Maddy blushed furiously and protested that such a thought had never entered her mind. The Earl might be an extremely handsome man, with his dark curling hair and side-whiskers, and those green-flecked eyes that sat so strangely in his tanned face, and he was decidedly a leader of fashion, if in a somber style, but Maddy could only consider his manner arrogant and ungentlemanly. Besides, he was quite old, having reached at least his thirty-fifth year. Maddy put the Earl out of her thoughts. It became increasingly clear that Letty considered her niece’s marriage a monumental task, despite the Duchess’s comments to the contrary. Maddy thought regretfully of the country, where she’d been a belle.
Letty surveyed her niece’s downcast countenance. “Of course, you shall see London, child,” she said, for she was not a heartless woman, “and have your season, as I promised. Even now your cousin Kenelm waits to take you for a drive.” She paused to pour herself a draught. “To wed with undue haste would give rise to scandal, but we must keep our main objective in mind. I’m sure you would not wish to see your father put a period to his existence because of your lack of cooperation.”
“No, ma’am.” Maddy couldn’t imagine her feckless sire engaging in any such act.
“And I am sure,” her aunt continued, “that you are too good a girl to either throw your hat over the windmill or form a lasting passion for a gazetted fortune-hunter.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Maddy contemplated the irony of the latter suggestion. “You may make yourself easy on that score.”
“Then we are in accord.” Letty sank back onto her pillows and passed a frail hand across her eyes. Maddy understood that the interview was at an end.
* * * *
It was a source of some relief that Maddy’s cousins did not seem to share in the knowledge of her circumstances. “Mama was in one of her takings this morning,” said Alathea Jellicoe, a plump damsel with light brown hair and eyes. “Was she still cross when she spoke with you? She gave Kenelm a terrific scold, for one of Mama’s friends reported that he was seen entering a house of vice.”
“It was no such thing!” retorted her brother. “I trust I may attend the theater without falling into dissipation.” He flicked his horses smartly with the reins.
“Not according to Mama. I daresay she’d feel differently if you’d chosen to escort her.” Alathea giggled, and turned to Maddy. “Mama quite despairs of Kenelm. He has no liking for Society, and even worse, wastes his time on useless inventions and in rough company. He was even privileged to assist Richard Trevithick, who is considered one of the greatest mechanical engineers of our time, with his steam engine, which runs on rails.” Alathea’s tone was spiteful, for she had not been among those privileged to witness the exhibition of the locomotive “Catch Me Who Can.” “Mama’s displeasure is often so great that she is forced to take to her bed, but Kenelm has no understanding of her exquisite sensibilities.”
“Mend your tongue,” growled the object of these sentiments, intent on the handling of his reins.
“You’re a beast, Kenelm Jellicoe,” retorted his sister. “And if you continue to treat me so shabbily, I shall go straight to Mama and tell her what I know!”
Maddy thought that Kenelm’s hands tightened on the reins, and wished that her cousins would stop squabbling long enough to allow her to enjoy her drive. Although Alathea had not inherited her mother’s fragile looks, she could lay definite claim to Letty’s sharp tongue. Kenelm was a pleasant-looking man in his mid-twenties, brown-haired and blue-eyed, whose careless attire proclaimed him a sporting gentleman. Maddy overlooked, with effort, the Belcher handkerchief, blue spotted with white, that Kenelm wore as a neck cloth.
The West End streets were crowded with elegant carriages, and the clatter of wheels assaulted Maddy’s ears. She stared entranced at tilburies and curricles, tandems and phaetons, all drawn by nervous, glossy steeds. London was a great collection of diverse building materials: soot-darkened bricks of brown and yellow and aging red; streaked yellow and white and gray stone. Maddy gazed at superb townhouses, some of which boasted Greek pediments and porticoes and colonnades, huge statuary and handsome reliefs. Street sellers hawked their wares. She wondered if the city’s inhabitants ever grew accustomed to the incessant din.
“Mama,” whispered Alathea, “thought that you might do for Kenelm, since he shows so little inclination to choose a wife, but I suspect she’s changed her mind. You would not make a notable hostess, and she means him for a political career. In any case, you should be warned: his interests lie elsewhere.”
Maddy stared at her cousin and thought she’d never met such an abominable girl. She was to learn further that Alathea was not the biddable creature she had first appeared, and even so far forgot her station as to converse freely with her little maid. “There, I’ve made you blush!” Alathea exclaimed with glee.
“What cockle-brained thing have you said?” inquired Kenelm in tones that boded ill for his sister’s well-being.
“I told her about your actress!” retorted Alathea, in high spirits. “And she is shocked, as any person of understanding must be.” She turned again to Maddy. “The creature is hardly out of the ordinary way, I’m told, with various oddities of manners, but Kenelm’s affections have become fixed on her. Even were she well connected, it would be unthinkable for a gentleman of Kenelm’s station to ally himself with one who treads the boards.”
“You’re making a Jack-pudding of yourself.” Kenelm cast an apologetic glance at his cousin. “My sister has not enough with which to occupy her thoughts, and must therefore indulge in wild fantasies. I beg that you give the matter no further thought.”
“Gammon!” Alathea cried. “You have been seen on several occasions, dangling at her heels like a lovesick calf, and making a great cake of yourself.” Maddy wondered that Kenelm would accept such insults with equanimity, but Alathea’s next words provided the explanation. “I am surprised that word of this has not yet reached Mama’s ears!”
“No small thanks to you,” Kenelm retorted. “Someday you’ll go your length, my girl!” The matter of Kenelm’s actress did not greatly exercise Maddy’s mind; life with her particular father had led to the early awareness that gentlemen had an inexplicable fondness for such creatures. According to the Lady Henrietta, such popularity did the damsels no lasting good, for they invariably met with unhappy ends. Maddy gazed at the black and maroon mail coach, and neither its scarlet wheels nor the royal coat of arms emblazoned on its doors could brighten her sudden gloom. It was foolish to forget, even momentarily, the uncertainty of her own fate.
“I doubt,” Alathea said smugly, “that it shall come to that. The creature is casting out lures to all who come near her, and Kenelm has fallen neatly into the trap, but she continues to hold him at arm’s length. I suspect she seeks even richer game.”
“You malign the lady.” Kenelm wore a rapt expression. “She is an angel, dark and fair, who has been held down by circumstances, and has no other view but that of making her way in the world.”
“You are quick.” interrupted Alathea, “to take up the cudgels on her behalf.”
“She is little more than a child,” continued Kenelm, ignoring this interruption. “She is mischievous, with an innocence that leads her to view herself, and her circumstances, as a delightful game. Clemence has no idea where such a path as she follows must lead her in the end.” Kenelm spoke the name in tones of such reverence as are normally reserved for the Deity. Maddy glanced at him, startled, for she had once had a school friend by that uncommon name.
“She is but newly on the stage,” Kenelm added, “and has already attracted much attention. Nothing is known of her background, though she is believed to be of good family.”
“And if Mama learns about your tendre for her,” Alathea interposed, “there’ll be the deuce to pay. Must we speak of nothing but your actress? I find her tedious.”
“Not ‘my’ actress,” Kenelm protested. “I have not the most distant reason to suppose that I am at all the
favorite in that quarter.” Maddy found this unexpected humility endearing. Kenelm prepared to escort his charges into Gunther’s, the celebrated Berkeley Square confectioner who specialized in ices, cakes, and biscuits, fine and common sugarplums. “And you, my girl,” he said sternly as he took firm hold of his sister’s arm, “will cease your gabble-mongering or it’ll be bellows to mend with you!”
Had Maddy not been engrossed in her own thoughts, she might have been privileged to view Kenelm’s actress, for that fashionable damsel was an interested witness of their alightment from Kenelm’s well-sprung equipage. The dazzling Clemence impatiently tapped a shapely foot, and appeared likely to accost the small party, but her pale, dark-haired escort dissuaded her. Nor did Kenelm, ushering his charges inside the august establishment, notice this byplay. It was as well; Kenelm had no great love for Alastair Bechard. Clemence, a distracted expression on her mobile features, allowed herself to be led away.
Chapter Four
Maddy was bored. True, she’d learned a great deal about the Jellicoe family since her arrival in London, and had a much better notion of how to properly comport herself, but she was tired of being confined to her aunt’s luxurious, overstaffed home. She thought wistfully of the Duchess’s gentle soliloquy on Pall Mall and St. James Street, Piccadilly and Bond Street, those main thoroughfares of the fashionable world. Kenelm’s promised tour of London had not as yet materialized, and her few outings had been unbearably sedate, for Letty did not wish her niece to be seen racketing around London until after her debut. Maddy vacillated between elation and dejection. She wished to hear no more of her aunt’s strictures on how she must behave, yet what young girl could remain nonchalant when she was about to take her place in Society?
Maddy was yet innocent enough to be dazzled by those illustrious personages whom she had been privileged to glimpse, among them Lord Alvanly, the celebrated wit who almost rivaled Brummel, and Lord Petersham, as famed for his equestrianism as for the strange, voluminous pantaloons that he affected. Maddy had also been privileged to view Hariette Wilson, the much-discussed lady of leisure known by her countless admirers as the Queen of Hearts, but refrained from mentioning that particular incident in any of the lengthy missives that were dispatched with faithful regularity to Whipple House. Maddy glanced warily at her aunt. Claude de Villiers, in a postscriptum to his wife’s latest letter to their only offspring, had expressed strong displeasure that his sister was taking an unconscionable long time to see the thing done.
Blissfully unaware of her brother’s displeasure, Letty was in an excellent mood, a happy state prompted not so much by gratification that the gala evening that she’d organized promised to be a triumph, as by the successful application of a concoction known as Emulsion of Roses. This restorative, which claimed to return the skin to the fresh bloom of youth and to correct the evils of town life, contained such rejuvenating ingredients as Valentia almonds (blanched), rosewater, alcohol (over 60 proof), otto of rose, white wax, oil soap, and spermaceti.
“A young lady,” said Letty, “is the most innocent being in existence.” She frowned at the two girls. “I trust you will remember that. Maddy, your upbringing has been deplorable. I cannot think what your mother meant by allowing you to run wild.”
Maddy suffered this slur in silence. It was not the first time her aunt had maligned her mother’s character, and objection only brought further criticism of her manners.
“Daughters of well-to-do parents with high aristocratic connections,” Letty continued, “are expected to comport themselves becomingly at all times. You will remember that this evening, and will conduct yourselves with the modesty that becomes your station. Sally Jersey and the Princess Lieven will attend, and you cannot hope for vouchers to Almack’s if your demeanor is not all that is proper.” Letty paused to savor her triumph in securing two of the most prominent of the Lady Patronesses for her gala, a feat that would cause a number of aspiring hostesses of her acquaintance to turn green with envy. Alathea’s plump countenance bore signs of boredom, and her mother reflected that at least this one of her offspring would never upset her peace. It was a great pity that the girl had inherited her father’s rather stolid looks. She did not pay for dressing; even in her gown of gossamer satin, with bodice and slashed sleeves of pink, Alathea did not show to advantage. Letty sighed. “Alathea, you may go.”
Maddy watched her cousin depart, curiosity stamped on those chubby features. It was obvious that Letty had last-moment warnings of a private nature to depart, and Maddy knew well that Alathea was not so high-minded as to refrain from listening at keyholes. What use Alathea might make of information pertaining to Claude de Villiers’ financial affairs, Maddy shuddered to think. Longer acquaintance had not lessened the dislike between the girls.
“Now,” said Letty, “your object, Maddy, is to find a husband. I see no reason to refine upon that. Your appeal to the gentlemen will be based upon your air of innocence and those genteel accomplishments that are expected of every young lady of quality. The less you appear to know, the more attractive you will be.”
Maddy was peeved that her face and physical appearance played so little a part in her aunt’s catalogue, but silently smoothed her long evening gloves of fine white kid. Letty, mistaking this lack of response for compliance, continued. “You must not think me cruel. “A young miss like yourself cannot be expected to know the ways of the world. I shall tell you precisely how to go on, and providing you do not run counter to my advice, we shall soon see the thing done. Do you understand?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Maddy reflected that her aunt, whom even the most generous of persons could not characterize as needle-witted, was unquestionably up to all the rigs in regard to the strict code of behavior that governed High Society. Dressed most suitably for the occasion in a gown of white silvered lama, on gauze, with large, straight sleeves fashioned in the Eastern style, Letty appeared to have not a care in the world. Maddy, whose stomach had achieved that interesting state referred to as “butterflies,” and who had already countless times imagined herself committing such unforgivable gaffes as must ruin not only her own chances but the future of everyone even remotely connected with her, glowered at her aunt and burst into unwise speech.
“As I understand you,” Maddy said grimly, “I must make a push to attract a gentleman who is wealthy enough to answer the purpose. He need not be rich as Croesus, only well to pass. I must not be so imprudent as to encourage the advances of someone who is not quite the thing. It would be helpful if the gentleman forms a lasting passion as soon as he claps eyes on me, but we must not expect such good fortune.” Letty, frozen in the act of patting the Turkish turban of bright blue fringed with gold that swathed her fair curls, stared at her niece in horror. “However,” Maddy concluded, “his infatuation must be strong enough that, when he learns of my lack of fortune, he will pay it no heed!”
“I beg you,” said Letty weakly, reaching for her hartshorn, “to curb your tongue! We shall all be ruined if you persist in speaking so. My entire acquaintance would shun me were they to learn of my involvement in so dastardly a scheme as this.” Letty seemed close to tears. “But the alternative, were the world to learn of Claude’s ruin, would be equally dire. You must go through with this, Maddy. There is no other way!”
Maddy was instantly remorseful, and hastened to reassure her aunt. Letty’s momentary gloom was quickly dispelled, for a card that lay upon her dressing table reminded her of a signal triumph that she soon would achieve. “In all the excitement, I forgot to inform you of it, but Wilmington means to attend.” She considered Maddy speculatively. “It seems you misjudged the gentleman’s estimation of you.”
“I am sure,” Maddy replied serenely, “that he is merely being polite.” She had not for a moment doubted that the Earl would appear, not being acquainted with that illustrious gentleman’s perverse disposition or the fact that her aunt had long despaired of enticing him into her home.
“I must be present to greet our guests.�
�� Letty rose. “I only wished to remind you once more of how you must behave.” Maddy surveyed herself in a full-length glass, and privately owned herself pleased with what she saw there. From her fair curls, which were dressed a la Madonna, combed from a center parting and flowing in loose curls on the top of her head, to the tips of her exquisite slippers, she was perfection itself. Maddy imagined Motley’s reaction to such vanity, and smiled. Even that critical and plainspoken lady had found no flaw in Maddy’s appearance, for whatever criticism might be made of Letty Jellicoe, it was hard to fault her in matters of dress. High-waisted, with short puff sleeves, Maddy’s pale blue satin gown was veiled with Brussels lace. The bodice was decorated with three tiny bands of blue piped with white; the skirt boasted two rows of double petals, also piped with white, and the bottom row was a deeper tone of blue.
But one could not spend the entire evening staring at one’s image in a glass. Maddy wrenched her gaze away, and flushed to find her aunt watching her. “The Earl of Wilmington,” Letty repeated thoughtfully. Though Maddy wore what the long-suffering Motley referred to as her innocent look, she had not forgotten her resolution to teach the haughty Earl a well-deserved lesson. She experienced a twinge of anticipation regarding the evening to come.
* * * *
Letty’s optimism was justified; it soon became obvious that her rout would be referred to, in those most enviable of terms, as a decided crush. Maddy was relieved that her aunt had chosen to entertain her illustrious guests in rooms that, with the startling exception of an outsize musical elephant, were less crowded with furniture and bric-a-brac than the remainder of the house. Rich paneling and paintings adorned the walls; the floors were made of marble and the ceiling curved; gilded furniture of the Louis Quinze and Louis Seize periods was arranged elegantly. Were it not for the Savonnerie carpets, embroidered curtains, and Beauvais tapestries that also existed in abundance, Maddy would have suspected that Letty had had little hand in furnishing the rooms.
A Banbury Tale Page 5