But her luck was out. She had hardly got Starlight beyond the entrance of the park when the Duke of Devonshire rode up to join her. Almost, in her misery, she would have enjoyed snubbing him—as a Duke—but, as a man, it was impossible. He was too gentle, too kind. And besides, it was not his fault that she had not enjoyed his ball. She complimented him on it properly and he in return congratulated her on her fresh appearance and bewailed her early departure the night before. ‘I had hoped to have had the pleasure of leading you in to breakfast.’
She murmured something, she knew not exactly what, about her own disappointment, and Lady Beresford, and then regretted it, when he took her up exactly as she least wished.
‘Yes,’ he said, ‘you are, I apprehend, in Lady Beresford’s charge for the season?’
It was the question of all others she most longed to avoid, but now it must be hedged somehow. ‘I am living,’ she hated herself for the evasion, ‘with Lady Beresford’s mother.’ How long could the pretence last? She had been insane not to foresee all this. Suppose the Duke actually intended to propose for her hand. What could she tell him? That the Miss Fairbank he wooed was in reality Miss Purchas, a fugitive from her home? The only thing, she thought gloomily, that was genuine about her was her fortune which was doubtless why the Duke and such dandies as Leatherhead who, now, to her great relief, joined them, were apt, instinctively, to hang about her. Well, if her uncle had not managed to play ducks and drakes with it before she came of age, her fortune bade fair to be her only consolation. She would retire with it to Paris, refuge of tarnished names, or set up for a lady bountiful, dispensing soup and unwelcome advice, in some remote country district. For all the flirtation that she was automatically carrying on with Leatherhead and the Duke, it was plain that she would never, never marry.
But she had missed some remark of Leatherhead’s. She looked at him in polite enquiry.
‘I knew it,’ he reined his grey in more closely beside Starlight. ‘Miss Fairbank is in the dreams today. I was telling the Duke of the latest on dit: they say there was a duel fought at Wimbledon Mill this morning, and two of his guests the protagonists.’
‘Not guests of mine when they quarrelled,’ said the Duke. ‘That I apprehend, was at Watier’s. I had thought Mainwaring a cooler head than to fight over so trifling a cause.’
‘Mainwaring?’ She started.
‘I had quite forgot. He is your Duchess’s grandson, is he not? Well, you can set her heart at rest when you go home. See, here he comes. And in Harriette Wilson’s carriage, too,’ he added in an undertone to Leatherhead.
‘You see, I am right,’ answered Leatherhead, obviously pursuing some earlier argument. ‘She was undoubtedly the cause and now fêtes the victor. But, Miss Fairbank, we neglect you shamefully. Tell me you will be at Almack’s tonight to justify the fatigue of knee buckles. Did you hear, Duke, that Willis turned away the Beau himself the other night for having the temerity to appear in trousers?’
‘Turned away Wellington? Willis is a brave man.’
‘No braver than the dowager who turned the Beau out of her pew in Deal. But, Miss Fairbank, I await your answer. Am I to mortify myself in court dress and be rewarded by your hand for the quadrille or are you, alas, promised elsewhere?’
Jennifer, who had overheard the entire interchange between Leatherhead and the Duke, and whose eyes had been involuntarily following the vis-à-vis in which Mainwaring was flirting so obviously with the notorious Harriette, now collected her wits: ‘Indeed, sir, I believe we are to attend Almack’s with Lady Sefton’s party,’ she said. ‘I shall be most happy to dance the quadrille with you.’
‘And the waltz with me,’ said the Duke.
Accepting, her cup of happiness should have been full. Was he not the most eligible bachelor in town? But her eyes were still following the carriage where Harriette Wilson’s white velvet bonnet, with its flaunting plumes, nodded so close to Mainwaring’s head. Had he really fought a duel this morning? And about Harriette Wilson? But Leatherhead was claiming her attention.
‘I observed, ma’am, that the town is filling up. I have seen Petersham’s brown carriage this morning, and here, if I mistake not, comes Lady Laverstoke, fresh up from the country and languishing as ever.’
The name made Jennifer start and turn. And there, indeed, approaching at a distance, was Lady Laverstoke’s well-known barouche, yellow liveries and all. Madness not to have expected such an encounter. She put an anguished hand to her head, pleaded a headache which her previous absentness did much to justify to her concerned companions, turned Starlight quickly about and made for the park gates. The Duke and Leatherhead rode beside her till she reached them, full of concern and condolence, urgent that she return home and recover herself, pressing that she should not fail them at Almack’s. It was all very flattering and yet curiously tedious. She left them with relief to ride home in the pleasantly silent company of James, the groom. By now, the headache she had feigned had become a disagreeable reality. It was in throbbing misery that she reached Grosvenor Square.
But her hopes of rest and solitude were thwarted. She found Lady Beresford sitting with the Duchess.
‘There you are at last, my dear,’ said Lady Beresford, giving her one of her highly perfumed kisses. ‘I have been waiting for you this age to tell you again how sorry I was we could not take you up last night.’
Hard, bright little eyes probed at Jennifer’s composure, but she was ready for the attack. ‘Indeed, it was nothing, ma’am. Lord Mainwaring was so good as to escort me.’
‘Mainwaring?’ said her ladyship on a rising note. ‘And that reminds me, the most amazing story is going round the town. Have you heard it, ma’am?’ she asked her mother.
‘A story about George? There are so many,’ said his grandmother. ‘Not, I collect, the old one about his wager with Alvanley?’
‘No, no, nothing so paltry. This, I fear, will shock you a little. That is why I thought it best to tell you myself.’
‘You have taken your time about it,’ said her shrewd mother. ‘You have sat here this half-hour and talked of nothing more significant than India muslin and the Princess Charlotte. Perhaps you wished Miss Fairbank too to have the benefit of your on dit?’
This shot went too near the bone for either Jennifer’s comfort or Lady Beresford’s. Reddening, she muttered something about having clean forgot the matter till Jennifer’s mention of Mainwaring reminded her. ‘But the short of the matter is, ma’am, that he has fought a duel.’
The Duchess laughed. ‘Another? Is that such a piece of news? I collect he is not injured?’
‘A grazed cheek, no more. But you have not asked for his opponent.’
‘No,’ said the old lady, ‘why should I? George is not such a fool as to have killed him. But I apprehend you wish me to ask why they fought.’
Lady Beresford reddened still more around her rouge. She was never a match for her mother. ‘Nothing of the kind, ma’am; I only wish it could be kept from you. But I would rather you heard the unpalatable truth from me than from another. His opponent was Mad Mandeville’ (again the sharp eyes darted to Jennifer) ‘and they fought’ (she paused in seeming embarrassment) ‘they fought over Harriette Wilson.’
‘Did they so?’ The Duchess sounded amused. ‘I knew she had sent George one of her letters, but hardly thought the matter had gone further. But, since I see you must tell me, how is poor Mr Mandeville?’
‘Wounded in the left arm, ma’am. It seems he resented some familiarity of Mainwaring’s with Miss Wilson at Watier’s this morning.’
But her mother stopped her. ‘That will do, Jane. It is hardly a subject for Miss Fairbank’s ears.’
Defeated, Lady Beresford flounced angrily out of the room, only to be waylaid in the hall by Marsham.
‘Oh, my lady, what shall I do? Her grace has given me my notice.’
‘Her grace? You?’ Lady Beresford did not need to simulate astonishment and concern.
‘Yes. This very morni
ng and I am to go at once, my lady, as if I had never served her so faithfully all these years. In truth, my heart is breaking; I have hardly the strength to pack my box, and as for where to go, I have no more idea than a baby.’ She paused and waited sharply for Lady Beresford’s reaction.
It was not what she had hoped for. Lady Beresford had no intention of taking this now useless tool into her own house. But, on the other hand, she was well aware of the danger she would run if she affronted Marsham. She thought for a moment. Then, ‘Come, Marsham,’ she said, ‘do not put yourself into such a pucker. I have thought of the very thing for you. My friend Lady Laverstoke is but yesterday come to town and is new forming her establishment. I will give you a line for her which will, I am sure, make all smooth for you.’
If Marsham was disappointed, she was too clever to show it. An hour later she was admitted to the house Lady Laverstoke had taken in Bruton Street and received with open arms by her new mistress, whose own maid had formed an attachment for the bailiff on the Sussex estate and had given in her notice rather than be separated from him by this visit to London. Lady Laverstoke, who had never dressed herself in her life and who had been dependent, the night before, on the bungling ministrations of a housemaid, was more than delighted to engage Marsham and was soon chattering away to her as if she had known her all her life, while Marsham went straight to work to prepare her for her first appearance of the season at Almack’s.
‘Though really,’ sighed Lady Laverstoke, ‘it is such a fret to prevail upon dear Charles to accompany one, I sometimes wonder whether it is worth the pains. He would much liefer be losing his money with his low friends at Limmer’s—if he would only do it elegantly at Brooks’ it would not be so bad. Or better still if he would fix his attentions on some suitable girl: but sometimes I am in despair of him; he cares no more for girls than his little brothers. Yes,’ she broke off to admire her reflection in the glass, ‘that is excellent. I have always wished to try my hair à la giraffe but poor silly Edwards could never compass it. I begin to think I shall do very well without her.’
‘Indeed,’ Marsham sniffed, ‘I believe your ladyship is well rid of her. The condition of your gowns...But I will say no more.’
‘Nor need you, Marsham. I can see we shall suit excellently. And truly I have been so dogged with ill luck it has quite distracted me. First there was poor Milward—the governess, you know, who ran off with the curate and not a penny to bless themselves with so that I am sure they will end by coming on the parish, and no more than she deserves for leaving me so in the lurch. And then when I thought I had got Miss Fairbank to replace her and she seemed such a treasure—why, she proved nothing but a fribble after all. What is it?’
For Marsham had paused, a bunch of artificial poppies suspended over Lady Laverstoke’s high-piled curls: ‘Miss Fairbank?’ she asked.
‘Yes, my late governess. Most strongly recommended to me by my cousin, Miss Faversham, and to all appearances a treasure. Why, the children actually minded her. I never saw the like of it. And if she did play some hoydenish tricks, well, she was but a young thing after all, as I told Lord Mainwaring. I confess I was a thought anxious when it seemed Charles was épris in that direction; but Mainwaring soon took care of that, and though I was sad to have them leave, yet it seemed all for the best. I think the poppies a little further this way, do not you?’
Marsham, who had been listening with fixed attention as she put the finishing touches to her new mistress’s coiffure, hastily complied, paid the expected compliment to Lady Laverstoke’s taste and then steered her back to the matter in hand: ‘And Miss Fairbank proved unsatisfactory after all?’
‘Unsatisfactory? Worse; a thousand times worse. Why, you never heard the like of it. Milward and her curate was bad enough, but at least she had the common courtesy to leave me a note, explaining she was off to Gretna Green, or wherever that kind of person goes to be married out of hand. But as for Miss Fairbank! She just disappeared, scarce a sennight after Mainwaring took Charles away, and the children at their most restless, poor little lambs, because of their brother’s being gone so suddenly. I declare, I did not know which way to turn. And indeed Mainwaring might have saved himself the pains and stayed—for they always mind him—if we had but known she was going to do anything so inconsiderate. But it is always the way, no one has the least consideration for my feelings, just because I am a widow, and have no husband to protect me.’
‘You had not considered,’ Marsham paused for a moment to resettle a recalcitrant curl and make sure of her ground. ‘You had not thought that the two departures might be in any way connected?’
‘Connected? You are pleased to be insolent, Marsham. You suggest that my son, that Lord Laverstoke...’ She paused, speechless for once.
‘No, no,’ Marsham pacifically held a hand mirror so that her new mistress might see the elegant back of her head. ‘I am sure Lord Laverstoke is far too much the gentleman for such carryings on, but from what I have heard of Lord Mainwaring...’ She waited anxiously for Lady Laverstoke’s reaction.
‘Oh, Mainwaring.’ She paused for a moment, ogling her reflection in the glass. ‘Yes, I had not thought of that. He has, it is true, something of a reputation. But I have never credited much that I have heard. He is, I must tell you, the guardian of my children and most punctilious in their care. And now he is to be a duke...’
‘I have never understood,’ said Marsham, greatly daring, ‘that such elevation necessarily had a sobering effect on a gentleman. But, my lady, I am loth to tell you what I think it well you should know...’ She paused, assuming an air of diffidence while she considered rapidly how best to tell her story.
‘Well? You kill me with curiosity. Proceed, Marsham. What is it that I should know?’
‘My lady,’ said Marsham with an air of frankness, ‘it makes it exceeding awkward that he should be the guardian of your children, but I think it still more my duty to tell you that my former mistress, the Duchess of Lewes, has for many weeks past had under her protection a Miss Fairbank who was, unless I am much mistaken, committed to her charge by Lord Mainwaring himself.’
‘Lord Mainwaring? Miss Fairbank? Impossible! You are trifling with me, Marsham.’
‘Indeed, my lady, I wish I were. For, from what you have told me, it would seem that my poor lady has been most grievously imposed upon. We always thought Miss Fairbank an impostor, ma’am, a snake in the nest, but we had no idea of such treachery, such duplicity...’
‘We, Marsham? This has been a matter then for the servants’ hall?’
‘No, no, ma’am, I would not so demean myself. I should, in truth, have said Lady Beresford and I, for, you must know, I have known her ladyship ever since she was the most winning baby that ever cut tooth or wore curlers, and feel for her quite as if she was my own child. And indeed, ma’am—my lady, I should say—this predilection of her mother’s for an unknown upstart like Miss Fairbank is not at all what she could like.’
‘No,’ said Lady Laverstoke shrewdly. ‘I dare swear it is not. The Duchess still holds the purse-strings, I collect, since the Duke is no better than in Bedlam, poor man. But tell me, does Miss Fairbank go into society?’
‘Into society! I should just about think she does. You will meet her tonight at Almack’s, my lady, and had best decide what you propose to say to her. She is quite the talk of the town, I can tell you, with the Duke of Devonshire and I don’t know who else dangling after her. There is a story afloat that she has a fortune. I know not who put it about, but the results are easily enough to be seen. I do not know when I have seen the Duchess’s house so gay as since she has been living there. Morning callers, bouquets, billets doux...It has quite made her grace young again. And all for a fraud, my lady, a one-time governess, if, I hope, no worse.’ Marsham’s ominous pause made it clear how very much worse she in fact hoped the case to be.
‘And Mainwaring introduced her to the Duchess?’ Lady Laverstoke returned to this point. ‘I can hardly credit it. I knew his
morals have never been of the most immaculate, but surely his manners must preclude such an imposition. Quick, Marsham, the hare’s-foot and the rouge. I must make time to visit Lady Beresford before I go to Almack’s. She, I apprehend, knows nothing of all this. We must put our heads together as to what is best to be done.’
‘Excellent, my lady, the very thing of all others I should have recommended. Lady Beresford will be only too happy to take Miss Fairbank down a peg, I can tell you, for indeed her success has been excessively hard on my poor Miss Pamela. But how will you contrive, my lady, for her grace has so prevailed upon poor Lady Beresford that there is nothing for her but to take up Miss Fairbank and give her the undeserved benefit of her protection at Almack’s or wherever else she goes. Unless, of course, her grace goes tonight herself, as, now I recollect, she well may, for I believe she was promised to join Lady Sefton’s party.’
‘Good,’ said Lady Laverstoke picking up gloves and fan. ‘And if not, let me alone to contrive something.’ Pausing for one last, satisfied glance at her new coiffure in the glass, she hurried away to tease her son into spoiling half a dozen more cravats than usual in her efforts to hasten his dressing. At last, he begged her to go on to Lady Beresford’s without him, promising to meet her at Almack’s.
This suited her well enough, and she was still more pleased to find Lady Beresford alone, attending, with the help of her maid, to the last refinements of her costume. Pamela, she explained, had gone to Lady Sefton’s with the Duchess and Miss Fairbank.
‘Ah,’ said Lady Laverstoke, with deep meaning, ‘the very subject. My dearest life, hasten your toilette, I beg of you. I must speak to you alone.’
Puzzled and intrigued, Lady Beresford hurried to dismiss her maid, and her friend then lost no time in pouring out the tale of Marsham’s discoveries. This time she told the story of Miss Fairbank’s governess-ship in full, making the most of such scandalous exploits as her borrowing of Lord Mainwaring’s horse and her excursion in Laverstoke’s carriage.
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