The Painted Fan

by Elizabeth Aston

  “That man in the rather old-fashioned wig that looks as though it were not a wig but as if some poor creature had perished upon his head, that is Sir Wrekyn Silk. He is important, because he has the ear of the prince. The Prince of Wales, I mean. Beside him is Lady Harbinger. She is a rich widow and seems to consider that it is safer to wear the contents of her jewel box about her person than leave it in her house, where it may be stolen by a burglar.”

  Anna had to suppress a giggle at this, because it did indeed look as though Lady Harbinger were decked out in every jewel a woman might possess.

  “She must jingle when she dances.”

  “Let us hope we will be spared that spectacle,” said the clergyman. “Now, that man next to her is Mr. Standish. A very fine young fellow, considered one of the handsomest men in England. He has broken a score of hearts and I dare say will break a score more.”

  Anna stiffened. He glanced down at her but went smoothly on. “He will marry soon and marry well, for his family always do. And I suppose he will be a good husband within the meaning of the act.”

  What did he mean by that?

  “No, I shan’t say any more. Your years are too tender for me to sully your ears with that kind of thing. Time enough for scandal when you’re a few years older.”

  “I never heard anything scandalous about Mr. Standish.”

  “Oh, not yet. Scandals really begin once a man is married.”

  Anna hit back. “You are a clergyman, sir. I would think that you would uphold the married state and not make caustic remarks about it.”

  “It is precisely because I value the bond of marriage that I do make caustic remarks about those who ignore that bond and stray into the wilder reaches of adultery.”

  Was he actually saying that he thought that Mr. Standish would be a philanderer once he was married? No, he was saying he was already a philanderer and would continue in that way once he was married.

  He was quite mistaken; of course he was.

  “The young lady next to him, she is an interesting creature. Quite beautiful, don’t you agree?”

  Anna did not agree, but she said nothing. She sat in silence while the clergyman continued with a flow of easy talk, her head and heart alike confused, his hateful words echoing in her ears.

  A score of broken hearts? Could it be true?

  Was she destined to be one of the score? No, impossible. Mr. Standish loved her; he hadn’t loved Amelia Norton or—any of the others? How many others?

  Her heart felt as chilled as the iced pudding that was melting on the plate in front of her.

  Chapter 6

  The ball to which Anna had looked forward with such anticipation was even more distressing and disheartening than the dinner party. She knew she looked well enough, and she was thankful to see, catching sight of herself in one of the gilt-framed mirrors that lined the passage leading from the dining room to the ballroom at the rear of the house, that she didn’t look as wretched as she felt, and that restored her confidence a little. Then ahead of her she saw the elegant figure of Lady Flavia, and her spirits sank again.

  No, she could not, would not, let that woman spoil her evening. In that kind of company, perhaps Mr. Standish felt he had to be more serious. In the crush of the ballroom with the music and the chatter that accompanied a fashionable ball, he would soon be at her side, asking her to dance.

  But he wasn’t, and he didn’t. Freddie claimed her hand for the first dance, and then she danced with various other young men. She never wanted for partners, and innate pride and the knowledge that she mustn’t show her emotions on a public occasion like this kept a smile on her face and a lightness to her feet. Who would have thought she would ever be thankful that her governess had been so strict about how she should comport herself? She didn’t want the pitying stares of any of her friends, nor whispers. She must look as though she were having a wonderful time and didn’t give a fig whether Mr. Standish asked her to dance or not.

  Before this dreadful evening began, she had looked forward to being escorted to the supper room by him. It was not to be: he had stood up for a second dance with Lady Flavia, and she walked to the supper room on his arm.

  Anna knew that Freddie would inevitably appear, but to her surprise she found Mr. Vere at her side. He held out an arm and said with a smile, “Allow me to escort you, Miss Gosforth. I believe you have not yet had supper.”

  She could see from the stares of her friends that she had astonished them. Henrietta whispered in her ear as they went past, “Smile and be pleasant to Mr. Vere. You may fancy Mr. Standish, but Mr. Vere is a man of twice his fortune and consequence.”

  Anna gave a toss of her head. As if she was going to set out to make herself pleasing to a man simply because he had a large fortune and was considered important. Yet good manners prevailed, and she forced herself to be agreeable to Mr. Vere. She felt that he found her amusing, which annoyed her, and that he was laughing at her, which annoyed her even more. He quizzed her about her reading. “Are you a keen reader, Miss Gosforth? Have you read any exciting novels recently?”

  “You intend to despise me; I know what you men think of women who read novels. But I will tell you that I have just finished the third volume of The Haunted Henge, and I enjoyed it extremely.”

  “Indeed I do not despise you,” he said promptly. “I just finished it myself; my sister recommended it. I consider it an excellent story.”

  Both his courtesy and his taste in books surprised her, but now she felt they had exhausted that topic and didn’t know what else to talk about. On an impulse she said, “My cousin Freddie was telling me that everyone is talking about France. You must know; why is that the topic of the moment?”

  He looked surprised. “I would have thought in your house, Miss Gosforth, your father would have spoken of it.”

  “He never speaks of such things; not to me.”

  “He considers you are too young, or maybe he doesn’t wish to spoil your enjoyment of your season.”

  She felt a sudden spurt of anxiety. What could possibly be happening in France that would be bad enough to have any effect on her season? And then she thought, with more anxiety, in which case what of Harriet?

  “Things with regard to France are at the moment exceedingly serious. It is clear that the peace that was agreed at Amiens a year ago is about to be broken, not by us but by the French and by that ill-fated man Napoleon. He is determined to plunge his country into war again and to run riot all over Europe once more.”

  “But we are not Europe, are we?”

  “We like to think not, but indeed only twenty-three miles of sea separates us from France, and it seems likely that Bonaparte has drawn up invasion plans to cross the Channel. We would dearly like to know what his plans are, but it is obvious that given the chance, he and a large number of soldiers would be prepared to land in England.”

  Anna frowned. “You cannot be serious. England has never been invaded, not since William the Conqueror.”

  “There have been one or two other incidents. The Dutch sailed up the Thames in 1667.”

  “I know, and I know of the Barbary pirates’ raids, but that is quite different to a French army coming in. Why, what would they do?”

  “Take over the government of the country, as they have done in several other places. How is your French, Miss Gosforth? You may have need of it sooner than you think.”

  “Impossible. We have an army, we would never be defeated by the French, and they would never dare to cross the Channel and land on our shores, surely?”

  “We have been doing what we can to prepare our army. And, thank God, we have the navy. That is realistically our only protection against the French. But they have been building ships furiously—good ships, fast ships; better than ours, I have to say. Sometimes it is easier for a nation that has a single man who has but to say, ‘Do this and do not do that’ to prosper in war in comparison to a country where everything depends on arguments in a parliament where there are all kind
s of opposing factions and men with differing views.”

  “Surely, when there is a question of war, everyone must agree that we have to defend ourselves and put any French invaders to flight.”

  “You would think so,” he said somewhat drily, “but in fact it is not the case. There are those in Parliament who would like us to come to some agreement with Napoleon. An agreement that would probably be disastrous for us.”

  Anna was out of her depth and knew it. “They would do deals with the French? That would be to betray their country; it would be treason.”

  “Treason is a strong word, Miss Gosforth.”

  Mr. Vere escorted her back to the ballroom and then with a polite bow requested her hand for the next dance and led her into the set. He danced well but was not a chatty partner. Mr. Standish was only a little way further down the line, and Anna had to force herself not to let her eyes fly to him at every turn and step of the dance.

  She was still bewildered and anguished, and beginning to become angry. She must talk to him, find out why he was behaving like this.

  Her chance came a little later when finally, after she had given up all hope, he came towards her, bowed, and led her out onto the floor. He wasn’t at all his usual self; there was no flirtatiousness, no admiration in his glance. He was formal, as though he were dancing for the first time with a stranger. He made polite remarks about the dance and the music and the company, complimented her on her light-footedness, but it was as though all that had passed between them these last weeks had never happened.

  She longed to ask him, “What have I done? How have I offended you? What has changed you so?” But how could she in such a public place as a ballroom? No, she must dance and hold her head high and pretend that nothing was the matter.

  Chapter 7

  When they met the next morning to discuss the ball as they always did, Henrietta found Anna in low spirits. She was fractious, said the chocolate at breakfast had disagreed with her, and Henrietta, after one glance at her face, diagnosed a sleepless and a tearful night. Anna denied this, saying it was merely that she had a headache and was out of sorts. Mama had told her to stay in bed, but she didn’t want to; it was hot and uncomfortable in bed and she preferred to be up and doing.

  Henrietta said shrewdly, “You are distressed because Mr. Standish behaved so coldly towards you last night. I noticed it, everybody did; it was most conspicuous after all the attention he has been paying you. And it was also conspicuous how much attention he paid to Lady Flavia Gibson. He danced with her twice, you know, and took her into supper.”

  Anna said nothing; did Henrietta imagine she wasn’t aware of this? Or that she wanted to be reminded of it?

  “Have you quarrelled?” Henrietta asked, her face alight with curiosity. “That was what I told everybody who asked: I said that you had had a tiff.”

  Anna could only be grateful to Henrietta. Mr. Standish’s coldness was one thing, and inexplicable. But for the world to think it was a lover’s tiff—that would put a much better aspect on it. At least as far as her pride was concerned.

  “However, I do not think that is the truth. There are rumours flying about that he intends to offer for Lady Flavia. It would be a good match for him, they say, because she is so clever and related to everyone in the Party. Everyone says she is bound to become a great political hostess.”

  “That is a horrid ambition for any woman to have.”

  Anna couldn’t comprehend it. Mr. Standish had been attracted to her, she could tell. So how, if he was attracted by someone like her, could he contemplate marrying someone as serious as Lady Flavia? She seemed to Anna to have no sense of humour, no liveliness about her at all.

  “Of course she is beautiful,” Henrietta said, “and she has a large fortune. They say she is worth at least thirty thousand pounds.”

  “Oh, please let us not talk about Mr. Standish any more,” Anna said, sounding distinctly peevish. “I told you my head hurts, and I think maybe I have caught a cold.” She gave a little cough as though to add verisimilitude to this statement.

  “I dare say you may very well have caught a cold; it was so stuffy last night in that ballroom. Yet I wouldn’t have missed it for anything. It was a delightful ball; I enjoyed myself hugely.”

  Good for you, thought Anna; so did not I.

  “I called to ask if you will accompany me to the library. However, if your mama says that you are to stay indoors and in bed, I dare say you would prefer not to go out.”

  But Anna declared that a walk in the fresh air was just what she needed, and the two girls set off together to walk the short distance to Bond Street, where they patronised Hookham’s library. Anna wanted to return the three volumes of The Haunted Henge, and they discussed the book as they walked along.

  It was a beautiful day, and Anna hated that her spirits were so dejected. Usually she relished the bustle and hubbub of the streets. There was always something to see and exclaim at, acquaintances to greet, shop windows to examine. She wasn’t used to feeling like this; she was the least melancholy of people. How could she be reduced to such a state? This time yesterday she would have walked on wings, filled with expectation of seeing Mr. Standish, knowing herself to be in love with him and believing she was loved in return.

  What if it were all her imagination? What if he had been trifling with her? What if what she had supposed to be real gold was in truth fool’s gold?

  No, she was in love with Mr. Standish, and he had had a decided preference for her. She tightened her fists as she walked alongside Henrietta. She would not give him up to that Lady Flavia, no, nor to any other young woman.

  With this decision, new spirit flooded back into her. So it was with a light step that she went into the library with Henrietta, and there, as though in answer to a prayer, was Mr. Standish. Alone, looking up to scan books on the higher shelves.

  Boldly, Anna went over to him. He whirled round when he heard his name and looked at her, a slight flush coming to his cheeks.

  “I am glad to meet you here, Mr. Standish, for I think I have offended you. I would like to know how this may be.”

  “I cannot think of any reason why you should imagine that, Miss Gosforth. I assure you have in no way offended me. I do not believe you could do so.”

  The mere sound of his voice sent shivers down her spine. She pressed on. “I think anyone who saw you at the ball last night would think that I had offended you. We have become very friendly, have we not? And yet last night . . .”

  The flush on his face deepened. “If there was anything in my behaviour that led you to believe that, Miss Gosforth, then I apologise. I have taken uncommon pleasure in your company, but pray do not read too much into it. You are a delightful companion, but there is, I hope, nothing that I have said or done that would lead you to imagine—”

  Anger surged into Anna’s eyes. “What is it about me that has given you this disgust of me, pray, Mr. Standish? Am I too frivolous for you? Is that what bothers you?”

  He pounced on the word, as though it held his salvation. “You are very young, Miss Gosforth. Times are serious, and a man in my position indeed has little time for frivolity.”

  “So serious times demand serious companions. Is that the case? Is Lady Flavia a more serious companion than I am?”

  He said in a cold tone, “I do not think that Lady Flavia has anything to do with this. I am sorry, Miss Gosforth, if I did most unfortunately arouse expectations in you. I did not mean to, and I am not able to fulfil the kind of friendship you seem to desire.”

  Then with a bow and just a tip of his hat, he had gone.

  Anna was distraught. Tears prickled at her eyes, and here she was in the library with so many people who knew her, who had been observing her conversation with Mr. Standish and must have noticed his abrupt departure from the library. All she wanted to do was to burst into tears, to sob her heart out, and that must not happen.

  Suddenly another man stood beside her. She looked at him uncomprehendingly,
hardly recognising him through eyes filled with tears. Good heavens, it was Mr. Vere again—the ubiquitous Mr. Vere.

  “Ah, Miss Gosforth,” he said in calm tones. “Here to choose another novel? Allow me to recommend this one.”

  Vere felt sorry for her, profoundly sorry for her and angry with Standish, and this surprised him. The lachrymose affections of young ladies were not really of the slightest interest to him, and he was unused to being touched in this way. She was trying hard to keep a woebegone expression from her face, and she was making a reasonable job of it. Damn Standish for making such a mess of things. Of course he couldn’t marry the girl, but why did he have to be so particular in his attentions and then drop her as suddenly as he had taken her up? It would have been so much better manners and kinder to gradually ease himself out of a situation in which there was no future. He should have known better.

  He glanced across the room to where Henrietta Portway was turning over the pages of a book, pretending an interest he doubted she felt. “I believe you were here with a friend. I was going to take a turn in the park; perhaps you both would be good enough to accompany me.”

  Henrietta, applied to, was delighted to walk in the park with so elegant and eligible a gentleman as Mr. Vere. She was somewhat in awe of him, but it seemed to her a good idea to remove Anna from here and give her time for her flustered spirits to return to some semblance of tranquillity.

  She engaged Mr. Vere in conversation as they walked down Bond Street and crossed a busy Piccadilly and entered Green Park, and by then, both she and Mr. Vere were relieved to see, Anna had regained control of herself, and although no one could call her happy, the dreadfully stricken look had gone.

  Chapter 8

  Anna was grateful that Sarah’s imminent nuptials dominated life at home, and in the midst of the busy preparations for that happy occasion, no one noticed how quiet she was or suspected how miserable she was feeling. It was with a heavy heart that she followed her sister to church a few days later. She had to admit that Sarah looked lovely, her usually rather inexpressive face full of smiles. She had misjudged her; she had felt that Sarah was marrying simply for the sake of a good establishment, which Anna had always sworn she herself would never do. How mistaken she was; the rapturous look on her sister’s face as Lord Gosforth handed his daughter to her bridegroom proved her in the wrong. They really loved one another; there was much more to it than a simple match made for worldly reasons.