by Jenny Hambly
Diana looked pleased. “That is very kind of them. I must say that Eliza has become very tiresome recently. She found a few moments this evening to speak with me and was very unkind about Miss Crabtree. She called her a little country nobody and said she had laughed herself into stitches when she had seen her dance with Lord Allerdale. She said that if she thought her smiling and simpering ways would catch the son of a marquess she must have windmills in her head. It was all jealousy of course.”
“That was not well done of her,” Eleanor said. “She is a spiteful little cat. Lady Langton has probably never spoken to Miss Crabtree, but I have and can tell you that she is a very pleasant girl. She has no interest in fixing her interests with anyone in Town. She has already fallen in love with a country squire’s son and is determined she will have no one else.”
“I did not know that,” Diana admitted. “But she helped me when I lost an earring in the retiring room at some ball or other, and I also thought she was very pleasant. It must have been at least half an hour before she found the earring and returned it to me.”
“She was probably hiding from any potential suitors; she often does so. Good night, my dear.”
Eleanor did not immediately go to bed but sat wrapped in a dressing gown on the window seat of her chamber, looking out over the moonlit garden. She smiled as various vignettes from the ball came to her. She had also noticed Lord Allerdale’s dance with Miss Crabtree and thought that rarely had she seen that lady so relaxed with a partner. He too had shown to advantage as he had on more than one occasion that evening. But she was not fooled, the sight she had had of Lord Allerdale before he smiled at Georgianna had shown her a glimpse of a more forbidding character, and the story Georgianna had told when it was stripped to the bare facts could not show him in a good light.
His masculinity and winning smile may have won a response from her, as it probably had from dozens of other ladies, but when she passed under review her list of requirements for a husband, she could hardly believe that he would fulfil any of them. That strong chin did not suggest a man who would listen to his wife’s counsel; he had not even listened to Georgianna until she had hit him over the head, and she certainly did not think she could rely on him to conduct himself in a way she could be proud of if his temper was up. It was to his credit that he had almost certainly prevented an ugly scene between Frederick and Lord Sandford by not giving that scoundrel another chance to come near Diana, but he might just as easily have caused one between himself and Lord Buntingdon by dancing the waltz with his beautiful betrothed.
She sighed. It was at moments like these that she particularly missed her father. She had always enjoyed discussing with him the various characters who had been at a dinner or a ball more than the events themselves. She smiled as she wondered what he would have made of Lady Bassington. She was not at all sure whether that lady had been matchmaking or not. If she was, she had a strange way of going about it. Surely she would not have wished to have Lord Allerdale’s less than savoury escapade described to her if she was? No, she could not have been, and Eleanor was glad; she had liked the unusual lady and would not like to have disappointed her.
She suddenly laughed. She would no more suit Lord Allerdale than he would her. She also had a strong will and was of a managing disposition. She had told him she had no secrets, but she had a plan forming that she was sure no titled gentleman would approve of, including her cousin. She put the ball from her mind and instead considered the several things she wished to achieve during the coming day.
Miles returned to his aunt in time to hear Marianne describing how Cranbourne had proposed to her after she had fallen down a muddy bank whilst attempting to rescue a fox cub.
“I was bedraggled and filthy,” she laughed, “and yet he said I looked delightful!”
“And so you did,” Lord Cranbourne said, a small intimate smile playing about his lips.
Lady Bassington sighed. Although all her children apart from Charles had contracted very happy marriages, there had been very little romance attached to any of them. Despite, or perhaps because of this, she enjoyed coaxing the story of their courtship from anyone she suspected of having formed a love match.
Miles shook Lord Cranbourne’s hand and said softly, “I am glad you seem so happy.”
“There is no seem about it, Allerdale, I am happy. And I am pleased that you look in much better form than when I saw you last year. Somerton has told me of what troubled you then and what passed between you. He is a good man.”
“Yes, and a far better one than I will ever be,” Miles said. “He treated me much better than I deserved.”
“Perhaps,” Lord Cranbourne said. “But I do not think he would have done so if he had not seen some good in you.”
Miles staggered a little as a huge hand suddenly clapped him on the shoulder. “I hadn’t realised you were Bassington’s cousin, Allerdale. I am glad that I did not murder you, after all, he seems fond of you and I wouldn’t have liked to upset him. He’s a rapscallion but a damned fine soldier. How did you get on in Yorkshire?”
“I liked Murton very much,” Miles said. “I learned a great deal.”
“I’m glad to hear it. You certainly look the better for it. Cranbourne and I have been persuaded to play cricket for Lord Balderston’s XI, but he is still a man short. Care to join us?”
Miles had formed a few vague plans for how he intended to spend his time, but cricket had featured in none of them, and he only liked to partake in sports he knew he could excel at.
“I haven’t played for years,” he said apologetically.
Lord Somerton was not so easily put off.
“The match is not for a few days yet, Allerdale, and there are a few practice sessions arranged so you will have time to hone your skills.”
Lord Carteret had just then come up to them. He laughed. “You don’t want him, Somerton. Allerdale had a good eye for the ball when we were at school, but any bowler with any brains soon discovered that if he pitched the ball a little wide often enough, he would soon lose his temper. Once that happened, he would attempt a wild swing and find the bails at his feet.”
“Ah, but it is no longer permitted to bowl wide,” Lord Somerton said.
“It doesn’t matter, they’ll find another chink in his armour, you may be sure. I tell you, you don’t want him. He’s a liability. Not that I should be warning you, for I am playing for the opposing side.”
Miles’ eyes narrowed. “I will certainly play, Somerton. And I will bet you a monkey, Carteret, that we will win.”
“Done,” the viscount said, putting out his hand.
Miles shook it and saw an amused glint in his friend’s eye.
“You goaded me on purpose, Carteret.”
“Quite right,” he said, grinning. “It will do you good and keep you out of mischief, but as I took advantage of my close acquaintance with you, we will reduce the bet to ten guineas, I think.”
Miles intercepted a knowing look between Georgianna and Somerton and scowled. “I see you two have also been plotting. I have no intention of getting into any mischief, you know.”
Georgianna raised her brows. “You must forgive me if I have no very great faith in your intentions.”
Lady Bassington’s deep laugh sounded. “I think I may extend my visit. I had not expected it to be quite so amusing.”
Miles turned on his heel and stalked off, inwardly seething. How dare they group together and treat him like some callow youth who needed steering away from the dangers of Town? There was nothing he did not know about them, after all. Did they really think he was likely to indulge in the sort of riotous dissipation that would lead him into trouble when he was pledged to find a bride? As he reached the double doors of the ballroom, he realised Carteret was close on his heels.
“I do not need a watchdog, Carteret. I am going to have a quiet drink in the library.”
“I’ll join you. I have had quite enough of dancing for one evening.”
S
omething in his friend’s voice gave Miles pause. His expression gentled. “Diana?”
“Yes… no… I was not best pleased with Miss Edgcott, but the dance served its purpose.”
“How so?”
“For one thing, I discovered that she is not quite the designing hussy I had painted her, which was, of course, a relief, for one does not like to admit that one’s judgement had been so glaringly abroad.”
“And what was the other thing?” Miles asked, crossing the library and pouring them both a brandy.
Lord Carteret did not immediately answer but looked pensively into the empty grate of the fireplace. When Miles handed him his drink, he cupped his hand around the glass and swirled the amber liquid gently.
“She is much the same as ever she was,” he said slowly. A wry smile twisted his lips. “It is I who perhaps needed a watchdog tonight, old fellow. I very nearly caused a scandal.”
“No. I cannot believe it. You are always in complete control of yourself. I envy you in that respect.”
“It is true, nevertheless. For a moment when I looked into her eyes, I was transported back to when we first met.” Lord Carteret gave a cynical laugh. “What a greenhorn I was then, and for a moment I was a greenhorn again. Would you believe I confronted her with what I had seen the other night?”
Miles crossed his legs and leaned back in his chair, his anger gone as swiftly as it had arrived. “I am surprised, certainly. It is not like you to be so maladroit.”
“I know it, and I very nearly overset her composure. She was on the point of running from the floor, I am sure, when I remembered myself.”
The gentle smile that had so affected Miss Edgcott graced Miles’ face. “I am glad you did. Can you imagine the fodder you would have given to the gossips?”
“Indeed. And Diana would not have deserved it. She has been unhappy and so was easy prey for Sandford. But she did not expect or wish for him to take things beyond the line. That is why I suggest she hasn’t changed. She is still a little innocent.”
“She did not appear unhappy tonight.”
“No. Haverham has been very attentive. I would hazard a guess that Miss Edgcott might have had a hand in that, and I am glad. Diana is like a flower that will surely wilt if not showered with enough compliments.”
“How very wearing,” Miles said. “I should not wish for such a bride.”
“No, neither would I.” Lord Carteret frowned. “That is the other purpose the dance served. It is hard for me to credit that I thought myself madly in love with her. She will always only see the world through the lens of how it affects her. I do not mean that she is unkind, only that she will always be unable to fully understand or interest herself with anything that does not directly concern her. I thought that I would like to protect her innocence and shield her from every ill wind that blew, but it is just such treatment that has moulded her. She is a stunted flower, a bud half-opened that will never fully unfurl its petals, and I would not have been able to respect such a creature in the end.”
“Do you think respect so important?” Miles said.
“I think it of the utmost importance. On both sides of the equation. You only have to look about you, Allerdale, to see a host of marriages that are nothing but a sham. As long as appearances are kept up, both parties feel quite at liberty to treat each other in what I cannot help but think a contemptible manner behind each other’s backs. Can you imagine either of your parents behaving in such a way?”
“No. But theirs was a love match.”
“Perhaps it is the same thing,” Lord Carteret said thoughtfully. “At least, I do not think you can have one without the other.”
“You may be right,” Miles said, pushing himself to his feet. “But I do not aspire to such dizzy heights. Now, I must return to the ball or I will be in disgrace.”
“You go ahead, old fellow,” Lord Carteret said quietly. “I will finish my drink and then take my leave.”
“Again, I envy you,” Miles said dryly. “I can feel my hitherto delightfully untrammelled existence slipping inexorably away from me.”
“That is why your friends are closing ranks about you, my dear fellow. You are like a cornered rat, and they, you know, have a tendency to bolt or bite.”
Chapter 9
Eleanor awoke to a bright, sunny day ready to explore new and exciting possibilities. Seeing Marianne had reminded her that she had not yet visited the alley that bore her friend’s name. Eleanor was feeling increasingly hemmed in, and when they had returned last evening, she had felt decidedly in the way. As long as she could keep Lord Sandford away from Diana, she felt sure that she would soon have very little need of her. It was time to think again of her future.
She hopped out of bed, humming softly to herself.
“Good morning, Miss Eleanor. You seem mighty perky this morning. What mischief are you plotting?”
Eleanor smiled at the stern face of the maid who had known her all her life. “None at all, Linny.”
The maid’s eyes brightened with hope. “Then, might it be a gentleman that has put you in this happy mood? Perhaps someone you met at the ball?”
“No, it is not. But I am plotting our future.”
“I knew you were up to some mischief.”
“Linny! What mischief have I wrought since we came to England?”
“None that I know of,” the maid admitted. “But I remember the time you were cross as crabs because you wanted to see some mosque or other and they wouldn’t let you in. You gave young Mr Wantage your measurements and persuaded him to have a suit of men’s clothes made for you and went with him to view it.”
“Yes, Hagia Sophia, and I enjoyed it very much.”
“You wouldn’t have enjoyed it if you had been caught. I dread to think what would have happened to you! And you can’t deny that your father nearly sent Mr Wantage packing when he discovered it.”
“But he didn’t.”
“No. You could always bring your papa around your thumb. And then there was the time you went to visit a harem and swapped your clothes with one of the ladies there.”
“Linny! You talk as if it was a disreputable place. It was no such thing! It was the most protected place I ever visited, and the ladies were so hospitable, so warm and welcoming. As for the dress and veil, Papa said I looked very well in it.”
“He would! At least he made you promise not to wear it abroad.”
“Yes, that was a shame. I could have passed unnoticed in the streets.”
“And why would you have wished to if you weren’t planning some mischief? I told him as much and he listened to me for once.”
Eleanor sighed. “I do miss him, Linny.”
“Of course you do,” her maid said gruffly. “Which is why you should be looking about you for a husband. He would want you to be looked after.”
Eleanor threw off her momentary sadness. “I am perfectly capable of looking after myself. Now, I am going shopping this morning and will need you to accompany me. I do not expect Lady Haverham will be up for some hours yet. Besides, I may need a second opinion. You may have some old-fashioned notions, Linny, but you have very good taste.”
“You’ll want your nankeen half-boots then if we’re to be traipsing about the streets all morning.”
“Not necessarily,” Eleanor said casually. “We are going a little further afield and will take the carriage. I believe there is an interesting shop to be found off Leicester Square.”
“I may only have been in London a handful of weeks, but I know that isn’t one of the more fashionable places to shop. What are you up to?”
Eleanor threw her a rather saucy smile. “I shall not tell you until I know if my idea might work.”
“I knew it,” the maid grumbled, heading for the dressing room. “You’re up to mischief for sure.”
If the fine houses that lined the square were no longer occupied by the haut ton, neither maid nor mistress found anything to complain of when the carriage set them down. The area
was clean, the people appeared perfectly respectable, and a pleasant garden was set in the centre. Eleanor was delighted to discover the Linwood Gallery housed in Savile house, and they enjoyed a pleasant half-hour there, marvelling at the reproductions of paintings entirely created through needlework.
“They are wonderful,” Eleanor murmured.
“I wouldn’t have believed that anything so fine could have been produced by embroidery alone,” Linny admitted. “To think of the hours and hours each one must have taken.” She frowned. “Do not tell me that you have some cork-brained notion to attempt something similar, Miss Eleanor. You have a knack with a bonnet, I will allow, but you haven’t the skill for this.”
Eleanor laughed. “No, my ambitions are much more modest.”
It was only a short distance from there to Cranbourn Alley, which branched off at an angle from the north east corner of the square. It was narrow and a little dark, but the windows on each side were full of hats, bonnets, feathers, muffs, shawls, and many other nick-nacks designed to tempt the shopper in.
Those displayed in the first shops they came to were not of the highest quality, and they had gone no more than a few steps into the alley when a lady, who was not of the first stare, stepped from a shop doorway and tried to entice them in.
“I can see you’re a woman of some taste, miss. That bein’ the case, you should know that you will not find anything more reasonably priced than in Mrs Bainbridge’s establishment.”
“Don’t you listen to her, miss,” came another voice from a little further down the alley, “if it’s cheap trumpery you wish for, then go in by all means, but if it’s something of quality you are looking for, it’s Madame Flaubert’s that you want.”
“Let us go,” Linny whispered.
Eleanor looked at her, the light of battle in her eyes. “After visiting the grand bazaar, Linny, this is nothing.”
She regarded both ladies with a cold stare. “I prefer to make my own decisions. Now, I would thank you to step out of our way. I will certainly not visit either of the shops you mention if you bother me again, and what is more, I shall lay a complaint against you for harassment.”