The ladies were seldom unoccupied that week, busying themselves with all manner of shopping as they prepared for the social whirl of the Season. However, returning from still another expedition (this to the milliner, where Isobel had purchased a ravishing chip villager hat, a poke bonnet for driving in the park, several exceedingly fine headdresses for evening wear, and other indispensable items of head gear required for cutting a dash, and Letitia had been coerced into a truly magnificent shako to accompany her riding habit), they made the decision to drive in the park at the fashionable hour, advertising to the world their presence in town and interest in receiving visitors.
Isobel considered taking out her phaeton for her first appearance of the Season, but decided to pursue the more conservative option of being driven in her carriage. Her pair might be quite fresh since they had just been brought to town, and it could not add to any lady's consequence to be seen having difficulty controlling her cattle. In addition, she anticipated the need to stop every few minutes to greet her acquaintances, which would also mix poorly with fresh horses. So she settled for donning her most dashing carriage dress, a bronze green silk lavishly trimmed and braided, with vestigial echoes of the many caped great coats worn by the Corinthians. Matched to a very fetching bonnet, she was prepared to sally forth. Letitia and Miss Harriet accompanied her, also dressed in the first stare of fashion.
As they rolled into Hyde Park to join the parade of Society’s elite, it could be seen that London was still somewhat thin of company, for it was possible for the carriage to maneuver along the track with some facility. However, Isobel was able to spy many of her most influential friends. She almost immediately encountered two of the frostiest doyennes of the ton in the persons of the Countess Lieven and Mrs. Drummond-Burrell, taking the air together in the former’s carriage.
"Ah, Miss Paley," pronounced the Countess with a gracious nod and the faintest hint of a smile. "I see that once again you will be setting a target of beauty and taste for the younger set to emulate. And it is so good to once again see you in the company of the lovely Lady Morgan. We will welcome you both at Almack's soon, I believe?"
Almack's, irreverently known as the marriage mart, was not Isobel's preferred social activity, for livelier conversation was to be had at dinners in the diplomatic and government circles to which she had access, and better food and dancing at private balls. However, no single lady with any pretensions to fashion could snub Almack's, and she expressed her eagerness to return there and said that she had looked forward to seeing the patronesses during the dreary winter months.
"For there is nothing like the undiluted company of one's relatives over the winter months to make one long to hear the latest gossip, you know. Indeed I am so anxious to see Lady Jersey and hear all that she has to say--" Isobel broke off, realizing in the middle of her comments that she had made an error, for Countess Lieven's eyes gleamed and she unapologetically interrupted Isobel’s flow of words.
"Ah, speaking of gossip, one hears that the company of your family was not entirely undiluted, my dear Miss Paley. You were able to rescue Lord Francis Wheaton from a most uncomfortable situation were you not? You have stolen quite a march on the matchmaking mamas who have a great interest in his lordship's intriguing prospects. The older brother is childless and quite sickly, one hears."
The Countess fixed her gaze on Isobel, who, to her utter horror, felt a blush rising in her cheeks. She glanced down, hoping that the very modish long poke of her bonnet would shield her face sufficiently to hide it.
However, for once Cousin Harriet's leap into territory where angels might have feared to tread rescued her. "My dear Countess, Lord Francis is quite the most charming invalid, I assure you," she said eagerly. "Always so considerate of the staff who attended him, even though he was confined to his chamber during most of his stay and might have been excused for a little bad temper. I am sure that Isobel and I hardly knew he was in the house, although that foolish Honoria Wereham would have it that there was something not quite the thing about it and even suggested that Isobel should do something so unchristian as to deny a disabled traveller care and hospitality--so ridiculous, and unkind besides, but there. I found Lord Francis delightful and not at all the rattle one might expect given that he is a young man just back from the wars. I believe he may seriously be hanging out for a wife you know, for a young man will confide in a woman who he thinks of as an aunt and tell her things one might not expect. He will certainly be found with the other fashionable men, but I don’t think you will discover him causing trouble with the Bloods, or at really low haunts, why--"
Mrs. Drummond-Burrell's eyes had just begun to glaze over, and Isobel was thanking her lucky stars, for her cousin's timely over-abundance of information was clearly vanquishing the two ladies' interest in the topic of Lord Francis, when she saw that gentleman approaching their group on a stunning chestnut hack with four flashy white socks. Inwardly she groaned, for it was clear that they had gone from the frying pan to the fire. She could only pray that his lordship did not choose to display any particularity for her after their rather cold parting.
Mrs. Drummond-Burrell suddenly was all attention, as his lordship maneuvered his horse up to the carriages, while the Countess Lieven, who had appeared to be on the verge of giving Harriet a mild version of one of her famous set downs, actually allowed a smile to cross her face. Lord Francis had just greeted the two Misses Paley and Lady Morgan when the countess inclined her head and requested that Lord Francis be introduced to her acquaintance. Isobel complied gracefully, and soon he was busily engaged in charming the two formidable women. Isobel allowed her attention to wander from this conversation for a few moments, while she examined her feelings, which were in some disarray after the arch comments on Lord Francis' stay at her home, and the disturbing effect on her that his presence produced. She had managed through great effort over the past weeks to put him out of her mind, but now his nearness made her acutely aware of her previous warm feelings towards him.
"You must come to Almack's, Lord Francis," pronounced Mrs. Drummond-Burrell. "All of the new Season's young misses and their mamas will be anxious to meet you, and surely now that you are home from those dreadful wars you must be considering setting up your own establishment."
"As to that ma'am, I certainly plan to dance with as many English roses as I may this spring, as I have longed for such an opportunity. But I fear that the matchmaking mamas may find me rather disappointing. Too many years in the Peninsula have left me with a distaste for young milk and water girls with no sense in their heads. One such as that would be quite incapable of maintaining the type of establishment I envision. I plan on taking up a career in diplomacy or government, and the wife I am looking for will be someone with a few Seasons to her name and substantial taste and elegance to her credit, along with a well-informed mind." He glanced quickly at Isobel and gave her a mischievous smile. "If you know of any such women Mrs. Drummond-Burrell, I should be very pleased to make their acquaintances."
Isobel blushed furiously, but the Countess Lieven merely laughed. "Wicked creature!" she said. "You must be the only young man in London capable of putting Miss Paley out of countenance. I wish you will make a habit of it, for she is entirely too self-possessed, you know, and is in danger of growing insufficiently animated."
"Oh, please do not any of you have any compassion for my feelings," implored Isobel with a laugh. "I believe that I see Lady Hartwell trying to attract my attention, and since I am godmother to her little boy, I must excuse myself. But, I pray you, do not let it keep you from this conversation, and continue to discuss me just as you please."
With a promise to call on the august ladies, Isobel directed her coachman to move on, hoping that her raillery would have defused the gossip to which Lord Francis seemed determined to give rise. She dismissed the matter as she enjoyed a delightful talk with Maria Hartwell, a dashing young matron who was a friend from her schoolroom days, but would have been concerned to hear what Countes
s Lieven said to Lord Francis as her coach drove away.
"You would be very well suited to her, young man, but it will not be easy to convince her of that. Tact, boldness and patience will all be required. It will be good practice for a career in diplomacy."
"I agree with you on all counts, ma'am, but I hope to have Miss Paley rolled up foot and guns by the end of the Season, unless Mrs. Drummond-Burrell can indeed locate another such. However, I have few doubts but that Miss Paley is unique." He took a polite leave of them and trotted off, soon to join a group of young officers in uniform, whom he greeted heartily.
In Isobel's carriage Letitia was eyeing her friend closely. "Lord Francis continues to display a decided partiality for you, Isobel," she observed. "My path barely crossed his while we were both at Kitswold, but he seems to be a very fine gentleman."
"A very fine gentleman, indeed," rejoined Isobel. "So fine that he does not hesitate to put me to the blush."
"If he can put you to the blush, then perhaps his feelings are not unrequited?" ventured Letitia.
"Letty, I am surprised at you. You have known me any time these five years, and yet you can think that I would be drawn to a gentleman merely because of an attractive countenance and his polished address? Surely you think better of me than that," said Isobel.
"I think very highly of you, my dear," rejoined Letitia. "But Lord Francis seems to have more than simple good looks and good manners. He would appear to be a gentleman of some substance."
"Looks can be deceiving, Letitia. I have no reason to suspect that Lord Francis is anything but a man with the most frivolous of notions."
Letitia smiled at her friend. "Surely you cannot think that his intent toward you is not serious."
"If it is, then he will come to sorrow," observed Isobel. "You cannot be imagining I will marry? Not only would my scholarly interests have to be abandoned, but I have only to look at the sorry situation Alfred has led you into to be turned utterly against matrimony."
Letitia sighed. "I would be grieved indeed if my unfortunate experience leads you to forgo marriage, particularly if you find a man who appeals to your heart. Alfred is, I believe, an exception. The great majority of men are trustworthy."
"But you cannot tell from looking which ones of them are not," countered Isobel. "And I do not mean to lay myself open to that sort of deceit. I believe I must remain heart-whole."
Letitia looked at Isobel thoughtfully, but allowed the subject to drop. She determined to keep a watchful eye on her friend, however, and see how the little comedy between Isobel and Lord Francis played out. She would be sorry indeed if Isobel turned down a worthy gentleman for the sake of pride and fear.
Chapter 8
The drive in the Park was but the opening salvo of the Season, and Miss Paley, Miss Walcott, and Lady Morgan betook themselves to Almack's one evening shortly thereafter. While Isobel was not fond of the club, finding the atmosphere insipid, no one who aspired to Fashion could afford to be absent from its rooms. Letitia had even declared that she had fond memories of the place, a statement that had made Isobel laugh. Harriet was always glad to go anywhere where she might encounter some friends for a good gossip, and Almack's was certainly a location at which that could be found. Thus they arrived in a tolerably good humor, with only Isobel lamenting what was sure to be a dull evening.
"For the refreshments are certain to be meager and the quantity of insipid young women and their mamas is certain to be enormous," she declared.
Letitia laughed. "Be cautious, Isobel, or people will begin to think you jealous of the ladies newly out!" she said teasingly.
"On that score I believe I cannot be touched," answered Isobel merrily. "I am sure my conversation is much more interesting than theirs, and I think there will not be another woman there tonight so well-dressed as we." She was doubtless correct, for her dress of dark green satin embroidered with golden roses was far more modish than a miss newly introduced to Society would dare to wear, and Letitia wore a lovely dress of palest blue gauze over satin, while Miss Harriet's gown of puce sarcenet was less modish, but no less elegant.
"I daresay you are right, my dear," said Harriet, "but you must remember that you are reaching an age where some people might consider you to be on the shelf, and even begin to pity you for not entering the married state, though I believe it is well-known that you have had many offers, and turned them down from mere stubbornness..."
"I defy anyone to pity a woman as elegant as I," said Isobel with comical fervor. "They would not dare!"
They alighted at the doors of the famous club and entered. Letitia drew in her breath as they did so.
"How I remember this place," she whispered to Isobel.
"Yes, and the rooms have not grown any more spacious, nor the company any better since you were here last," observed Isobel waspishly.
Letitia laughed and tapped Isobel's arm with her fan. "You are a cynic, Isobel. I hope you may have your world turned upside down by a handsome man."
"That is so unlikely as to be an impossibility," replied Isobel lightly. "I fear I am a confirmed spinster."
They entered the rooms, and were greeted by Lady Sefton, one of the kindest of the patronesses.
"How lovely to see you, Miss Paley, and to know that you will add charm and wit to our assemblies again this year," she said sweetly.
"Why, I am honored to be here," said Isobel. "It would not be a proper Season without the pleasures of Almack's."
"And Lady Morgan," continued Lady Sefton. "How good to see you again. It has been too long since you graced London with your presence."
"It is I who am happy to be here, ma'am," said Letitia. "I have missed the delights of the Season, but I am afraid my children keep me very busy. It is Miss Paley who coaxed me out of my country retirement, and I thank her for it." She colored slightly at the lie she was telling, but reflected that she could hardly wish the truth to be known.
"Well, we thank her very much for doing so," said Lady Sefton. As Isobel and her friends moved away, Lady Cowper joined Lady Sefton.
"So, perhaps the tittle-tattle is true," observed Lady Cowper to her friend. "Lady Morgan is in town without her handsome husband. I hear he is drawing the bustle tightly and chasing Covent Garden ware and she has had enough of it."
"Oh no, surely not," said Lady Sefton. "Lady Morgan looks the picture of happiness, and her clothes are very modish; if there were problems she would not be so very well-dressed."
"I believe Miss Paley to be very loyal and generous to her friends," said the Countess meaningfully. "I shall be watching Lady Morgan to see how eager she is to return to Wales!"
Lady Sefton shook her head over her fellow patroness' inquisitiveness. "I am sure there is nothing in it," she said positively. The Countess merely smiled.
Miss Harriet was soon settled in the card room with the dowagers; Almack's allowed no high stakes and the chief game was whist for sixpenny points, which suited her exactly, though deep plungers were disdainful and went elsewhere for their gaming. Isobel and Letitia remained in the larger rooms, and surveyed the company.
"Goodness, everyone is excessively elegant," said Letitia. "I feel as if in my time away all of Society is changed. Of course, I recognize Lady Jersey and others, but who, pray tell, is the curious fellow in the lavender spangled coat?"
Isobel followed the direction of her friend’s gaze. "A creature you would not want to know, Letitia," she said. "It is Mr. Finlevert, who fancies himself very much a dandy. He is quite ridiculous, is he not?"
"I believe you," said Letitia. "That neckcloth is alarming in its proportions! I doubt that I shall get used to that, even if I become accustomed to new faces." She looked about her. "I do not see Lord Francis Wheaton," she observed. "I wonder if he will attend tonight."
"Is he not here?" asked Isobel lightly. "Well, though he swore he wished to dance with every miss in England, I think that perhaps the Daffy Club is more in his line. I am sure we shall do quite well without him."
And they did do very well, soon being whisked away to join the country dance sets that were forming. Isobel quickly forgot her strictures on the dullness of Almack's and gave herself up to enjoyment, and when she looked up later and saw Letitia being led out to dance by Mr. Finlevert in his lavender spangled coat, she broke into laughter.
So when Lord Francis Wheaton entered the portals of Almack's, some scant fifteen minutes before the doors were relentlessly shut against all late-comers at eleven-o-clock, one of the first sights he beheld was Isobel going merrily down a set with her partner, a smile on her lips and a laugh in her eyes. He paused, gazing at the picture of beauty she presented.
"So, the rumors are true," said a voice at his side. Lord Francis turned to find his friend, Mr. Horace Worth, standing at his side. "You are captivated by our elusive Miss Paley!"
"Captivated?" drawled Lord Francis. "Hardly. But I am certainly full of admiration."
"Oh, we all admire Miss Paley," agreed Mr. Worth. "In both beauty and wealth she is unparalleled. But she seems determined to remain unwed; when she turned poor Locksley down last year he was positively destroyed. It was weeks before he would do anything but mope; even winning five thousand at faro failed to cheer him. Very painful to see, I give you my word."
"Indeed?" said Lord Francis. "I wonder from whence comes this reluctance to marry?"
"Who can say?" said Mr. Worth. "Lord knows she has had enough suitors to please any miss, but none are good enough for her."
"Are you saying Miss Paley is a hopeless flirt?" asked Lord Francis.
"No, I cannot say that," acknowledged Mr. Worth. "She is never anything but proper to her beaux, but lord, why won't she have any of them?"
"Perhaps none of them are worthy of her," proposed Lord Francis.
Mr. Worth laughed. "Well, you have spent some time with the lady, you dog! I hear she nursed you back to health herself. Are you saying that you are worthy of her? Did more go on out there in the wilds than we know of?"
The Secret Bluestocking: Isobel's Traditional Regency Romance Page 7