Lady Lavinia's Match

by Mary Nichols

  ‘Sorry. I had business that could not wait.’ He advanced into the room, his eyes feasting on her. She looked heart-stoppingly attractive, wearing a voluminous cook’s apron over a spotted cambric day dress. There was still so much of the child about her, innocence and wisdom combined. He hoped she would never change and that if she was so foolish as to insist on marrying Wincote, he would not spoil that. The thought of that possibility made him grit his teeth, but the grimace turned into a crooked smile.

  ‘What business? And what are you laughing at?’

  He touched her cheek with the back of his finger. ‘I am not laughing, my dear, simply smiling because you look so…’ He paused, wondering how to describe what he saw, the child-woman, the cheeks pink from exertion and hair coming adrift from its pins, the rising and falling of her breasts, the sparkle in her eyes, which might just as easily be caused by anger as merriment. She was not at all pleased with him and when he had told her what he meant to do, she would be even less pleased. He tipped his head on one side, trying to make her smile. ‘So workmanlike. And you have paint on your face.’

  She scrubbed at it with the back of her hand and made it worse. He took his handkerchief from his pocket and bunched it up. ‘Spit.’ She did so and he carefully wiped her face.

  It was such a familiar, loving gesture, one she was sure James made without even thinking about it and one, a few short weeks ago, she would have accepted as nothing out of the ordinary. But now, with a heightened awareness of her confused emotions, she found it both uncomfortably disturbing and achingly touching.

  ‘That’s better,’ he said, replacing the handkerchief in his pocket.

  She looked up at him, her eyes wide, searching his face. Yet she saw nothing but a kind of melancholy and decided not to press him on his reasons for abstaining himself from the rehearsal. Instead she managed a smile. ‘Thank you. Now help me shift this scenery over to that wall. It needs to be left to dry.’

  It could not go on, this strange intimacy, it was tearing him apart. He reverted to the dandy in self-defence. ‘Vinny, I am wearing a new riding coat. You do not expect me to risk getting it dirty, do you?’ He flicked imaginary fluff off the sleeve. ‘I will not tell you how much it cost, but my tailor grows rich and I grow poorer.’

  ‘Take it off, then.’

  ‘My waistcoat is also new, the latest thing in striped marcella.’

  ‘Then you had better remove that too and roll up your sleeves.’

  ‘Vinny, I cannot do that! It would be highly improper.’ He paused, then added, ‘You are, after all, no longer a child but a genteelly brought-up young lady about to enter wedlock.’

  ‘Am I?’

  ‘Are you not?’

  ‘James, you are only being obtuse to annoy me. Now, are you going to help me or shall I ring for a servant?’

  He did not want a servant interrupting their tête-à-tête and so he took off his splendidly tailored coat and hung it carefully over the back of a chair, then he pushed his shirt sleeves up to the elbows and took hold of one side of the painted scenery. Lavinia took the other and they carried it over to the wall, where they propped it at an angle.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said.

  ‘My pleasure. But you have not answered my question.’

  ‘What question?’

  ‘Are you about to marry?’

  ‘Not today, not this week, I am far too busy.’

  ‘With the play?’

  ‘Yes, of course. What else?’ She paused. ‘James, why have you come so late? You surely did not think we would still be rehearsing?’

  ‘No. I came to tell you that I am going into the country for a few days to visit a friend. I have been making the arrangements.’

  ‘Into the country? But, James, you can’t,’ she wailed. ‘We have rehearsals next week. Everyone will be here…’

  ‘Then you will not miss me.’

  ‘I missed you today. Benedict had to read your lines.’

  ‘Then he can continue to do so. I will not be gone any longer than I can help.’

  ‘I knew you were in trouble!’

  ‘In trouble? What makes you say that?’

  ‘You must be. Why else would you be taking a repairing lease if not to escape your creditors?’

  He laughed. ‘I am not in debt, Vinny, not in trouble at all, though I am disappointed that you have such a low opinion of me.’

  Not being in a mood to discuss her opinion of him, she did not pick him up on that. ‘If you are not in trouble, why must you go?’

  ‘Because I must.’

  ‘James, how could you?’ She turned to face him, her eyes glittering more green than brown as they always did when she was upset. ‘How could you be so heartless when you know how hard everyone has worked and what with persuading Papa to let us have the ballroom and—?’ She stopped, blinking hard. ‘I am seriously displeased with you, James Corringham.’

  ‘I am sorry but it is important.’

  ‘More important than me?’

  ‘That is a hit below the belt, Vinny, and one I hope you do not expect me to answer.’

  ‘No, for I know the answer. You are deserting me. Just when I need you most.’

  ‘Do you?’ he asked softly, coming to stand in front of her, taking both her hands in his, hardly daring to ask. ‘Now, why would you need me, especially?’

  She found that unusually difficult to answer. ‘Oh, you know why. I need your support. There is so much to do and Lord Wincote…’ She could not go on, could not explain that she was half-afraid of the future, her feelings and thinking so muddled she could make no sense of them. And now she could not even talk to him about it.

  ‘Oh, it always comes back to Lord Wincote, doesn’t it?’ he said, somewhat acerbically as he dropped her hands. ‘I do not see how I can help you there. You must make up your own mind about him.’

  ‘At least he has never missed a rehearsal.’

  ‘He has good reason not to.’

  ‘Oh, James, what is the matter with you? It is not Lord Wincote who has been behaving strangely but you. I thought I could rely on you…’

  ‘So you can. A man may go about his business without being accused of strangeness, surely?’ How he wished she had not overheard his comment to Sir Percy after that incident at Vauxhall Gardens. It was indiscreet of him to have made it and it had given her a disgust of him, which he was afraid could not be reversed. But perhaps when he came back, he might have some answers.

  Emotions she could not control took over, love and anger in equal measure and, because she could not cope with love, she allowed her anger to have the ascendancy. ‘Oh, you are the outside of enough. Go, if you must, but do not be surprised if Mr Greatorex has taken your part when you come back.’

  ‘Oh, has he arrived, then?’

  ‘No, but I am sure he will very soon. He is not a man to break a promise, unlike some I know. We cannot hold up the play just because you take it into your head to go travelling. Who is this friend, who is so important to you?’

  ‘No one you know.’

  ‘No, I’ll wager I do not. A light o’ love, I shouldn’t wonder. Well, off you go. Enjoy her favours. Do not give me a second thought.’

  ‘Vinny—’

  ‘Go!’

  He shrugged and strode out, slamming the door behind him. He did not see her sink on to a chair, nor hear her sobs, for they were silent ones.

  Chapter Eight

  There were two rehearsals in the following week with everyone frantically trying to commit their lines to memory while attending fittings for their costumes. It was all becoming very fraught and she had to admit that without Lady Rattenshaw and Lord Wincote, who knew their lines and delivered them with great sensitivity, the play would almost certainly be a failure. Her ladyship’s helpfulness always managed to keep everybody concentrating on what they had to do.

  Lavinia missed James dreadfully. She told herself she missed his good humour, his steadfastness, the way he protected her, even his cons
tant teasing; he was her rock. Without him she felt she had no one to lean on, which was too foolish for words; she had her father, her stepmama, Miss Hastings and a whole host of other friends. Where had he gone? It was so unlike him to disappear without saying where he was going. But the date of the play’s performance was only a month away and there was that infamous trial to be attended. He would have to come back for that.

  The whole country, rich and poor alike, could talk of nothing else. The satirists, cartoonists and versifiers were having a field day. Hundreds of broadsheets were being distributed ridiculing either the King or the Queen, depending on the particular allegiance of the writer. And Caroline did nothing to help herself. She could have stayed quietly at home and kept her dignity; instead a stream of callers went in procession to Brandenburg House, where each received a shilling medal with her likeness to commemorate the visit.

  ‘She is being used and degraded for political ambition,’ the Duke said, for once spending an evening at home. ‘And the Monarchy has been dealt a blow from which I doubt it will recover.’

  ‘Yes, but surely they were forced into a marriage neither of them wanted?’ Lavinia said. ‘That is what is so tragic about it. I am sure I could never marry for expediency. I would rather die.’

  Marcus laughed. ‘Then let us be thankful you will never be put to the test.’ He paused. ‘I have not heard you mention Lord Wincote’s name recently. Is he still waiting for your answer?’

  She hesitated momentarily before answering. ‘Yes, Papa, he is.’

  ‘Vinny,’ Frances put in, looking up from a sketch of Freddie she’d begun the week before. ‘If you are not sure…’

  ‘If I am not sure, Mama, I shall turn him down, you may rely on that.’

  ‘Good. I should hate to think any undue influence had been brought to bear.’

  ‘What undue influence?’

  ‘That distasteful display of animal magnetism. It quite changed my mind about him.’

  ‘Oh, Mama, it was only harmless fun.’ She felt obliged to defend her suitor. ‘And you know Lady Rattenshaw encouraged him. I doubt he would have done it otherwise.’

  ‘Perhaps.’ She paused. ‘How is the play coming along?’

  ‘Very well, I think. Everyone knows their entrances and exits, though I am not sure about James. He could not have gone away at a worse time.’

  ‘Did he say when he would be back?’

  ‘No, but I expect he will return for the trial. He will not want to pay a fine for his absence, will he?’

  ‘Another week, then.’

  ‘Yes.’

  Two days later, she was sitting in the drawing room, trying to learn Hermia’s lines, when the Duchess came into the room, ready to go out in the carriage. ‘You are looking tired, Lavinia,’ she commented. ‘I think perhaps you have been putting too much into that play. If you are not careful you will make yourself ill.’

  ‘I am perfectly well, Mama.’

  ‘So you say, but my eyes tell me differently.’ She began pulling on her gloves. ‘I am going to the orphanage,’ she added. ‘Why not come too? It will do you good.’

  It was the perfect excuse to lay aside her self-imposed task and she readily agreed. She had enjoyed going to the orphanage ever since her stepmother, then the Countess of Corringham, had raised the money in a dozen different ways to set it up. Sometimes she helped serve the children with their food, sometimes she gave them reading and writing lessons, sometimes she sat and sketched them. Lavinia invariably departed feeling humble and thankful for her own good fortune. She had parents who loved her, enough to eat, good clothes on her back, a soft bed with clean sheets and warm blankets. Oh, she had so much for which to give thanks. And if she never married, that would always be the case.

  The morning flew by and by the time Tom Bagshott brought the carriage back to take them home, she was feeling far more cheerful. ‘Mama, do you think we could stop at the Pantheon Bazaar to buy some ribbon for the costumes?’ she said as they made their way along Oxford Street. ‘I told Constance I would try and have them for the next fittings.’

  They were descending from the carriage, when they saw two people dressed as Harlequin and Columbine walking towards them, handing out leaflets to everyone they met.

  ‘Oh, it’s a playbill,’ Lavinia said eagerly, taking one. ‘Lancelot Greatorex and Lydia Gosport in Mr Sheridan’s The Rivals. You remember Lancelot Greatorex, Mama? He is the manager of the Thespian Players, who came to Risley at the beginning of the year. I heard he was to come to London. Oh, do let us go and see it.’ Somehow she had to remind the actor of his promise and inveigle the Duchess into inviting him to a rehearsal without her realising it had all been planned. ‘Watching professionals like Mr Greatorex, I might learn something about putting on a play.’

  Frances smiled. ‘Is it not a little late for that? You have been hard at work for weeks now and must be nearly ready.’

  ‘It is never too late to learn. And I must admit, I am a little worried…’

  ‘Worried, dearest? How so?’

  ‘Oh, everyone knows their lines, but they are so wooden and I am the worst culprit of all, I know it.’ She knew why her own performance lacked fire. It was all due to playing opposite Lord Wincote, saying Hermia’s lines to him and hearing him say Lysander’s to her; before long she would not be able to tell Shakespeare from real life, or distinguish between Lysander and Edmund Wincote. She hoped by the time the first performance was over, some flash of insight would tell her how to answer him. ‘So, do you think you could persuade Papa to take us? Once the trial starts, he will have little time for entertainment…’

  In the event Mr Greatorex sent three complimentary tickets to Stanmore House, delivered by special messenger, with a note saying he would be honoured if they would attend as his guests on the first night.

  Lancelot Greatorex was renowned for his lifelike performances; the way he managed to convey great emotion without overacting. On the other hand, he could play farce with great dexterity until his audience were almost falling out of their seats with laughter. He always gave of his best whether he was playing to Royalty in London or entertaining a couple of hundred inhabitants in a tent on a village green.

  If it had not been for the trial, the King himself might have attended one of the performances, but His Majesty, knowing how unpopular he had become, was staying out of sight at Windsor, seeing no one but his latest mistress, Lady Conyngham, until the wretched affair of his divorce was settled. Between them Frances and Lavinia persuaded the Duke that this did not mean his ministers could not enjoy themselves, especially as there was nothing they could do until the trial began. A few hours’ entertainment was exactly what he needed.

  The great actor did not disappoint and Lavinia watched enthralled from the first word to the last. After the curtain descended at the end and everyone prepared to leave, chatting animatedly about the play, Lavinia moved closer to her father. ‘Papa, do let us go backstage and congratulate Mr Greatorex. I am sure he would appreciate a word from you.’

  ‘Oh, he has enough adulation as it is.’

  ‘Yes, but he did send us tickets, so what you think must be important to him.’

  ‘Very well, for a few minutes.’ They left their box and Marcus called an usher to conduct them to the actor.

  And so it was that Lavinia found herself in the great man’s dressing room, breathing in the atmosphere of greasepaint and powder, wigs and costumes. Greatorex, however, had divested himself of all of these and was sharing a drink with the cast and members of the audience to celebrate the successful conclusion of the play.

  He was a handsome man with dark eyes and a mass of curly black hair and was wearing, over a pair of pantaloon trousers, a kind of Russian tunic in pink satin with very full sleeves gathered at the wrist and caught about the waist with a leather belt. Seeing the newcomers, he left the adoring sycophants who surrounded him and made his way over to them.

  ‘Your Grace,’ he said, executing a flourishing bow t
o the Duchess. ‘Your very obedient servant. So glad you could join our little gathering.’ Having given the Duke the same greeting, he turned to Lavinia. ‘Lady Lavinia, I hope I find you well?’

  ‘Yes, thank you.’ She was suddenly tongue-tied. How pretentious she had been to think she could put on a play! How had she had the temerity to aspire to be an actress? The great Lancelot Greatorex would have nothing to do with her poor effort.

  ‘We enjoyed the play very much,’ Frances said.

  He bowed. ‘Then I am content.’

  ‘Lady Lavinia is putting on a play,’ she went on.

  ‘Oh, it is only for friends and family, not for public display,’ Lavinia put in quickly. ‘But I have learned a great deal watching you tonight.’

  He turned to look at Lavinia, his eyes telling her he remembered his promise. ‘Then I am honoured to have been of assistance, my lady. If there is any other way I may help, you have only to say the word.’

  ‘Oh, would you? If only you could find the time to attend one of our rehearsals, I am sure you would offer good advice and improve the performance of every one of us.’

  ‘I would be delighted, my lady. We have no performance on Monday and, if the Duke and Duchess agree, I could give you an hour or two then.’

  The Duke hesitated, but consented in the face of Lavinia’s imploring looks. However, he declined an invitation to join the party and the three of them left to find their carriage had been drawn up at the stage door ready to take them home. It was astonishing how easy it had been and Lavinia went home in a glow of euphoria.

  Now, if only James would come back, they could really make great strides. She pushed all other thoughts from her, determined that when he returned from wherever he had been, they would make up their quarrel and regain the easy relationship they had once enjoyed. She could not understand why she had been so angry with him, why it mattered so much that he should not go to his chère amie. Thinking about it made her want to burst into tears all over again.