Louise

by Oliver, Marina

  *

  Sir Arthur's coachman drove them to Mount Street, saying Lady Barlow wanted to talk with her. 'Then I must leave you, my dear, but Sir Martin will make sure you are driven back home.'

  The ladies received Louise eagerly, demanding to know what had been arranged.

  'We both went to balls at Dubarry House, long ago,' Lady Rushton said wistfully. 'It will be like old times to be there again. Now, is it all satisfactory?'

  'I'm totally overwhelmed!' Louise admitted. 'Amelia was so friendly, and encouraged all my extravagant ideas.'

  She told them what had been arranged, and they nodded encouragingly.

  'You need to make it one of the best balls of the Season,' Lady Barlow said, 'if you want to get that girl off your hands. How long do you have to achieve the impossible?'

  Louise shook her head at her mother's bluntness. 'Joseph hired the house for six months, so I suppose I have until then. If she does not change her behaviour I will have failed, she will have to go back to Yorkshire.'

  'You will not have failed. She will. I understand her mother is in Cheltenham. One would think she could make the effort to come to London, at least for the ball. Has Matilda invited her?'

  'I will make sure she writes. Do you know, I had almost forgot she has a mother. But if the woman is ill, she perhaps cannot travel or endure a journey.'

  'You are too generous to her. If I'd ever had a daughter, nothing would have kept me away from her come-out!' Lady Rushton declared. 'A son is not the same. I'd have loved daughters,' she went on, 'but my husband was ill for years before he died, and it was not to be.'

  Louise felt ashamed she had never before considered her mother-in-law might have wished for more children. Lady Rushton had been like a second mother to her, and she had come to love her.

  'Rupert's people are sending out the invitations, thank goodness,' Lady Barlow said. 'That is one task less. But what can we do to help? Caterers? Can we organise that for you? I expect you will be fully occupied making sure Matilda chooses a suitable gown, not one of her outrageous notions.'

  Louise laughed. 'If I can! I do love you both! But news of the ball is already out. I was asked about it yesterday, long before any invitations were sent. I doubt if they had even been printed.'

  'They will have been. And news might have got out through the printers, or the servants at Dubarry House. It's amazing what an efficient system the servants have. Better than Napoleon's semaphore system, I'm sure.'

  *

  Three days later, as acceptances to the ball were coming in, and Louise was in the morning room where she was kept busy making lists, and arranging to go and see the plantsman to choose flowers for the ball, she was surprised to find Cedric asking to see her. Little as she wanted to see him, she felt obliged to hear what he had to say. It was probably a plea for her to intervene on his behalf and beg the Earl to allow him to drive again.

  'Oh well, I suppose I must. Show him in here, Swayne.'

  Cedric was dressed more carefully than usual, she noted as she was shown in. He clearly intended to make an impression. His normal flamboyant waistcoats had been replaced by a simple grey one, and he wore only one ring, a plain gold signet. Instead of the more intricate styles he normally affected, without complete success, his cravat was tied in the simpler Mathematical. The reveres of his coat were less wide than normal, and she wondered whether he had borrowed the coat, if it was an old one before he adopted extremes of fashion, or had he had a new one made, of a design perhaps to impress the Earl with his new seriousness.

  He came and bowed low over her hand, and she could smell the pomade he wore. He had applied it with rather too lavish a hand, and it was a fairly pungent scent. She tried not to draw away from him too obviously.

  He smirked, and she had to pull her hand away from his clasp. 'My lady. You are looking delightful, as usual. One might think you were the same age as Matilda, indeed one might.'

  Louise didn't know whether to be offended or amused. From an older man the compliment might be acceptable. From a boy his age, several years her junior, it was impertinent. He clearly wanted something and she waited with interest to hear what it was.

  'What can I do for you, Cedric?'

  If he hoped she would intervene with the Earl and have the ban on driving and riding in the Park lifted, he was too optimistic. She had no influence with Rupert, and even if she had, she would not help Cedric make more of a fool of himself by his ineptitude. Besides, his driving was dangerous, and an accident might injure Matilda. She had been relieved to think he could no longer drive the girl out.

  He simpered. There was no other word to describe the look on his face. Louise sighed. He was obviously not intending to come to the point quickly.

  'Won't you sit down?' She had no wish to prolong this meeting, but had to be polite. She sat herself in a hard chair beside the table, straightened the papers she had been working on and picked up the pencil she had been using, twirling it between her fingers. Perhaps he might take the hint.

  'Thank you, but I prefer to stand.' He took a deep breath and walked to the window and back. 'My lady, I come to you with a request I hope and pray you will grant me. I have known your companion, Miss Hoyland, for two months now, and I have come to value her exceedingly. I wish to make her an offer, and I beg for your approval and support. I believe she views me with favour, and I feel it would be most appropriate to announce our betrothal at her ball. I trust you agree?'

  Louise blinked. Of all the arrogance! The boy was no doubt hoping to make his offer and be accepted before any rival could speak at the ball. How she wished there was a man whose duty it was to deal with him. She could try to send him to Bath to talk to Joseph, but she suspected that would serve no good purpose.

  'You are twenty, I believe. Surely that is rather young for you to be thinking of marriage?'

  'When true love strikes, what does age matter?' he asked, dramatically placing one hand on his chest where presumably he thought his heart was located. Louise wanted to tell him it was somewhat lower down, and she had to struggle to suppress a giggle.

  'A good deal, I would have thought. How would you propose to support a wife? Do you have a home you could take her to?'

  He shrugged. 'I have a small inheritance, and the allowance my cousin permits me. Miss Hoyland, I understand, has a large house in Yorkshire she would doubtless wish to live in, as well as a large fortune she would be able to control when she marries.'

  He wasn't even pretending his motive was love of Matilda. It was all to do with her fortune. Louise began to be angry rather than amused.

  'Or her husband would! So you are proposing to live off Matilda's money, and as you do not appear to have a house to take her to, to live in hers. Isn't that the case?'

  He began to look agitated and spoke roughly. 'It's what most men do. Until I inherit the earldom, of course. And if Rupert goes back to the army, that could be very soon. Most of his fortune is entailed and I am his heir. I wouldn't have to wait until I was old.'

  Louise, with difficulty, swallowed her anger. The young cub was intolerable! He was actually hoping his cousin would be killed when he went back to the army. She tried to make her voice steady.

  'I am not willing to permit you to speak to Matilda, now or for some time to come,' she said firmly. 'It does not seem to me you have the maturity, let alone the income or a home, with which to support a wife. Good day to you.'

  She rang the bell, and Swayne appeared with suspicious alacrity.

  'Pray show Mr Dubarry out. And I will not be at home to anyone for the rest of the day.'

  *

  When Cedric, protesting she had mistaken him, had been ushered from the house by an implacable Swayne, Louise began to shake with fury. How had the ridiculous boy hoped to persuade her to agree? He must have known, if he had any sensibility, that she disliked and distrusted him. Even if no one else offered for Matilda, she would not wish to see the child entrusted to his care. That would not be doing her duty to
the girl. Though the charge of Matilda had not been of her seeking, and she had resented her grandfather's high handedness, she felt obliged to do her best for him, and that did not include pushing the girl into the arms of a despicable creature like Cedric.

  She tried to forget, but could not concentrate on her lists. When Swayne came to her an hour later she was still simmering with fury.

  'My lady, I know you said you did not wish to be interrupted, but it is Sir Arthur Warton, and he asks if you would care to drive out with him. He has his greys.'

  Louise succumbed to temptation. 'Please tell him I will be with him in a few minutes.'

  She ran upstairs, decided not to bother changing her gown, and pulled on her new pelisse, of olive green. It was a warm spring day, she did not need a cloak. She tied on a bonnet of straw, a new acquisition trimmed with olive green ribbons, and ran down to find Sir Arthur waiting for her in the hall.

  'That must be a record,' he said, laughing. 'It would take any other lady half an hour at least, but I appreciate your care for my horses.'

  They were beautiful, perfectly matched, and Louise insisted on patting each of them before she climbed into the phaeton. She wanted to pat Sir Arthur as well, but decided he might not like it, and grinned to herself.

  'I hear you wish to visit the plantsman, so shall we go there instead of just tooling round the Park?'

  'That would be wonderful.'

  They spoke no more until they had cleared the turnpike, then Sir Arthur asked if Louise had ever ridden behind a team?

  'Only a few times. My father had one, some beautiful chestnuts, but I was far too young to be allowed to take the reins.'

  He began to show her how he held the separate reins, and was able to guide the individual horses if necessary. Louise nodded, but confessed she feared she would get them into a muddle.

  'Watch me, and when I have driven you out a few times, you will be able to try. Now, Amelia told me where to find this plantsman. I think I know the way. Tell me what you have planned for the ball.'

  As they drove back towards town, after a very satisfactory session with the plantsman, he asked her about her life in Devon.

  'Will you return there when Matilda is safely wed?'

  'It's my home.'

  'I hope you will come to London frequently. Your mother would be pleased to see you more often. I know she does not like the country, and stays in Mount Street for most of the year.'

  'I'll come if I can persuade Lady Rushton to come too. I couldn't leave her alone for too long. I wouldn't have done now if my grandfather hadn't effectively kidnapped me and forced me to come. I was so pleased she decided to follow me, for she maintains she dislikes London.'

  By the time they were back in Half Moon Street Louise was beginning to feel she might, after all, manage a team. Sir Arthur was an excellent driver, and he explained things clearly. She had recovered her temper, which Cedric had seriously damaged, and went into the house in a glow of happiness. Almost, she had forgotten Rupert's proposal, and the sadness she felt by having to turn it down.

  *

  Chapter 10

  For the next few days Louise was busy with plans for the ball. Everyone had accepted, it seemed. She heard nothing from Amelia or the Earl, and even her mother-in-law had gone out of town on a short visit. She hadn't told Louise, and Lady Barlow just said she had gone to visit some old friends in Hertfordshire somewhere, but would return soon, in good time for the ball. When she went to Dubarry House to check on some final details she discovered even Amelia and David had gone out of town.

  Sir Henry drove Matilda out most days, and Louise was grateful. The girl was fizzing with excitement, continually asking questions and demanding changes to the arrangements. At least she had accepted the need for a white gown, and was satisfied with the touch of colour in the pink rosebuds sewn to it, and the scarf which glittered with silver threads. Louise had at first decided to wear one of the ball gowns she had worn to two other balls, then she felt a spark of rebellion and visited her favourite modiste.

  'What can you suggest?' she asked.

  Madame de Courcy smiled. 'I have some delicious new fabric,' she said, and gestured to one of her assistants. 'You like blue, and all shades of it suit you to perfection, my lady, but this is different, a truly magnificent colour.'

  The assistant brought a roll of heavy satin, of such a deep yellow it was almost gold. Madame draped some over Louise's shoulder and urged her to the mirror.

  'Yes, it suits you, and it is regal, ideal for the hostess at a ball. And I will have gold thread embroidery on the bodice, and on ruffles round the hem. These are becoming fashionable, and you will be in the forefront. It needs no other embellishment. Have you a gold reticule, and perhaps for contrast a silver fan?'

  'I can buy them, but can you make such a gown in time? It is very short notice.'

  'Do not be concerned, it will be ready. I will put all my girls to work on it, and I have employed a new girl who is an exquisite embroiderer. You will not have seen such work before.'

  Louise trusted her, and went to Bond Street in search of a reticule and fan, and also new gold sandals. There were only a few more days to the ball, and for Matilda's sake she hoped it would be a success. At every opportunity she impressed it on the girl that she must not talk about herself unless asked a direct question, and then must keep her answers short.

  'You will not lack partners,' she said. 'The men who have accepted invitations will have to ask you to dance, and then it is up to you to make a good impression. Talk about them, ask where they live, their families, what they enjoy doing.'

  Matilda sighed. 'I will try.'

  She was more subdued than Louise had ever seen her, and she wondered whether it was Cedric's apparent lack of interest. Since his visit to Louise she had not seen him. He could neither drive Matilda out, nor ride with her, and he clearly felt that walking in the Park was beneath his dignity. She hoped Matilda was not pining for him, for she would never agree to a betrothal with him. There must be better prospects, and she hoped the ball would discover some.

  Then, two days before the ball, she and Matilda received a summons to Dubarry House.

  *

  'They are delightful children, Arthur.'

  'And they need a mother.'

  The Dowager Lady Rushton smiled. 'I have always wanted more children, and they seemed to like me, but how about Louise? I cannot leave her, it would be so lonely for her down in Devon without me.'

  She looked up at the Queen Anne house, elegant and welcoming, that was Sir Arthur's home. It was set in a fold of the hills north of London, secluded but close to a small village. How she wanted to accept his proposal. Since her husband died she had been lonely, but in the first few years had rejected several men who thought to console the widow. None could take her husband's place. Later, but for the need to comfort Louise after Richard's death, she might have been tempted. After a while loneliness could become unbearable. Sir Arthur was different, though. He was not simply a means of banishing her solitary life. She had, during these few weeks in London, come to love as well as value him.

  'Louise would not wish you to give up the chance of happiness for her. It would make her feel guilty. Isobel, I mean to give up my Society practice and move to live here permanently. There is work enough for me in the towns and villages nearby, and I want to be with my children as they grow. We could visit London occasionally, but I would be here. Could you be content with such a life?'

  'I could. If it were not for Louise.'

  'She will marry herself soon.'

  'Louise? She has said nothing to me!'

  'Perhaps the offer has not yet been made, but if I read my nephew aright it will be made soon.'

  'Your nephew? Rupert? He and Louise?'

  He laughed. 'He has had his choice of all the debutantes for the past ten years, but I've never seen him so enamoured. Oh, he does not show it to the world, but I know him well. He has never before been so attentive, for so long, as h
e has with Louise. And I have seen her give him some looks that give me hope she will accept him. I am a physician, my love, used to reading the expressions on the faces of my patients. I know if they are in pain or frightened and trying to hide it.'

  Isobel Rushton nodded slowly. 'There have been men in Devon who would have married her, but she wanted none of them. It has not been for the memory of Richard. She's a loving woman, and she would like children, as I once did. You offer me a ready-made family. I hope you are right. He would make a charming husband. Rushton Manor could be sold if neither of us needed it. There is no entail, it belongs completely to Louise.'

  'You give me hope. I will drop a hint to Rupert,' he said, laughing. 'I've never known the fellow slow before, but perhaps when it involves marriage he is suffering qualms of doubt for once in his life.'

  *

  It was a fine day, so Louise and Matilda walked to Grosvenor Square, wondering what this unusual summons meant.

  'Perhaps he has decided to cancel the ball!' Matilda said.

  'Of course he won't,' Louise said. 'But there may be a problem, though I cannot imagine what. Everything was going so well.'

  They were admitted and shown, without comment, up to the drawing room. Amelia and David were there, and lying on a sofa drawn near to the fire was a woman swathed in shawls, and on a small table at her side smelling salts, a glass containing what Louise suspected was sal volatile, a brandy decanter and glass, and a large fan. Matilda, following Louise into the room, halted abruptly, gasped and muttered something under her breath.

  'My child!' the woman on the sofa exclaimed in somewhat theatrical accents which gave the lie to her general air of decrepitude. 'Come and kiss me!'

  'Mama! How did you get here?' Matilda asked, moving a few steps forward, but showing no inclination to kiss her mother.

  Louise grasped her arm and pulled her forward. 'It's Mrs Hoyland, I gather? How very pleasant to meet you. I understand you have come for Matilda's ball. Kiss your mother, child.'