The Incomparable Countess

by Mary Nichols

  ‘You nearly had us over,’ he said, when they were once more trotting towards the exit. ‘These high-perch affairs can be unstable, you know.’

  ‘Yes, I am sorry.’

  They continued in silence for some minutes until he suddenly spoke again. ‘If we are forbidden to speak of Stanmore, what are we to do when we come face to face with him?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Only that he has just come through the gate and is riding towards us. Unless you wish to give him the cut direct, we shall have to acknowledge him.’

  She looked in the direction he was pointing and saw Marcus, riding a huge black stallion. The other gentleman, on a grey, she did not know. ‘I have no wish to cut him, Percy. That would make him more insufferable than ever, thinking I was in a quake over him.’

  ‘And we cannot have that, can we?’ he retorted, pulling the carriage to one side as the two men drew rein.

  ‘Good afternoon, your Grace,’ she said, as coolly as she could manage, considering her heart was beating nineteen to the dozen and her hands were shaking.

  ‘My lady, your obedient. May I present my friend, Major Donald Greenaway. Donald, this is the Countess of Corringham.’

  ‘Major.’ She inclined her head towards him.

  ‘How do you do, my lady?’ he said, doffing his curly-brimmed hat. He was a big, burly man, dressed in a drab riding coat and biscuit-coloured breeches tucked into polished riding boots, by no means elegant, but neat enough. ‘I believe you are teaching Lady Lavinia.’

  She gave a short laugh. ‘Yes, along with a dancing master and a good many other talented people.’

  ‘Ah, but there is only one Countess of Corringham and I collect she is above compare.’ His broad smile was enough to counter any offence she might have felt at his familiarity so soon after meeting. It was as if they were old friends.

  Guessing it had been Marcus who had told him about her, she risked a sideways glance at him and was surprised to find him looking at her, an expression of acute discomfort on his face. She smiled and returned her attention to his companion. ‘Gammon, Major,’ she said.

  ‘Oh, do not be so modest, my lady. The Duke has told me how you are bringing Lady Lavinia on by leaps and bounds.’

  ‘His Grace is biased.’

  ‘Oh, undoubtedly. But he is not the only one to say it. I collect all London is vying to send their daughters to you.’

  ‘Fie, Major, I would not have expected a military man like you to deal in flummery. And I am too old to be taken in by it.’

  ‘Old, my lady? On the contrary, you are in your prime.’ His laugh was a cheerful boom and startled a couple of riders who were passing by. ‘Stanmore,’ he said. ‘Bear me out, do.’

  Marcus smiled. ‘I am sure the Countess knows her own worth.’

  ‘An enigmatic answer, if ever I heard one,’ Percy put in.

  ‘Oh, the Duke is too much the gentleman to say outright that he does not always agree with my methods,’ Frances said, thoroughly embarrassed, but determined to have the last word and a cool one too. ‘But we have agreed a truce. Is that not so, your Grace?’

  ‘Indeed it is,’ he said, equally determined not to quarrel publicly with her. She was smiling at him, her violet eyes bright with laughter. It unnerved him. Had she forgotten that he had kissed her, that he had been so ill-advised as to tell her how he had been longing to do so for years? Judging by her behaviour she had not set much store by it and had put it from her mind. Why did he feel like a boy when in her presence?

  ‘Sir Percival, I do think we should be going,’ she said. She had acted the part of the imperturbable matron to the best of her ability, but she ought to retire from the arena while she still had her wits about her and before the Duke brought fresh guns to bear. ‘Your Grace, I shall look forward to seeing Lady Lavinia on Monday. Major, it has been a pleasure to make your acquaintance.’

  ‘And I yours, my lady.’ He bowed, Marcus touched his hat, Percy bade them a brief goodbye and the phaeton bowled away.

  ‘A beautiful woman,’ Donald said, watching the colourful equipage disappear through the gate.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Have you really had a falling-out over Lady Lavinia?’

  ‘It was nothing of consequence.’

  ‘Oh, come on, man, don’t be so close. Tell me about it.’

  They turned and walked their horses along the Row. ‘It was only a little thing but it made me think she is too easy going and allows Vinny too much sail.’

  ‘And you would have the chit close hauled?’

  ‘Not at all. But I do not like having my authority countered.’

  Donald laughed. ‘Oh, I am sure you do not. But methinks her ladyship has the measure of you.’

  ‘How so? She will toe the line because she knows I can withdraw Lavinia from her at any time and she needs the money.’

  ‘Does she? She did not give me that impression. Top of the trees, to say the least.’

  ‘Oh, not for herself. For her stepson. He’s deep in dun territory and is always applying to her to fetch him out.’

  ‘And you feel sorry for her…’

  ‘No, I do not,’ he said sharply. ‘That’s the last thing I feel for her. She is well able to look after herself. Sharp as a razor and cold as ice.’ He paused before going on with a chuckle. ‘But put a child in front of her and she is as soft as warm butter. Her stepchildren and grandchildren adore her and they are so easy with her. Even Vinny…’

  Donald turned to look at him, one eyebrow raised in a query. ‘Oh, I see. Caught you on a tender spot, has she?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Oh, come on, old friend, you have been struggling with your daughter for years…’

  ‘That is not altogether my fault.’

  ‘I did not say it was. But if the Countess has unlocked the secret to Lady Lavinia’s affections, perhaps you should listen to her, even if it does mean admitting you were wrong.’

  ‘She does not make it easy.’

  ‘You mean you do not. You can be very stiff-rumped at times, Stanmore.’

  Marcus gave a wry smile. ‘If you were anyone but the friend you are, I would tap your claret for that remark.’

  ‘Do it if it makes you feel any better. We can always go to Jackson’s and strip off.’

  ‘No. And if I am to make any headway with my daughter, I must go home and have tea with her. I left her trying to master the steps of the minuet, but the dancing master does not have the patience of Fa—the Countess.’

  ‘Oh, so you admit, her ladyship has patience.’

  ‘I never said anything to the contrary.’

  ‘I do believe you have fallen in love with her.’

  ‘Fustian! We cannot spend half an hour together without falling out.’

  ‘What is that to the point? I would say that is a sign of affection rather than otherwise. She would make an admirable duchess.’

  ‘And I am not thinking of remarrying. I had enough of being leg-shackled the first time ever to welcome a second shot at it. Besides, she is perfectly content with her life…’

  ‘Has she told you so?’

  ‘As good as. And do not give me a jobation over it, for I will not listen. Let us cut across the grass and have a gallop. Demon needs the exercise and so do I.’ And suiting action to words, he spurred his horse and sped away. He did not feel like justifying himself to Donald.

  He pulled up on the other side of the park and together the two men walked their horses out of the Stanhope Gate, down Park Lane and along Piccadilly towards St James’s. They spoke very little; Marcus was deep in thought.

  He could not get Donald’s words out of his head. Could not get Frances Corringham out of his head. She was there, plaguing his waking thoughts, disturbing his dreams, making him behave like a clodpole. And she made him feel inadequate when it came to his daughter, who seemed to have made a friend of her. Fanny had kissed her affectionately, just as if they were allies against him, and Vinny h
ad returned it. Vinny never kissed him. As far as he could remember, she never had.

  It was remarkable, Frances told herself, that on the next few occasions when Marcus brought Lavinia to her lesson or for a portrait sitting, he stayed to watch, not saying very much, but sitting thoughtfully on the other side of the room. Frances was encouraged to suggest he might escort them on a tour of the city looking at its architecture and he agreed without demur. It might, of course, mean that he did not trust her with his daughter, that he was afraid she would encourage Lavinia’s wilful behaviour, or perhaps that Lavinia might confide more than she ought to of their family life. Or it might mean that he had taken her criticism to heart and was anxious to make amends.

  Whatever it was, Lavinia blossomed. She behaved more pleasantly when she was introduced to new people and her conversation with Frances was more animated. She was still a little subdued when with her father, but the surliness seemed to have vanished. Marcus could not fail to notice and he knew the change had been wrought by Frances. She treated her like an adult and never talked down to her, so that they behaved like friends who had known each other all their lives.

  It wrenched his heart to think that if he had married Frances when they were young she would have been the mother of his children and this wonderful affectionate interplay between the two people he loved most in the world would have been Lavinia’s from birth. Frances would have brought his children up to value themselves. They would not have needed to misbehave to be noticed. Why had he not been stronger? Why had he not stood up to his parents and insisted on marrying Frances?

  Oh, he knew the reason. He had been in awe of his noble father, just as Frances said Lavinia was in awe of him. Because he had been told that opposing his ailing mother would kill her and he had loved his mother. That had been moral blackmail of the worst kind; his mother had outlived both his father and his wife and died peacefully only a year previously. Did he want to exert the same sort of influence over his daughter? He could not bear for her to be as unhappy as he had been. Neither could he stand by and watch her come to grief for want of parental guidance. Why was being a father so difficult? He would be glad when his sister arrived to take over. Or would he, if it meant he saw less of Frances Corringham?

  Marcus and Lavinia were riding together along Rotten Row early one morning when they met Frances, accompanied by her stepson, riding toward them. Frances looked every inch the aristocrat in her dark blue taffeta habit, cut to fit her neat waist. Its neckline was filled with a lace jabot, tied like a man’s cravat. On her head was a copy of a man’s riding hat, except that it was decked with a tiny veil and a sweeping peacock feather. She was riding a tall dappled grey, which he thought a trifle too powerful for her, but she controlled it easily, as they drew up to greet each other.

  ‘Your Grace.’ She was, as usual politeness itself, but nothing more. There was no warmth in her smile until she turned to Lavinia, when her face lit up with pleasure. ‘Lavinia, how charming you look. That forest green suits you. Perhaps I should have painted you on a horse, after all.’

  ‘You can always do another, my lady,’ Lavinia said, laughing and making the feather on her riding hat dance. Then she turned to James, who seemed to be mesmerised by her. ‘My lord. How do you do?’

  ‘All the better for having met you, my lady.’

  Marcus frowned and looked at Frances, who met his gaze unflinchingly. James was only paying the girl a pretty compliment and, as he had already given his assurance that he had no designs on her, she was not going to let herself be cowed by black looks from Marcus Stanmore.

  ‘Papa, can we not all ride together?’ Lavinia asked. ‘That is, if you would like it, my lady,’ she added to Frances.

  ‘I should like that very much.’ She wheeled her horse about to draw abreast of Lavinia, but James beat her to it. Reluctantly she fell in beside a brooding Marcus to follow them.

  ‘Is the Earl staying with you, my lady?’ he asked in a low voice, so that the two young people could not hear.

  She knew his reason for asking very well. He did not like the idea of Lavinia becoming infatuated with the young man, which to her mind was very unreasonable of him. True, Lavinia was very young and James was something of a scapegrace, but he was by no means ineligible and who was not to say he would not settle down and make a good husband, especially when he came into control of his inheritance? ‘No, your Grace, he lives in chambers in Albany when he is in Town.’

  ‘But he visits?’

  ‘Naturally, he visits. I should be sad if he did not. But if you are uneasy about Lavinia, I beg you not to be. I assure you, she is always chaperoned.’

  ‘Thank you. She is too young to be able to deal with young rakes.’

  ‘James is not a rake,’ she said sharply. ‘And do you not think it would be better to allow her to meet a few young men so that she may learn how to deal with them?’

  ‘Time enough for that next year.’

  ‘And next year, no doubt, she will be thrown in among all manner of men, old and young, eligible and otherwise, and be expected to choose a husband. It is not easy for a young lady of seventeen to separate the honourable from the dishonourable. It is all too easy for her to be taken in by a flattering tongue.’ She paused and added heavily, ‘Believe me, I know.’

  ‘That, my lady, was as low a blow as ever I have dealt.’

  She smiled in spite of herself. ‘Then I beg your pardon. I will aim higher next time.’

  He sighed. ‘The trouble is that Vinny thinks she knows it all…’

  ‘A failing of most young people, as you must know. Can you not remember what it was like to be young?’

  ‘Only too well. I would not have my children make my mistakes.’

  She laughed. ‘Your errors belong to you, sir. The younger generation will make their own and learn by them too, as we all have to do.’

  He wanted to ask her if she had learned by her mistakes, but decided not to risk a put-down. Instead he said, ‘That is a very liberated doctrine, my lady, and I am not at all sure I can subscribe to it. Already Lavinia is getting above herself. She thinks I should allow her to go to Lady Willoughby’s masked ball. Did you put the idea into her head?’

  ‘No, I did not. A masked ball is not suitable for a young lady of sixteen, not yet out. I doubt Lady Willoughby will invite her.’

  ‘No, but she has invited me and Vinny thinks I could persuade her. Which, of course, I will not.’

  A little shiver of dread, of anticipation, of she knew not what, coursed through Frances at the news that he had been invited. She had received her own invitation and it was taken for granted she would accept, but would he go? ‘You are right, my lord, Lady Lavinia must wait until she has come out before attending such a function, but I can imagine her disappointment.’ She paused. ‘I have an idea. I have been thinking of having a soirée at my home, just a few friends, young and old, with some music and a little country dancing. Would you allow Lady Lavinia to attend that? It might recompense her a little.’

  ‘It is very kind of you, my lady.’

  ‘Not at all. I have become very fond of Lavinia.’

  ‘So I have noticed,’ he said laconically. ‘I believe the feeling is reciprocated.’

  ‘You do not mind?’

  ‘Not in the least. It pleases me.’ His sombre eyes became two shades lighter as he allowed his smile to reach his eyes and illuminate his face. When he looked at her like that, her heart turned over and she had to remind herself he had always been a rake, that if the rumour was true, he kept a mistress and had had a child by her. She must not allow herself to be taken in by him a second time.

  ‘Then I shall make the arrangements. Perhaps you would allow Lavinia to help me, if she wishes to, that is.’

  ‘Yes, of course.’

  The young couple were drawing a little too far ahead and they hastened to catch them. A few minutes later they reached the gate where they parted company. James bade Lavinia goodbye with great civility and she blu
shed prettily before riding off beside her father. Frances watched them go, then turned for home, knowing she was becoming more and more involved with the Duke of Loscoe and all because of his pretty daughter.

  Her emotions rode a seesaw; being in his company was both pleasure and pain and yet she could not walk away from it. It was her destiny to love him until the day she died, but that was something she would keep to herself.

  Lavinia was enthusiastic about the soirée; her very own dance, she called it and spent more time than usual at Corringham House helping Frances to make the arrangements. Marcus left them to it, which was just as well, Frances told herself, she did not want him fussing around telling her what she should and should not do.

  They were writing out the invitations one morning when a message arrived from Mrs Thomas that there was a problem at the orphanage and Mrs Randall was needed. Frances laid down her pen and sent Creeley to ask for the tilbury to be harnessed and brought to the door.

  ‘We will have to finish these tomorrow,’ she told Lavinia. ‘I must go up and change and then I will take you home before I go on.’

  ‘May I come with you to the orphanage?’ Lavinia asked, when they were seated in the tilbury and weaving their way in and out of the traffic in Piccadilly. ‘I should like to see the children.’

  ‘I am not sure your papa would approve, Lavinia.’

  ‘Why not? He subscribes to the orphanage and I cannot see what harm it would do. Oh, please, Countess.’

  In the event, the decision was taken out of Frances’s hands for when they reached Stanmore House, the Duke was out and Miss Hastings had gone to the library; there was no one into whose hands she could deliver her charge. They rode on to Monmouth Street. ‘You will notice that I am known as Mrs Randall at the home,’ she told Lavinia. ‘They believe I am the Countess’s companion. So please keep my secret.’