Philip looked at Edward. “Do you agree with Mama, Edward?”
“It appears that Staunton has no great case against you. My lawyer, Denny, thought any such prosecution would likely fail for lack of evidence.”
“Staunton won’t forget and is certain to pursue it with vigour. I took Celia away from him, remember, and he will never forgive me.”
“That hussy bringing all this trouble on the family! The Blackwoods always had more hair than wit.”
The blood surged up into Philip’s pale cheeks and he stepped forward. For a second, Alice thought he would strike their mother because his face had become distraught. She quickly put herself between them. The gesture was enough to make Philip recollect himself. He walked over to the table and picked up his hat and gloves. He looked at the group and bowed.
“It is time I left you. Mama, your obedient.” He turned on his heel and even though he heard his mother’s cry of “Philip!” he did not stop. Alice and Edward followed him out of the room and shut the door firmly behind them. A distant ringing told them that the Countess was tugging at the bell pull. They hurried down the stairs and caught up with Philip in the foyer of the hotel.
“Don’t heed her, Philip. You know she lacks any vestige of tact,” Alice said breathlessly as she grasped hold of his arm and forced him to halt. “She warned us that she was not mealy-mouthed, if you remember.”
A slight grin was her reward for this sally. “Indeed she did, but I won’t allow anyone, including Mama, to insult Celia’s memory.”
“She is distracted by the need to persuade you to go home.”
“Then she is approaching it in entirely the wrong way. It’s not like you to take her side, Alice.” She saw the reproach on his face and responded to it.
“I’m not; I’m just more used to her ways. You’ve been away from her for years and I have not.”
“I’d better leave before I say something I regret.”
“No, don’t go,” Edward said. “I would like to talk to you, without your mother being present.” He called to one of the lackeys and they were shown into the empty dining room. Candles were hurriedly lit and they sat down.
“I shall put flowers on Celia’s grave tomorrow,” Alice promised, taking hold of Philip’s hand. “That is three deaths this year among our family and friends. Let us hope that the cycle of bad luck is finished.”
“I can’t say I grieve for Papa or Julian. We weren’t close and neither of them would expect me to. Nor would they grieve for me, but Julian’s death must have been a blow to both our parents.”
“I have never understood Mama,” Alice confessed. “I haven’t seen her cry for Julian or for Papa. They were her first born and the husband that she married for love, or so we were told. Why even Matilda showed more emotion at the funeral.”
“Matilda would!”
“I thought that Mama was angry because their deaths mean that she is no longer the Countess. As a dowager, she would be replaced as soon as you bring home a wife.”
Philip’s laugh did not ring true. “Small chance of that. I can hardly claim my inheritance with or without a wife, can I?”
“That is what I want to talk to you about,” Edward said. “I have been considering your situation, ever since I learned of your father’s death and realised what it must mean for you. That is why I spoke to my lawyer before I left England, so I could give you the correct information. From what Alice has told me, there are two charges that might be brought against you, the attempted murder of Staunton and the masquerade you perpetuated last summer in London.”
“It wasn’t a masquerade. As I explained to Alice at the time, the name I used was as much my own as Philip Sutherland.”
“Society understood you to be French and an agent of the previous government.”
“Both true, but I am Mama’s son not just Papa’s and a French citizen as well as an English one. I was acting as a courier sent over to carry documents to the Prince Regent on behalf of the Emperor, a task I completed in public. There was no secret of the fact.”
“You would be seen by certain people as an Englishman who served Bonaparte when he was waging war against your country. That makes you a traitor.”
“I was neither a soldier nor a spy. I fought against nobody. A translator at the Foreign Ministry has little power to influence the course of events and Caulaincourt, my master, worked hard to secure peace. I assisted both countries, even though his efforts were unsuccessful in the end. No one asked me to commit treason against England and, if they had, I would have refused. I came to London openly, completed my given task and left.”
“You argue well but I doubt your explanation would be accepted by the authorities at home if they learned of the affair.”
“I agree with Edward,” Alice said. “You disguised yourself and told no one your true name. Captain Roper suspected you and so did his superiors at the Admiralty.”
“How many people in London wear wigs or dye their hair? It’s not a crime as far as I know. I used another of my titles; noblemen do that occasionally. As for Roper, I regret that I wasn’t able to explain to him what I was about. He’s an honourable man and a good friend. I was sorry to deceive him but I couldn’t tell him what was happening. He would have felt obliged to intervene and stop me.”
“We will carry a letter to him when we return to England, if you wish. He is part of our family, now he is married to my sister, Kitty, and therefore likely to keep the secret to himself, since you did nothing to damage the country.”
“I’d like you to do that. I owe him an explanation and apology.”
“If Philip came home, Edward, would he be arrested?”
“Denny says not. If Philip avoids London and lives quietly on his estates for a few years, his activities last summer would be soon forgotten unless they were brought to people’s attention. The other matter as I said before, is also likely to fail.”
“Have you seen or heard from Staunton?” Philip asked.
“He’s unlikely to come anywhere near me after our duel but, to answer your question, no, he hasn’t frequented London society since, to my knowledge. Should he appear, he could be charged with abducting Alice, if I allowed her to put herself through the ordeal of giving evidence against him, which I would never do. I suspect that he, too, is living quietly out of sight. I wounded him and he may still be recovering.”
Philip grinned. “He doesn’t seem to be fortunate when he encounters our family. Bad cess to him. If he wants me, no doubt he will be able to find me.” Philip repressed the impulse to speak about Mr. Charville’s visit and the message he had sent to his foe. Time enough to tell Edward if Staunton appeared and challenged him to a duel. As for Alice, he had no wish to frighten her with the prospect which he hoped would occur but she assuredly would not. Lost in his thoughts, Philip almost missed what Edward was saying,
“Staunton’s evidence is his word against yours.”
Philip smiled. “Knowing Staunton, he would bribe enough people to bear witness against me and I would be obliged to lie. I did challenge him and try my best to kill him. He was lucky to live, but I was younger then and in a flame of rage. I wouldn’t make a mistake again.”
“You’re still bloodthirsty I see. Then we must ensure that the affair does not come to court.”
“You would be bloodthirsty too if Alice was standing in Celia’s place.”
“I was.” Edward smiled at the memory. “Yet I contrived to let the man live. Discretion is sometimes a good policy to adopt.”
“I shall consider it.” Philip stood up. “But it is getting late and I must go.” He hugged his sister and gave his hand to Edward who said,
“Alice and I will be leaving here in a week or so and going on to Grenoble. We would be pleased if you would come with us.”
“I thank you for the offer but, at the moment, I can’t leave Paris, whatever Mama may think. The Salle is so busy and I owe Marco for many favours. I’m not free to come and go as I please and I mus
t pay my rent.”
“As to that, I can advance you funds if you are purse-pinched. Call it a gift or a loan against the estate, whichever you wish.”
“Mighty good of you, Edward. I don’t need anything at this time but if I do, I will certainly remember your offer.”
“What did you think?” Alice asked as soon as the door had shut behind him.
“He is a young man who has not yet emerged from the shadow of the last few months. He’s groping towards the light but something is pulling him back. I wonder what it is?”
Chapter Seven
The next few days passed pleasantly enough for Alice and Edward but their presentation to Louis XVIII proved to be something of an anti-climax. One misty afternoon, Lady Kirkmore, Alice, Edward and Miss Talbot entered a carriage for the short journey to the palace. The Countess had insisted that Philip should come with them as the new Earl but Philip explained,
“I have no wish to draw the attention of the court to my existence.”
“Nonsense,” the Countess snorted in reply, but all her efforts did not persuade him to change his mind. Visiting the palace was a strange experience. The building itself and the entrance hall were imposing, but it was not as well cared for as the palaces and homes of the Ton. Alice noticed dust on ledges and odd, out-of-place articles which she assumed must have been overlooked in the recent transition from one regime to another. Nobody could accuse the new king of a particular fondness for the stern Roman style of Napoleon. When she drew Edward’s attention to an Etruscan vase which stood half hidden in an alcove, he shrugged and said,
“What do you expect? This is a large palace and it’s only a few months since the Imperial Household left.”
“I wonder what it was like when Napoleon lived here.”
“Ask Philip,” he replied dryly. “He is sure to know, but hush we are here now.”
They were shown into an anteroom where a number of people were standing around chatting and obviously waiting for someone or something. Not all the faces were unknown to them, since they had been in Paris for some time now and they had made acquaintances at soirées and balls. One of these, a Madame Durand, came over and spoke to them for a few moments before a door opened and an usher called their names. He led them into a salon, then he stood aside and announced in a loud voice,
“The Countess of Kirkmore, Lady Alice Maitland, Miss Talbot and Sir Edward Maitland.”
Alice saw a group of men surrounding a small table. One, whom she assumed to be the monarch, was seated and was rather more elaborately dressed than the others. He did not rise but the Countess, slightly in front of her, immediately dropped into a court curtsy and Alice copied her. Although she kept her head lowered, Alice observed a pair of buckled shoes approach her mother-in-law and raise her up. She rose also and glanced at this man. He was slight with his grey hair worn loose, dressed in a red velvet coat and satin knee breeches with a large star glittering on his chest. He was speaking to the Countess and she replied, giving him the title of ‘Monsieur’, which alerted Alice to the fact that this must be the king’s brother. The king himself sat in an armchair with his foot resting on a stool. Alice recalled that she had been told he suffered from gout and often had to use a wheelchair. A fat personage with a lined puffy face, he did not possess either the elegance of his brother nor his easy speech. He gruffly welcomed the Countess back to France and said he was pleased to meet all of them. He hoped to see them at court functions in the future. A few more trivialities were exchanged and then the king turned a little away. Recognising this as a dismissal, they bowed or curtseyed and backed out of the room as the Countess had warned them to do.
In the carriage, returning to the hotel, Edward asked,
“What did you think of King Louis?”
“He is not what I expected,” Alice replied.
“In what way?”
“I supposed he might be like the Prince Regent, older of course but still…”
“Hardly a figure of romance. What do you say, Miss Talbot?”
“Everyone was so stiff. I thought he seemed bored to tears.”
“He probably was.”
“It was very different at Versailles when I was a girl, with a young king and queen on the throne. She was pretty, Marie Antoinette. Poor woman; God rest her soul.”
The Countess appeared depressed after they returned to the hotel and she immediately retired to her room.
“Edward, do you think Mama is quite well?” Alice asked anxiously.
“Perhaps she remembered the way things used to be and is comparing them to the present day.”
“Should I go in to her and try to cheer her up?”
“Shall I find out for you, Lady Alice?” Grace offered and Alice nodded in relief. Accordingly, Grace went to the bedroom but was quickly sent away.
“The Countess just wants to rest and says she will see you at dinner,” she reported.
The mood of quiet depression stayed with the Countess for a few days. Although the rest of the family entered into all the festivities of Paris, it seemed to Alice as if her mother drifted through them with little pleasure. For herself, it was a wonderful time. With her husband beside her, she enjoyed herself enormously even though she was sorry to see the Countess’s dejection and unable to find a way of relieving her sadness.
The young couple went to the opera, the theatre, to balls and soirées. They encountered a few old friends and made many new ones, receiving invitations to the opera, the theatre and to elegant dinners with dancing to follow. The Countess accompanied them when she knew their hosts, but sometimes chose to remain in her rooms. Miss Talbot also joined them from time to time if Lady Kirkmore had need of her services. One day, the two young women were alone in the salon. It had started to rain so heavily that any thought of leaving the hotel had to be dismissed. Alice asked,
“Do you like Paris, Grace?” They had long since discarded the use of formality in private.
Grace clapped her hands. “Oh, so much!”
“Despite having to wait on my mother?”
“I never expected to go anywhere, so I am determined to enjoy myself. I may never have the chance again.”
Alice looked at her curiously. “What do you think would happen to you in the future?”
Grace smiled, “I will stay with your mother or perhaps some other lady, if she no longer needs me, and continue to live the life I am living now.”
“You would not like to go back and teach?”
“Girls can be extremely naughty and ignorant. It’s tiring work. Sometimes it can be delightful, but more often it is tedious.”
“It can’t be more tedious than running errands for my mother.”
“Believe me, it is.”
“Don’t you hope to marry some day?”
“Every girl does, but who would have me? I’m growing older and I was never a beauty even when I was young. I have no fortune and people call me a bluestocking because I was once a teacher.”
“You may not be a diamond of the first water but if you dressed differently and wore your hair is another style, you would be very pretty.”
Grace laughed. “On that, we must agree to differ. I could never be pretty.”
“Shall we put it to the test?” Alice was in a mischievous mood and had longed to make changes to Grace’s appearance.
“Lady Kirkmore would not like it. She would say that I was putting myself forward unbecomingly and she would be right.”
“Why should she know anything about it? She told me she expected to be back late from Madame Leroy’s so we have some time. I have a famous notion. If you agree, my maid and I will give you a different style. Then when Edward and Philip return, I shall say you are my new friend and see how long it takes them to recognise you.” Alice thought that Grace’s eyes opened a little wider when she heard Philip’s name, but all she said was,
“I wonder if I dare?”
“Of course you do. I’ll engage to shield you from Mama, if that becomes necess
ary. I will go and call Barrett now.”
Grace stood in Alice’s bedchamber while Alice and her dresser held up dress after dress against her. Restricted as they were by the conventions of mourning, the dresses were simple and in a small range of colours. Eventually a white gown was selected, embroidered with silver thread in a pattern of stars. Grace experienced a pang of envy. In that dress, she could imagine herself the heroine in one of her dreams, about to go to the ball and meet her prince.
“How fortunate it is that we are similar in size,” Alice said. “You’re a little taller than me but not enough to matter and you are thinner, with such a good figure. I really must stop eating bonbons even though they are so delicious here.”
Grace sat at the dressing table with a gown around her shoulders while Bennett took down her braids and unravelled them. Grace’s dark hair was brushed out and Bennett snipped at the ends with a pair of scissors to give it more style. Then it was twisted up on top of her head, with one or two fronds allowed to fall to each side. Bennett had not brought curlers, ‘because milady does not need them’, so these strands were plaited with silver ribbons and looped over her ears. Then her dress was carefully lowered over her head and Bennett started to do up the tiny buttons at the back.
“Stop! Oh, stop!” Grace cried suddenly.
“Whatever is the matter?”
“The neckline is so low! I could never wear anything like this. I would feel undressed.”
Alice giggled. “No it is not, I assure you. It’s just that you aren’t used to the style. I wore something even lower when I made my debut. No one will remark on it at all.”
Grace stared at her. “I did not make a debut…”
“Why not?”
“My father said there was no need. He believed that such goings on were all vanity and without substance.”
“He was right,” Alice replied, gravely. “Certainly, making a come-out is a frivolous experience, as are many of the things we enjoy, but a little enjoyment is necessary in life. We can always be serious later.”
Lord Philip's Christmas (Regency Belles &Beaux Book 2) Page 6