‘The Lord Chancellor,’ said Mr Perry with a speculative gleam in his eye, ‘says that bets are being laid, some as large as fifty guineas!’
‘The Queen was going to come at the end of April,’ I said, ‘but then I read in the newspaper that she was indisposed and unable to travel.’ I made a point of reading Father’s copy of The Times every day after he’d finished with it, to keep myself up to date with the Queen’s whereabouts and engagements.
‘All hell will break loose when she does arrive!’ said Mr Perry. ‘The King will sue for divorce immediately she sets a foot on the shore at Dover.’
‘She has a great deal of support from the people,’ I said. ‘Perhaps the King will change his mind?’ I lowered my voice. ‘He’s already exceedingly unpopular with the press and if he’s perceived to be persecuting her it won’t help him rise in the public’s esteem.’
‘Ah, well!’ Mr Perry’s eyes gleamed. ‘I have another titbit of gossip for you. Did you hear that John Chesterton’s father was burgled?’
I shook my head.
‘Chesterton told me about it last night,’ said Mr Perry. ‘One of his father’s paintings, a Stubbs, has been stolen. An unusual subject, I’m told, because it wasn’t one of Stubbs’s usual equine portraits but that of a giraffe. The interesting thing is that it’s not the first time.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Another Stubbs, a painting of a lion that time, was stolen from the Chestertons five years ago. It seems the impudent rascal bided his time and came back for its companion piece!’
‘My father mentioned there’d been a spate of art thefts in the past.’
‘What clinched the fact it was the same thief,’ said Mr Perry, ‘was that he left a sketch of an empty picture frame in its place, glued to the wall.’
‘The Picture Frame thief is a scoundrel with a sense of humour it seems!’
It was raining when Aunt Maude and I were ready to leave the party and I suggested that we drive Dolly to his lodgings. No sooner had we all set off than Aunt Maude fell asleep, lulled by the rocking of the carriage and the drumming of the rain on the roof.
‘Poor lady,’ I said, looking at her papery cheeks all crumpled with sleep. ‘She’s too old to have to suffer through the season with me. I think we must have a quiet day tomorrow.’
Dolly glanced at her. ‘Emilia,’ he said in an undertone, ‘have you given any more thought to my suggestion?’
‘That we tell Father I’m considering your proposal?’
He nodded. ‘I’ve been trying to speak to you privately ever since your ball.’
‘I’ve thought about it because Father keeps pressing me,’ I said, unhappily. ‘Every time I return from a social engagement he interrogates me about any young men I’ve met and then lists all your virtues again.’
Dolly smiled. ‘I didn’t know I had any! That’s a marked change from his original opinion of me.’
‘He’s more than happy now to view you as his future son-in-law,’ I admitted.
‘I do believe,’ said Dolly, studying me through narrowed eyes, ‘we might make a good match. Certainly I’d rather marry you than any of those vacuous little misses at the tea party today.’
I thought of Mr Fortescue, who’d pestered me at my ball, and of Mr Chesterton, who was a trifle slow, and of Mr Perry, who was amiable but not blessed with common sense. If I hadn’t loved Alessandro, I might have accepted Dolly’s proposal. At least then my future would have been secure.
‘Well,’ he said, ‘shall we stop your father from pressuring us by telling him that you will at least consider my offer?’
Aunt Maude stirred and I put a finger to my lips.
There were a great many carriages in the streets, due to the torrential rain, and I watched drops of water racing down the carriage windows. At least I’d been spared the sight of Dolly going down on bended knee to propose to me. I smiled to myself, imagining he’d take great care when kneeling so as not to sully his trousers. There had never been any hint of flirtation between him and myself and any arrangement we reached suggesting a possible attachment between us was purely for Father’s benefit. I still hoped Alessandro would write to me and then I’d be certain of his feelings for me.
Soon we arrived at Dolly’s lodgings. He thanked us for driving him home before dashing through the rain to his front door.
It was as the carriage splashed down Portman Street that I saw the stork-like figure of Lady Hamilton standing under her portico and directing her servants as they loaded a carriage with travelling valises. I rapped on the roof of our carriage and the coachman pulled up.
Aunt Maude sat bolt upright. ‘Are we home?’ she murmured.
‘Not yet, Aunt Maude dear,’ I said. ‘I won’t be a moment but I want to have a word with Lady Hamilton.’ Before she could protest, I snatched up my umbrella and alighted into the street.
‘Miss Langdon?’ called Lady Hamilton as I hurried towards her.
‘I was driving by and saw your servants stowing your travelling bags,’ I explained.
‘For goodness’ sake, come out of the rain!’
I shook my umbrella and sheltered under the portico with her.
‘You received the note I sent to you earlier today?’ asked Lady Hamilton.
I shook my head. ‘I left the house after breakfast.’
‘I’m setting off at last to join the Queen.’
‘I’d thought she was to arrive at the end of April,’ I said, ‘but I read in The Times that she was too unwell to travel.’
‘She decided to return to the Villa Vittoria before coming to England. When she arrived there she had a severe attack of rheumatic fever, which confined her to bed.’
So Alessandro might have remained in Italy or could be part of the Queen’s entourage travelling towards Calais.
‘Once she’d recovered,’ said Lady Hamilton, ‘she packed up her jewels and personal possessions and set off for England again. She intends to present herself to the public as their Queen with all attendant ceremony. Unfortunately, she was taken ill with a stomach complaint on the journey and was forced to rest in Geneva. I’m to join her with all speed now and escort her to Calais.’
‘You said you wrote me a note, Lady Hamilton?’
‘I did,’ she replied crisply. ‘The Queen has commissioned several new items of clothing from Mrs Webbe in Pall Mall and has sent her favourite dresses to act as patterns. Her Majesty would be pleased if you would visit Mrs Webbe on her behalf to select the colours and materials that will suit her best.’
‘Did she give any indication of her preferences?’ I said, wondering how I’d be able to arrange this without making Father angry. I’d learned not to mention the Queen in his presence.
‘They are all to be in a dignified English style,’ said Lady Hamilton, ‘since she’s determined to present herself as a model Queen of England. She asked me particularly to say she will rely absolutely on your good judgement.’
‘I am honoured,’ I said.
Lady Hamilton looked up at the sky. ‘I sincerely hope the weather doesn’t worsen for the Channel crossing.’
I hesitated, unsure if I dared ask a favour, but decided I could lose nothing by it. ‘If by any chance Signor Fiorelli is still with the Queen’s entourage,’ I said, ‘would it be possible for you to ask him to write to me?’
Lady Hamilton surveyed me, stony-faced. Then she sighed. ‘Love makes the young so reckless, doesn’t it? I can’t imagine Sir Frederick is happy to have his daughter chasing after a penniless tutor. Besides, I’d heard rumours that you are to marry his heir.’
I looked down at my feet to hide my blush of annoyance. ‘Unfounded gossip,’ I said.
‘If I see Signor Fiorelli,’ said Lady Hamilton after a moment, ‘I will give him your message.’
I looked up at her, unable to disguise my gratitude. Thank you so much, ma’am.’
‘Now hurry along, you’re delaying me.’
And then I was back in the rain again
, skipping through the puddles, heedless of my wet feet.
The following day Aunt Maude and I sat together in the morning room. I’d found Belinda by Maria Edgeworth in Father’s library and offered to read it aloud. When I opened the first of the three volumes it gave me a little jolt to see that the flyleaf was inscribed with my mother’s name in a firm and confident hand, all underlined with a flourish. Tracing the letters with my forefinger I wondered if she had been as self-assured as her signature.
‘Rose loved books,’ said Aunt Maude, watching me, ‘though your father didn’t approve of her reading novels. He thought they might inflame her imagination.’
‘Perhaps they did,’ I said, remembering what he’d told me about her adulterous affair. Maybe reading had encouraged her to seek romance outside her marriage?
‘In the time I knew Rose, she was never given to flights of fancy,’ said Aunt Maude. ‘I always found her to be an eminently sensible young woman, much like yourself.’
The door opened and James the footman entered. ‘Miss Langdon,’ he said, ‘your father requests you attend him in his study.’
I placed the book on the side table. ‘I shan’t be long, Aunt Maude,’ I said.
A moment later James opened the study door and I saw that Dolly was with my father. Both men stood up as I entered.
Father, smiling widely, held out both his hands to me. ‘Emilia, my dear child! Dolly has told me the wonderful news.’
I glanced at my soi-disant suitor, who looked even paler than usual. A slight tic twitched at the corner of one eye and I was afraid I knew what had happened. ‘What wonderful news is that, Father?’
‘Why, your engagement, of course!’
I disentangled my fingers from his warm grip. ‘I assure you,’ I said frostily, ‘there is no engagement between us.’
Father waved a hand as if to dismiss my comment. ‘As to that, I understand you wish to wait a while before any formal announcement…’
‘I have made it perfectly clear to Dolly that I have agreed only to consider his proposal,’ I said. ‘I’m in no hurry at all to engage myself to anyone at present.’
Dolly gave his usual nervous cough. ‘And I am very happy to give Emilia all the time she needs to make up her mind. Months if necessary. Clearly, there must be no announcement until,’ he caught my eye and had the grace to blush, ‘unless Emilia decides to make me the happiest of men.’
He didn’t look very happy and it was then that I made up my mind to follow his suggestion. It seemed he wanted his freedom as much as I wanted mine so it was unlikely he’d pressure me into a hasty marriage.
My father breathed heavily and looked at both of us with something akin to anger in his eyes.
‘Father,’ I said in as conciliatory a tone of voice as I could, ‘I am newly arrived in England and everything here is so different for me. I am still learning to know my own family. Allow me a few months more to make what is the most important decision of my life.’
He fixed his gaze on the painting by Fra Angelico’s apprentice, which he had hung opposite his desk.
It was curious how calming an effect the sight of it seemed to have on him. His breathing slowed and the tension disappeared from his face as he studied the glowing colours and delicate details.
I caught Dolly’s eye and he gave an apologetic grimace.
‘Forgive me,’ Father said, after a moment. ‘It seems such a perfect choice for both of you and I do so want to see you settled. If Dolly is prepared to wait, I suppose I must be content to wait, too.’
‘Then, if you will excuse me,’ I said, ‘I shall return to Aunt Maude.’
Father was spending an increasing amount of time in the House of Commons. At dinner he mentioned the endless speculation regarding the Queen’s arrival and the disruption that might ensue. I drew him out on the subject since naturally Her Majesty’s affairs were of great interest to me.
‘Mr Brougham has suggested advantageous terms on which Caroline of Brunswick might consent to stay abroad,’ said Father, ‘but the wretched woman has a grossly inflated view of her rights. Furthermore,’ he said indignantly, ‘he’s accused Parliament of being corrupt.’
‘I daresay Parliaments over the ages have been accused of that many times,’ I observed.
Father ignored my comment. ‘The King has sent his old friend Lord Hutchinson off with Brougham to treat with her. His Majesty is determined to get rid of his wife but she’ll have to renounce the title of Queen of England if she wants her fifty thousand a year for life.’
‘Is the King so concerned about it because the Queen is more popular than he is?’ I asked, trying to appear ingenuous.
‘Don’t ever suggest such a thing outside these four walls, Emilia,’ said Father, his brow thunderous. ‘I’m working hard to find a place on the King’s advisory committee for the Coronation planning and it would destroy all my chances if he thought anyone in my family didn’t support him completely.’
Over the next few days Father watched me covertly with a brooding expression on his face and I came to the conclusion that I’d surprised him, not only by my adamant refusal to be propelled into a hasty marriage but also by making that ill-judged reference to the Queen’s growing popularity.
When I mentioned at breakfast one morning that I’d received several new invitations, he suggested that I might like some new dresses since the summer was upon us.
‘Thank you, Father!’ I kissed his cheek, wondering if the offer was a bribe for good behaviour.
I now had the perfect excuse for visiting Mrs Webbe, the Queen’s mantua-maker. Aunt Maude, of course, would have to accompany me to Pall Mall and I realised it would be necessary to explain to her my errand on the Queen’s behalf. I was relieved when she brooked no objection.
‘You may count on me to be perfectly discreet,’ she said. ‘And really, I do think that the poor Queen has been very put upon by the King over the years. She may have misbehaved but His Majesty has hardly conducted himself like a gentleman. That she wishes to make a good impression during her visit here shows perfect sense, particularly now she’s the Queen of England and not simply the estranged wife of the Prince Regent.’
‘I have to admit she is a most eccentric lady,’ I confided. ‘Her conduct is not always dignified but, in my experience, she’s good-hearted and very brave in the face of unhappiness.’
‘Between us two,’ whispered Aunt Maude, ‘and whilst certainly not condoning it, I cannot blame her if she sought a little happiness with her Italian steward. After all, the King has had many mistresses.’
I was astonished by Aunt Maude’s attitude. I hadn’t expected it from someone of her age.
‘Sometimes,’ she continued, ‘I’m extremely thankful that I never married. It seems to me that marriage is a risky business.’ She shook her head regretfully. ‘It certainly made your poor dear mother very unhappy.’
‘So Father tells me,’ I said. I didn’t want to talk about my mother now I knew what kind of a person she had been and how much distress she had caused.
We left the mantua-maker after an appointment lasting nearly three hours. Two new dresses were to be made for me, one in pale green muslin with white sprigs and another in the palest primrose yellow with a flounced hem.
I had also made a careful choice of materials for the Queen’s dresses, taking into account her florid colouring and rotund figure, and hoped that she would approve. The most useful thing I could do to help the poor woman at the moment was to make her feel elegant and self-assured. While she might be popular with the public, if it came to a confrontation in court, she would be dealing with some of the best legal minds in the kingdom, who all intended to win the King’s favour by helping him to destroy her reputation forever.
Chapter 22
June 1820
London
Father threw down his copy of The Times on the breakfast table and sighed. ‘The King will be in even more of a temper than yesterday when he reads this. Caroline of Brunswick – I
really cannot refer to her as his Queen – set ashore in an open boat, would you believe, rather than wait a few hours until the tide had turned and the Prince Leopold could dock at Dover. That’s just the kind of undignified and impetuous behaviour that will endear her to the lower orders.’
‘It must have taken a great deal of courage to climb down from the Prince Leopold into a small boat on the open sea,’ I observed.
‘For heaven’s sake, Emilia! That woman will do anything to play to the gallery,’ said Father, scowling. ‘The wretched common people had been waiting for her since dawn, milling about on the beach and the cliffs and getting drunk, dressed up as if they were going to a fête. And then the cannon at Dover Castle actually greeted her with the Royal Salute.’ His lips twisted in a sneer. ‘You can just imagine how cock-a-hoop that would have made her.’
The Dressmaker’s Secret Page 21