Gavotte

by Marina Oliver

  'Of course, Frances. Barbara Edes, is it not? Lord Belvedere, may I present my daughter's friend?'

  'Barbara has just come to live in London. We are planning to meet again soon.'

  'Delightful, my dear. Come to visit Frances, Barbara. You will always be welcome.'

  'Thank you, Lady Lyndon,' Barbara replied in a quiet, yet assured voice. 'It is pleasant to find friends in town. I feared to know no one, but here, at my first concert, I have met Frances.'

  'How long have you been in town? Where are you living?'

  They chatted for a few minutes, and then a tall, serious-faced young man joined the group. Barbara smiled up at him.

  'This is my brother, Lady Lyndon. Robert brought me tonight as my mother is indisposed.'

  Lady Lyndon greeted him kindly, and extended her invitation to him, telling him he would be welcome at Lyndon House at any time.

  'I thank you, Ma'am,' he answered, bowing. 'Barbara was always enthusing about her friend Frances and your previous hospitality. She will be delighted to accept, as I shall.' He glanced warmly at Frances as he spoke, and after a quick smile in return, she dropped her gaze, suddenly shy.

  Barbara promised to visit Frances two days later, and they arranged to go shopping, and then, as the second part of the concert was beginning, Barbara and Robert said their farewells and they parted.

  *

  In Oxfordshire Clare had been thrown into despondency, first by her father's rejection of the offer made to him by Edward a few days after the scene Isabella had witnessed in the garden, and then by the news she was to be taken to London to stay with her aunt. Isabella had attempted to distract her by arguing she had allowed her liking for Edward to develop into love simply because she met no other personable young men, and might be better satisfied with the wider choice she would find in London. As Clare vehemently denied this and protested her unswerving devotion to Edward, Isabella had reminded her of her duty to marry well, not throw herself away on a poor man with no prospects. Clare was thoroughly out of charity with her sister when she escaped from the house, and, against her father's wishes, met Edward in a secluded copse a mile or so from the house.

  'What can I do?' she asked miserably. 'I cannot bear not to see you again for months!'

  'No, that must not happen. I will follow you to London soon, and we can meet there. Your father has not actually forbidden us to meet, and we must hope, in time, to change his mind.'

  Clare shook her head. 'I doubt if he will! They will try to force me to wed some odious rich old man!'

  'They cannot – they would not constrain you!' Edward exclaimed.

  'Oh, it would not appear so! But I would be plagued, day by day, to give in. You do not know how persistent Isabella is when she has her heart set on something. She is determined I shall marry to benefit the family, and cares nought for the love we bear one another. But I am not strong, like she is, and I fear I might give way, just to obtain peace!'

  'No, you must be strong, my love, and we will convince them. Your father is not unkind. I shall be there, in London, to help you as much as I can to withstand their importunings.'

  It was all they could hope for. Clare found herself the centre of a whirl of preparations at home, as lengths of brocade and satin and silk which they had brought from Brussels were taken out, and dresses made up in the latest styles. She was well aware Isabella's main concern was to deck her in new gowns, but she took little interest in it all, beyond protesting occasionally that she objected to being offered for sale.

  'It is normal,' Isabella had retorted. 'Marriage is a business, and you had best rid yourself of romantic notions, or you will never be content.'

  'I shall only be that when I marry the man I love, and he can only be Edward.'

  'Love! A foolish emotion!' Isabella was scornful.

  'What do you know of it?' Clare had snapped, and flounced out of the room, missing the stricken look on Isabella's face, and the sudden clenching of her fists.

  Isabella had recalled the time, four years before, when she herself had known the bliss of loving and believing herself adored in return. 'But it does not last,' she whispered to herself fiercely. 'It does not, ever! It is no basis for marriage!'

  She firmly suppressed the momentary doubt that had assailed her, and flung herself with greater energy into the business of packing. Clare should not be allowed to make such a mistake. The emotion of love was irrational, it did not endure, indeed it created more pain than happiness, whereas riches and an amiable husband would ensure lifelong comfort. Clare must be brought to accept the wisdom of this.

  *

  Chapter 2

  At last the Vaughans set off for London. It took the best part of a day to ride there, and they did not reach Lady Lyndon's house in Great Queen Street, off Drury Lane, until evening.

  The house was a large modern one, built twenty years or so earlier. Isabella had greatly admired the plain, flat-fronted house when she stayed there the previous year.

  Lady Lyndon welcomed them effusively.

  'Jane, my dearest, at last you are here! And Stephen, welcome. How are you, Isabella, and Clare? You look even prettier than I recall. But come in, it is cold!'

  Footmen and maids were sent scurrying, and then Frances appeared, hovering shyly in the background.

  'I looked for you an hour since,' Lady Lyndon went on, having given brisk orders to her servants. 'Supper will be served as soon as you are ready. Frances will show the girls to their rooms, and you come with me.'

  Competently organising them, she swept them up the stairs and Frances joined her cousins.

  'It is so pleasant to see you again,' she said smilingly. 'I remembered so little of the times before you went away, and I scarce saw you last year.'

  'You were still at school, I believe.'

  'Yes, and allowed just the one evening to make your acquaintance.'

  'No doubt it has been merry since you left school,' Isabella suggested.

  Frances laughed. 'Yes, London has been monstrously festive since the King returned. Here is your room. I trust you will be comfortable. Please ask if there is aught you need.'

  Isabella and Clare looked appreciatively round the large, well appointed room, with the huge fire blazing welcomingly in the fireplace. Their saddlebags, which contained fresh gowns, had already been put in the room and Isabella laid aside her cloak and began to take out her dress, shaking it to rid it of creases.

  'It looks delightful,' she answered.

  'Does your gown need pressing? It would not take the maid long.'

  'It has not been crushed. Our heavy baggage should arrive tomorrow by carrier.'

  She and Clare washed, quickly changed into the fresh gowns, and then began to brush out the tangles from their hair.

  'How I envy you your curls,' Frances remarked as she watched. 'It takes me hours to dress my hair for an important occasion.'

  'But you are fashionably dark!' Isabella rejoined. 'I feel hopelessly dowdy and countrified in this gown,' she continued, surveying it with dissatisfaction. 'I dare not appear in company until you have told us what modes are most favoured. We chanced making some gowns, relying on the reports we had of the latest fashions, but I feared we might be behind with any changes.'

  'Those gowns are excellent, but I warrant you wish to go shopping? Shall we go to the Royal Exchange tomorrow?'

  'That would be perfect,' Isabella exclaimed, her eyes sparkling, and even Clare, unhappy as she was, looked interested.

  'Then I will arrange it.'

  'We need materials for gowns,' Isabella said, 'and ribbons, and a great variety of trimmings 'tis impossible to get in the country.'

  'You will find all you need at the Exchange,' Frances assured her. 'I can spend hours there, selecting just one or two articles.'

  'Then you must be prepared for me to spend all day there! Clare, are you ready?'

  Clare nodded, and Frances led the way downstairs, describing as they went what arrangements had been made for their
entertainment.

  'Mother has a few friends for supper tomorrow, and we go to the play the following day. Then on Saturday there is a small dance here.'

  'You are both so kind!'

  *

  The girls and their parents enjoyed the family reunion. The meal was simple, but well chosen and deliciously prepared. It was especially appreciated by the Vaughans who had found on their return from the Continent that their own servants, left much to their own devices in the previous years, had grown slack and incompetent. Mistress Vaughan had been struggling for nine months to bring more order and efficiency into her home, and expressed her admiration for her sister's obviously well-ordered household.

  'Mother, we wish to go to the Royal Exchange in the morning,' Frances said, when plans for the next few days were being discussed.

  'Of course. You will have much to buy. Will you go also, Jane?'

  'Yes, I must purchase materials for myself. I cannot allow my daughters to outshine me altogether.'

  'We will all go. Stephen, no doubt you wish to visit the coffee houses and hear all the gossip?'

  Captain Vaughan smiled. 'You have said aright. I am a trifle behindhand with the news these last few weeks.'

  'Good. For the evening I have arranged a small supper party.'

  'Will there be anyone we know?' Mistress Vaughan asked.

  'You met Lord Belvedere many years ago, did you not?'

  'I remember him. A tall, quiet man.'

  Lady Lyndon smiled. 'He is a tower of strength to me, and has been ever since Frank died. He is always willing to help in whatever manner he can. Then there is Jason Marlowe, his nephew. I do not think you have met him, though he spent the last few years abroad with the King.'

  'I have heard the name,' Captain Vaughan said, 'but I do not recall the young man.'

  'Also Sir Arnold Easton, a friend who recently inherited a property near my house at Newmarket. Then, let me see,' she said, ticking them off on her fingers, 'there is young Thomas Barnes, a distant connection of my husband's. He has recently come to London, and is a frequent visitor here. And Barbara and Robert Edes. Barbara was at school with Frances, and we met her again a few days since with her brother. A very pleasant pair. That makes twelve of us. It should be an enjoyable evening.'

  'It sounds delightful. 'Tis kind of you to make such efforts on our behalf,' Mistress Vaughan said, smiling at her sister.

  'Nonsense,' Lady Lyndon retorted. 'You do us a favour by coming to keep us company!' She turned to Isabella 'Have you and Clare gowns you wish to wear at my dance on Saturday, or do you want to have new ones made?'

  'We could not make them in time,' Isabella protested, laughing. 'Though I confess I would dearly love to have a new one for it.'

  'Two of my maids are excellent needlewomen,' her aunt told her. 'If we buy everything we need tomorrow morning, and choose simple styles they will be able to make them in time.'

  'That would be wonderful!'

  'What colours do you think you should have?'

  A long discussion of fashions and colours ensued, and Clare, to Isabella's concealed satisfaction, showed a certain animation. But in the morning Mistress Vaughan had developed a severe headache as a result of the long journey, and the girls went to the Exchange alone, leaving her to rest and Lady Lyndon to minister solicitously to her.

  *

  The Exchange was crowded, and Isabella and Clare looked on fascinated by the busy scene, but they soon found themselves involved in it, delighted at the vast display of wares exhibited there. They purchased several lengths of dress materials, ribbons and lace for trimmings, masks, and shoes and stockings. Then Frances recollected she meant to buy a new pair of slippers to match one of her gowns.

  'They have some on the next stall, I believe.'

  'What colour is the dress?' Isabella asked.

  'The dusky pink I wore last night. Can you remember the colour, do you think?'

  'I think I can.'

  'Good, then come with me to help match it. I forgot to bring a snip of the material with me.'

  'Clare, have you finished?' Isabella asked her sister, who was absorbed in selecting ribbons.

  Clare glanced up at her. 'No, I still have several more things to purchase here. Go on, I will follow you.'

  'I think we must,' Frances said a little doubtfully. 'It grows late, and we shall be late for dinner if we do not hurry.'

  Isabella nodded, and moved away with Frances. Clare soon completed her purchases, and as she turned to follow them a large fat woman pushed past and collided with her. One of the many parcels Clare was holding, somewhat insecurely, slipped from her grasp and fell to the ground, rolling some feet away.

  'Oh, confound it!' Clare cried in exasperation, glaring furiously after the fat woman who, oblivious, had swept on her way. She went to retrieve the parcel, but found herself forestalled by a man who was already bending to pick it up. He turned and presented it with a flourish to Clare, smiling broadly at her.

  'This is yours, I believe, fair one?'

  He was exceedingly handsome, with piercing blue eyes under firmly marked brows. His forehead was wide, and his white even teeth gleamed between his sensuous lips as he smiled at Clare with open admiration and some amusement.

  'Why yes, sir, I thank you,' she said quickly, and held out her hand for it, but in her confusion at his familiar mode of address, and haste to escape his admiring gaze, this simply caused her to lose control over her other parcels, and several cascaded to the ground. The gallant quickly rescued them and looked at Clare, laughter in his eyes.

  'One is enough,' he murmured, causing her to blush furiously. 'Methinks you need some assistance. Allow me my pretty.'

  'I can manage if you will give them to me,' Clare said hurriedly, looking up at him in alarm, but he paid no heed, and before she realised what he was about, had relieved her of the remaining parcels.

  'I will tie some of them together,' he suggested, and quickly did so.

  'I thank you, sir,' Clare said, holding out her hand, but he did not relinquish them.

  'You gave me so lovely a smile for so small a service,' he said, and took a step towards her. Apprehensive, Clare backed away, but he followed, and after two steps, Clare was halted by a wall at her back.

  'Can I not perform greater services for you, mayhap?' he asked in a low musical voice. 'With that reward for a trifling service I would fain perform valiant deeds for you!'

  'I thank you,' Clare stammered, confused. 'Pray allow me to pass.'

  'What? Beauty in haste to depart? I declare 'tis most uncivil of you! Come, will you not drink a glass of wine with me?'

  She looked at him in horror, and he laughed slightly.

  'I pray you, sir, allow me to pass. I do not wish to be detained!'

  Anxiously Clare tried to peer round him for sight of Isabella or Frances, but she was trapped in a corner and the man stood so close he blocked her view. Frightened by now, Clare tried to push past him, but he held out her parcels to stop her, and gasping, she took them from him.

  'Be not afraid, my little one,' he said softly as he gave them to her, and while she was occupied with them he slipped his arm around her waist. 'I mean you no harm. I merely desire to get to be better acquainted.'

  'Sir! Pray release me!'

  'A sad end to our meeting if you walked away. When can I see you again? You surely will not deny me that pleasure? Where do you live? May I call on you?'

  His arm, despite her struggles, was still about her, and he leant over her, the dark curls of his wig almost brushing her cheeks. She felt panic rising in her, and was just about to forget discretion and scream for help when Isabella appeared beside them.

  'What in the devil's name are you at? Release my sister at once! Clare, who is this impudent fellow?'

  Isabella glared at him, fury in her flashing eyes, but he merely laughed at her. Irrationally she felt an urge to return his infectious smile, but firmly suppressed it, her anger increasing.

  'I know not w
ho he is,' Clare said angrily. 'He picked up some parcels I dropped, and since then has been forcing his attentions on me!'

  'By heaven, are females not safe from being accosted by such scoundrels? You should be whipped for your insolence! In God's name, an' I were a man, you would not be standing there smirking at me still!'

  He laughed, delighted. 'I am quaking, Mistress, at the very thought! You are daunting enough in petticoats, I dread to think what a fire-eater you would be as a man! I am more than pleased you are not one.' He smiled down into her eyes as he spoke, and she blushed as she read the admiration in them. Angry with herself she lashed him with her tongue.

  'So you offer insults instead of apologies for your abominable behaviour towards my sister?'

  'Abominable?' he repeated, raising his eyebrows quizzically. 'I am unaware of it. A young lady, obviously deserted by her natural guardians, needs consolation and protection.'

  This added fuel to Isabella's fury, for she knew herself to be at fault in leaving Clare alone.

  'How dare you talk of protection! I know full well the sort of protection you and your like would offer!'

  'You know it?' he queried lazily, laughter in his voice. 'Well, well, somehow I had not imagined – ' He broke off, laughing aloud at the outraged expression on Isabella's face. 'However, I am only too thankful to surrender the innocent maiden into the care of the she-dragon.'

  'You are intolerable! Come, Clare! 'Tis demeaning to bandy words with such canaille!'

  Isabella, breathing deeply to calm herself, swept away, Clare at her side, but when safely out of earshot, she turned furiously on her sister.

  'How dare you get into such a situation?'

  'It was not of my making, I could not help it!' Clare protested. 'I dropped some parcels and he picked them up for me.'

  'That, naturally, explains how I come across you in his arms, with him all but kissing you!'

  'He did not! I could not escape from the corner!'

  'And so you would have allowed him to have his way with you!' Isabella said scornfully. 'Clare, you are foolish, and if report of such behaviour is spread, your chances of marriage will disappear!'