by Amanda Scott
The duchess promptly agreed, and Brittany was able, for that day at least to avoid a tête-a-tête with Faringdon. This feat was accomplished with Cheriton’s subtle assistance, for the marquess chanced to recall that there was to be a boxing match at Barnet that afternoon and suggested to the earl that they make all speed if they intended to procure positions anywhere near the ring. Arabella came downstairs before they departed, and Brittany soon left her sister and the duchess to greet the first of what would no doubt prove to be a steady stream of afternoon callers while she went upstairs to see how Alicia fared.
She found the culprit sprawled upon her bed with the morning papers spread out before her. Alicia looked up when the door opened and grinned. “Hallo, Tani, come to comfort the afflicted?”
“I had hoped to find you at least somewhat chastened, Alicia,” retorted Brittany grimly, “but you seem to think you have accomplished something rather marvelous. I’ll thank you to realize that your actions have affected more people in this house than just your precious self.”
“Oh, dear, has Papa scolded you, too? I promise I told him you and Bella had not the slightest notion of what was toward.”
“You seem to have not the least sense of remorse, Lissa. Can you not understand that Papa and Mama hold me responsible merely because I am older than you are? Tony does as well.”
“A pox on Tony,” said Alicia, moving to sit up and then changing her mind and casually drawing one of the newspapers closer before adding airily, “I have been reading more about the ambassador. There is an article here telling about his history, and I can tell you he seems to lead a charmed life, Tani. A most remarkable man. Only listen to this bit.” She skimmed a finger down the page until she found her place. “‘Being descended from a distinguished family, who occupied the highest post of honor and power under the Kings of Persia, he himself when young was appointed to the government of a district bordering upon the Persian Gulf. While thus enjoying his sovereign’s favor, a reverse of fortune, not uncommon in the despotic countries of the East, plunged him from the pinnacle of honor into the depths of adversity.’” Alicia looked up and, finding that Brittany was listening to her with the appearance at least of polite interest, explained, “His uncle was prime minister then, you see, and was accused by his enemies of coveting the throne. That uncle was put to death, and many of his other relatives lost their lives as well or had their eyes put out, which I think a particularly gruesome sort of punishment, don’t you?”
Brittany, bemused by this veritable spate of information, nodded her head. “Horrible.”
“Well, Mirza Abdoul-Hassan-Khan—for that is the ambassador’s name—was deprived of his position and threatened with a fate similar to theirs. It says right here”—she returned her gaze to the newspaper—“that he ‘happily escaped death by being forgotten till vengeance was satisfied, and after languishing in prison for three months was allowed to retire from office and danger into foreign lands.’” Alicia looked up again. “He made a pilgrimage to Mecca, which is their special holy place, and eventually he turned up in Calcutta while Marquess Wellesley—the Duke of Wellington’s brother, you know—was governor general of India. By 1809 Abdoul-Hassan was in favor again and came to England as an ambassador for the first time. He stayed only seven months; however, he is now thought to be a great diplomat.”
“Goodness, Alicia, how have you discovered so much information about one man?”
“Well, I have read nearly everything printed about him, of course, because I wanted to know what sort of person would keep a girl imprisoned the way he keeps the fair Circassian.”
“I doubt she is any sort of prisoner,” said Brittany dryly. “You really know nothing about their relationship and probably would have paid it no mind whatsoever if the papers had not insisted upon making her such a woman of mystery. I daresay he is an excellent sort of man and does no more than follow the customs of his own country. No one, certainly, has said your mystery lady is unhappy in his company.”
“No one has seen her to ask her anything at all,” Alicia said impatiently. “No one even knows what she looks like, for goodness’ sake. But I mean to find out all about her for myself, and so I tell you, Tani. England is a free country, and that man cannot hold her prisoner here. Why, I have already seen one or two letters in the papers demanding to know what the authorities mean to do to help her when she arrives here.”
“I doubt there is much they can do, you know. His is a diplomatic mission, after all, and if the Regent is determined to please him, no one else will attempt to stand in his way.”
“Well, Mr. Mirza Abdoul-Hassan-Khan will have me to reckon with,” Alicia said firmly. “When I decide to do a thing, I certainly don’t let such minor details as diplomacy stand in my way.”
Chuckling, when she realized that her words had not come out exactly as she had intended, she added hastily, “You know what I mean, do you not?”
“Indeed, I do, and I tell you to your head, Alicia, that you had better consider very carefully before engaging in such improper actions as you seem to envision. And, for once, I hope you will think about how they will reflect upon those around you. I, for one, do not enjoy being scolded as a result of your misbehavior. You seem to take even Papa’s anger in your stride—though I notice,” she added pointedly, “that you have not changed your position since I came into the room, which would seem to indicate that you suffered more from him this morning than a simple tongue-lashing. Still I hope, for my sake if not for your own, you will heed the fact that not only Papa but Tony as well will be furious with us both if you attempt to interfere in anyway between the ambassador and his companion.”
Alicia had flushed at Brittany’s acid comment on her posture, but now she did indeed sit up, and her grimace seemed to be as much a result of her rising temper as of anything else. “I am sorry if you have been forced to suffer embarrassment because of my actions, Tani—indeed I am—but Tony Faringdon takes too much upon himself. I had not meant to tell you this for fear of distressing you, but under pretense of desiring to dance the quadrille with me last night he dragged me willy-nilly into a private anteroom, where he proceeded to read me a description of my character quite as unflattering as any of Papa’s comments to me this morning. Now, you must admit that while Papa has every right and reason to express his displeasure to me, Tony does not. My behavior is no concern of his. But he seems constitutionally incapable of keeping his oar out of waters that do not concern him.” She paused, glowering as though she dared Brittany to disagree with her. When Brittany remained silent, she went on in measured tones, “The world will end, I promise you, before I will forget the things he said to me or forgive him for saying them, and I can assure you that I shall regard his thoughts on any of my future actions with the supremest indifference. His own behavior, after all, has scarcely ever been that of a paragon. Indeed, I cannot understand what you ever saw in the man that you allowed yourself to be promised to him in marriage. And if such plain speaking offends you, well, then, I suppose you must just be offended.”
6
BRITTANY RETURNED A VAGUE response and soon left her younger sister to her own devices, but Alicia’s words were to echo in her mind more than once in the days ahead. It was the Easter Season, and the following day was Maundy Thursday, the traditional day for giving gifts of money, food, and clothing to the poor. The duchess had long since arranged for her gifts to be delivered to the appropriate places, both in London and at the park, so there was little for her daughters to do other than to pay their usual calls and receive the usual flood of afternoon callers. That evening, however, despite the fact that Faringdon had invited the duchess, Brittany, and Arabella to help him make up a party to visit the new, grand historical equestrian melodrama, called Hypolita, Queen of the Amazons, at Astley’s Royal Amphitheater, the young ladies opted instead to begin preparing the colored eggs to be given to their visitors on Saturday and Sunday. They invited Faringdon to join them, and were scarcely surprised when he
showed up with Cheriton and Lord Toby Welshpool in tow.
“Can’t think why you’d rather be mucking about with a lot of fool eggs instead of going to Astley’s,” the earl protested sourly as the young ladies led the way through the nether reaches of the house to the kitchen and scullery. “If we’d been expected to attend some paltry ball or other, a feller might understand, but Easter eggs instead of Astley’s! I ask you.”
“I trust you will not find our ball a paltry affair, sir,” Brittany said stiffly.
“No, of course not, but, Lord, that’s weeks off yet. Dash it all, Tani, the amphitheater has been closed these six months past, and ’tis Mrs. Astley herself who is to play the part of Hypolita, the Amazon queen. Bound to be a treat. Daresay even young Alicia’d like it.”
“Alicia would not have been allowed to go with us to Astley’s. As you ought to remember very well, for I told you myself, Papa has confined her to her bedchamber until Sunday morning. Now,” she added in a rallying tone, “preparing the Easter eggs has always been our task, and ’tis one we enjoy. I am persuaded that even you, Tony, will find it an agreeable way to pass an evening, so do make yourself useful if you will, by arranging those articles on the countertop into separate piles for us.”
“Serves the minx right,” Faringdon muttered as he obediently separated onto the scullery counter the flowers, leaves, mosses, wood chips and other items they would use to make their dyes. “Not that being confined to her bedchamber will teach her the lesson it ought to teach, mind you. I’ll be surprised if she ain’t flung herself into the briars again before the week is out.”
“Well,” said Arabella, watching him closely to see that he did not mix anemone petals with cochineal, “we shall miss her tonight when all is said and done, for I daresay none of the rest of us has so light and dexterous a hand with the wax pencil. Whenever I attempt to use it, my designs look like a tot’s scribbling. Alicia’s drawings are works of art.”
“That’s true enough,” Brittany agreed, “but you are the expert with the dyes, Bella, and Amalie showed us last year that she is most adept with glue and trimmings, so we shall do well enough, I expect.” She smiled down at her little sister, who was clearly feeling very grown up in such company.
“I can draw a bit,” said Lord Toby modestly, “and Cherry here is also a fair dab at it.”
Cheriton made no comment, but Brittany found herself trying to imagine him holding a fragile Easter egg in one large hand and a slender wax pencil in the other. Perversely, her vivid imagination presented her with a vision of both hands caressing her sensitive skin instead. Flushing deeply and wondering what on earth had possessed her to imagine such a thing, she turned away quickly into the kitchen, pretending to examine the pots of water the maids had set earlier to boil upon the stove to see if any had yet begun to simmer. By the time she rejoined the others, she had convinced herself that she had been foolish to feel distress at what had been no more than a fleeting thought, and had her emotions well under control again.
They set to work wrapping some eggs in onion skins that, as they boiled, would turn them dark yellow or clear brown. Others would be boiled with spinach leaves or anemone petals for green, gorse blossom for pale yellow, cochineal for scarlet, and logwood chips for purple. Arabella wrapped several eggs with string and ribbon in order to achieve a marbled effect, and Brittany found herself helping Amalie with gold leaf, piping, and lace trim, while the gentlemen took turns with the wax pencil. Faringdon’s efforts looked much the way Arabella had described her own, but it was quickly seen that Lord Toby had understated both his own and Cheriton’s skills. As the eggs emerged from the pots of dye, intricate pictures were discovered upon them of flowers, birds, and animals, as well as more common designs of grids and swirls. One of Lord Toby’s eggs depicted a miniature of the huge gray-stone manor house at Malmesbury Park. Seeing this masterpiece, Cheriton grinned and promptly produced a neat sketch of Malmesbury London House on the next egg. The job took them all the greater part of that evening, and the ladies used a major portion of Good Friday morning to apply finishing touches, but by afternoon a large straw basket lined with green grass and moss and filled with the colorful eggs occupied a place of honor in the front hall.
That evening the duchess, Brittany, and Arabella attended a rout at Lady Jersey’s house in Berkeley Square before going on to a musicale at Lady Heathcote’s. At the latter party, by appointment, they encountered Faringdon in the front hall. He grimaced at Brittany’s look of innocent amusement.
“Aye, you may well look pleased with yourself, m’dear. You dashed well knew when you arranged for us to meet here that I thought it was another sort of party altogether. You’re all about in your head if you think I’ll stick it, though, for I know I’ve got something else to do if only I can remember what it might be.”
“Surely you wouldn’t hedge off now, Tony, and leave us to see to our own comfort,” she protested. “Mama put up enough of a fuss at having no proper gentleman escort at Lady Jersey’s house. I promised her you would be with us the rest of the evening.”
“Well, you ought to have known better than to have promised such a daft thing as that. Dash it all, Brittany, you can’t have thought me such a lobcock as to sit tamely through the sort of caterwauling that goes on at such affairs as this one.” He grimaced at her downcast look. “Never mind, then. Cherry’s here somewhere. He’ll look after you. Daresay Toby will be along, too. More his sort of thing than mine, don’t you know.” He turned away almost as though he feared she might demand that he remain, then he seemed to recall his manners and turned back somewhat sheepishly. “Look here, Brittany, I hope you ain’t vexed, but if you truly expect me to dance attendance on you at affairs like this one once we’re wed, you’ve mistaken your man, and so you ought to know at the outset.” He peered at her anxiously. “You ain’t really vexed, are you?”
She shook her head, suddenly hard pressed to keep from laughing at his distress. “No, of course not, Tony.”
He relaxed visibly, patting her arm. “There’s a good girl. I daresay you ain’t forgot either that I’m going out of town tomorrow. Promised to go down to Windsor with Roger Carrisbrooke to look at a nag he wants to purchase. But we’ll be back sometime late in the evening, so we won’t fail you Sunday morning. That trek to Peddlar’s Hill with everyone to watch the sunrise is still on, ain’t it?”
“Of course, it is,” she reassured him. “Even Papa wouldn’t miss that expedition. We did fear he might refuse to let Alicia go, but he has already said she may if only because we go straight to St. George’s upon returning. Just remember, Tony, that you will have to be up before the birds. Can you trust your man to awaken you in good time?”
He grinned at her. “Never fear, m’dear. Old Haskins knows every trick in the bag. I’ll be there, looking fine as fivepence in my new Easter rig, give you my word. Now, I must be off.”
He was gone on the words, and she saw his step quicken when a young woman began to tune her harp. Chuckling, she turned back to find her seat and nearly collided with Cheriton.
He smiled. “Tony’s made good his escape, has he?”
“Indeed, sir, and he said you’d look after us,” she said, laughing up at him. “Do you often allow him to call the tune for you like this?”
“I don’t mind,” he said quietly, returning her smile. “I am quite in the habit, as he said once before, of looking after Mama’s needs. I daresay I should be at sixes and sevens if I had no responsibility at all. Your mother is beckoning. Shall we join her?”
She went with him, finding herself wondering again at his odd behavior toward her. She had given him a perfect opening for a compliment, had she not? Any other gentleman of her acquaintance would quickly have assured her that his evening could not possibly be better spent than in her company. Indeed, any other gentleman would have gone on at length on the subject. If, she thought rather testily, she were not a happily engaged lady, she would be tempted to see if she could not stir Cheriton to expre
ss his admiration for her.
Hearing her own thoughts echoing through her mind, Brittany felt a stab of conscience. Had she become puffed up with her own conceit? She certainly knew several young women who were, and they were anything but admirable. Surely, she was not growing to be like them. As Cheriton held her chair for her, greeting the duchess with his customary easy courtesy at the same time, Brittany’s common sense came to her rescue. Cheriton was kind, warm, and particularly skilled at looking after one’s comfort. It was merely the fact that she had become so accustomed to men’s adoration that made his behavior seem unnatural by comparison to the others. But nonetheless, there was no good reason for him to behave romantically and a number of excellent reasons for him not to do so. After all, he was Faringdon’s good friend and she was Faringdon’s intended bride. The thought crossed her mind then that other good friends of Faringdon’s didn’t let that detail keep them from flirting with her, but she pushed the thought firmly aside. Cheriton didn’t flirt idly, and such a character trait should be set to his credit, not held against him.
She smiled up at him, but he was exchanging pleasantries with her mother and Arabella and didn’t notice. Piqued despite her resolution, she turned away and beckoned to Lord Toby Welshpool, who was just passing by on his way to a seat in the window embrasure, to join them. He did so with flattering alacrity and she beamed upon him.
“Saw Tony below,” he told her with a chuckle as he carefully arranged his coattails before taking a seat in the stiff little cane-back chair beside hers. “Babbled something at me about mistaking his appointments. Daresay he saw what was what and flew the coop.” He leaned forward, speaking across her. “Good evening, Bella. I like that shawl. Not many ladies can wear them bright paisley things, but you’ve got the height to carry it off remarkably well. That combination of blue and pink is prodigiously becoming to you.”