Frederica

by Джорджетт Хейер

  As Alverstoke moved forward to greet his wards, Chloë, her rapt gaze fixed on Charis, breathed: “Oh…! How beautiful she is! like a fairy princess!”

  Mr Trevor glanced down at her, and nodded, smiling.

  “Well, my children?” said the Marquis paternally.

  Frederica’s eyes twinkled, but she replied calmly: “How do you do, cousin?” and passed on immediately to Lady Buxted. “How do you do, ma’am? May I make my sister known to you? Charis, Lady Buxted — our kind protectress!”

  Lady Buxted pulled herself together, forcing a smile to her lips, and giving her hand to Charis, dropping a slight, graceful curtsy before her.

  “I beg your pardon, ma’am, for not accompanying my sister when she visited you,” Charis said, in her soft voice. “I was so sorry!”

  “To be sure, you were laid up with a cold, or some such thing, were you not? Well, now I must introduce you to my sister, Lady Jevington,” responded Lady Buxted, rigidly cordial, and well-aware that Augusta had guessed how abominably she had been hoaxed, and was rejoicing in her discomfiture. The graciousness with which Augusta met the Misses Merriville confirmed her in this belief; and she was left to derive what consolation she might from the reflection that That Woman must be as deeply chagrined by the arrival on the scene of a transcendent beauty as she was herself.

  But Mrs Dauntry, who had never been known to betray such unworthy emotions as anger or resentment, received the sisters with even more graciousness than had Lady Jevington, summoning Chloë to be introduced to her new cousins, and subsequently drawing Alverstoke’s attention to the charming picture Charis and Chloë made, as they sat talking together on a small sofa at the end of the room. Well within hearing of the Ladies Jevington and Buxted, she described them as the prettiest girls in the room, which, as Frederica stood outside this category, gently paid off several old scores, the only other girls present being Miss Dandridge, and Miss Buxted.

  “Not,” she added, with her wistful smile, “that I mean to compare them, for even to my partial eyes my little Chloë is a farthing to the sum of your lovely Charis. My dear Alverstoke, she will have half London at her feet!” She laughed, and looked archly up at him. “What enemies you will win to yourself amongst some of our matchmaking mamas! If my Chloë were not far too young to be thinking of marriage, I am sure I should be one myself!”

  Deeply appreciative, the Marquis had just time to respond: “Admirable, dear Lucretia!” before his attention was claimed by the arrival of the Seftons.

  The last of the guests to arrive was Endymion, who came in, looking like a handsome, overgrown schoolboy detected in crime, and stammering an apology for his tardiness. He begged his cousin’s pardon, and — with a deprecating glance round the room — everyone’s! He had been on guard-duty — Cousin Vernon would understand — But at this point he broke off, suddenly seeing Charis, and stood staring at her in undisguised admiration until somewhat acidly recalled from this trance by Lady Jevington, who said that she believed he was already known to my Ladies Jersey and Sefton. This made him start, flush up to the roots of his hair, and utter some incoherent apologies, as he bowed to their ladyships. Fortunately, both were amused rather than offended, for although Lady Sefton was too good-natured to take umbrage, Lady Jersey was a very high stickler indeed. Endymion was saved from one of her set-downs, partly because he was, in general, extremely punctilious, as well as being just the sort of handsome young man of breeding whom any hostess was happy to invite to her balls and assemblies; and partly because the Fanes and the Dauntrys had (as she phrased it) known one another for ever. One of her closest childhood friends had been Alverstoke’s youngest sister: that Poor Eliza, who had married a mere Mr Kentmere, and almost vanished from the London scene; and although Alverstoke, four years senior to the fascinating Sally Fane, had never been amongst the aspirants to her hand and fortune, she frankly owned that she had a tendre for him, and ranked him amongst her oldest friends. He was some ten years younger than the Earl of Jersey, but well-acquainted with him, both being Harrovians, and rivals on the Turf and the hunting-field; and both residing, when in London, in Berkeley Square: a circumstance which, according to Lady Jersey, not only made them neighbours, but posed an insoluble problem: if invited to a dress-party at Alverstoke House, was it more proper to call out one’s carriage, or to demean oneself by walking some fifty yards to the party?

  Lady Jersey was known, in certain circles, as Silence; but anyone who supposed that her flow of light, inconsequent chatter betokened an empty head much mistook the matter: she had a good deal of intelligence, and very little escaped her. She had been talking ever since she entered the room, and on an amazing number of subjects, ranging from the spate of nuptials imminent in the Royal Family to the escape of a gruesome murderer from the gallows, through the discovery of an ancient statute which allowed him to claim the right of wager by battle; but while she rattled on she had been taking mental notes, and very intriguing they were. She knew already, through a fellow patroness of Almack’s, the haughty Mrs Burrell, who had learnt it from the lips of Lady Buxted, that Alverstoke had assumed the guardianship of some young cousins, and was doing his languid best to introduce to the ton the two females of the family, by inviting them to the ball given in honour of his niece; and that had been quite enough to titillate her curiosity.

  Far better acquainted with Alverstoke than Mrs Burrell, Lady Jersey did not for a moment believe that he had ever entertained the smallest notion of giving a ball in honour of Jane, or any other of his nieces. Then he must be doing it for the sake of his unknown wards — and that was very unlike him too. When she saw Charis, the thought that Charis was Alverstoke’s latest flirt entered her ladyship’s head only to be instantly dismissed. The girl was lovely, but not in Alverstoke’s style. Innocent buds, just unfurling their petals, had never been numbered amongst his victims; and this one, besides being his ward, lacked salt. A beautiful ninnyhammer, decided Lady Jersey, whom Alverstoke would write off as a dead bore within five minutes of making her acquaintance. As for Louisa’s glib explanation to her old friend, Mrs Drummond Burrell, that Alverstoke thought it his duty to take care of Fred Merriville’s children, no one who knew Alverstoke could believe that. Then why —? All at once a solution of the problem occurred to her ladyship. A glance at Lady Buxted confirmed it: he had invited his beautiful ward to this ball to punish Louisa! No doubt she had been plaguing his life out to give a ball for that plain girl of hers, and this was his revenge, devil that he was! Not but what she deserved it, thought Lady Jersey, for her demands on him were ceaseless, and she didn’t care a rush for him. Lucretia, too: she was wearing a sweet, wistful smile, but she must be quite as furious as Louisa, perhaps more so, for in addition to seeing her daughter cast into the shade she was obliged to watch her cherished Endymion staring at Charis like a mooncalf.

  Then there were the Parracombes — or, rather, Mrs Parracombe, for it would be absurd to suppose that her rich but mutton-headed spouse was concerned with anything beyond his dinner and his string of racehorses. What, wondered Lady Jersey, had prompted Alverstoke to invite them to his dinner-party? His name had been pretty closely linked with Caroline’s during the past few months, but lately he had not quite so often been seen in her company: in her ladyship’s judgment, she had been rather too capricious, and very much too possessive. Had Alverstoke bidden her to this party, so obviously given in honour of his wards, with the intention of tacitly informing her that her reign was over? He was perfectly capable of it, wretch that he was! Poor Caroline! — but she should have known better than to have thought she could play fast and loose with Alverstoke! To have attached him was certainly a triumph; but to have supposed that she could hold him captive while she divided her favours between him and her other cicisbeos was a great piece of folly: his affections had never yet been so deeply engaged as to inspire him with the desire to outshine his rivals. If the lady whom he chose to honour with his (fleeting) devotion encouraged the attentions of other admirer
s, he left her with no more than a shrug of his shoulders; for, little though he might care he would not share either. Lady Jersey suspected that when his flirts (to put it no higher) were to be seen squired by other men it was because he had grown, bored with them, and neglectful.

  He had begun to be bored with Mrs Parracombe some months previously. She was handsome, amusing, and clever enough to sail close — but never too close — to the wind. He had recognized in her a high-born lady with the soul of a courtesan, and, as such, he had enjoyed his discreet liaison with her, while his passion for her had lasted. But that had not been for very long. A luscious beauty, she had aroused his desire, but not one spark of love in his cold heart.

  She knew it; and since she too was a stranger to love or tenderness she shrugged as carelessly as she could, and was clever enough to let it be seen, before his waning interest had been observed by the ton, that it was she who had wearied of him. Not quite as clever as Lady Jersey, she did not doubt that the beautiful Miss Charis Merriville was Alverstoke’s latest inamorata, but she bore the introduction with smiling equanimity, merely murmuring to him, at a convenient moment: “Take care, dear friend! When men of your age develop tendres for schoolgirls it is held to be a sign of senility!”

  “I’ll take care!” he promised, answering smile with smile.

  Charles Trevor had warned the Marquis that Endymion might not relish having his cousin Jane as his dinner-partner, but he soon realized that not Endymion but Jane was the principal sufferer. He and Charis were seated immediately opposite the cousins; and Endymion, either bemused, or feeling that he owed no particular civility to Jane, spent the better part of his time gazing raptly across the table at the fair vision before him. It was not the least part of Charis’s charm that she rated her beauty low; and, as she always gave her attention to whatever person happened to be conversing with her, she was generally unconscious of the admiring looks cast at her. If she did become aware that she was being stared at she was not at all gratified, but mentally condemned the admirer as a horridly rude person, and wondered if she had a spot forming, or had smudged her face. Neither of these fears crossed her mind when she looked up to find Endymion’s brown eyes worshipfully upon her. She blushed, and immediately looked away, but although she wished he would not stare at her it did not occur to her that he was being horridly rude. He was the most splendid young man she had ever seen: the personification of all the heroes who (according to Aunt Seraphina) had no existence beyond the bounds of balladry, or the marbled covers of a romantic novel. If she had not known that he was watching her she would have stolen several glances at him; but she did know it, and, being a well-brought-up girl, she took care not to look at him again.

  Farther up the table, Frederica, with every appearance of interest, was encouraging Lord Buxted to instruct her in the details of estate management. Lady Jersey, on the other side of the table, observed both sisters from under her lashes, and said suddenly: “Very well indeed, Alverstoke! I like them. Easy, unaffected manners, both of them; and the Beauty has a modesty which is particularly engaging. Did you invite me here to coax me to bestow vouchers for Almack’s on them?”

  This challenge, delivered with one of her ladyship’s rapier-looks, in no way disconcerted him. Satisfied that Lady Sefton, on his left hand, was engaged in conversation with Mr Moreton, he replied coolly: “No. Only to save me from insufferable boredom, Sally! I rely upon Louisa to procure vouchers for them.”

  “She won’t do it,” said Lady Jersey decidedly. “She will tell you that Mrs Burrell refused to oblige her; and even you, unfeeling monster that you are, could scarcely expect her to apply to Emily Cowper at this moment! The Lambs are all shattered by Lady Melbourne’s death, and none of them more so than Emily.” She cast another look down the table, and gave a stifled giggle. “Oh, goodness me, look at Louisa! I’ll do it! Yes, I will do it! If only to bring you to our assemblies; Vernon!”

  “It won’t do so, my loved one: I never lay myself open to snubs! Or are your snubs reserved for Dukes?”

  A ripple of appreciative laughter broke from her.

  “Wellington? But he tried to violate our rules, which you, I am persuaded, would never do!”

  “Much you know about it! Ask my loving sisters!”

  “No need! I know the answer. How they did snub me — Augusta and Louisa, not my dearest Eliza, be sure! — when they were young ladies, and I a scrubby schoolgirl! Will it vex them to death if I sponsor your wards? Oh, goodness me, of course it must! Maria!” Lady Sefton, her attention thus peremptorily claimed, turned an amiably enquiring gaze upon her friend. “Shall we admit Alverstoke’s wards to Almack’s?”

  “Oh, yes, I think we should do so, don’t you? Such, pretty-behaved girls — don’t you agree? Poor Fred Merriville’s daughters, too! Oh, I think we should do what we can for them!” agreed. Lady Sefton, turning back to Mr Moreton.

  “Well, I will,” said Lady Jersey. “Oh, but how provoking! Oh, goodness me, what a pea-goose I am! I shall never know now whether that was why you invited me, or not!”

  “Never mind!” Alverstoke replied consolingly. “Think how much you will enjoy putting my sisters all on end!”

  “Very true!” She sent another glance down the table. “The Beauty will become the rage, of course. The elder has more countenance, but — What’s their fortune, Alverstoke?”

  “Respectable.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “Ah, that’s a pity! However, one never knows! With that face the younger at least need not despair of achieving an eligible alliance. We shall see!”

  XI

  One part at least of Lady Jersey’s prophecy was swiftly realized: Miss Charis Merriville could truly be said to have become the rage overnight. Long before the last of the guests had been received by Alverstoke and his sister Louisa, her hand had been bespoken for every dance; and young gentlemen of high fashion, arriving late, were denied the felicity of encircling her waist in the waltz, and even of leading her into a set of country dances. She would not stand up more than twice with anyone, but she allowed Endymion to escort her down to supper, yielding to his earnest assurance that their relationship made all as right as a trivet. He added, reading doubt in her face: “I’ll beg your sister to join us, hey? There she is, with young Greg — m’cousin, you know! You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

  “Oh, yes! How very comfortable! And do, pray, beg your sister to join us!”

  He did not care very much for this suggestion, Chloë being squired at the moment by young Lord Wrenthorpe, who was one of the latecomers who had failed to secure a dance with Charis. One of Endymion’s fellow-officers, he had not hesitated to express his opinion of sneaking rascals who stole marches on their friends; and as he was a prime favourite with the ladies, being as audacious as he was lively, Endymion was not at all anxious to include him in the supper-party. He said: “Oh — ah — yes, but she’s with Wrenthorpe, y’know!”

  “Wouldn’t he wish to join us?” she asked innocently. “Your mama introduced him to me, and he was so agreeable, and so droll, too, when I was obliged to tell him I couldn’t stand up with him! Your mania said that he was a friend of yours: isn’t he?”

  “Oh, yes! Yes, of course! Best of good fellows!”

  said Endymion. “Just thought you might not like — family party, y’know! Not one of the family!”

  But the matter was then taken out of his control by that best of good fellows, who descended upon them at that moment with Chloë on his arm, having been struck by the same happy notion of forming a cosy supper-party. In this he was warmly seconded by Chloë, who had conceived a youthful admiration for her wonderful new cousin, and was shyly hoping to be admitted to the ranks of her friends. It was useless for Endymion to talk about family parties; his insouciant friend retorted gaily that families always came to cuffs unless a stranger were inserted into their midst. So Endymion had nothing to do but find Frederica and his cousin Gregory, and to bid them to the feast: sped on his errand by his perfidious
friend, who adjured him to: “Bustle about, Noddy, or we shan’t be in tune to snabble all the lobster patties!”

  Lady Buxted had expressed the fear that a ball held at short notice, and before the season’s various entertainments were in full feather, might be thin of company, but by the time she went down to supper she knew that not one of the forthcoming routs, balls, or assemblies would excel this one in magnificence or distinction; and she was torn between pride and resentment. Her odious brother had lifted a finger, and the ton had flocked to his house, precisely as he had foretold. That was, naturally, exactly what she had wanted, but it infuriated her nevertheless: it would have done him a great deal of good to have met with a few crushing rebuffs. He had admittedly granted her the opportunity to launch Jane into the highest and most fashionable circles, but that had not been his object: he had meant to launch the Merriville girls into those circles, and he had done it. At least half-a-dozen hostesses had begged her to bring her charming protégées to their projected parties — her protégées indeed! — and, to crown all, Sally Jersey had promised them vouchers for Almack’s, and had had the effrontery to adjure her — her! — to bring them to the Assembly Rooms! “And your own — Jane, is it? — of course!” had said Lady Jersey, with a graciousness which had made Lady Buxted yearn to box her ears. “I’ll send a voucher — yes, truly I will! And if I don’t, remind me, Louisa! You know how shatter-brained I am!”