sir, and I understood they have attended the assemblies.'

  'I knew Louise could manage it. But there have been no offers yet? What are they playing at?'

  'That I cannot say. They did not confide in me, and I was in no position to ask questions of anyone else.'

  'I suppose not. I'll write to the dowager and find out what's going on. With her fortune the girl should have received several offers by now.'

  *

  'My lord!' Louise looked at Rupert in astonishment, and to her annoyance found she was trembling. This was totally unexpected. She liked the Earl, had thought they were friends, but no more.

  He appeared to understand her confusion. 'I have been inept, too sudden,' he said, 'but I am expecting to be sent back to the Peninsula at any moment, if matters there get worse, and despite what Arthur says, and I had to speak before then. I cannot think, or hope, you are able to give me an answer at once.'

  Louise shook her head. 'I do not know what to say.'

  'Then say nothing. I think I have made a mull of it. I can only say I am not used to making such an offer. In fact, I have never proposed to any girl before. I never met one I could imagine spending the rest of my life with until I met you.'

  She smiled. 'I am flattered, as any female would be. But I am no girl, I am three and twenty, and have been married before.'

  'You won't turn me down out of hand?'

  Louise knew she ought to, but was unable to do it.

  'I – I need time. I have not been prepared, I did not think you felt more than a friendly regard for me.'

  'Much more, my dear. But you may have all the time you wish, I don't mean to press you. And do not think that because I may be returning to Spain you have to answer me before I go. Now, I think I must leave you. There is a great deal for you to do in preparation for Matilda's ball, but let me have the list of people to be invited as soon as possible. I'll see to it the invitations are sent out, you don't need to do that.'

  'Yes, and thank you. You are very good.'

  'I'm trying to make a good impression,' he said, and laughed. 'I'll see myself out.'

  He departed and Louise wondered whether it had been a dream. She had not considered the possibility of marrying again. Of course, she was often lonely down in Devon, but her mother-in-law's company, her activities in the house and village, the social contacts with families nearby, and correspondence with old friends had, until now, seemed enough. This return to London and all the activities of the Season had made her realise what a constrained existence it was. Had Richard lived, he would have been home on leave occasionally, and life would have been different. Yet, she thought with a pang of regret, for she recognised at last that her feelings for Rupert were warmer than she has permitted herself to think, it could not now change. She could never marry another soldier. She could not endure the possibility of losing another husband. She had suffered so much while Richard was fighting, expecting every day to hear he had been wounded or killed. That was something she would never face again. It would be better to refuse the Earl than subject herself again to such anguish.

  She shook her head. In other circumstances she could have come to love him, He was an admirable man, kind and considerate, but he was not for her.

  *

  Rupert sat in his library, a decanter of brandy at his side. He, who was proving to be a diplomatic member of the Foreign Office, so much so that Lord Castlereagh had mentioned the possibility of an embassy posting in the future, had made a complete mull of his offer to Louise. It was useless to make the excuse that he had never before proposed marriage. He had proposed other less permanent connections to several women, in Portuguese and Spanish as well as English, and had never been turned down. They had never kept him waiting for an answer, either. Most had been only too eager to leap into his bed. A few had demanded money or jewels first, but they had not turned him down.

  He shuddered when he thought of these past conquests. He had not loved the women, and now he wondered what the devil he had ever seen in them. Lust, obviously, but also, he decided, company, softer feminine company that could not be found in the army barracks or tented cities. If he could resume any of these liaisons now, would he? No. There wasn't a single one he wanted to meet again.

  What, he wondered, had drawn him to Louise? She was pretty, but there were several of his past conquests far lovelier. Her beauty was a softer, more delicate type. She was quiet, self-contained, but confident. He had noticed how the servants at her house, all hired for the Season, treated her with respect and deference. She had a sense of humour. He had seen the laughter in her eyes several times when some ludicrous remark had been made, but she had been kind too, she had never poured scorn on the speaker.

  There was still hope, he told himself as he poured another brandy and began to sip at it. She had not turned him down at once. Perhaps he should take heart from that. An immediate acceptance might imply she had been expecting, hoping for such an offer. She needed to think, and having thought, would be more positive in her response. What if, after such consideration, she refused? It was unthinkable. He wanted no other woman, and now he knew he could not even consider taking a mistress. No other woman would do for him. If she refused, he decided, tossing off the rest of the brandy, he would do all in his power to change her mind. If it took years, he would wear down her resistance. He would discover what it was that might make him unacceptable, and change it. This was a harder campaign than any of Wellington's, but in the end, he would win. The only way he could lose would be if she married someone else, and that disaster he refused to contemplate.

  *

  'Shall we ride or walk in the Park today?' Louise asked at breakfast the following day.

  Matilda frowned. 'I don't like riding here in London, one cannot gallop, and even at a canter people give me black looks. In Yorkshire I can gallop for miles.'

  Louise bit back the rejoinder that perhaps she would be happier if she went back to Yorkshire. If Matilda did return, without being betrothed, Louise would not have done her job. She sighed, and said they would walk. First, though, they would pay morning calls on a few of Matilda's friends.

  'What friends? They ignore me most of the time.'

  At least, Louise thought, she had stopped claiming they were jealous of her supposed admirers, afraid she would receive offers before they did. She was beginning to accept reality, and Louise hoped this would improve her behaviour.

  Rather to her surprise the girls they met at the first house greeted Matilda with smiles.

  'I hear your ball is going to be at Dubarry House,' Jane, the daughter of the house said. 'I've never seen inside, but Mama says it was one of the grandest houses when she came out.'

  So news of the ball had already spread. Could one ever keep a secret in London? The invitation cards could not yet have been printed, let alone delivered. She had sent her list of people to be invited to the Earl only the previous evening. Clearly the girls were hoping to be invited. Perhaps this, as she had hoped, would induce them to be more friendly towards Matilda.

  'How did you persuade the Earl to lend the house?' another girl asked. 'Are you related? Or has Cedric made Matilda an offer?'

  'Hush, Belinda,' her mother said. 'Dear Lady Rushton, please forgive her! She ought to know one never asks such questions before there is an official announcement.'

  She was as eager as Belinda to know. Louise smiled and shook her head. She was about to say no offer had been received when she realised that would cause more speculation, and someone might even suspect the Earl had an interest in her. That she could not endure. But sh
e had to give some sort of answer to quell any speculation.

  'It was due to Sir Arthur,' she said calmly. 'He is the Earl's uncle, and he is also a friend of my mother's, Lady Barlow. He was at her house when I was enquiring about halls I could hire. As you know, my house in Half Moon Street will only accommodate a very small party, so he persuaded his nephew to open his ballroom.'

  'I hadn't heard the Earl was short of money,' an elderly lady sitting close to the fire said to her neighbour. 'I wonder how much he is charging to hire out the ballroom? I suppose it could be that Cedric, he is expensive.'

  She was somewhat deaf, and spoke in a loud voice. She probably hadn't intended her words to be overheard. Louise winced. Would many people think that? If so, she was doing the Earl a disservice in accepting his offer. But it was too late to change. She smiled at the old woman.

  'I am not paying him rent,' she said clearly, so that everyone in the room could hear. 'But of course all other expenses, food and drink and waiters and so on, will be paid by Matilda's Great-uncle Joseph, who is also her trustee.'

  'Of course,' Jane's mother, rather flustered, said. 'I suppose you are asking a great many people?'

  'Of course. Now, pray forgive us, we must take our leave.'

  *

  Some time later they were in the Park, admiring the early primroses, when Cedric appeared beside them. He looked disgruntled.

  'Are you not riding today?' Matilda asked.

  'My damned uncle has forbidden me to drive or ride,' Cedric said, scowling. 'He's taken away all my horses, and said that if I hire others he'll send me down to Hampshire. He would too, he has spies in all the livery stables, and they'd tell him for a sovereign. And I don't have enough blunt to offer them more not to tell him. Besides, even if I could, there are dozens of old tabbies who'd see me and split on me.'

  Matilda sympathised, but Louise did not reply. His language was intemperate, and she was coming to the conclusion that even if Matilda received no other offers, she would never agree to the girl's marriage with such a boy. He was behaving like a spoilt five-year-old, but as a grown man he was dangerous too. Matilda could never be happy with such a one, and it was her duty to prevent a disastrous marriage, which this would be.

  'I hear dear Rupert is giving your ball in his house?' Cedric went on. 'What's his game?'

  How did the news spread so rapidly? 'He is lending us his ballroom,' Louise said firmly. 'That is all.'

  'Well, he wouldn't do that unless he felt he would get some benefit.'

  Was Cedric right? Louise frowned. Did Rupert hope to persuade her to accept his offer by this generosity? Surely he could not be so devious? He was not that sort of man, calculating benefits as he made some gesture. He was, she had realised during a sleepless night, just the sort of man she could marry. Yet he was a soldier, and she would never marry another soldier.

  To her relief she saw her mother and Lady Rushton approaching along the path. Cedric saw them too, and turned aside.

  'I'm off,' he said. 'I'm tired of being told what a fool I am by people who have no right to speak so to me.'

  He departed in haste, and Lady Barlow looked after him in some astonishment.

  'What an uncouth young man,' she said.

  Matilda's colour was high, and she was about to reply, but Louise pinched her arm and she subsided.

  'We are planning a visit to Vauxhall Gardens,' Lady Rushton said, 'and coming to ask you to join us. We do hope you will.'

  Matilda now was all smiles. 'I'd love to go,' she said. 'I've heard how wonderful it is, with the music and the dancing, and all the pretty lights along the walks. When is it to be?'

  'Not until after your ball, my dear. That has to take precedence, and there really is very little time beforehand. Have you chosen a new gown for the ball?'

  Matilda was diverted into a discussion of satin and silver gauze, whether to have real flowers or not, and whether to have her hair arranged in a new style.

  'Will ringlets to either side of my face make me look fat?' she demanded.

  Lady Barlow considered her. 'I think they might, dear. You have a wide face, wide cheekbones, so piling your hair on top of your head would be better. And you must wear a tiara. Do you have one?'

  'My mother did, but I haven't worn it yet.'

  'Then what better time than at your own ball? I always think real flowers look pretty, but they are inclined to wilt after a few hours in a hot ballroom. For that reason, if you want flowers sewn to your gown, don't have real ones. They can contrive very realistic looking roses now, and pale pink on a white gown looks so pretty.

  'White? Oh, must I wear white? I am so tired of it! I never seem to wear anything else to balls.'

  'You have to conform,' Lady Barlow said, 'or people begin to say you are fast, and nothing could destroy your chances so quickly.'

  Matilda frowned, but said no more. Lady Rushton asked what Louise planned to wear, and soon afterwards they all turned for home. Louise, whose thoughts had for a while been distracted from her dilemma regarding Rupert's proposal, grew silent. She must tell him her decision as soon as possible.

  *

  Chapter 9

  The following day Sir Arthur called on Louise.

  'You must come and see Dubarry House, to decide which rooms are to be set aside for cards, and which for refreshments,' he said. 'I'm to take you there. Is this morning convenient?'

  Louise was puzzled. 'I thought it was just the ballroom we were borrowing,' she said. 'I can't expect his lordship to turn the entire house over to me!'

  'It's by no means the entire house. The place is huge, and you can't have a ball without somewhere for the card players to retreat to. Come, Rupert has been sent off somewhere, and I'm deputed, along with his sister Amelia, to make the arrangements with you.'

  'His sister? She lives in the house, doesn't she? Won't she object to our using it?'

  'Amelia? Not in the least. She would like to host a few balls there herself. After all, it was her own home before she married David. But he refuses to pay for them. It's my belief he doesn't like having to be obliged to Rupert for living there in the Season, but he couldn't afford to hire anywhere Amelia would accept. She said she knew what she was about when she married a poor man, but I doubt she had really thought about it. He's a good fellow, we all like him, but a simple country squire with just one house wasn't what she was used to. She is looking forward to meeting you. So get your pelisse and come along. I have the chaise, and coachman, can't bring my team and leave them standing.'

  Louise laughed. 'I confess I am disappointed not to be driven behind your greys. I've never seen such a beautiful team.'

  'You drive?'

  Louise nodded. 'I do, at home, but decided it was too much trouble to have my carriage horses and curricle sent to London.'

  'Ever driven a team?'

  Louise sighed. That was another lost opportunity. 'Richard was going to teach me, but we never had the chance, he was recalled to the Peninsula.'

  'I'll take you out tomorrow, see how you shape.'

  'Sir Arthur! Oh, that would be wonderful!'

  'Just don't let that chit you are trying to marry off hear about it, for I'll be damn – sorry, my dear – I won't let her get within touching distance of them.'

  They were soon in Grosvenor Square, and Amelia greeted them eagerly. Louise felt that she was being carefully inspected, but Amelia nodded and turned to Sir Arthur.

  'Go and talk to David, Arthur. He's in the small parlour. I'll show Louise around.'

  He went off obediently and Amelia led the way towards the back of the house, chattering as they went.

  'The ballroom was built on by my father,' she explained, 'but all these rooms on the ground floor are ideal for refreshments. They are not used except when we have big parties, and of course, with Rupert away in the army, we don't have any now. And there are two that lead off from the ballroom itself, ideal for card rooms. On the other side the windows open onto the gardens. Of course, they are
not big, but if it's a hot night it's perfect to step outside for a breath of air.' She giggled. 'That was when David proposed to me.'

  They had reached the big doors opening into the ballroom, and Amelia threw them open with a flourish. Louise gasped. She had not expected anything so large. There was even a platform, not big enough to be called a stage, at one far corner.

  'We put the musicians there,' Amelia said, pointing. 'Now, how do you want it decorated? I'm not sure pink silk to make it look like an Arabian tent is right for this room, though it might do for a small one.'

  'I'd rather have flowers,' Louise said, beginning to walk round the room. She cast aside all thoughts of economy. It was Matilda's money, and Matilda's future she needed to consider, not the saving of a few guineas. 'If we had lots of tall plants, making a few alcoves, it would break up the room, make it seem less daunting. It's a wonderful room, and the plasterwork is too good to be hidden, but we could put the plants and lots of flowers here, in this corner. And are these the doors to the card rooms? There is space between them for another alcove, and more in that far corner. The windows are too close together to permit the same alcoves, but large pots of flowers between them would introduce the garden. Make a sort of bridge into them. May I step outside?'

  'I love your ideas,' Amelia exclaimed. 'Oh, this is fun!'

  She opened one of the windows and they stepped onto a broad terrace, to the side of which was a lawn bordered with flower beds.

  'Coloured lanterns would be marvellous,' Louise said. 'If we could erect a few poles and string wires between them, the lanterns could be suspended. May I find people who can arrange this and send them in a day or so before the ball?'

  'Rupert gave orders that you were to do whatever you wished. He is so sorry he could not be here today, but as soon as he returns from wherever it is, I'll tell him. He'll be delighted. He loves dancing, and even when he was a small boy he would creep downstairs to watch when our parents gave parties. Now, do you wish to take any notes? I can suggest a very efficient nurseryman in Chelsea. If I ask him to come here, let us say the day after tomorrow, or you might need to visit him too, and you come to discuss what you want, it can all be arranged.'