Chapter 13
Many of the ton went to St George’s, Hanover Square for Easter, or to St Paul’s; Letty and Beth went to the nearest church to Red Lion Square, rather than be involved with the beau monde and their ulterior motives to be seen to be celebrating Easter properly. Beth suspected that they enjoyed the service more, being taken simply and movingly by the local vicar, than by some celebrated orator. The church they frequented was St James’, Holborn, an ancient church rebuilt by Sir Christopher Wren, with a magnificent marble-clad tower. The magnificent interior was light and airy, and though the congregation was large, consisting largely of the lawyers employed in the nearby Inns of Court, it did not feel oppressive.
The rest of the day was spent soberly, though with the necessary business of sorting out clothes for Molly. Sowerby had loaned her a gown to be able to go to church, and Molly would do just about anything for Sowerby, never having expected to be able to worship as she would have done in her own village. St James’ magnificence was something of an object of awe to Molly, used to a quite plain medieval church with no real decoration, and she begged Sowerby to help her by writing down what it was like, for the vicar to read to her family. Sowerby had been quite stiff and starchy at first, but unbent enough to tell Molly that her own mother had warned her about these women, and she had been able to avoid being taken into a bawdy house herself, when she came to London seeking her fortune. Molly thought Sowerby tremendously clever, and Sowerby allowed that Molly had displayed resource and sagacity in managing to escape. And the first thing Sowerby turned her efforts to was breaking Molly of calling Mrs Grey and Miss Renfield ‘missus’. Beth suggested using some of the fabrics they had bought to at least make sure that Molly had respectable underclothes, and to see what Mrs Simpson might be able to find to alter for the girl.
“Sowerby will get some suitable fabrics to make up for you, to dress as befits a lady’s maid,” said Beth.
“Thank you, mis….Miss Renfield,” said Molly. “Oh I am glad I fell in with you!”
“Well, I think I am lucky to have a maid who knows how to use her brains and keeps calm in a crisis,” said Beth. “You never know when having someone who can think quickly may prove very useful. Even if it’s only in thinking of clever ways to effect a repair to clothes torn at a ball.”
“Ooh Miss Renfield, I am good at sewing,” said Molly. “I’ve always sewed for all the little ones at home, and I took in some sewing too, but there ain’t enough at home to make enough to help out. Please, Miss Renfield, what will my wages be? So I can send some home to my mother.”
“I thought we might start at nine pounds a year, while you are being trained, rising to fifteen guineas over the next two or three years, and after that, we’ll see,” said Beth.
“Oh, Miss Renfield! Thank you!” said Molly.
“If you would like, I will arrange to have such monies as you wish to send to your mother sent to her directly every month,” said Letty. “I know enough people who travel frequently who are trustworthy.”
“Oh Mrs Grey, how kind you are!” said Molly. “All I need is a shilling a week for myself, that’s two pounds twelve shillings off of it, that’ll make a heap of difference to ma having two-and-fivepence extra every week.”
“You are a good girl,” said Beth. Her pin money from Letty for being her companion would easily cover paying for a lady’s maid, and it would make Sowerby’s life easier. And if Edward did marry her, she could easily afford the increased wages a dresser would require.
The weekend passed quietly until the joyous Easter Sunday service, to which Edward accompanied the ladies, raising a brief interrogative eyebrow at Beth’s acquisition of a maid. The organ playing of one John Grosvenor was sublime, and the swelling chords of Handel’s ‘Messiah’ filled Beth with joy. She explained Molly to Edward as they walked quietly in the extensive church gardens after the service.
Edward nodded.
“Yes, I can see that you felt you had no choice,” he said, gravely. “And even if she had been stealing for a while, I believe that if it was from necessity, she would have quickly stopped such a felonious habit once given trust and a good position. I have been minded at times to try the rehabilitation of those released from jail, or to offer surety for the very young who might abandon crime if given another course to pursue. Obviously I would not consider anything like that without the say-so of my wife; would you be agreeable?”
“Certainly,” said Beth. “People are often only dishonest because they despair. And obviously one must be scrupulous not to place temptation in their way.”
“Quite so,” said Edward. “I am glad you are agreeable. If I am to inherit the title, I shall have to take my place in the House of Lords, and really it behoves me then to have some reforms in mind. My own lands are in good heart, so I can afford to spend time considering other unfortunates.”
“You are a good man, Edward,” said Beth.
“Just practical,” said Edward. “It must surely cost the country less to expect some wealthy men to give second chances to those who have paid for their crimes, or for those who are not fully embarked upon a life of crime, like your Molly, than to transport them.”
“One would think so,” said Beth, smiling to herself that Edward must needs be self-deprecating about his kindliness, as though it would somehow unman him. “I suppose too many would fear that they would be quite recidivist in their nature, however, and would betray the trust.”
“You can never know until you give trust,” said Edward, “and a man will not be trustworthy unless he is given trust, for it is in giving trust that one receives it in return, like loyalty.”
Beth nodded. His words made sense.
Easter being a contemplative time of year, without social engagements, Amelia Hazelgrove had also been contemplating.
Edward Brandon was a handsome man, easy-going on the whole, though it appeared that he had a temper and could have a quite cutting tongue at times. This was a side of him Amelia had never seen before, but if he was cutting with his tongue, she reasoned, he was not likely to be violent. And that was always an advantage in a man. She must marry; women must, unless they were so wealthy that they could eschew convention and live alone, and she could not conceive of being a governess, or companion, the two feasible occupations for an unmarried woman without support. Her portion would be a comfortable competence, and indeed, Amelia could afford to live unwed, but this was unthinkable to her. She examined her reflection in the mirror with complacency, pouting her lips and noting that they were made to be kissed, and her face was made to be worshipped by men. And preferably a man who was sufficiently wealthy to continue to indulge her every whim as her parents had always indulged her every whim. No traces remained of the illness that had almost carried her off in her childhood, she was pleased to note, but sickly as she had been for so long, her parents had been glad to give in to her will and give her all she wanted. They knew she deserved it, reflected Amelia, and her tears at their unkindness over being upset at the dinner party had soon shown them how wrong they were to act as if she had been in the wrong. It was Edward who was in the wrong! He should recognise that it was a woman’s prerogative to change her mind, and proceed to adore her as he had before; after all, it was plain that a Beauty like herself could not marry someone who would remain a mere ‘mister’ all his life. He was preoccupied by his aunt and her ward, and they must be persuaded somehow to leave him alone. Perhaps it would be wise to get to know them better. Yes, that would be it, and then Edward would see how nice she could be to his tedious and plain relatives, and he would be grateful to her. Amelia preened gently, seeing herself as a bountiful and beneficent baroness, dispensing largesse beyond what was deserving to Edward’s poor relations. Presumably he was funding this season. The idea that Letty might be quite independent of Edward never crossed Amelia’s mind in her rosy picture of the indigent aunt and distant cousin fawning on her for their monthly allowance, keeping the provincials in their places.
The ideal location to get to know more about them would be at a fête champêtre, but the weather was so unseasonably cold, still, and any kind of outdoor entertainment would be likely to fall flat. Then Amelia clapped her hands together in delight as she had an idea. The conservatory would make an ideal indoor venue for a synthetic fête champêtre, and as it opened off the east gallery, that might too be festooned with plants to extend the illusion. Blue muslin draped beneath the gallery’s ceiling would give an impression of blue summer skies. Amelia did not trouble herself with how this draping might be achieved; she would issue orders and it would be achieved. She lost herself in a reverie of plans, and lists of whom to invite. It would be a spectacular social success, a revolutionary idea that would be copied by all. Perhaps even when the weather was clement enough for outside entertainments, for the environment of being outside, yet inside, negated the more irritating aspects of the great out of doors, like insects, animals, breezes, and plants that bit one – Amelia had once met a thistle and had come away from the encounter much upset – and all the other evils of outside.
Letty frowned as she read the invitation.
“It’s from the Hazelgrove girl,” she said. “An invitation to a fête champêtre indoors, which is a bit of a contradiction in terms.”
“Well, it’s not the sort of weather to hold a fête champêtre out of doors,” said Beth. “Anyone would think it was February, not April. I take it we refuse politely? She was not very polite at Arvendish House.”
“We were not exactly friendly either,” said Letty, dryly. “Perhaps it is an olive branch offered.”
“Perhaps it is,” said Beth. “Should we accept it?”
“I think we should. If only because she may be wanting to use us to get Edward back, so we may see what she is up to,” said Letty. “I dislike her, but she has been horribly spoilt by doting parents. It might be that she was shocked that Edward has not immediately run to her side now she thinks he might be likely to be heir to the barony again, and wants to understand him better.”
“Is it very uncharitable of me not to want to help her to do so?” asked Beth.
“Yes, but quite understandable and reasonable,” said Letty. “Oh, I am just sorry for the girl. She has always, I suspect, had her own way, and it isn’t good for anyone. And harder to accept that the world does not always do your bidding when you are quite grown up.”
“I suppose so,” said Beth. “My parents were quite indulgent, but they were never foolishly fond, and I knew that there were limits.”
“Exactly,” said Letty. “Your parents were kindly, not foolish, and they picked you governesses who knew how to handle you, even if their learning was not extensive. Alas, it is the fashion not to teach girls very much.”
“At least Edward is good at explaining things,” said Beth.
Letty laughed.
“And very pompous he sometimes sounds, when doing so! But young men his age can be pompous. You should not permit him to do it too much.”
“He can sound very worthy, Aunt Letty, but then, you see, he really is that high minded, and it just comes out that way when he speaks.”
“I know, my dear. He has a good heart. But you should tease him more!”
“Well… maybe. But it seems unkind.”
“Nonsense; it would do him the world of good!” said Letty, firmly.
“Is Edward invited, do you think?” asked Beth.
“Probably, but I wonder if he will decline,” said Letty. “She’s quite predatory, and Edward is no fool. Too much vegetation into which a young man might be lured.”
“Though not quite as much as with a real fête champêtre at least,” said Beth.
“Oh, I don’t know; most young ladies like their outdoor entertainments to involve as little wildlife as possible, and choose manicured gardens or fields with grass lately shorn by sheep, and very few bushes that might turn out to have thorns,” said Letty, cynically. “I wager she’ll be making use of an Orangery or similar, with plenty of vegetation, and divided into areas of different kinds of plants, divided with artful bushes or climbing plants, trellises and pergolas and so on.”
“I have never seen an Orangery,” said Beth. “Papa was of the opinion that if a plant could not stand a good English climate, it should not be permitted to grow here. I had cucumbers for the first time ever at your table.”
“Oh, conservatories and the like are something of a conceit,” said Letty, “but I am glad of my own small greenhouse, which is not grand enough to warrant the title of conservatory. It is pleasant to have a wider choice of food.”
“I enjoy the wider choice,” said Beth. “Does Edward have a conservatory?”
“A massive one,” Letty told her. “And being Edward it is devoted entirely to vegetable growing. Why, I recall once when he had not got a flower to wear in his buttonhole, he went and picked the flower of a cucumber, and everyone who were not gardeners complimented him on his exotic plants and asked what it was called.”
“What did he say?” asked Beth.
“Curcubita,” said Letty. “He could not recall off the top of his head the correct taxonomy, which is Cucumis sativus, but it is of the curcubitae family, and it did well enough to provide an answer that still told the curious absolutely nothing.”
“He has a wicked sense of humour,” ventured Beth.
“Yes, and it is why I do not fear too much for him becoming, or remaining, too pompous,” said Letty. “Because he can still laugh at himself as well. Should I write and ask him to accept this invitation?”
Beth considered.
“No; let him make his own choice,” she said. “I will not make him dance attendance on me, just because he is good-natured enough to do so.”
Letty nodded.
Beth was being sensible.
Chapter 14
The Hazelgroves were not a family to permit the exigencies of nature to spoil their enjoyment of its offerings in a suitably tamed and manicured state, and the conservatory felt hot and steamy in comparison to almost anywhere else.
“The consumption of coal for this conceit would heat several foundling asylums,” murmured Beth.
“It’s their money to spend,” said Letty, warningly.
“I shouldn’t be so rude as to comment to anyone but you, or to Edward,” said Beth. “It would be gross ingratitude to our hostess, but it does seem a little profligate. The Amaryllis are spectacular, though.”
“They are,” said Letty. “And some splendid camellias and azaleas. Really it is a very extensive conservatory for a town house. I wonder if they use the used hops as a mulch and how good they are for the plants?”
“I beg your pardon?” said Beth.
“Miss Hazelgrove’s grandmother is a beer princess,” said Letty. “Her father made his fortune brewing porter, and sold out the business when he had only a daughter to inherit, who married a gentleman who had no intention of carrying on the trade. The Hazelgroves like to forget that, though I, for one, admire a man who can make his own fortune. I was indulging in facetiae; they have nothing to do with hops nowadays.”
“Yes, I, too, have every admiration for a man who can build himself up; as you told me that Edward has built up and increased his own lands.”
“There is a lot of foolishness regarding the so-called ‘cits’,” said Letty. “They may not always know the rules of the society we take for granted, and into which they are wishful to move, but they would learn soon enough if those of the ton were not so high in the instep and would teach them how to go on.”
“It does seem foolish,” said Beth. “But I suppose some of the beau monde think that they are trying to buy their way into an exclusive society, which is exclusive because some of them bought their way in two hundred years ago by purchasing titles from James the First, and most of the rest either did favours for Henry the Eighth or came over with William the Bastard to steal lands since they had none of their own.”
“Exactly,” said Letty. “However, let us enjoy the splendid display of flowers in the well-appointed conservatory, and appreciate how cleverly arranged is the way the greenery spills out into that gallery. And no doubt Miss Hazelgrove will wish to talk to us at some point, depending on what her motives were for inviting us.”
They did not have long to wait, as Amelia drifted over, her large mouth stretched into what was probably intended as a smile of welcome.
“Ladies! How good of you to come!” she said. “We hardly had any time to chat at the ball, and Edward was decidedly out of sorts, was he not?”
“He was in good enough spirits when I danced with him,” said Beth.
“Dear Edward! So kind, so indulgent to his relatives, you must be so grateful to him!” said Amelia.
Beth felt her eyebrows draw together in confusion.
“He has been kind enough to squire us to a number of entertainments and to drive in the park, though it was too cold to stay out long,” she said.
Amelia gave her tinkling laugh.
“I meant that he was providing your Season, of course!” she said.
“No he ain’t,” said Letty. “I’m a lot warmer than Edward is, and I don’t need to hang on the sleeve of my nevvy. Grey was in cloth, and it may not be as profitable as beer, but he did very well for himself.”
The laugh was a little forced this time.
“How very fortunate for you! I am so glad you are well able to provide for your…ward. How was it that you were both related to dear Edward?”
Letty clenched her teeth at the impudence of hinting that Beth was her natural daughter.
Beth had missed the nuance, fortunately.
“Oh, it is quite simple! Aunt Letty is the younger sister of Edward’s mother, and I am a daughter of their cousin. When I was orphaned rather unexpectedly, Aunt Letty gave me a home, as she had recently been widowed, and I have been able to repay her kindness by being a companion to her. My father had too many mortgages on the estate for me to have anything to look forward to but a life as a companion or governess, so you may be assured I was delighted!”
“And yet you have waited for a season?” asked Amelia.
“Never crossed our minds before,” said Letty. “Like Edward, we prefer, on the whole, a quiet life in the country, though may I say you have made a delightful indoor space here to hold a fête champêtre; so very clever of you!”
Amelia was diverted from the irritation of Edward’s preference for the country by the praise, and she almost preened, a smile of satisfaction creeping across her face.
“It is rather splendid, is it not?” she agreed. “I think it has worked out even better than I hoped when I had the idea. Though I am disappointed that not everyone I invited has come. I suppose they might come later.”
“Perhaps some people were wary of the idea of an indoor fête champêtre,” said Beth. “Aunt Letty and I were merely excited, and eager to see your conservatory. We have only a small greenhouse, but perhaps we might be persuaded to extend it.”
“It is rather exciting,” said Letty. “The fountain is very attractive too, and I must say, I would rather like to use something similar to grow watercress for the table.”
“Oh, there are sections for the vegetables as well, but of course they are not on display; such things are the province of gardeners, after all,” said Amelia.
“Edward would be lost to the rest of the company if he were here, talking to your gardeners about the raising of exotic foods,” said Beth. “He grows only vegetables in his hot houses.”
“Indeed? You have seen them?” asked Amelia.
“Yes, indeed,” said Letty, for whom, personally, it was not a lie; what a nasty put-down from the Hazelgrove girl. “I advised Edward on how to lay his vegetables out, as it happens, and have visited many times. His cucumbers have taken prizes at the local fairs, and his cook makes the best tomato ketchup I have ever tasted from the tomatoes that he grows. He raises all manner of fruit as well.”
“I am sure he does,” said Amelia, her mouth compressed. “Well, when he is married, I am sure he will be too busy to take so much of a personal interest in his gardening, and will leave it to a gardener, as he will surely leave his estates to a steward.”
Letty laughed.
“I can see you do not know Edward very well,” she said.
“What do you mean?” demanded Amelia.
“If Edward was ever so foolish as to marry a woman stupid enough to try to take him from his favourite pursuits, she would soon discover his stubborn streak, and as soon as he had got an heir on her, she would find herself very lonely in his country manor, if she did not choose to join him in his interests.”
“Oh nonsense! Edward would never incarcerate the love of his life in some rural fastness!” declared Amelia.
“Possibly not; but if the love of his life is not interested in the pedigree of black faced Suffolk sheep, or the peculiarities of a crim.con. between a cucumber and a marrow I doubt she’d remain the love of his life for long,” said Letty.
“Oh Aunt Letty! How droll! Is there such a thing as cross-fertilisation between cucumbers and marrows?” asked Beth.
“Apparently; and Edward found out by accident, having raised his own seed,” said Letty. “You must get him to tell you about it some day.”
“I shall! What might one do with the fruit thereof? Use it as a substrate in jam, perhaps, married with something strong in flavour?”
“I don’t believe Edward had got beyond being interested that it existed,” said Letty, dryly.
“Dear me! What a quite horrifying thing to discuss!” said Amelia. “Edward is too bad to treat you like peasants in so doing!”
“Nonsense,” said Beth. “He would expect anyone who is fond of him to enter into his own fascination.”
“He had me out helping with a difficult birthing of piglets once,” said Letty, her eyes twinkling as she began to spin what she intended as a Banbury tale. “He told me that the sow needed the support of another lady of pedigree, to hold her,er, trotter, and speak soothingly to her.”
Amelia gave a little shriek.
“He would surely never ask something like that of me!” she cried.
“Oh, no, he knows town-bred girls are not much use,” said Letty. “The Brandons and the Edgebys, that’s my family, have farmed land for generations; I may be a cadet branch, as the current Marquis of Trentbury is a maternal uncle of mine, but the land is born in the flesh and bred in the bone. Different people have different ways.”
Amelia had been snubbed, and said something inarticulate and flounced off. How she hated these horrid relatives of Edward’s!
“Aunt Letty, in light of our earlier conversation regarding the need for those of good breeding to show those more lately of the ton how to go on, don’t you think that was rather a high in the instep comment?” said Beth.
“Well, yes, it was, and I cannot say I am anything but a little ashamed of myself,” admitted Letty. “But her continual slights, implying that you are my natural daughter, that we are poor relations, and that final blatant suggestion that she is planning on marrying Edward really made me angry. So I’m afraid I ranged the eleven generations of aristocracy behind me, that I had almost forgotten through my happiness with Grey.”
“She implied all that?” said Beth. “I am very stupid.”
“No, my dear, just not wise to the ways of those who know how to give their words a cutting edge,” said Letty. “And I am capable of cutting back, I fear. I learned a lot by listening to what Grey’s diplomatic friends said, and what they said by not saying anything. Dear me! I have not met someone I wanted to be so rude to in a long time!”
“I fail to see how she thinks she is going to marry Edward, when she turned him down, most fortuitously for him,” said Beth.
“I suspect she believes she can re-captivate him, now his incipient barony looms handsomely before her,” said Letty. “Dear me, I can think of a few rather well-turned phrases I might use regarding his attraction that are not at all suitable for the current age; we were less mealy-mouthed when I was young.”
“As if you were old, Aunt Letty!” protested Beth.
“I am not old, but I am not a babe in arms either; and the things that were said in my young days would make your hair curl,” said Letty.
Beth laughed.
“Then perhaps you should try to give me ringlets!” she said.
“Hmm, I think not; you would end up with it as frizzy as a Dutchman,” said Letty. “No, I will not tell you what I thought. You are likely enough to repeat it to Edward and he is certainly to delicate for the same”
Beth giggled.
“That’s a hum!” she said.
“Possibly, but I prefer not to risk it,” said Letty, primly. “Shall we remain for the whole afternoon and continue to exacerbate Miss Hazelgrove’s nerves by our presence, or shall we withdraw, having discovered her plans?”
“Have we discovered her plans?” asked Beth.
“I believe so,” said Letty. “I think she rather hoped to be able to patronise us a little, thinking us to be poor relations, and to ingratiate herself with Edward by being kind to us. I suspect she will continue to try to look good in Edward’s eyes by being nicer to us than she wants to be, and I suppose it would be uncivil not to meet her half way. It won’t make the slightest difference to Edward.”
“No, indeed; he seems to think me a suitable sort of wife,” sighed Beth.
Letty elevated an eyebrow.
“Suitable? Oh dear,” she said.
“I could hope for love,” said Beth, wistfully.
“He’s a man; and most men are idiots,” said Letty. “Depend upon it, he will realise what is creeping up on him sooner or later.”
“Do you think it is?” asked Beth.
“Oh, I think so,” said Letty. “So long as he does not fall into another fit of idiocy such as he had over la Hazelgrove!”
It was, perhaps, a shame that neither Letty nor Beth realised that the heavy bush of myrtle they were standing beside concealed the entrance to a small grotto, where Amelia Hazelgrove was currently standing, listening to this conversation with growing fury. She controlled her rage with unwonted fortitude in order to listen to the close of the conversation, unaware of the old adage that says that eavesdroppers rarely hear good of themselves. So! Edward was planning to marry the dumpy nobody who liked grubbing in the dirt like a peasant! Amelia planned to put a spoke in that plan; and as soon as she might. The Renfield girl must somehow be shown to be as much of a slut as Tiffany Pelham had apparently turned out to be, for Edward would not do the chivalrous thing and marry a ruined girl if there was any chance she was with child by another. Arranging to have Beth Renfield ruined might prove harder, but Amelia was certain she would find a way. It only required that Beth be somehow induced to go somewhere with a man, or where a man might meet her, and spend the night with him. Even if somehow she retained her virtue under such circumstances, nobody would believe it, and she would be forced either to marry whoever did the deed, or retire to the country, her reputation in shreds. Amelia was wealthy; and there were plenty of gentlemen whose reputations were not of the best and who would always do anything for money. It surely would not take too much effort to find one such man, who would be happy to deflower a virgin and get paid for it; and indeed, if Letty Grey were rich, doubtless Beth was her beneficiary, and an heiress for a wife would please such a man too. Amelia smiled to herself at her own cleverness.
And during the meanwhile, Amelia vowed that she must also smile until her jaw ached at Letty and Beth, and seem to be friendly to these horrible provincials!
Chapter 15
London was swiftly flooded with soldiers returning from France, officers who swelled the ranks of the gentlemen at balls and routs, and common soldiers too, destitute in the case of many after their discharge from an army which no longer wished to pay them; and Beth noticed that there were many more beggars on the streets. Many of them were crippled by their experiences of war, missing one or both legs, or an arm, or with eyepatches over ruined sockets, and many of them suffering cruelly from the effects of frost on stumps of limbs.
Beth gave largess where she might, and spoke to Edward, when he came, he said, to take his leave for a week or two.
“I just wanted to talk to you about something if I may, before you go,” said Beth.
“If it’s about what you should wear for some ball, I have less idea than one of my pigs,” said Edward. “I have very little idea of fashion.”
“It is nothing so frivolous or foolish,” said Beth indignantly. “It is that the government has served its soldiery very badly. Do you not think it would be a good idea to help these men out, before they feel tempted to become criminals?”
“By Jove, Beth, it’s a capital notion,” said Edward. “And I’ll certainly speak to others I know. I have to go and see to the planting of the wheat and barley, but while I am in the country, I shall turn my attention to what work may be found.”
“Some may have come from the land in any case, and even if not suitable for work on the land, for being too crippled, might yet be able to train young boys bound over to keep the peace that you had in mind initially,” suggested Beth.
Edward nodded.
“It’s a good thought,” he said. “And one I shall bear in mind. I’ll be back before too long, dear Beth; I shall miss you, you know!”
He sounded faintly surprised.
“I miss you when you are not here, too,” said Beth.
He kissed her hand, with a flourish, and left her.
Beth knew she would miss him, but immersed herself in the social round whilst she had the opportunity, to store up and remember, for she could not imagine having another time like this. And nor, being honest with herself, would she want to! She gave herself to helping her friends with their own romantic problems, not so much of a problem in Elizabeth’s case, for she was becoming very close to Mr Grindlay! And Elizabeth could choose to wed where she wished, and her parents likely to permit any reasonable choice. Mr Grindlay was undoubtedly a gentleman, and hence an impeccable choice for any young lady, allowing for his means being modest.
Lady Cressida was another matter. As Mr Chetwode was part of Beth’s group of intimates, the rather poker-faced lady had been drawn in, and teasing by Beth and Elisabeth revealed her to be merely shy, and hating the idea of being sold to the highest bidder.
“We are in the same situation, Cousin Cressida, except I am supposed to be the purchase price of a title,” said Madelaine.
“It is a very trying thing to have determined parents,” sighed Cressida. The girls were in the ladies’ cloakroom in a break in the dancing, fixing each other’s escaping hair. “I … the only person I have ever met whom I can respect is Mr Chetwode, and I fear my parents might not accept a penniless musician.”
“Ascertain if he has enough for you to live on and then elope with him, Lady Cressida,” said Beth.
“Oh, call me Cressida, I pray you!” said Cressida. “It is hard to know how to raise the subject without being indelicate!”
“Why, Cressida, I think that sometimes one has to be blunt; and ask him if he can support a wife, and a couple of servants,” said Beth, “for you are not used to coping without servants, I think.”
“I can at least cook,” said Cressida, dryly. “Someone had to step into the breach when Mama offended the last cook but one, and he left in high dudgeon. I used Mrs Rundell’s excellent book of Domestic Economy.”
“Now that’s resource,” said Elizabeth.
Cressida shrugged.
“Needs must, and after all, French aristocrats have had to learn to make shift for themselves. And I am English, and at least as capable as any Frenchwoman.”
“I wish I were so resourceful,” said Madelaine.
“I am sure that you would be, if you had to be,” said Cressida. “Look here! You have money, and we have the title; I’ll ask StClair if he won’t make sheep’s eyes at you just to make your mother think you have snared the heir to the Earldom. It’s what Mama thinks she wants.”
“But he’s just a schoolboy!” said Madelaine.
“Yes, but it won’t be real,” said Cressida. “He’d be as horrified as you, if anyone wished such a marriage on him, because he wants to do his own choosing, as I do! But he’s a sport, and he’d play along!”
“Well, that might help,” said Madelaine. “Thank you! Even if he says no, thank you for asking him. Why was he in trouble for playing?”
Cressida chortled, startling the other girls, who did not realise she knew how to laugh!
“He was playing a piece called ‘the trooper watering his nag’ which is full of innuendo, and he explained it to me, and I blushed merrily, I can tell you!”
“I don’t want to know,” said Abigail, hastily.
“And Edward would not tell me,” said Beth, mournfully.
“And I think I should spare my blushes as it would probably shock Mr Grindlay,” said Elizabeth, blushing.
“I hope he will not explain it to me!” cried Madelaine.
“I pestered him,” said Cressida.
They returned to dance, and Beth found herself with Philip Devereux.
“A ladies’ meeting to pull apart we men, I suppose?” he asked as he led her into the country dance.
“Oh, you flatter yourselves,” said Beth. “You men must ever think you are the sole topic of the conversation of women!”
“And we are not? I am devastated. Quite cast down, indeed,” said Mr Devereux.
“No, you are not,” said Beth.
“Well, no, I am not, and I can hide disappointment that my hopes are unfulfilled,” said he.
“Idiot,” said Beth, amicably.
The notice, meanwhile, of a criminal conversation suit, brought by Baron Darsham, duly appeared in the newspapers, naming Evelyn, Marquis Finchbury as the defendant, and the trial date was set. Edward thought himself well out of it; and anyone who thought to ask Letty and Beth, as relatives of those most nearly concerned were met with fishy looks.
“I can hardly comment on people not known to me,” said Beth, firmly, when Amelia asked what the news was. They always seemed to be meeting Amelia, who was determinedly friendly.
“It affects Edward so nearly, though; are you not interested to know if he is likely to become the next baron?” asked Amelia.
“Not in the least,” said Beth. “If he is the heir, why then, he has been trained to it, and will accept the duties with resignation, and will do his utmost to perform such duties as fall to him to the best of his ability. If Lord Brandon remarries again and produces a son, then he will be relieved to avoid such duties. He told me that if he became baron, he would have to sit in the House of Lords and take an interest in politics, and I know that he is not particularly interested in politics.”
“Oh, pooh, most of the peers do not bother,” said Amelia.
“Perhaps not; but this is Edward of whom we speak, and he is very conscientious about his duties,” said Beth. “He would find it such a nuisance, having to come to town to sit in the House; it would interfere with his farming plans. He has been driving back to Suffolk regularly, you know, to oversee the spring planting.”
“Oh!” said Amelia, “is that what he’s been up to? I wondered if he had a mistress hidden somewhere.”
“Not unless her name is Wheat and Barley,” laughed Beth.
“Well! I would think more of him as a man if he had a mistress, rather than dabbling in the dirt,” said Amelia, crossly.
“I think more of him as a man for taking care of those who are dependant on him, and caring for the land he holds, not just for the benefit of his dependants, but for those he holds it in sacred trust for, his descendants,” said Beth.
“Oh, you would,” said Amelia crossly, thinking that if Beth Renfield were much more bovine, she would chew the cud!
Beth hated the little seed of doubt that Amelia had sown as thoroughly as Edward was sowing his crops; what if he did have a mistress? She decided to ask Letty, once they were back in the privacy of their temporary home.
“Amelia suggested that Edward might be visiting a mistress, not his lands,” she said. “Oh good, that was a most unladylike snort.”
“I thought most unladylike thoughts about that little madam,” said Letty. “Edward is a babe in arms where women are concerned; I could never picture him with a mistress. Oh, I expect he learned what was what in his youth, but he’s too fastidious to, as you might say, flit from flower to flower, and he’s too transparent for me to fail to pick up the idea of him having a long term mistress. And if he did, he would hardly have been sitting in Miss Hazelgrove’s pocket since she came out in the Little Season. And I can’t see him neglecting his lands for a few hours dubious pleasure in any case. Edward is far too dutiful and worthy! Indeed without his saving grace of a sense of humour, and an eclectic taste in reading matter, he would be quite boring!”
“He is not boring!” said Beth.
“No, that’s what I said,” said Letty. “He has a broad knowledge of all kinds of things, which he loves to share, and which bore the likes of Miss Hazelgrove, but which fill people like you and me with delight, for he shares what he knows in a spirit of enjoying what he has discovered, not in the spirit of imparting knowledge to less well-read people. Now, that Major who is making a cake over you, he likes to tell poor ignorant females what they ought to know.”
“He’s a boring ass,” said Beth.
“Quite. Assinine in the extreme, and has no idea of how to impart knowledge without turning it into a lecture. He was explaining to me how cucumbers need a greenhouse.”
“Oh dear!” laughed Beth. “Did you point out how little you need telling?”
“No, my dear, I’m afraid I put on a look of vapid and vacuous interest, all wide eyes, and let Edward explain to him that I send cucumbers to all my neighbours.”
Beth chuckled.
“I wish I had seen that,” she said. “Was that why he was so huffy when he was dancing with me?”
“Probably. He deigned to sit out with me while you were giving a fine impression of taking a spider for a walk whilst dancing with Mr Chetwode.”
“Mr Chetwode may look like a drunken spider when he dances, but he is a fine musician,” said Beth.
Letty raised an eyebrow.
“You are not preferring him to Edward?” she asked.
“Oh! No!” said Beth, “but I am a conspirator of his, to enable him to get close to Cressida, as he is hoping to marry her.”
“I cannot see that her parents would disapprove; they have despaired of finding a husband for her that she has not scared away, and Mr Chetwode is very wealthy,” said Letty.
“Is she?” asked Beth. “Why, then, there should not be a problem; Cressida is under the impression that he is as poor as a church mouse and is trying to work out how to break it to her parents that she loves him and will have him, no matter what. I told her to ascertain if he could afford to keep her, and then elope with him.”
“Oh Beth! Still, perhaps it may be for the best,” said Letty. “He is not as well born as perhaps they would like, but as it is money the family needs, I cannot see a real bar to the union. I am glad to see less of Mr Devereux around, he is a pleasant rattle, but I am not sure that he is of serious enough mien for you.”
“Oh I like him well enough, but too much levity may become as tedious as too much seriousness,” said Beth. “I dare say he will make a good husband to someone when he finishes growing up. Edward enjoys recounting the misdeeds of his youth, Mr Devereux regrets not reliving them, I fancy. He does not take himself seriously at all, and until he does, he will not take anyone else seriously.”
“Ah!” said Letty. “You have not, then, met anyone you prefer to Edward?”
“No, Aunt Letty; I love Edward, and I could hope that he learns to hold me at least in affection,” said Beth.
“He’d be a fool not to,” said Letty.
Many of the ton went to St George’s, Hanover Square for Easter, or to St Paul’s; Letty and Beth went to the nearest church to Red Lion Square, rather than be involved with the beau monde and their ulterior motives to be seen to be celebrating Easter properly. Beth suspected that they enjoyed the service more, being taken simply and movingly by the local vicar, than by some celebrated orator. The church they frequented was St James’, Holborn, an ancient church rebuilt by Sir Christopher Wren, with a magnificent marble-clad tower. The magnificent interior was light and airy, and though the congregation was large, consisting largely of the lawyers employed in the nearby Inns of Court, it did not feel oppressive.
The rest of the day was spent soberly, though with the necessary business of sorting out clothes for Molly. Sowerby had loaned her a gown to be able to go to church, and Molly would do just about anything for Sowerby, never having expected to be able to worship as she would have done in her own village. St James’ magnificence was something of an object of awe to Molly, used to a quite plain medieval church with no real decoration, and she begged Sowerby to help her by writing down what it was like, for the vicar to read to her family. Sowerby had been quite stiff and starchy at first, but unbent enough to tell Molly that her own mother had warned her about these women, and she had been able to avoid being taken into a bawdy house herself, when she came to London seeking her fortune. Molly thought Sowerby tremendously clever, and Sowerby allowed that Molly had displayed resource and sagacity in managing to escape. And the first thing Sowerby turned her efforts to was breaking Molly of calling Mrs Grey and Miss Renfield ‘missus’. Beth suggested using some of the fabrics they had bought to at least make sure that Molly had respectable underclothes, and to see what Mrs Simpson might be able to find to alter for the girl.
“Sowerby will get some suitable fabrics to make up for you, to dress as befits a lady’s maid,” said Beth.
“Thank you, mis….Miss Renfield,” said Molly. “Oh I am glad I fell in with you!”
“Well, I think I am lucky to have a maid who knows how to use her brains and keeps calm in a crisis,” said Beth. “You never know when having someone who can think quickly may prove very useful. Even if it’s only in thinking of clever ways to effect a repair to clothes torn at a ball.”
“Ooh Miss Renfield, I am good at sewing,” said Molly. “I’ve always sewed for all the little ones at home, and I took in some sewing too, but there ain’t enough at home to make enough to help out. Please, Miss Renfield, what will my wages be? So I can send some home to my mother.”
“I thought we might start at nine pounds a year, while you are being trained, rising to fifteen guineas over the next two or three years, and after that, we’ll see,” said Beth.
“Oh, Miss Renfield! Thank you!” said Molly.
“If you would like, I will arrange to have such monies as you wish to send to your mother sent to her directly every month,” said Letty. “I know enough people who travel frequently who are trustworthy.”
“Oh Mrs Grey, how kind you are!” said Molly. “All I need is a shilling a week for myself, that’s two pounds twelve shillings off of it, that’ll make a heap of difference to ma having two-and-fivepence extra every week.”
“You are a good girl,” said Beth. Her pin money from Letty for being her companion would easily cover paying for a lady’s maid, and it would make Sowerby’s life easier. And if Edward did marry her, she could easily afford the increased wages a dresser would require.
The weekend passed quietly until the joyous Easter Sunday service, to which Edward accompanied the ladies, raising a brief interrogative eyebrow at Beth’s acquisition of a maid. The organ playing of one John Grosvenor was sublime, and the swelling chords of Handel’s ‘Messiah’ filled Beth with joy. She explained Molly to Edward as they walked quietly in the extensive church gardens after the service.
Edward nodded.
“Yes, I can see that you felt you had no choice,” he said, gravely. “And even if she had been stealing for a while, I believe that if it was from necessity, she would have quickly stopped such a felonious habit once given trust and a good position. I have been minded at times to try the rehabilitation of those released from jail, or to offer surety for the very young who might abandon crime if given another course to pursue. Obviously I would not consider anything like that without the say-so of my wife; would you be agreeable?”
“Certainly,” said Beth. “People are often only dishonest because they despair. And obviously one must be scrupulous not to place temptation in their way.”
“Quite so,” said Edward. “I am glad you are agreeable. If I am to inherit the title, I shall have to take my place in the House of Lords, and really it behoves me then to have some reforms in mind. My own lands are in good heart, so I can afford to spend time considering other unfortunates.”
“You are a good man, Edward,” said Beth.
“Just practical,” said Edward. “It must surely cost the country less to expect some wealthy men to give second chances to those who have paid for their crimes, or for those who are not fully embarked upon a life of crime, like your Molly, than to transport them.”
“One would think so,” said Beth, smiling to herself that Edward must needs be self-deprecating about his kindliness, as though it would somehow unman him. “I suppose too many would fear that they would be quite recidivist in their nature, however, and would betray the trust.”
“You can never know until you give trust,” said Edward, “and a man will not be trustworthy unless he is given trust, for it is in giving trust that one receives it in return, like loyalty.”
Beth nodded. His words made sense.
Easter being a contemplative time of year, without social engagements, Amelia Hazelgrove had also been contemplating.
Edward Brandon was a handsome man, easy-going on the whole, though it appeared that he had a temper and could have a quite cutting tongue at times. This was a side of him Amelia had never seen before, but if he was cutting with his tongue, she reasoned, he was not likely to be violent. And that was always an advantage in a man. She must marry; women must, unless they were so wealthy that they could eschew convention and live alone, and she could not conceive of being a governess, or companion, the two feasible occupations for an unmarried woman without support. Her portion would be a comfortable competence, and indeed, Amelia could afford to live unwed, but this was unthinkable to her. She examined her reflection in the mirror with complacency, pouting her lips and noting that they were made to be kissed, and her face was made to be worshipped by men. And preferably a man who was sufficiently wealthy to continue to indulge her every whim as her parents had always indulged her every whim. No traces remained of the illness that had almost carried her off in her childhood, she was pleased to note, but sickly as she had been for so long, her parents had been glad to give in to her will and give her all she wanted. They knew she deserved it, reflected Amelia, and her tears at their unkindness over being upset at the dinner party had soon shown them how wrong they were to act as if she had been in the wrong. It was Edward who was in the wrong! He should recognise that it was a woman’s prerogative to change her mind, and proceed to adore her as he had before; after all, it was plain that a Beauty like herself could not marry someone who would remain a mere ‘mister’ all his life. He was preoccupied by his aunt and her ward, and they must be persuaded somehow to leave him alone. Perhaps it would be wise to get to know them better. Yes, that would be it, and then Edward would see how nice she could be to his tedious and plain relatives, and he would be grateful to her. Amelia preened gently, seeing herself as a bountiful and beneficent baroness, dispensing largesse beyond what was deserving to Edward’s poor relations. Presumably he was funding this season. The idea that Letty might be quite independent of Edward never crossed Amelia’s mind in her rosy picture of the indigent aunt and distant cousin fawning on her for their monthly allowance, keeping the provincials in their places.
The ideal location to get to know more about them would be at a fête champêtre, but the weather was so unseasonably cold, still, and any kind of outdoor entertainment would be likely to fall flat. Then Amelia clapped her hands together in delight as she had an idea. The conservatory would make an ideal indoor venue for a synthetic fête champêtre, and as it opened off the east gallery, that might too be festooned with plants to extend the illusion. Blue muslin draped beneath the gallery’s ceiling would give an impression of blue summer skies. Amelia did not trouble herself with how this draping might be achieved; she would issue orders and it would be achieved. She lost herself in a reverie of plans, and lists of whom to invite. It would be a spectacular social success, a revolutionary idea that would be copied by all. Perhaps even when the weather was clement enough for outside entertainments, for the environment of being outside, yet inside, negated the more irritating aspects of the great out of doors, like insects, animals, breezes, and plants that bit one – Amelia had once met a thistle and had come away from the encounter much upset – and all the other evils of outside.
Letty frowned as she read the invitation.
“It’s from the Hazelgrove girl,” she said. “An invitation to a fête champêtre indoors, which is a bit of a contradiction in terms.”
“Well, it’s not the sort of weather to hold a fête champêtre out of doors,” said Beth. “Anyone would think it was February, not April. I take it we refuse politely? She was not very polite at Arvendish House.”
“We were not exactly friendly either,” said Letty, dryly. “Perhaps it is an olive branch offered.”
“Perhaps it is,” said Beth. “Should we accept it?”
“I think we should. If only because she may be wanting to use us to get Edward back, so we may see what she is up to,” said Letty. “I dislike her, but she has been horribly spoilt by doting parents. It might be that she was shocked that Edward has not immediately run to her side now she thinks he might be likely to be heir to the barony again, and wants to understand him better.”
“Is it very uncharitable of me not to want to help her to do so?” asked Beth.
“Yes, but quite understandable and reasonable,” said Letty. “Oh, I am just sorry for the girl. She has always, I suspect, had her own way, and it isn’t good for anyone. And harder to accept that the world does not always do your bidding when you are quite grown up.”
“I suppose so,” said Beth. “My parents were quite indulgent, but they were never foolishly fond, and I knew that there were limits.”
“Exactly,” said Letty. “Your parents were kindly, not foolish, and they picked you governesses who knew how to handle you, even if their learning was not extensive. Alas, it is the fashion not to teach girls very much.”
“At least Edward is good at explaining things,” said Beth.
Letty laughed.
“And very pompous he sometimes sounds, when doing so! But young men his age can be pompous. You should not permit him to do it too much.”
“He can sound very worthy, Aunt Letty, but then, you see, he really is that high minded, and it just comes out that way when he speaks.”
“I know, my dear. He has a good heart. But you should tease him more!”
“Well… maybe. But it seems unkind.”
“Nonsense; it would do him the world of good!” said Letty, firmly.
“Is Edward invited, do you think?” asked Beth.
“Probably, but I wonder if he will decline,” said Letty. “She’s quite predatory, and Edward is no fool. Too much vegetation into which a young man might be lured.”
“Though not quite as much as with a real fête champêtre at least,” said Beth.
“Oh, I don’t know; most young ladies like their outdoor entertainments to involve as little wildlife as possible, and choose manicured gardens or fields with grass lately shorn by sheep, and very few bushes that might turn out to have thorns,” said Letty, cynically. “I wager she’ll be making use of an Orangery or similar, with plenty of vegetation, and divided into areas of different kinds of plants, divided with artful bushes or climbing plants, trellises and pergolas and so on.”
“I have never seen an Orangery,” said Beth. “Papa was of the opinion that if a plant could not stand a good English climate, it should not be permitted to grow here. I had cucumbers for the first time ever at your table.”
“Oh, conservatories and the like are something of a conceit,” said Letty, “but I am glad of my own small greenhouse, which is not grand enough to warrant the title of conservatory. It is pleasant to have a wider choice of food.”
“I enjoy the wider choice,” said Beth. “Does Edward have a conservatory?”
“A massive one,” Letty told her. “And being Edward it is devoted entirely to vegetable growing. Why, I recall once when he had not got a flower to wear in his buttonhole, he went and picked the flower of a cucumber, and everyone who were not gardeners complimented him on his exotic plants and asked what it was called.”
“What did he say?” asked Beth.
“Curcubita,” said Letty. “He could not recall off the top of his head the correct taxonomy, which is Cucumis sativus, but it is of the curcubitae family, and it did well enough to provide an answer that still told the curious absolutely nothing.”
“He has a wicked sense of humour,” ventured Beth.
“Yes, and it is why I do not fear too much for him becoming, or remaining, too pompous,” said Letty. “Because he can still laugh at himself as well. Should I write and ask him to accept this invitation?”
Beth considered.
“No; let him make his own choice,” she said. “I will not make him dance attendance on me, just because he is good-natured enough to do so.”
Letty nodded.
Beth was being sensible.
Chapter 14
The Hazelgroves were not a family to permit the exigencies of nature to spoil their enjoyment of its offerings in a suitably tamed and manicured state, and the conservatory felt hot and steamy in comparison to almost anywhere else.
“The consumption of coal for this conceit would heat several foundling asylums,” murmured Beth.
“It’s their money to spend,” said Letty, warningly.
“I shouldn’t be so rude as to comment to anyone but you, or to Edward,” said Beth. “It would be gross ingratitude to our hostess, but it does seem a little profligate. The Amaryllis are spectacular, though.”
“They are,” said Letty. “And some splendid camellias and azaleas. Really it is a very extensive conservatory for a town house. I wonder if they use the used hops as a mulch and how good they are for the plants?”
“I beg your pardon?” said Beth.
“Miss Hazelgrove’s grandmother is a beer princess,” said Letty. “Her father made his fortune brewing porter, and sold out the business when he had only a daughter to inherit, who married a gentleman who had no intention of carrying on the trade. The Hazelgroves like to forget that, though I, for one, admire a man who can make his own fortune. I was indulging in facetiae; they have nothing to do with hops nowadays.”
“Yes, I, too, have every admiration for a man who can build himself up; as you told me that Edward has built up and increased his own lands.”
“There is a lot of foolishness regarding the so-called ‘cits’,” said Letty. “They may not always know the rules of the society we take for granted, and into which they are wishful to move, but they would learn soon enough if those of the ton were not so high in the instep and would teach them how to go on.”
“It does seem foolish,” said Beth. “But I suppose some of the beau monde think that they are trying to buy their way into an exclusive society, which is exclusive because some of them bought their way in two hundred years ago by purchasing titles from James the First, and most of the rest either did favours for Henry the Eighth or came over with William the Bastard to steal lands since they had none of their own.”
“Exactly,” said Letty. “However, let us enjoy the splendid display of flowers in the well-appointed conservatory, and appreciate how cleverly arranged is the way the greenery spills out into that gallery. And no doubt Miss Hazelgrove will wish to talk to us at some point, depending on what her motives were for inviting us.”
They did not have long to wait, as Amelia drifted over, her large mouth stretched into what was probably intended as a smile of welcome.
“Ladies! How good of you to come!” she said. “We hardly had any time to chat at the ball, and Edward was decidedly out of sorts, was he not?”
“He was in good enough spirits when I danced with him,” said Beth.
“Dear Edward! So kind, so indulgent to his relatives, you must be so grateful to him!” said Amelia.
Beth felt her eyebrows draw together in confusion.
“He has been kind enough to squire us to a number of entertainments and to drive in the park, though it was too cold to stay out long,” she said.
Amelia gave her tinkling laugh.
“I meant that he was providing your Season, of course!” she said.
“No he ain’t,” said Letty. “I’m a lot warmer than Edward is, and I don’t need to hang on the sleeve of my nevvy. Grey was in cloth, and it may not be as profitable as beer, but he did very well for himself.”
The laugh was a little forced this time.
“How very fortunate for you! I am so glad you are well able to provide for your…ward. How was it that you were both related to dear Edward?”
Letty clenched her teeth at the impudence of hinting that Beth was her natural daughter.
Beth had missed the nuance, fortunately.
“Oh, it is quite simple! Aunt Letty is the younger sister of Edward’s mother, and I am a daughter of their cousin. When I was orphaned rather unexpectedly, Aunt Letty gave me a home, as she had recently been widowed, and I have been able to repay her kindness by being a companion to her. My father had too many mortgages on the estate for me to have anything to look forward to but a life as a companion or governess, so you may be assured I was delighted!”
“And yet you have waited for a season?” asked Amelia.
“Never crossed our minds before,” said Letty. “Like Edward, we prefer, on the whole, a quiet life in the country, though may I say you have made a delightful indoor space here to hold a fête champêtre; so very clever of you!”
Amelia was diverted from the irritation of Edward’s preference for the country by the praise, and she almost preened, a smile of satisfaction creeping across her face.
“It is rather splendid, is it not?” she agreed. “I think it has worked out even better than I hoped when I had the idea. Though I am disappointed that not everyone I invited has come. I suppose they might come later.”
“Perhaps some people were wary of the idea of an indoor fête champêtre,” said Beth. “Aunt Letty and I were merely excited, and eager to see your conservatory. We have only a small greenhouse, but perhaps we might be persuaded to extend it.”
“It is rather exciting,” said Letty. “The fountain is very attractive too, and I must say, I would rather like to use something similar to grow watercress for the table.”
“Oh, there are sections for the vegetables as well, but of course they are not on display; such things are the province of gardeners, after all,” said Amelia.
“Edward would be lost to the rest of the company if he were here, talking to your gardeners about the raising of exotic foods,” said Beth. “He grows only vegetables in his hot houses.”
“Indeed? You have seen them?” asked Amelia.
“Yes, indeed,” said Letty, for whom, personally, it was not a lie; what a nasty put-down from the Hazelgrove girl. “I advised Edward on how to lay his vegetables out, as it happens, and have visited many times. His cucumbers have taken prizes at the local fairs, and his cook makes the best tomato ketchup I have ever tasted from the tomatoes that he grows. He raises all manner of fruit as well.”
“I am sure he does,” said Amelia, her mouth compressed. “Well, when he is married, I am sure he will be too busy to take so much of a personal interest in his gardening, and will leave it to a gardener, as he will surely leave his estates to a steward.”
Letty laughed.
“I can see you do not know Edward very well,” she said.
“What do you mean?” demanded Amelia.
“If Edward was ever so foolish as to marry a woman stupid enough to try to take him from his favourite pursuits, she would soon discover his stubborn streak, and as soon as he had got an heir on her, she would find herself very lonely in his country manor, if she did not choose to join him in his interests.”
“Oh nonsense! Edward would never incarcerate the love of his life in some rural fastness!” declared Amelia.
“Possibly not; but if the love of his life is not interested in the pedigree of black faced Suffolk sheep, or the peculiarities of a crim.con. between a cucumber and a marrow I doubt she’d remain the love of his life for long,” said Letty.
“Oh Aunt Letty! How droll! Is there such a thing as cross-fertilisation between cucumbers and marrows?” asked Beth.
“Apparently; and Edward found out by accident, having raised his own seed,” said Letty. “You must get him to tell you about it some day.”
“I shall! What might one do with the fruit thereof? Use it as a substrate in jam, perhaps, married with something strong in flavour?”
“I don’t believe Edward had got beyond being interested that it existed,” said Letty, dryly.
“Dear me! What a quite horrifying thing to discuss!” said Amelia. “Edward is too bad to treat you like peasants in so doing!”
“Nonsense,” said Beth. “He would expect anyone who is fond of him to enter into his own fascination.”
“He had me out helping with a difficult birthing of piglets once,” said Letty, her eyes twinkling as she began to spin what she intended as a Banbury tale. “He told me that the sow needed the support of another lady of pedigree, to hold her,er, trotter, and speak soothingly to her.”
Amelia gave a little shriek.
“He would surely never ask something like that of me!” she cried.
“Oh, no, he knows town-bred girls are not much use,” said Letty. “The Brandons and the Edgebys, that’s my family, have farmed land for generations; I may be a cadet branch, as the current Marquis of Trentbury is a maternal uncle of mine, but the land is born in the flesh and bred in the bone. Different people have different ways.”
Amelia had been snubbed, and said something inarticulate and flounced off. How she hated these horrid relatives of Edward’s!
“Aunt Letty, in light of our earlier conversation regarding the need for those of good breeding to show those more lately of the ton how to go on, don’t you think that was rather a high in the instep comment?” said Beth.
“Well, yes, it was, and I cannot say I am anything but a little ashamed of myself,” admitted Letty. “But her continual slights, implying that you are my natural daughter, that we are poor relations, and that final blatant suggestion that she is planning on marrying Edward really made me angry. So I’m afraid I ranged the eleven generations of aristocracy behind me, that I had almost forgotten through my happiness with Grey.”
“She implied all that?” said Beth. “I am very stupid.”
“No, my dear, just not wise to the ways of those who know how to give their words a cutting edge,” said Letty. “And I am capable of cutting back, I fear. I learned a lot by listening to what Grey’s diplomatic friends said, and what they said by not saying anything. Dear me! I have not met someone I wanted to be so rude to in a long time!”
“I fail to see how she thinks she is going to marry Edward, when she turned him down, most fortuitously for him,” said Beth.
“I suspect she believes she can re-captivate him, now his incipient barony looms handsomely before her,” said Letty. “Dear me, I can think of a few rather well-turned phrases I might use regarding his attraction that are not at all suitable for the current age; we were less mealy-mouthed when I was young.”
“As if you were old, Aunt Letty!” protested Beth.
“I am not old, but I am not a babe in arms either; and the things that were said in my young days would make your hair curl,” said Letty.
Beth laughed.
“Then perhaps you should try to give me ringlets!” she said.
“Hmm, I think not; you would end up with it as frizzy as a Dutchman,” said Letty. “No, I will not tell you what I thought. You are likely enough to repeat it to Edward and he is certainly to delicate for the same”
Beth giggled.
“That’s a hum!” she said.
“Possibly, but I prefer not to risk it,” said Letty, primly. “Shall we remain for the whole afternoon and continue to exacerbate Miss Hazelgrove’s nerves by our presence, or shall we withdraw, having discovered her plans?”
“Have we discovered her plans?” asked Beth.
“I believe so,” said Letty. “I think she rather hoped to be able to patronise us a little, thinking us to be poor relations, and to ingratiate herself with Edward by being kind to us. I suspect she will continue to try to look good in Edward’s eyes by being nicer to us than she wants to be, and I suppose it would be uncivil not to meet her half way. It won’t make the slightest difference to Edward.”
“No, indeed; he seems to think me a suitable sort of wife,” sighed Beth.
Letty elevated an eyebrow.
“Suitable? Oh dear,” she said.
“I could hope for love,” said Beth, wistfully.
“He’s a man; and most men are idiots,” said Letty. “Depend upon it, he will realise what is creeping up on him sooner or later.”
“Do you think it is?” asked Beth.
“Oh, I think so,” said Letty. “So long as he does not fall into another fit of idiocy such as he had over la Hazelgrove!”
It was, perhaps, a shame that neither Letty nor Beth realised that the heavy bush of myrtle they were standing beside concealed the entrance to a small grotto, where Amelia Hazelgrove was currently standing, listening to this conversation with growing fury. She controlled her rage with unwonted fortitude in order to listen to the close of the conversation, unaware of the old adage that says that eavesdroppers rarely hear good of themselves. So! Edward was planning to marry the dumpy nobody who liked grubbing in the dirt like a peasant! Amelia planned to put a spoke in that plan; and as soon as she might. The Renfield girl must somehow be shown to be as much of a slut as Tiffany Pelham had apparently turned out to be, for Edward would not do the chivalrous thing and marry a ruined girl if there was any chance she was with child by another. Arranging to have Beth Renfield ruined might prove harder, but Amelia was certain she would find a way. It only required that Beth be somehow induced to go somewhere with a man, or where a man might meet her, and spend the night with him. Even if somehow she retained her virtue under such circumstances, nobody would believe it, and she would be forced either to marry whoever did the deed, or retire to the country, her reputation in shreds. Amelia was wealthy; and there were plenty of gentlemen whose reputations were not of the best and who would always do anything for money. It surely would not take too much effort to find one such man, who would be happy to deflower a virgin and get paid for it; and indeed, if Letty Grey were rich, doubtless Beth was her beneficiary, and an heiress for a wife would please such a man too. Amelia smiled to herself at her own cleverness.
And during the meanwhile, Amelia vowed that she must also smile until her jaw ached at Letty and Beth, and seem to be friendly to these horrible provincials!
Chapter 15
London was swiftly flooded with soldiers returning from France, officers who swelled the ranks of the gentlemen at balls and routs, and common soldiers too, destitute in the case of many after their discharge from an army which no longer wished to pay them; and Beth noticed that there were many more beggars on the streets. Many of them were crippled by their experiences of war, missing one or both legs, or an arm, or with eyepatches over ruined sockets, and many of them suffering cruelly from the effects of frost on stumps of limbs.
Beth gave largess where she might, and spoke to Edward, when he came, he said, to take his leave for a week or two.
“I just wanted to talk to you about something if I may, before you go,” said Beth.
“If it’s about what you should wear for some ball, I have less idea than one of my pigs,” said Edward. “I have very little idea of fashion.”
“It is nothing so frivolous or foolish,” said Beth indignantly. “It is that the government has served its soldiery very badly. Do you not think it would be a good idea to help these men out, before they feel tempted to become criminals?”
“By Jove, Beth, it’s a capital notion,” said Edward. “And I’ll certainly speak to others I know. I have to go and see to the planting of the wheat and barley, but while I am in the country, I shall turn my attention to what work may be found.”
“Some may have come from the land in any case, and even if not suitable for work on the land, for being too crippled, might yet be able to train young boys bound over to keep the peace that you had in mind initially,” suggested Beth.
Edward nodded.
“It’s a good thought,” he said. “And one I shall bear in mind. I’ll be back before too long, dear Beth; I shall miss you, you know!”
He sounded faintly surprised.
“I miss you when you are not here, too,” said Beth.
He kissed her hand, with a flourish, and left her.
Beth knew she would miss him, but immersed herself in the social round whilst she had the opportunity, to store up and remember, for she could not imagine having another time like this. And nor, being honest with herself, would she want to! She gave herself to helping her friends with their own romantic problems, not so much of a problem in Elizabeth’s case, for she was becoming very close to Mr Grindlay! And Elizabeth could choose to wed where she wished, and her parents likely to permit any reasonable choice. Mr Grindlay was undoubtedly a gentleman, and hence an impeccable choice for any young lady, allowing for his means being modest.
Lady Cressida was another matter. As Mr Chetwode was part of Beth’s group of intimates, the rather poker-faced lady had been drawn in, and teasing by Beth and Elisabeth revealed her to be merely shy, and hating the idea of being sold to the highest bidder.
“We are in the same situation, Cousin Cressida, except I am supposed to be the purchase price of a title,” said Madelaine.
“It is a very trying thing to have determined parents,” sighed Cressida. The girls were in the ladies’ cloakroom in a break in the dancing, fixing each other’s escaping hair. “I … the only person I have ever met whom I can respect is Mr Chetwode, and I fear my parents might not accept a penniless musician.”
“Ascertain if he has enough for you to live on and then elope with him, Lady Cressida,” said Beth.
“Oh, call me Cressida, I pray you!” said Cressida. “It is hard to know how to raise the subject without being indelicate!”
“Why, Cressida, I think that sometimes one has to be blunt; and ask him if he can support a wife, and a couple of servants,” said Beth, “for you are not used to coping without servants, I think.”
“I can at least cook,” said Cressida, dryly. “Someone had to step into the breach when Mama offended the last cook but one, and he left in high dudgeon. I used Mrs Rundell’s excellent book of Domestic Economy.”
“Now that’s resource,” said Elizabeth.
Cressida shrugged.
“Needs must, and after all, French aristocrats have had to learn to make shift for themselves. And I am English, and at least as capable as any Frenchwoman.”
“I wish I were so resourceful,” said Madelaine.
“I am sure that you would be, if you had to be,” said Cressida. “Look here! You have money, and we have the title; I’ll ask StClair if he won’t make sheep’s eyes at you just to make your mother think you have snared the heir to the Earldom. It’s what Mama thinks she wants.”
“But he’s just a schoolboy!” said Madelaine.
“Yes, but it won’t be real,” said Cressida. “He’d be as horrified as you, if anyone wished such a marriage on him, because he wants to do his own choosing, as I do! But he’s a sport, and he’d play along!”
“Well, that might help,” said Madelaine. “Thank you! Even if he says no, thank you for asking him. Why was he in trouble for playing?”
Cressida chortled, startling the other girls, who did not realise she knew how to laugh!
“He was playing a piece called ‘the trooper watering his nag’ which is full of innuendo, and he explained it to me, and I blushed merrily, I can tell you!”
“I don’t want to know,” said Abigail, hastily.
“And Edward would not tell me,” said Beth, mournfully.
“And I think I should spare my blushes as it would probably shock Mr Grindlay,” said Elizabeth, blushing.
“I hope he will not explain it to me!” cried Madelaine.
“I pestered him,” said Cressida.
They returned to dance, and Beth found herself with Philip Devereux.
“A ladies’ meeting to pull apart we men, I suppose?” he asked as he led her into the country dance.
“Oh, you flatter yourselves,” said Beth. “You men must ever think you are the sole topic of the conversation of women!”
“And we are not? I am devastated. Quite cast down, indeed,” said Mr Devereux.
“No, you are not,” said Beth.
“Well, no, I am not, and I can hide disappointment that my hopes are unfulfilled,” said he.
“Idiot,” said Beth, amicably.
The notice, meanwhile, of a criminal conversation suit, brought by Baron Darsham, duly appeared in the newspapers, naming Evelyn, Marquis Finchbury as the defendant, and the trial date was set. Edward thought himself well out of it; and anyone who thought to ask Letty and Beth, as relatives of those most nearly concerned were met with fishy looks.
“I can hardly comment on people not known to me,” said Beth, firmly, when Amelia asked what the news was. They always seemed to be meeting Amelia, who was determinedly friendly.
“It affects Edward so nearly, though; are you not interested to know if he is likely to become the next baron?” asked Amelia.
“Not in the least,” said Beth. “If he is the heir, why then, he has been trained to it, and will accept the duties with resignation, and will do his utmost to perform such duties as fall to him to the best of his ability. If Lord Brandon remarries again and produces a son, then he will be relieved to avoid such duties. He told me that if he became baron, he would have to sit in the House of Lords and take an interest in politics, and I know that he is not particularly interested in politics.”
“Oh, pooh, most of the peers do not bother,” said Amelia.
“Perhaps not; but this is Edward of whom we speak, and he is very conscientious about his duties,” said Beth. “He would find it such a nuisance, having to come to town to sit in the House; it would interfere with his farming plans. He has been driving back to Suffolk regularly, you know, to oversee the spring planting.”
“Oh!” said Amelia, “is that what he’s been up to? I wondered if he had a mistress hidden somewhere.”
“Not unless her name is Wheat and Barley,” laughed Beth.
“Well! I would think more of him as a man if he had a mistress, rather than dabbling in the dirt,” said Amelia, crossly.
“I think more of him as a man for taking care of those who are dependant on him, and caring for the land he holds, not just for the benefit of his dependants, but for those he holds it in sacred trust for, his descendants,” said Beth.
“Oh, you would,” said Amelia crossly, thinking that if Beth Renfield were much more bovine, she would chew the cud!
Beth hated the little seed of doubt that Amelia had sown as thoroughly as Edward was sowing his crops; what if he did have a mistress? She decided to ask Letty, once they were back in the privacy of their temporary home.
“Amelia suggested that Edward might be visiting a mistress, not his lands,” she said. “Oh good, that was a most unladylike snort.”
“I thought most unladylike thoughts about that little madam,” said Letty. “Edward is a babe in arms where women are concerned; I could never picture him with a mistress. Oh, I expect he learned what was what in his youth, but he’s too fastidious to, as you might say, flit from flower to flower, and he’s too transparent for me to fail to pick up the idea of him having a long term mistress. And if he did, he would hardly have been sitting in Miss Hazelgrove’s pocket since she came out in the Little Season. And I can’t see him neglecting his lands for a few hours dubious pleasure in any case. Edward is far too dutiful and worthy! Indeed without his saving grace of a sense of humour, and an eclectic taste in reading matter, he would be quite boring!”
“He is not boring!” said Beth.
“No, that’s what I said,” said Letty. “He has a broad knowledge of all kinds of things, which he loves to share, and which bore the likes of Miss Hazelgrove, but which fill people like you and me with delight, for he shares what he knows in a spirit of enjoying what he has discovered, not in the spirit of imparting knowledge to less well-read people. Now, that Major who is making a cake over you, he likes to tell poor ignorant females what they ought to know.”
“He’s a boring ass,” said Beth.
“Quite. Assinine in the extreme, and has no idea of how to impart knowledge without turning it into a lecture. He was explaining to me how cucumbers need a greenhouse.”
“Oh dear!” laughed Beth. “Did you point out how little you need telling?”
“No, my dear, I’m afraid I put on a look of vapid and vacuous interest, all wide eyes, and let Edward explain to him that I send cucumbers to all my neighbours.”
Beth chuckled.
“I wish I had seen that,” she said. “Was that why he was so huffy when he was dancing with me?”
“Probably. He deigned to sit out with me while you were giving a fine impression of taking a spider for a walk whilst dancing with Mr Chetwode.”
“Mr Chetwode may look like a drunken spider when he dances, but he is a fine musician,” said Beth.
Letty raised an eyebrow.
“You are not preferring him to Edward?” she asked.
“Oh! No!” said Beth, “but I am a conspirator of his, to enable him to get close to Cressida, as he is hoping to marry her.”
“I cannot see that her parents would disapprove; they have despaired of finding a husband for her that she has not scared away, and Mr Chetwode is very wealthy,” said Letty.
“Is she?” asked Beth. “Why, then, there should not be a problem; Cressida is under the impression that he is as poor as a church mouse and is trying to work out how to break it to her parents that she loves him and will have him, no matter what. I told her to ascertain if he could afford to keep her, and then elope with him.”
“Oh Beth! Still, perhaps it may be for the best,” said Letty. “He is not as well born as perhaps they would like, but as it is money the family needs, I cannot see a real bar to the union. I am glad to see less of Mr Devereux around, he is a pleasant rattle, but I am not sure that he is of serious enough mien for you.”
“Oh I like him well enough, but too much levity may become as tedious as too much seriousness,” said Beth. “I dare say he will make a good husband to someone when he finishes growing up. Edward enjoys recounting the misdeeds of his youth, Mr Devereux regrets not reliving them, I fancy. He does not take himself seriously at all, and until he does, he will not take anyone else seriously.”
“Ah!” said Letty. “You have not, then, met anyone you prefer to Edward?”
“No, Aunt Letty; I love Edward, and I could hope that he learns to hold me at least in affection,” said Beth.
“He’d be a fool not to,” said Letty.