by Dorothy Mack
It was little wonder the viscount had felt his loss too keenly to place another woman in the position of his late wife. After such perfection, all other females must strike him as plain. Angelica began to experience a strong desire to meet Lady Barbara Darlington, to whom he was now betrothed. She owed this certain knowledge to Lydia, who had shown a slight reluctance to discuss her future sister-in-law beyond stating that she had enjoyed a great success at her debut the previous year and had refused several offers before accepting the viscount.
Tea was an agreeable break, served again in the schoolroom as Lydia had no afternoon engagement and his lordship’s aunt, Lady Orbridge, had not felt well enough to leave her quarters that day. The late winter damp was thought to aggravate her ladyship’s arthritic complaint.
Angelica had felt a trifle nervous about dining with the family and gratefully accepted Lydia’s proffered escort to the main saloon. The younger girl was dressed in a demure Jonquil muslin, which enhanced her vibrant brunette colouring. Her shining tresses were charmingly arranged à la Tite. Angelica herself had chosen a gown of heavy amber silk trimmed in matching lace, to counteract the dowdy impression she had made in the morning interview. With this she was wearing the exquisite topaz set which had belonged to her mother, consisting of a flower made of topaz petals on a fine gold chain, a bracelet of similar but smaller flowers linked together and tiny earrings with a dangling teardrop topaz. There were hair ornaments included in the set, but thanks to Annie’s skilful hands, Angelica had not needed to redo her hair, so she left them in their case for a more formal hairstyle.
Lydia was all admiration (and was there a shade of relief as well?) at the appearance of her companion. She chatted happily as they descended the stairs.
“How I wish I were old enough to wear a gown in that ravishing style. One gets so bored with sprigged muslin. However, I am determined to wear something really dramatic for the ball Giles is giving to present me to the ton.” She glanced at Angelica and sighed. “I wish I were tall, like you, so I could aspire to elegance. No matter how costly my gowns and jewels may be, I’ll never look like a queen.”
Angelica chuckled at her mournful tone. “Well, I don’t look like a queen either, and being tall has its disadvantages as well. Many gentlemen, especially those of moderate height, object to lanky females as dancing partners, you know. You will have your choice of all the gentlemen. As for your first complaint, nothing is surer than that you will grow older. Enjoy being seventeen, my dear Miss Weston. You will have a marvellous time this season. When is your ball to be?”
“In five weeks’ time if I can contain myself. Giles says patience is not my strongest virtue,” she chuckled, “and that is certainly true, but very like Giles to be guilty of understatement.”
They entered the saloon together, Angelica’s eyes flying anxiously to her employer, standing before the fireplace, to see whether some of the disapproval she had felt in their morning interview had been mitigated by her more fashionable attire. Since she was in the habit of making all her gowns, thus saving a dressmaker’s fee, she felt entitled to select the fine fabrics she enjoyed working on, and the amber silk was indeed rich looking. However, if she hoped for admiration or approval, she was doomed to disappointment, for no emotion at all was discernible in the viscount’s face as he greeted them suavely.
He himself was most impressive in ordinary evening attire, his powerful shoulders encased in a beautifully fitting coat of blue superfine. He wore a white vest, black pantaloons and highly polished shoes. His snowy neckcloth was faultlessly arranged, but his shirt points were not so high as to impede his movements, and she noticed that, unlike many of the beaux she had met, he did not favour a quantity of jewellery, contenting himself with a single black pearl in his cravat and a gold signet ring on one brown hand.
She became aware that the viscount was presenting her to the only other occupant of the room, and turned to acknowledge the greeting of the old woman with a curtsy. Lady Orbridge was rather a surprise, but after a day of surprises Angelica took this one in her stride, merely rearranging her mental image of an invalid to include alert, near-black eyes and a ramrod stiffness of posture. Lady Orbridge, seated in a nest of dove-grey taffeta, clung to the fuller dress styles of her youth, refusing to dispense with her petticoats. She rustled gently as she extended her hand, eyeing Angelica with outright disapproval.
“What can you have been thinking of, Desmond, hiring a mere chit of a girl to oversee Jenny? Why a moderate breeze could blow this one away. Jenny will make mincemeat of her in a sennight.”
Angelica gasped at the directness of the attack, but managed to answer calmly enough, “I am really much stronger than I look, Lady Orbridge, and I assure you I can be quite as firm as the occasion demands.”
Her ladyship raised black eyebrows almost to her elaborate black transformation in an expression eloquent of scepticism.
“Well, time will have the proving of that, but at least you are not a simpering miss. I can’t abide ’em with their mealy-mouthed, fluttery manners, fainting away or having vapours at the drop of a hat. Well, what are we waiting for, Desmond? We are all here, are we not?” She scowled at her nephew, who had been listening with a faint smile to the exchange with Angelica.
“Not quite, Aunt. Robert is to join us tonight. We are going on to White’s later.” He raised his head. “Ah, I believe I hear him now.”
At that moment, Chilham announced in his sonorous voice: “Lord Robert Hoxley.”
A handsome man of some twenty-eight or -nine summers came into the room in a rush of apologies. “I am so sorry to have kept you from your dinner, ma’am,” he said, bending gallantly over Lady Orbridge’s hand, “but that curst man of mine ruined no fewer than five cravats, on my honour, before he managed to tie this.” This, as all eyes in the room turned to the person of the speaker, was seen to be a complex arrangement of neckcloth, which, in combination with extremely high starched shirt points, almost imprisoned the wearer’s head in a vice.
“You are nothing but a graceless jackanapes, Robert,” Lady Orbridge said sternly, but her expression betrayed her fondness for the young man thus apostrophized.
The viscount again performed the introductions, and Angelica found herself smiling at a face dominated by a fine pair of frank blue eyes.
Lydia explained that Miss Wayne was to be Jenny’s governess.
“Lucky Jenny,” said Lord Robert, lingeringly releasing the hand Angelica had offered. His glance was patently admiring.
“Lucky me also,” said Lydia. “Angelica — you don’t mind if I call you that, do you?” glancing at the other girl. “Formality is so nonsensical when we are to spend so much time together.” Turning again to Lord Robert, she continued without waiting for an answer: “Angelica is going to teach me Italian and accompany me on the social round. I am delighted.”
Lord Robert murmured something civil, which was drowned out by Lady Orbridge’s repeated demand that they go in to dinner. She allowed Robert to assist her from her chair, telling him he must entertain her as atonement for keeping her from her dinner. The other three followed slowly in their wake.
Angelica paused just inside the spacious apartment and turned impulsively to the viscount.
“Oh, what a perfectly lovely room. I have never seen anything half so beautiful as that Chinese wallpaper.” Indeed the well-proportioned room was greatly enhanced by the scenic paper featuring a Chinese garden scene done in clear pastels. Lovely fruit trees and exotic, highly coloured birds lent excitement to the overall effect. The ceiling was simply ornamented in the later Adam style, and the plain carpet in a deep gold colour echoed in the draperies allowed the wallpaper to be of central interest.
“I am glad it pleases you,” said the viscount, seating her on his left. “My mother had this room redone shortly before her death ten years ago. I have always found it charming, and must hope the future Lady Desmond agrees with you and won’t desire to change it.”
Angelica spok
e quickly. “Surely you would not allow — oh, I do beg your pardon!” Aghast at her temerity, she could have bitten her unruly tongue clear through. Her embarrassed glance implored the viscount’s forgiveness. “It is none of my affair, of course. And there I was, boasting to you this morning that I had learned to control my wretched habit of speaking my thoughts directly. Perhaps you will not wish after all to entrust Lydia to my care.”
He surprised himself as well as Angelica by answering quietly, “I hope you will continue to speak your thoughts directly to me, Miss Wayne. I prefer honesty in those with whom I deal.” Her searching eyes could detect no mockery in his sombre expression and she relaxed slightly, but sought desperately for a change of topic.
“I understand from Lydia that you are giving a ball for her in about five weeks’ time. Tell me, when is your marriage to take place?”
“In five weeks.”
She blinked at this, then ventured, “Directly after Lydia’s ball, perhaps?”
“No, three days before the ball.” His face was as noncommittal as the bland voice.
Confusion overcame her, but something must be replied; he was looking at her, one eyebrow slightly raised. “You — you will be here for the ball?” she uttered hesitantly.
“Oh, yes.” He put an end to her confusion. “We have decided to postpone any wedding trip until after the season. After all, a major reason for my marriage is to provide Lydia with a chaperone during her come-out. Besides, Lady Barbara would not wish to miss any of the festivities either.” There was no deciphering his carefully blank expression.
This prosaic account of his coming nuptials understandably struck Angelica dumb, and she turned with relief to answer a question put to her by Lord Robert on her left.
This first dinner which she had so dreaded passed most pleasantly. Angelica was amused and entertained by Lady Orbridge’s astringent wit. It was easy to see why Lydia was not the usual meek debutante one met with at Almack’s. With Lady Orbridge as mentor, she had grown up alert and with a poise and confidence that only comes through exposure to the company of adults. She was completely at ease with her brother’s handsome friend, but Angelica detected no tendency on her part to play the coquette. Perhaps she was too accustomed to his society to consider him fair game. Angelica smiled to herself, noting that they squabbled amicably like brother and sister.
The dinner was a delight from a culinary standpoint, too. Turtle soup was removed and replaced with filets of turbot in a delectable sauce. Tender squabs were flanked by a dish of asparagus melting in butter and another of broiled mushrooms. Angelica, despite her slenderness, had a healthy appetite and happily partook of these and other dishes as they appeared.
After dinner, the ladies adjourned to a private drawing room, leaving the gentlemen to their port. Lady Orbridge leaned heavily on Lydia’s arm. Except when it was necessary to walk, she exhibited no signs that her health was not good. Her air of alertness and upright carriage contrived to fool the world, but Angelica suspected she endured great discomfort in order to preserve this image before her family and the many old friends who came to call, keeping her supplied with the latest on-dits in the polite world. Her hands were too stiff to engage in the fancy needlework that was a lady’s chief occupation, but her eyesight remained unimpaired, and she was content to read aloud to the two young women working on their embroidery, the branch of working candles flickering on a nearby candlestand.
She was reading from an unpretentious novel by a young woman named Jane Austen, pausing now and then to chuckle or comment on the author’s ability to reveal the hypocrisies of social behaviour. They were thus pleasantly entertained until the arrival of the tea tray at ten o’clock.
It had seemed a very long day to Angelica, and quite the most eventful in years. She was ready for her bed, and despite the new impressions teeming in her mind, succumbed to sleep within minutes.
CHAPTER FOUR
The following week marked the beginning of a busy pattern to Angelica’s days. Mornings were spent with Jenny, perhaps not with great profit to that young lady’s education, but always with enjoyment on the part of both amicable contestants. For contest it was, with Jenny employing all her seemingly endless store of cunning to divert her hapless teacher’s attention from study. She was an alert, curious child, older than her years, probably due to overexposure to adult company, but for all that, full of childish energy and enthusiasm for almost all activities — the sole exception being lessons. She asked endless questions about Angelica’s life at Wroxham Court, especially delighting in stories of her childhood as the faithful slave and companion of an adventurous boy cousin. Angelica learned that she preferred to live in the country, where she had been permitted to roam about quite freely in the company of the children of the parson whose living had been bestowed by the viscount. She missed the companionship of this lively brother and sister team and felt confined in London, where her opportunities for outdoor activities were sadly curtailed by the damp weather and the disinclination of Nurse to venture farther afield than the gardens in the square.
She gladly welcomed Angelica’s company and was grateful for the attention shown her, although this gratitude stopped short of outright cooperation in the schoolroom unless the subject under discussion happened to be wars or battles. It had not taken very long to establish that Jenny read well and had an extensive vocabulary. She doggedly resisted all tutoring in mathematics, until Angelica hit upon the happy notion of including her in the afternoon shopping expeditions with Lydia. They left the disbursement of moneys in Jenny’s hands. Delighted with the responsibility, she proved her innate shrewdness and managed quite well, to the astonishment of her aunt.
In a remarkably short time, there sprang up a deep mutual affection between governess and pupil, both of whom were homesick for the country.
London was still rather thin of company since the season wasn’t officially underway. Lydia’s ball was scheduled for mid-April, but there was time to spare before the invitations must be sent out. Of course her wardrobe needed replenishing before the influx of invitations to breakfasts, teas, luncheons, routs, outings, assemblies and balls which made up the usual round of the debutante and necessitated several changes of clothing a day. After critically surveying Angelica at dinner for several evenings and commenting favourably on a particularly flattering bonnet with a single, curling, green ostrich feather which greatly enhanced her eyes, the viscount entrusted the governess with the awesome responsibility of satisfying Lydia’s all too dashing taste, while still dressing her within the bounds of propriety for a very young girl.
Though they had not yet seen anything exciting enough for her own ball, Lydia had several charming muslins made up, as well as a delightful primrose silk ball gown with full sleeves worn over a deeper yellow slip of satin. There were also walking dresses and pelisses to order, not to mention bonnets.
Jenny did not care to accompany them to these sessions, where she must wait patiently while Lydia was fitted, prodded and poked, but she delighted in accompanying them on their trips to the Pantheon Bazaar which brought out the bargain hunter in any female. Angelica succumbed to the lure of some exotic, blue-green Italian silk and bought a length for an evening dress. It was Jenny who found just the right pale pink rosettes to trim it. A pair of long kid gloves in a matching pink were impossible to resist, but put a fearful dent in Angelica’s funds.
Fortunately for the budding friendship between the two young women, Lydia had conceived a strong admiration for Angelica which survived being told firmly that she would be considered fast in a purple velvet hat with a huge, upstanding poke, three pink plumes and lilac satin ribbons which had violently taken her fancy when seen in a window on Conduit Street. Lydia reluctantly gave the hat back to the disappointed saleswoman, and giving it a final wistful look, sighed and followed Angelica into the street.
“You know, Lydia, that hat was not at all the thing for a young girl — in fact, I would not wish to be seen in it, myself.”
Lydia giggled suddenly. “Are you afraid you would be taken for someone’s chère amie in something that noteworthy?”
Angelica was slightly taken aback. “Frankly, yes, but you shouldn’t know anything about that class of female at your age.”
“Oh, pooh. Aunt Minerva does not believe in girls being brought up in ignorance of the ways of the world.”
“And the ways of men?” asked Angelica dryly.
“Exactly.” In a reasonable tone Lydia added, “How will I know whether or not I am being imposed upon if I do not know how gentlemen act?”
“Lydia,” gasped Angelica, “you don’t suppose girls of your class are treated in the same manner as such women, do you? Your brother would never allow you to become acquainted with anyone who would not keep the line.”
“Well,” said Lydia reasonably, “Giles has a chère amie himself, and I am very well acquainted with him.”
For some inexplicable reason Angelica had difficulty swallowing a sudden lump in her throat, but after a slight hesitation she replied in an expressionless voice, “Surely you do not expect me to believe that your aunt or your brother told you such a thing. It is not very likely when he expects to be married very shortly.”
“Of course they didn’t tell me but, nevertheless, it is true. I overheard Giles’s valet talking to Chilham one day, and I know who it is also.”
“Who?” Angelica regretted the improper question instantly. “No,” she added hastily, “please don’t tell me. This is not something I should know — it is none of my affair.”
“I’ll tell you anyway. It is Mrs. Marberry. She is a widow and she is received everywhere. I know because I contrived to ask Aunt Minerva, though she did not know why I was asking, of course. I have seen her at Hookam’s when I was there with Aunt Minerva’s abigail. She is very handsome with dark red hair, and it is my belief she paints her face.”