Chapter 7
Letty and Beth continued to eagerly follow the progress of the war in France in the newspapers, marvelling that Napoleon Bonaparte had made his own people so sickened by war that no hindrance was placed in the way of the advancing armies of Wellington, Blucher and Prince Schwarzenberg.
“Listen to this,” said Letty, “ The paper says, ‘The Plymouth Telegraph announced yesterday the following important intelligence, which we immediately communicated to the public, though of course it could not be in the whole of our impression: ‘The South of France is in Insurrection against Buonoparte, and in favour of the Bourbons. Two Gentlemen arrived as Deputies from the Royalists, on the road to London.”
“Does it say who they are?” asked Beth.
“No, alas, no more was known when the paper went to press,” said Letty, “but I wager the war may be over by the end of March, God willing. It says many towns are raising the white cockade for the Bourbons, so this terrible bloodthirsty country may soon return to normal.”
“I hope so,” said Beth. “Whilst it is said that the French aristocracy was quite despotic and cruel, the Reign of Terror was more so, and the Monster Bonaparte was not to be satisfied until he ruled all the world, quite like the tales of Jengiz Khan!”
“And here is a report from the Dutch Papers,” said Letty. “It seems that Bonaparte’s men have been putting about reports that the French army, far from being in retreat, is winning, and there is an appeal to the soldiers of France, from Marshal Blucher, to disregard such lies, and save life by surrendering.”
“Too cruel!” said Beth. “Why, if such lies are believed, it will lead to unnecessary deaths on both sides.”
“Yes, and the negotiations for peace have broken down too,” said Letty. “The Monster is determined to drag it out for as long as he might.”
“Oh it is too bad; no wonder his own people have lost faith in him,” said Beth. “Is there anything more?”
“Only the usual idiotic letters from men who have never even been in the militia, suggesting how Lord Liverpool should direct Lord Wellington,” said Letty, dryly.
“Dear me, and doubtless it is some of people like that who managed to seize power during the Terror, and went mad with power,” said Beth. “I cannot say that rule by the people will ever work unless there are people chosen who are educated solely to rule, in the way that a monarch has his sons trained to rule, from birth. Which since the education of the great schools is aimed towards leadership, one might assume our own government to have been so trained.”
“Some better than others,” said Letty, dryly.
“True; but an infinitely preferable system to any that the French have managed so far,” said Beth.
“I cannot argue with that!” said Letty. “Oh! Listen to this tragedy; there has been an action between the packet, ‘The Duchess of Montrose’ and the sloop of war ‘Primrose’, each thinking the other to be the enemy, but how good it is to know our mails are well defended, for the packet made the sloop back off! Eight men killed and twenty-eight wounded in all.”
“How terrible! How could they mistake the colours of England for those of the enemy?” asked Beth.
“Who can say!” said Letty.
Edward called after breakfast, to take the ladies for a drive.
“And wrap up warmly,” he said, “it has been a hard frost, and the wind is chill.”
“I believe I may wrap a shawl around my head under my bonnet, if you do not mind, Edward,” said Beth.
“I think the better of you for having so much good sense,” said Edward. “If you choose a light one you may breathe through, you can also pull it over your face if the wind in your face makes breathing painful.”
“How thoughtful you are, Edward!” said Beth. “It is good to know that you are so sensible. I hope the officers in France are as sensible, and will keep their poor men as warm as possible. It cannot be easy for them, camped outside Paris.”
“No, indeed,” said Edward, “Though for all we know, they may be billeted within Paris by now; the news we get is always several days old, and I believe the last report was from the twenty-fourth.”
“Indeed, it is hard to wait for news, but of course infinitely harder for those who have husbands and sweethearts fighting,” said Beth.
“You are such a kind and thoughtful girl,” said Edward.
“Past my girlhood, I fear,” said Beth.
“Oh, you are a green girl from where I am looking,” said Edward.
“I am not sure whether to take that as a compliment or not,” said Beth.
“Oh, it is a compliment,” said Edward, and hurriedly changed the subject. “Have you heard of the great hoax?”
“No, what great hoax?” asked Beth.
“Why, it was put about on the twenty-first that Napoleon was certainly defeated, and it was all with the intent of raising the price of certain stocks to sell at profit!” said Edward. “Some fellow representing himself as the aide-de-camp of Lord Cathcart, newly come from France spread false intelligence!”
“My goodness, how bold!” said Beth. “We were moving on the twenty-first, if you recall, Edward, and must have missed the whole announcement. Though surely it only pre-empts the truth by a matter of a few weeks, so can it really be harmful?”
“Yes, because the lie manipulates the stock market falsely, and is therefore tantamount to stealing,” said Edward, “and it also throws doubt on true news, and leaves those who have relatives abroad left in a state of doubt and uncertainty, unsure what news to believe.”
“Oh! How dreadful for them, of course it must do,” said Beth. “Though I must say, the way stocks fluctuate in value seems very silly to me; for surely the price of things should be based merely on the labour it costs to produce them.”
“No, there are more things than that,” said Edward. “For example, with the coldest winter in living memory behind us, and spring not really advanced, it means the crops sown this year may not do as well, unless we have a hot summer, but with reasonable rainfall, to make up for late planting, and fruit trees unable to flower for the cold. That means food prices will rise, for not having as much to sell, including meat, whose winter fodder ran out for some farmers. And I believe many lambs have been lost too, to the cold.”
“Dear me, I had not considered that,” said Beth. “You are right; I am green.”
Edward laughed kindly.
“But you are clever, withal, and ready to learn, ready to listen, and you immediately understand a point when it is put to you,” he said.
“So how did thinking the war was over raise the price of stocks?” asked Beth.
“The stocks involved were in the public funds; so if the war was over, less would have to be paid out by the government, so more could be invested of the funds, so that their dividends would be likely to rise,” said Edward.
“Ah; now I understand perfectly,” said Beth. “And people would wish to invest to make sure of an income from the funds, and thus would enrich those selling their stocks. Though it is still only a matter of being premature, and unkind to those hoping to see loved ones home, but not really stealing, is it? Because the funds will go up when Bonaparte is defeated.”
“It’s underhand and lying,” said Edward, “because those who did it could not know for certain that Bonaparte was going to be defeated, and even now, on the last day of March, we cannot be sure. The negotiations might have only been a bluff on the part of that wily creature, and he may have some other army hidden, waiting to fall on our troops.”
“Surely Lord Bathurst would know?” put in Letty. “Mr Wickham reports to him, and he knows everything that goes on.”
“More than likely, but it’s more than he’s telling the rest of us,” said Edward. “Ah, and of course, Grayling Grey was a friend of his, I had forgotten.”
“Grey was a friend of a great number of people,” said Letty, demurely.
“Was he a spy?” asked Beth, interested.
“Now, that is not a question I ever asked him,” said Letty. “I would not have wanted him to feel he could not answer. He
was a good man and a good husband, and the thing that interested me most was that he did not have affaires when he was on a business trip abroad.”
“Sorry,” muttered Beth, burning red.
“You let your tongue run ahead of your good sense, sometimes, my dear,” said Letty.
“And I was too nosy not to see if you would answer, Aunt Letty,” said Edward.
“You are an impudent boy,” said Letty.
Edward chuckled.
“You noticed!”
Few other people had braved the cold to drive or ride in the park; Major Whittal was one of them, and he rode up to doff his hat and bow gracefully from the saddle, no mean feat to perform at all with one arm in a sling, and an adroit act to perform with grace and aplomb.
“Ladies! I see you are quite hardy!” he declared.
“Oh, we are country ladies, Major, and inured to inclement weather,” said Letty. “Tell us, as a military man, do you think that Blucher is in Paris by now?”
“Oh I am certain of it,” said the Major. “The French were on the run when I was sent home with despatches, and I cannot think of anything that would delay the advance into Paris. I heard a rumour that Bonaparte had received a mortal wound, but the man has as many lives as a cat, so I doubt its veracity. No such luck! But you ladies will have a chance to buy fashions in Paris before long, I make no doubt!” he bowed again and rode off.
“Do you like that fellow?” asked Edward.
“He his all that is amiable,” said Letty.
“He puts my teeth on edge,” said Beth.
Edward brightened.
“It’s not just me that wants to shake him to see if his air of perfection falls off then?” he said.
Beth laughed.
“He is very patronising to the ladies and our ‘pretty little heads’,” she said, “and I cannot for one moment see him explaining why the hoax was so wrong, because he wouldn’t expect a woman to be able to understand stocks at all.”
“You don’t, but at least you try,” said Edward. “And if you want to know more, you’ll need to ask a downier fellow than me; because I understand enough to know I can’t explain them.”
“It’s a wise man who knows his limitations,” said Beth, “and to be honest, I’m not that interested. If I want to know more, I’ll ask Elizabeth; she’s very clever.”
“Didn’t exchange more than a word or two with her to find out,” said Edward. “Wise of her not to mention it too freely though; being too clever frightens men off.”
“I told her to be frank about it,” said Beth. “That way she might meet a man who appreciates her for herself.”
“Hmmm,” said Edward, “There’s something in that. Not as though she has to marry, after all; her father’s as warm as Croesus. Huh, there’s that fellow Byseby that you played for at the musicale.”
“Yes, he is quite nice,” said Beth. “Rather put me in mind of the old gaffers who sit outside the Black Boar and pass comments on the ankles of girls who pass by and chuck the pretty ones under the chin if they come within reach.”
Edward started laughing, and was still fighting with his mirth as Lord Leomer Byesby rode up and raised his curly brimmed beaver.
“Are you quite all right, Brandon?” he asked.
Edward got himself under control.
“Perfectly, thank you, Byesby,” he said. “Something Miss Renfield was telling me, about some village worthies, which struck me as more hilarious than I think she intended. I didn’t look for you to be abroad in this chill weather.”
“Oh, I like to blow away the fug of the gambling dens from time to time,” said Lord Leomer. “Wanted to pay my respects to Mrs Grey; I knew Grey quite well, you see,” he added. “And of course the lovely pianist, Miss Renfield!” he bowed again.
“I am sorry I never met you when he was alive,” said Letty. “He had so many friends though.”
“And some of us appreciated him for himself as well as his generosity,” said Lord Leomer. “I wasn’t in debt to him when he died. Not like some, I could mention.”
“There was nothing in his papers of that,” said Letty.
“No; Grey kept all he loaned in his head,” said Lord Leomer. “And I believe I can repay the debt of friendship that he extended by making sure that others remember that they should recall what they owe.”
“There is no need, my lord; Grey left me very comfortably off,” said Letty.
“Oh, it will be a pleasure,” said Lord Leomer. “One of those who conveniently forgot is a close personal enemy of mine.”
“You’re an odd sort of fellow, Byesby,” said Edward.
“Devilishly so,” agreed Lord Leomer. “Your servant!” and he raised his hat again and rode off.
“Dear me!” said Letty. “What an uncomfortably attractive man, to be sure!”
“I would have strongly advised Beth against forming a tendre for him had she not described him in the way she did,” said Edward. “He is still an attractive man, even though he is in his forties; which is not so old.”
“Oh, it was not precisely his age,” said Beth, “Though I confess it would not occur to me to look at a man of his years in the light of being a beau! It was more that the gaffers would run a mile if any of the bold milkmaids offered them more than a screech and a playful smack when they importune them, and it strikes me that Lord Leomer is particularly good at Spanish coin to the ladies, and has no intention of being actually cornered by any of them.”
“He has a reputation as a rake,” said Edward. “Also as a gambler. I should worry if he became an intimate of the family, Aunt Letty.”
“Oh, I daresay Grey bankrolled him because he had a good fund of stories,” said Letty. “He seems to be the sort of man who can make himself tolerably agreeable; and Grey loved to be gregarious. He would have looked upon a loan to a man who entertained him as fair exchange for the pleasure of his company, even if it was never paid back.”
“I suppose it is a measure of him that he wishes you to know that he is not indebted to Grey,” said Edward, reluctantly.
“Can’t make him out! And by the way, shall we go home? My prads don’t like this wind much.”
“By all means!” said Beth, smiling at him. “It would not do to let them take cold!”
Chapter 8
Elizabeth’s parents were hosting an April Fool’s Ball, which, said the invitation, was an excuse to wear silly masks and a domino, and only those people personally known to them to be invited, so there was no risk involved. There would be prizes for the most decorative mask, the most humorous, and the most grotesque and those invited were asked to decorate their own.
This was great fun, and Letty and Beth had much fun discussing what to do.
“Of course the Venetian masks of earlier times were quite fantastical,” said Beth, “and what fun it would have been, were feathers not such a bane to me, to have gone as a chicken!”
“That would surely have carried the prize for the most humorous,” said Beth. “I believe I might have a pink domino, and put a pig’s snout on my mask, for the only other think I can think of is to make the mask into a cat’s face, and that is so ordinary. Or – wait, I know, I have seen some most entertaining gargoyles on some of the London churches, I shall be a gargoyle, and wear a grey domino. We hire them, do we not?”
“Some will purchase them, but I see no point for a single night, and you might wear it over a lavender gown which will go well enough with the grey,” said Letty. “We may have to settle for plain black ones, which are most common, but it does not matter. Masks and dominos are to be laid aside before supper. An excellent idea, it prevents too much rowdiness building up before the unmasking, young men being young men; and moreover means they have no chance to slip away and hide any overly high spirits in anonymity. Anyone missing for supper at a private masquerade would be noticeable by their absence, and anyone would then know if that individual and his mask had been at all inappropriate in behaviour. I am glad that Mrs Medlicott specifies dominos not fancy dress too. Hats are permitted, I see, so that will be a means by which one might also express a character. Dear me! I fancy most people will choose characters from the classics or the comedia del’ arte and I shall go as the notorious medieval witch and prophet, Mother Shipton. I will fashion a huge nose and have a hairpiece of straggling black hair, which will be quite sufficient with a black domino. We had better get to work! Mrs Medlicott plainly expects all her guests to make their own masks on a basic loo mask, for there is no time to have one made, and I am glad, otherwise it would be the wealthiest who would show the best masks. She is a very sensitive woman.”
“I expect that she recalls a time before she was so plump in the pocket,” said Beth.
“Indeed, I am sure you have the right of it, for she was, I believe, the daughter of a minor squire in straitened circumstance when Medlicott married her, and if it was an arranged marriage, it has turned out most fortuitously,” said Letty. “For she and Medlicott are plainly very fond of each other.”
“And such kind parents without being doting,” said Beth. “I am glad, though, that they listened to Elizabeth and got rid of that awful woman who was grinding her down; she stutters less now.”
“Which is good,” said Letty.
A masked ball was exciting, and just a little scary; and Beth hoped that she would be able to guess who everyone was. Letty insisted that Edward go on his own, as they had John Coachman to drive them, so that they had to guess him too. Beth wondered if he would come as Oliver Cromwell after their discussion the other day; but it seemed unlikely without consultation with her, and moreover this was not full fancy dress, it being an impromptu affair.
The dominos were largely black, a few red, some blue, some white, and one person wearing one each of red, white and blue, tacked together to make one domino, with a bicorn hat and a fair caricature of Napoleon Bonaparte on vellum cut as a mask, and a pair of devil horns out of the front of the hat. The wearer struck postures such as Bonaparte was portrayed striking. Beth thought it likely to be one of the very young men, like Mr Dansey or Mr Chetwode, but probably Mr Dansey, as the figure was not as tall as she recalled Mr Chetwode to be.
“The enemy of mankind!” she declared, cheerfully, “or so say the papers; I think I know you.”
Napoleon the devil bowed.
“Oh, fair gargoyle, I believe I know that voice,” he said. It was Mr Dansey. “May I claim you for the first dance?”
“I should be delighted,” said Beth.
“Alas! I had hoped I might claim the first dance,” said a black domino, whose mask was flesh coloured velvet with an eyepatch. He also wore a bicorn hat on which were pinned a paper skull and crossbones. The voice, Beth thought, belonged to Edward.
“And would you be any particular pirate, sir, whom I think I know, or just a pirate without a name?” she asked. It was part of the etiquette of the masque to use a phrase like ‘do I know you?’ or ‘I think I know you’ when holding a conversation with a masked member of the opposite sex.
“Alas, I am but a pirate without a name, since I could not recall the particulars or look of any real pirate,” said Edward.
“As I am certain that I know you, I shall claim the second dance, and the supper dance.”
Beth solemnly inscribed ‘A nameless pirate’ on her dance card for those two dances, and ‘Napoleon Bonaparte’ on the first. She was relieved that none of the dances were waltzes in the modern fashion, and thought again how thoughtful Mrs Medlicott was to make sure that no possible impropriety might occur. It would be too easy, in concealing dominos, for bold behaviour to occur during a dance in which the gentleman’s hands familiarly held one.
Beth took the opportunity to look around and see who she might recognise. There were a lot of masks just decorated with beads, sequins, feathers and ribbons, a few men with masks painted like Grimaldi the clown, and one who was easy to identify as Major Whittal, who had made a virtue of his disabled arm, coming with a flesh coloured mask with an eyepatch, a bicorn hat with gold braid, and quite obviously meant to be the late Admiral Lord Nelson.
The beautiful and fantastical bird almost had to be Elizabeth, Beth recognised her upright and graceful carriage, and that had to be Abigail beside her, using her fan with aplomb, with her mask decorated as a butterfly. Who was the tall, elegant lady dressed in a white domino, with a white mask, powdered hair, and a hat that suggested that she was a multi-layered cake with icing? Could it really be Madelaine Vardy, able to stand tall when no-one knew who she was?
Why it had to be! How much more confident she managed to be when she felt herself to be anonymous!
“Fair gargoyle!” a voice she did not know. “I do not know you, for I have not been presented, I think, but might I take advantage to make myself know to you? I am as you may guess Julius Caesar.”
The mask was painted in the semblance of a carved stone statue, and the man wore a laurel wreath, and he wore a grey domino.
“What, are you weeny, weedy and weaky?” laughed Beth. “Which is the extent of my knowledge of Latin, I fear.”
“Ah, Veni, Vedi, Vici,” said Julius Caesar. “I came, I saw, I conquered. I wonder if I do conquer well enough, Madam La Grotesque, to claim a dance?”
“Most certainly, Mighty Caesar,” said Beth. “I’m a gargoyle.”
“Ah, a specific kind of ecclesiastical grotesque,” said Julius Caesar. “Only a woman of perfect serenity could bear a mask that is a mockery of the human form, and I salute you. Pray tell me, is the pirate your brother, that he looks on me with such enmity?”
“Why no, I have no brothers,” said Beth. “He is a distant connection of mine, and an old family friend.”
“Then he looks to your protection from an unknown piece of statuary,” said Julius Caesar. “Shall I tell him that my antecedents are impeccable and that I am a man of honour?”
“If he cannot guess that, from Mrs Medlicott making assurance that only persons known to her would attend, then his wits have gone begging,” said Beth, recklessly, hoping that Edward was jealous.
“Oh, Amabel – Mrs Medlicott – is my cousin,” said Julius Caesar. “I shall be doing duty as an honorary brother to Elizabeth, though it seems odd to think of little Lizzy all grown up and beautiful! Last time I saw her, I’m afraid I tied her to a tree by her plaits.”
“Unkind!” declared Beth.
“It was at least half her fault; she was boasting about how long they were,” said Julius Caesar. “And I was only eighteen and felt that a fourteen-year-old cousin was a bit of a pest.”
“Well, if Elizabeth has forgiven you, it is all that matters,” said Beth.
“She appears to have done,” said Julius Caesar, “however if, when I go to bed, I find a jug of water balanced on the door, or an apple-pie bed or something, I shall preserve a dignified silence on the same, and hold her to be well avenged.”
“I shall go and suggest it to her,” said Beth brightly.
“Fair unkind!” cried Julius Caesar with a dramatic gesture that almost whacked a gentleman with a large nosed mask and a cavalier’s hat, who almost had to be Cyrano de Bergerac.
“OY!” said the voice of Mr Chetwode.
“Oh, Mr Ch…er, I mean, I seem to know you, M. de Bergerac,” said Beth, “would you escort me to Elizabeth, so I might tell her that she owes her cousin a practical joke?”
“Right willingly, Miss, er, statue,” said Mr Chetwode.
“Gargoyle,” said Beth.
“Oh, yes, couldn’t remember what they were called,” said Mr Chetwode.
Elizabeth embraced Beth.
“You and Mrs Grey are very brave to come with such hideous masks!” she said. “I wish I were so self-confident!”
Beth laughed. “Oh, I want to win the prize for the most grotesque,” she said. “I have been talking to your cousin.”
“Philip is a lot nicer than I remember him,” said Elizabeth.
“Yes, so I gathered,” said Beth. “And he said he would preserve a dignified silence if you played him a practical joke like an apple-pie bed, whatever that may be, or balanced a jug of water on the door.”
“Don’t think it hasn’t crossed my mind,” said Elizabeth. “An apple-pie bed is when you take the top sheet and put it under the pillow like a bottom sheet, and fold the bottom of it up to look like a top sheet, and the blankets and counterpane all over as normal. You put your feet into bed, and can only get them down half way. He made one for me, years ago, and I ripped the sheet, not knowing what it was. Boys learn things like that at school. But I, too, shall preserve my dignity by not lowering myself to play a joke on him. Only, I pray you, do not tell him so!”
“I shall not,” said Beth. “Isn’t Madelaine looking splendid, not feeling a need to hide her height?”
“Yes, and we must tell her so,” said Elizabeth. “Oh, the first dance is about to begin; have you engaged to dance with anyone yet?”
“Yes, I am dancing with Mr Dansey, I mean the Monster of France,” said Beth. “I hope he can control that outsize domino and not trip in it.”
“Not he,” said Elizabeth. “Not that I’ll answer for anyone else not standing on it!”
Beth enjoyed dancing; and though her dance with Mr Dansey was curtailed by Mr Chetwode falling headlong as he did an allemande the wrong way into the outrageous domino, it was still fun.
She was claimed next by Edward.
“Who is that Julius Caesar fellow?” he demanded.
“What, Oh, Pirate, did you wish to challenge the Imperial trireme on the high seas?” asked Beth, merrily.
“I do like to know who people are,” said Edward. “You are a green girl, and you stand in danger of silver tongued rogues.”
“Why, I did not think that Mrs Medlicott would invite silver tongued rogues!” said Beth. “He is a cousin of hers, and Elizabeth refers to him as Philip; he is some four years older than her, so a year older than I. Does that satisfy your curiosity?”
“Ah, yes, the Honourable Philip Devereaux,” said Edward. “Well, he is held to be an eligible bachelor and welcome anywhere.
Beth wondered whether to tease Edward that he did not sound at all pleased about Philip Devereaux’s eligibility, but decided that there were times to speak, and times to hold one’s tongue.
She danced with Mr Devereaux as promised and laughingly told him that she must be honour bound to withhold Elizabeth’s plans for vengeance. Mr Chetwode claimed a dance, and so did several other young men whom Beth thought she had met at Elizabeth’s rout party. It was all very exciting!
One of the masks was an outrageous beak, the head-dress of the young man wearing it the red poll of the greater spotted woodpecker; and Beth managed to slide away sideways as he bore down on her, having noticed that he liked to use his beak to ‘peck’ at his dancing partners. She ran into Major Whittall.
“Oh, Major, I mean, Admiral!” she said. “May I sit the next dance out with you?”
“I’d be delighted, Miss Renfield,” said the Major, who considered pretence to be rather foolish. “And by the next ball, I hope to have my arm back in action, to be able to dance, for surely all will be peace very soon!”
Consequently, Beth was able to drop a polite curtsey to the woodpecker and declare that she was claimed for this dance; and fortunately Major Whittal was too fond of his own consequence to be hurt by any suspicion that he had been used.
The supper dance with Edward was perhaps the best of all, for they had much time to chat, and compare notes about their guesses as to who was whom. And then it was the unmasking before supper, and Madelaine Vardy noticeably wilted and hunched her shoulders even as she took her mask off.
“And the prize for the most decorative mask goes to Miss Meynell for her butterfly,” announced Amabel Medlicott, “The most humorous to Mr Blacknell” – a man Beth knew only by sight – “for his outrageous woodpecker, and the most grotesque to Miss Renfield, whose gargoyle looked quite ready to spill water onto passers-by!”
There was applause, and Beth thanked Mrs Medlicott for the beautifully-tooled leather-bound notebook which was her prize. It was a lovely thing, with gilding in the tooling and gilded edges to the pages, which had been already carefully cut apart to use. Beth personally thought that Mr Blacknell might have been a more amusing person to get to know, had not his games with his beak been rather too boisterous; but perhaps he would grow out of such things. However, it had been a most enjoyable ball, and was another first for her, both her first ball and her first masquerade!
Chapter 9
“Oh, my dear Beth, we have been invited to a ball at Arvendish House!” said Letty. “Lord and Lady Arvendish are quite leaders of society, and of course they are friendly with Lord and Lady Everleigh.”
“Who are Lord and Lady Everleigh?” asked Beth.
“Oh Beth! The parents of Lady Cressida Stonhouse!” said Letty.
“I do wish that these aristocrats would not have such very different names that they use!” said Beth.
“Well, of course, they have a family name which may be the same as their title if they had the title from the very beginning of it, or acquired other titles subsequently. That young limb who played the questionable song is Viscount Stonhouse as well as having the surname Stonhouse.”
“I see, I think,” said Beth. “So the family were given an earldom as well as the viscounty for some signal service like procuring girls for Edward IV, supporting Henry VIII in his divorce plans or lending money to any random Stuart?”
“Cynicism aside, yes,” said Letty. “Dear me, now you have come out of yourself, my dear, I declare you are quite as bad as Grey!”
Beth chuckled.
“Well, as you were very fond of your husband, I shall look upon that as a compliment,” she said. “Anything in the papers this morning?”
“There’s a report of Lord Wellington taking a wound,” said Letty, “a spent musket ball in the thigh, but not serious enough to make him quit the field of battle. That’s the action of the twenty-seventh of March. Oh, and there’s an announcement that one must expect soon a proclamation regarding a cessation in hostilities, but nothing definite said; mere speculation, along with the assumption that now Princess Charlotte may be expected to marry the Prince of Orange.”
“Is he the stupid one who looks like a frog?” asked Beth, “for if so, she’s wasted on him.”
“He may have hidden talents; and besides, it’s a dynastic marriage,” said Letty.
“I’d have thought someone who was not a ruling prince would be better for the only child and heir of the Regent of England might me a better choice,” said Beth.
“Well, I have no doubt the Princess will manage to make her feelings clear if it is not her choice; she is quite good at doing so,” said Letty dryly. “As to the rest, it is just the same old thing about negotiations having broken down, and reprinting reports that are ten or twelve days old. I thought we might go shopping, and make sure your ball gown for this ball is truly memorable.”
“Letty, I have ball gowns, and as I wore a domino, I can wear the one I wore last night,” said Beth.
“No, we want a proper gown for you to make a debut in what is the highest society to which you might normally aspire,”
said Letty. “And a petticoat of silver tissue, with sheer satin-striped muslin over it, and adorned with pink roses is what I have in mind.”
“It sounds monstrously extravagant,” said Beth. “But I confess, I would like to wear such an extravagant confection.”
“Well, then, we shall go shopping,” said Letty. “The ball is on the sixth; plenty of time.”
This shopping trip had more purpose to it than the previous one, where the ladies had been purchasing a selection of cloths that might be made up, though Beth was delighted to bump into Madelaine Vardy.
“Madelaine! I loved your costume as a multi-layered cake, and how elegant you looked, walking tall inside it!” she said.
Madelaine gave a slightly hysterical giggle.
“Oh, Beth!” she said, “I was never meant to be a cake, Mother said I should dress as the leaning tower of Pisa as I drooped so, only I forgot to droop at all!”
“How unkind of her!” Beth’s eyes sparkled in anger.
“Do you think so? Oh Beth, is it totally evil of me to dislike my mother?”
“Well, I dislike your mother, and I don’t even know her as well as you do,” said Beth. “She is quite unkind to you, and maybe she does not mean to be, but you would think by now she would realise that the more she bullies you, the more you droop and the clumsier you get.”
“I think she thinks I merely lack will-power,” said Madelaine, gloomily. “For two pins I’d run away and…and become a governess!”
“Do you have the education to become a governess?” asked Beth.
“Oh! Yes. I have had a very expensive education and enjoyed learning,” said Madelaine. “I could teach quite happily.”
“You may be a bit too pretty for a household with a teen-aged son, or an errant father, but if you do decide to run away, I will certainly help you,” said Beth. “I see your mother returning from the haberdashery counter with the triumph of Blucher at the gates of Paris.”
“They found her the ribbon she wanted, then,” said Madelaine. “Even if they had to send a girl to purchase some from elsewhere and make no profit. Mother always gets what she wants. Mother, you recall Miss Renfield, do you not?”
Mrs Vardy looked at Beth with dislike.
“Yes,” she said.
“So clever to dress Madelaine as a tall cake with icing, to give her the courage to stand tall when wearing a mask,” enthused Beth. “I was tremendously impressed.”
“Hmph! Yes, well, we are purchasing something for her for the ball at Arvendish House, on Wednesday next,” said Mrs
Vardy, her eyes glittering in triumph. “Madelaine received an invitation to attend.”
“Yes, it will be my first big ball,” said Beth. “Exciting, is it not?”
Mrs Vardy’s face froze, and the chagrin she felt that the dumpy little nobody would be going as well was plain upon her face. Beth smiled at her with real happiness at having managed to spoil a piece of spite and gloating. Madelaine was hiding how pleased she felt. Doubtless the wretched woman would spend the whole journey home, and after, wondering out loud how come Miss Renfield should also have been invited; and complaining about it.
Edward was waiting when Letty and Beth got back to their house, pacing up and down outside.
“Your fool footman won’t let me in to wait, and it’s perishing cold out here,” he said, greeting Letty with a peck on the cheek.
“I am very sorry, Edward, he is a London footman and very proper,” said Letty. “I shall tell him that in the future you may be admitted when I am absent, since you are my nephew. Ah, Simpson, Mr Brandon is always to be admitted, he is my nephew, and since he is now a very cold nephew, the urn and tea caddy if you please, in the blue parlour,” she added as the footman opened the door.
“Very good, Madam,” said the footman.
“Now, have you news for us, Edward?” asked Letty.
“Yes, but I have no intention of sharing it until that supercilious fellow has served tea and taken himself off,” said Edward. “I know it’s a deuced unfashionable time to come calling, but I’ve some news I must share with you, before you hear a garbled version from someone else, or read it in the newspapers.”
“It sounds ominous,” said Letty. “Ah, Simpson, thank you, that will be all.”
Letty unlocked the tea caddy and mixed the tea the way she knew Edward liked it, which being the way her sister had served it was a mix she liked herself, and that Beth had learned to like as well as any other mix she had tried. The urn was hot, and Letty raised and lowered the tea pot a few times to steep the tea before pouring. Edward helped himself to sugar, looking a little apologetic for taking three good sized lumps.
“I can’t claim it was a shock, but though I was not surprised, it was still unpleasant,” he said.
“You’re making a mull of it,” said Beth. “Start at the beginning.”
Edward smiled, briefly.
“That would go back to before the time Uncle Adam got married, at which point Tiffany, his wife, had been seen much with Evelyn, Lord Finchbury. But the budget of news that I wish to impart really begins with Tiffany having given birth overnight to a baby girl. And that baby girl has a tuft of dark hair, and ears with slight points on them. Both Uncle Adam and Tiffany are blonde, and the only person I know with slight points to the ears is Finchbury. Add to that a bouncing baby of seven and a half pounds at what is supposed to be seven months, and even Uncle Adam had conniptions.”
“Oh, poor Adam,” said Letty. “He just about worshipped that ridiculous girl.”
“I know,” sighed Edward. “And she admitted it, and screeched at him that she would not have married a boring old fool like him if it had not been necessary. And of course, he could try to get a son on her as soon as possible and say as little as possible about this girl, but he didn’t marry her for a son, he married her because he was so besotted. And she has fallen from her pedestal with a crash. I was prepared to push, but I didn’t have to. She jumped.”
“Wouldn’t it have been unkind to your uncle to have pushed?” said Beth.
“Possibly, but it would depend on whether she took a lover and foisted another cuckoo into his nest,” said Edward, “because I surprised a look on her face last time I was there, and it made me angry on Adam’s behalf, and chary that she might go seeking diversion elsewhere. So there is to be a Crim. Con. case against her, because she wants to divorce Uncle Adam. At least, she does at the moment; and as there were witnesses to her admissions, she is going to get her wish even if she changes her mind later and wants it hushed up. That her maid was also induced to admit to meetings with Finchbury in a place of assignation means it should at least be quick ad easy. Adam is devastated, but quite devoted to baby Lydia already; Tiffany wants nothing to do with her. He told her that he would provide for the baby, and arrange that all she brought to the wedding is restored to her, for she had a handsome jointure.”
“Generous,” said Letty. “Especially when one considers how expensive it is to proceed to a private bill to obtain a divorce. And I doubt he’ll get much out of Finchbury, whatever damages are set.”
“He would not wish to hold on to anything that was hers, I wager,” said Beth, “save the helpless baby which caused all the trouble, but unwittingly, that she is also betraying by not wanting her. I expect he feels fellow feeling with the poor little scrap.”
“Indeed,” said Edward. “Anyway, I thought it best to make you aware, before someone asks you about it.”
“Dear me, yes,” said Letty. “Tongues will wag, however quietly it is done. After all, it will be necessary to make sure that it is known that the poor baby is not in any way going to inherit titles or anything else of right, otherwise she would be the Lady Lydia. Oh, Edward! That means that you are Adam’s heir again!”
Edward shrugged.
“At least it’s a role I am prepared for,” he said. “Beth, will you mind being a baroness if Uncle Adam does not remarry for a second time?”
“Edward, do you mind having a secret betrothal to someone of no land or fortune, who cannot add to the barony in any way?” said Beth.
Edward shrugged.
“Oh, I’m sure you will bring calm good common sense to the lands, and be an admirable baroness,” he said. “We know each other tolerably well, now, do we not? And that makes for a good partnership.”
“How unromantic you are, Edward,” said Letty.
“I’m not a very romantic person,” said Edward. “But do you mind, Beth?”
“Not if you think me suitable,” said Beth. “I am sure I can learn to be a baroness. If I can learn this pesky waltz that Aunt Letty wants me to have the chance to dance, running a barony will be relative child’s play.”
Edward laughed.
“Phlegmatic and practical as always,” he said. “And that is more likely to stand you in good stead as a baroness than a title or two, and all the tea in China.”
He finished his tea, and took his leave.
“Well!” said Letty.
“Or indeed, not well,” said Beth. “It will be most embarrassing for all those most nearly concerned, of course. Let us hope that a victory is announced soon, and that it chases all other news right to the back of all the papers, so the whole business may be got over quickly and quietly. If Bonaparte is found to have a fatal wound, as was suggested, it will be much more likely to take up half the papers in speculation.”
Letty laughed.
“I doubt that the war will arrange itself to the convenience of Edward and his uncle,” she said. “What a silly piece Tiffany Pelham was, to be sure! Fancy permitting a rake like Finchbury to sweet-talk her into his bed! But then, the Pelhams have never been noted for their brains. It will doubtless be the talk of the ball, but may with luck be a nine-day wonder and will blow over.”
Letty did not add that it was not improbable that Amelia Hazelgrove was likely to turn on her not inconsiderable charms towards Edward again, once she thought him heir to a barony once again; it would only serve to worry Beth.
Beth wondered if The Beauty would try to get her hooks into Edward again, and whether he would be fool enough to fall for her wiles; and swore quietly to herself that Amelia Hazelgrove would not have him. She said nothing, however, of this to Letty, for fear of upsetting her.
Letty and Beth continued to eagerly follow the progress of the war in France in the newspapers, marvelling that Napoleon Bonaparte had made his own people so sickened by war that no hindrance was placed in the way of the advancing armies of Wellington, Blucher and Prince Schwarzenberg.
“Listen to this,” said Letty, “ The paper says, ‘The Plymouth Telegraph announced yesterday the following important intelligence, which we immediately communicated to the public, though of course it could not be in the whole of our impression: ‘The South of France is in Insurrection against Buonoparte, and in favour of the Bourbons. Two Gentlemen arrived as Deputies from the Royalists, on the road to London.”
“Does it say who they are?” asked Beth.
“No, alas, no more was known when the paper went to press,” said Letty, “but I wager the war may be over by the end of March, God willing. It says many towns are raising the white cockade for the Bourbons, so this terrible bloodthirsty country may soon return to normal.”
“I hope so,” said Beth. “Whilst it is said that the French aristocracy was quite despotic and cruel, the Reign of Terror was more so, and the Monster Bonaparte was not to be satisfied until he ruled all the world, quite like the tales of Jengiz Khan!”
“And here is a report from the Dutch Papers,” said Letty. “It seems that Bonaparte’s men have been putting about reports that the French army, far from being in retreat, is winning, and there is an appeal to the soldiers of France, from Marshal Blucher, to disregard such lies, and save life by surrendering.”
“Too cruel!” said Beth. “Why, if such lies are believed, it will lead to unnecessary deaths on both sides.”
“Yes, and the negotiations for peace have broken down too,” said Letty. “The Monster is determined to drag it out for as long as he might.”
“Oh it is too bad; no wonder his own people have lost faith in him,” said Beth. “Is there anything more?”
“Only the usual idiotic letters from men who have never even been in the militia, suggesting how Lord Liverpool should direct Lord Wellington,” said Letty, dryly.
“Dear me, and doubtless it is some of people like that who managed to seize power during the Terror, and went mad with power,” said Beth. “I cannot say that rule by the people will ever work unless there are people chosen who are educated solely to rule, in the way that a monarch has his sons trained to rule, from birth. Which since the education of the great schools is aimed towards leadership, one might assume our own government to have been so trained.”
“Some better than others,” said Letty, dryly.
“True; but an infinitely preferable system to any that the French have managed so far,” said Beth.
“I cannot argue with that!” said Letty. “Oh! Listen to this tragedy; there has been an action between the packet, ‘The Duchess of Montrose’ and the sloop of war ‘Primrose’, each thinking the other to be the enemy, but how good it is to know our mails are well defended, for the packet made the sloop back off! Eight men killed and twenty-eight wounded in all.”
“How terrible! How could they mistake the colours of England for those of the enemy?” asked Beth.
“Who can say!” said Letty.
Edward called after breakfast, to take the ladies for a drive.
“And wrap up warmly,” he said, “it has been a hard frost, and the wind is chill.”
“I believe I may wrap a shawl around my head under my bonnet, if you do not mind, Edward,” said Beth.
“I think the better of you for having so much good sense,” said Edward. “If you choose a light one you may breathe through, you can also pull it over your face if the wind in your face makes breathing painful.”
“How thoughtful you are, Edward!” said Beth. “It is good to know that you are so sensible. I hope the officers in France are as sensible, and will keep their poor men as warm as possible. It cannot be easy for them, camped outside Paris.”
“No, indeed,” said Edward, “Though for all we know, they may be billeted within Paris by now; the news we get is always several days old, and I believe the last report was from the twenty-fourth.”
“Indeed, it is hard to wait for news, but of course infinitely harder for those who have husbands and sweethearts fighting,” said Beth.
“You are such a kind and thoughtful girl,” said Edward.
“Past my girlhood, I fear,” said Beth.
“Oh, you are a green girl from where I am looking,” said Edward.
“I am not sure whether to take that as a compliment or not,” said Beth.
“Oh, it is a compliment,” said Edward, and hurriedly changed the subject. “Have you heard of the great hoax?”
“No, what great hoax?” asked Beth.
“Why, it was put about on the twenty-first that Napoleon was certainly defeated, and it was all with the intent of raising the price of certain stocks to sell at profit!” said Edward. “Some fellow representing himself as the aide-de-camp of Lord Cathcart, newly come from France spread false intelligence!”
“My goodness, how bold!” said Beth. “We were moving on the twenty-first, if you recall, Edward, and must have missed the whole announcement. Though surely it only pre-empts the truth by a matter of a few weeks, so can it really be harmful?”
“Yes, because the lie manipulates the stock market falsely, and is therefore tantamount to stealing,” said Edward, “and it also throws doubt on true news, and leaves those who have relatives abroad left in a state of doubt and uncertainty, unsure what news to believe.”
“Oh! How dreadful for them, of course it must do,” said Beth. “Though I must say, the way stocks fluctuate in value seems very silly to me; for surely the price of things should be based merely on the labour it costs to produce them.”
“No, there are more things than that,” said Edward. “For example, with the coldest winter in living memory behind us, and spring not really advanced, it means the crops sown this year may not do as well, unless we have a hot summer, but with reasonable rainfall, to make up for late planting, and fruit trees unable to flower for the cold. That means food prices will rise, for not having as much to sell, including meat, whose winter fodder ran out for some farmers. And I believe many lambs have been lost too, to the cold.”
“Dear me, I had not considered that,” said Beth. “You are right; I am green.”
Edward laughed kindly.
“But you are clever, withal, and ready to learn, ready to listen, and you immediately understand a point when it is put to you,” he said.
“So how did thinking the war was over raise the price of stocks?” asked Beth.
“The stocks involved were in the public funds; so if the war was over, less would have to be paid out by the government, so more could be invested of the funds, so that their dividends would be likely to rise,” said Edward.
“Ah; now I understand perfectly,” said Beth. “And people would wish to invest to make sure of an income from the funds, and thus would enrich those selling their stocks. Though it is still only a matter of being premature, and unkind to those hoping to see loved ones home, but not really stealing, is it? Because the funds will go up when Bonaparte is defeated.”
“It’s underhand and lying,” said Edward, “because those who did it could not know for certain that Bonaparte was going to be defeated, and even now, on the last day of March, we cannot be sure. The negotiations might have only been a bluff on the part of that wily creature, and he may have some other army hidden, waiting to fall on our troops.”
“Surely Lord Bathurst would know?” put in Letty. “Mr Wickham reports to him, and he knows everything that goes on.”
“More than likely, but it’s more than he’s telling the rest of us,” said Edward. “Ah, and of course, Grayling Grey was a friend of his, I had forgotten.”
“Grey was a friend of a great number of people,” said Letty, demurely.
“Was he a spy?” asked Beth, interested.
“Now, that is not a question I ever asked him,” said Letty. “I would not have wanted him to feel he could not answer. He
was a good man and a good husband, and the thing that interested me most was that he did not have affaires when he was on a business trip abroad.”
“Sorry,” muttered Beth, burning red.
“You let your tongue run ahead of your good sense, sometimes, my dear,” said Letty.
“And I was too nosy not to see if you would answer, Aunt Letty,” said Edward.
“You are an impudent boy,” said Letty.
Edward chuckled.
“You noticed!”
Few other people had braved the cold to drive or ride in the park; Major Whittal was one of them, and he rode up to doff his hat and bow gracefully from the saddle, no mean feat to perform at all with one arm in a sling, and an adroit act to perform with grace and aplomb.
“Ladies! I see you are quite hardy!” he declared.
“Oh, we are country ladies, Major, and inured to inclement weather,” said Letty. “Tell us, as a military man, do you think that Blucher is in Paris by now?”
“Oh I am certain of it,” said the Major. “The French were on the run when I was sent home with despatches, and I cannot think of anything that would delay the advance into Paris. I heard a rumour that Bonaparte had received a mortal wound, but the man has as many lives as a cat, so I doubt its veracity. No such luck! But you ladies will have a chance to buy fashions in Paris before long, I make no doubt!” he bowed again and rode off.
“Do you like that fellow?” asked Edward.
“He his all that is amiable,” said Letty.
“He puts my teeth on edge,” said Beth.
Edward brightened.
“It’s not just me that wants to shake him to see if his air of perfection falls off then?” he said.
Beth laughed.
“He is very patronising to the ladies and our ‘pretty little heads’,” she said, “and I cannot for one moment see him explaining why the hoax was so wrong, because he wouldn’t expect a woman to be able to understand stocks at all.”
“You don’t, but at least you try,” said Edward. “And if you want to know more, you’ll need to ask a downier fellow than me; because I understand enough to know I can’t explain them.”
“It’s a wise man who knows his limitations,” said Beth, “and to be honest, I’m not that interested. If I want to know more, I’ll ask Elizabeth; she’s very clever.”
“Didn’t exchange more than a word or two with her to find out,” said Edward. “Wise of her not to mention it too freely though; being too clever frightens men off.”
“I told her to be frank about it,” said Beth. “That way she might meet a man who appreciates her for herself.”
“Hmmm,” said Edward, “There’s something in that. Not as though she has to marry, after all; her father’s as warm as Croesus. Huh, there’s that fellow Byseby that you played for at the musicale.”
“Yes, he is quite nice,” said Beth. “Rather put me in mind of the old gaffers who sit outside the Black Boar and pass comments on the ankles of girls who pass by and chuck the pretty ones under the chin if they come within reach.”
Edward started laughing, and was still fighting with his mirth as Lord Leomer Byesby rode up and raised his curly brimmed beaver.
“Are you quite all right, Brandon?” he asked.
Edward got himself under control.
“Perfectly, thank you, Byesby,” he said. “Something Miss Renfield was telling me, about some village worthies, which struck me as more hilarious than I think she intended. I didn’t look for you to be abroad in this chill weather.”
“Oh, I like to blow away the fug of the gambling dens from time to time,” said Lord Leomer. “Wanted to pay my respects to Mrs Grey; I knew Grey quite well, you see,” he added. “And of course the lovely pianist, Miss Renfield!” he bowed again.
“I am sorry I never met you when he was alive,” said Letty. “He had so many friends though.”
“And some of us appreciated him for himself as well as his generosity,” said Lord Leomer. “I wasn’t in debt to him when he died. Not like some, I could mention.”
“There was nothing in his papers of that,” said Letty.
“No; Grey kept all he loaned in his head,” said Lord Leomer. “And I believe I can repay the debt of friendship that he extended by making sure that others remember that they should recall what they owe.”
“There is no need, my lord; Grey left me very comfortably off,” said Letty.
“Oh, it will be a pleasure,” said Lord Leomer. “One of those who conveniently forgot is a close personal enemy of mine.”
“You’re an odd sort of fellow, Byesby,” said Edward.
“Devilishly so,” agreed Lord Leomer. “Your servant!” and he raised his hat again and rode off.
“Dear me!” said Letty. “What an uncomfortably attractive man, to be sure!”
“I would have strongly advised Beth against forming a tendre for him had she not described him in the way she did,” said Edward. “He is still an attractive man, even though he is in his forties; which is not so old.”
“Oh, it was not precisely his age,” said Beth, “Though I confess it would not occur to me to look at a man of his years in the light of being a beau! It was more that the gaffers would run a mile if any of the bold milkmaids offered them more than a screech and a playful smack when they importune them, and it strikes me that Lord Leomer is particularly good at Spanish coin to the ladies, and has no intention of being actually cornered by any of them.”
“He has a reputation as a rake,” said Edward. “Also as a gambler. I should worry if he became an intimate of the family, Aunt Letty.”
“Oh, I daresay Grey bankrolled him because he had a good fund of stories,” said Letty. “He seems to be the sort of man who can make himself tolerably agreeable; and Grey loved to be gregarious. He would have looked upon a loan to a man who entertained him as fair exchange for the pleasure of his company, even if it was never paid back.”
“I suppose it is a measure of him that he wishes you to know that he is not indebted to Grey,” said Edward, reluctantly.
“Can’t make him out! And by the way, shall we go home? My prads don’t like this wind much.”
“By all means!” said Beth, smiling at him. “It would not do to let them take cold!”
Chapter 8
Elizabeth’s parents were hosting an April Fool’s Ball, which, said the invitation, was an excuse to wear silly masks and a domino, and only those people personally known to them to be invited, so there was no risk involved. There would be prizes for the most decorative mask, the most humorous, and the most grotesque and those invited were asked to decorate their own.
This was great fun, and Letty and Beth had much fun discussing what to do.
“Of course the Venetian masks of earlier times were quite fantastical,” said Beth, “and what fun it would have been, were feathers not such a bane to me, to have gone as a chicken!”
“That would surely have carried the prize for the most humorous,” said Beth. “I believe I might have a pink domino, and put a pig’s snout on my mask, for the only other think I can think of is to make the mask into a cat’s face, and that is so ordinary. Or – wait, I know, I have seen some most entertaining gargoyles on some of the London churches, I shall be a gargoyle, and wear a grey domino. We hire them, do we not?”
“Some will purchase them, but I see no point for a single night, and you might wear it over a lavender gown which will go well enough with the grey,” said Letty. “We may have to settle for plain black ones, which are most common, but it does not matter. Masks and dominos are to be laid aside before supper. An excellent idea, it prevents too much rowdiness building up before the unmasking, young men being young men; and moreover means they have no chance to slip away and hide any overly high spirits in anonymity. Anyone missing for supper at a private masquerade would be noticeable by their absence, and anyone would then know if that individual and his mask had been at all inappropriate in behaviour. I am glad that Mrs Medlicott specifies dominos not fancy dress too. Hats are permitted, I see, so that will be a means by which one might also express a character. Dear me! I fancy most people will choose characters from the classics or the comedia del’ arte and I shall go as the notorious medieval witch and prophet, Mother Shipton. I will fashion a huge nose and have a hairpiece of straggling black hair, which will be quite sufficient with a black domino. We had better get to work! Mrs Medlicott plainly expects all her guests to make their own masks on a basic loo mask, for there is no time to have one made, and I am glad, otherwise it would be the wealthiest who would show the best masks. She is a very sensitive woman.”
“I expect that she recalls a time before she was so plump in the pocket,” said Beth.
“Indeed, I am sure you have the right of it, for she was, I believe, the daughter of a minor squire in straitened circumstance when Medlicott married her, and if it was an arranged marriage, it has turned out most fortuitously,” said Letty. “For she and Medlicott are plainly very fond of each other.”
“And such kind parents without being doting,” said Beth. “I am glad, though, that they listened to Elizabeth and got rid of that awful woman who was grinding her down; she stutters less now.”
“Which is good,” said Letty.
A masked ball was exciting, and just a little scary; and Beth hoped that she would be able to guess who everyone was. Letty insisted that Edward go on his own, as they had John Coachman to drive them, so that they had to guess him too. Beth wondered if he would come as Oliver Cromwell after their discussion the other day; but it seemed unlikely without consultation with her, and moreover this was not full fancy dress, it being an impromptu affair.
The dominos were largely black, a few red, some blue, some white, and one person wearing one each of red, white and blue, tacked together to make one domino, with a bicorn hat and a fair caricature of Napoleon Bonaparte on vellum cut as a mask, and a pair of devil horns out of the front of the hat. The wearer struck postures such as Bonaparte was portrayed striking. Beth thought it likely to be one of the very young men, like Mr Dansey or Mr Chetwode, but probably Mr Dansey, as the figure was not as tall as she recalled Mr Chetwode to be.
“The enemy of mankind!” she declared, cheerfully, “or so say the papers; I think I know you.”
Napoleon the devil bowed.
“Oh, fair gargoyle, I believe I know that voice,” he said. It was Mr Dansey. “May I claim you for the first dance?”
“I should be delighted,” said Beth.
“Alas! I had hoped I might claim the first dance,” said a black domino, whose mask was flesh coloured velvet with an eyepatch. He also wore a bicorn hat on which were pinned a paper skull and crossbones. The voice, Beth thought, belonged to Edward.
“And would you be any particular pirate, sir, whom I think I know, or just a pirate without a name?” she asked. It was part of the etiquette of the masque to use a phrase like ‘do I know you?’ or ‘I think I know you’ when holding a conversation with a masked member of the opposite sex.
“Alas, I am but a pirate without a name, since I could not recall the particulars or look of any real pirate,” said Edward.
“As I am certain that I know you, I shall claim the second dance, and the supper dance.”
Beth solemnly inscribed ‘A nameless pirate’ on her dance card for those two dances, and ‘Napoleon Bonaparte’ on the first. She was relieved that none of the dances were waltzes in the modern fashion, and thought again how thoughtful Mrs Medlicott was to make sure that no possible impropriety might occur. It would be too easy, in concealing dominos, for bold behaviour to occur during a dance in which the gentleman’s hands familiarly held one.
Beth took the opportunity to look around and see who she might recognise. There were a lot of masks just decorated with beads, sequins, feathers and ribbons, a few men with masks painted like Grimaldi the clown, and one who was easy to identify as Major Whittal, who had made a virtue of his disabled arm, coming with a flesh coloured mask with an eyepatch, a bicorn hat with gold braid, and quite obviously meant to be the late Admiral Lord Nelson.
The beautiful and fantastical bird almost had to be Elizabeth, Beth recognised her upright and graceful carriage, and that had to be Abigail beside her, using her fan with aplomb, with her mask decorated as a butterfly. Who was the tall, elegant lady dressed in a white domino, with a white mask, powdered hair, and a hat that suggested that she was a multi-layered cake with icing? Could it really be Madelaine Vardy, able to stand tall when no-one knew who she was?
Why it had to be! How much more confident she managed to be when she felt herself to be anonymous!
“Fair gargoyle!” a voice she did not know. “I do not know you, for I have not been presented, I think, but might I take advantage to make myself know to you? I am as you may guess Julius Caesar.”
The mask was painted in the semblance of a carved stone statue, and the man wore a laurel wreath, and he wore a grey domino.
“What, are you weeny, weedy and weaky?” laughed Beth. “Which is the extent of my knowledge of Latin, I fear.”
“Ah, Veni, Vedi, Vici,” said Julius Caesar. “I came, I saw, I conquered. I wonder if I do conquer well enough, Madam La Grotesque, to claim a dance?”
“Most certainly, Mighty Caesar,” said Beth. “I’m a gargoyle.”
“Ah, a specific kind of ecclesiastical grotesque,” said Julius Caesar. “Only a woman of perfect serenity could bear a mask that is a mockery of the human form, and I salute you. Pray tell me, is the pirate your brother, that he looks on me with such enmity?”
“Why no, I have no brothers,” said Beth. “He is a distant connection of mine, and an old family friend.”
“Then he looks to your protection from an unknown piece of statuary,” said Julius Caesar. “Shall I tell him that my antecedents are impeccable and that I am a man of honour?”
“If he cannot guess that, from Mrs Medlicott making assurance that only persons known to her would attend, then his wits have gone begging,” said Beth, recklessly, hoping that Edward was jealous.
“Oh, Amabel – Mrs Medlicott – is my cousin,” said Julius Caesar. “I shall be doing duty as an honorary brother to Elizabeth, though it seems odd to think of little Lizzy all grown up and beautiful! Last time I saw her, I’m afraid I tied her to a tree by her plaits.”
“Unkind!” declared Beth.
“It was at least half her fault; she was boasting about how long they were,” said Julius Caesar. “And I was only eighteen and felt that a fourteen-year-old cousin was a bit of a pest.”
“Well, if Elizabeth has forgiven you, it is all that matters,” said Beth.
“She appears to have done,” said Julius Caesar, “however if, when I go to bed, I find a jug of water balanced on the door, or an apple-pie bed or something, I shall preserve a dignified silence on the same, and hold her to be well avenged.”
“I shall go and suggest it to her,” said Beth brightly.
“Fair unkind!” cried Julius Caesar with a dramatic gesture that almost whacked a gentleman with a large nosed mask and a cavalier’s hat, who almost had to be Cyrano de Bergerac.
“OY!” said the voice of Mr Chetwode.
“Oh, Mr Ch…er, I mean, I seem to know you, M. de Bergerac,” said Beth, “would you escort me to Elizabeth, so I might tell her that she owes her cousin a practical joke?”
“Right willingly, Miss, er, statue,” said Mr Chetwode.
“Gargoyle,” said Beth.
“Oh, yes, couldn’t remember what they were called,” said Mr Chetwode.
Elizabeth embraced Beth.
“You and Mrs Grey are very brave to come with such hideous masks!” she said. “I wish I were so self-confident!”
Beth laughed. “Oh, I want to win the prize for the most grotesque,” she said. “I have been talking to your cousin.”
“Philip is a lot nicer than I remember him,” said Elizabeth.
“Yes, so I gathered,” said Beth. “And he said he would preserve a dignified silence if you played him a practical joke like an apple-pie bed, whatever that may be, or balanced a jug of water on the door.”
“Don’t think it hasn’t crossed my mind,” said Elizabeth. “An apple-pie bed is when you take the top sheet and put it under the pillow like a bottom sheet, and fold the bottom of it up to look like a top sheet, and the blankets and counterpane all over as normal. You put your feet into bed, and can only get them down half way. He made one for me, years ago, and I ripped the sheet, not knowing what it was. Boys learn things like that at school. But I, too, shall preserve my dignity by not lowering myself to play a joke on him. Only, I pray you, do not tell him so!”
“I shall not,” said Beth. “Isn’t Madelaine looking splendid, not feeling a need to hide her height?”
“Yes, and we must tell her so,” said Elizabeth. “Oh, the first dance is about to begin; have you engaged to dance with anyone yet?”
“Yes, I am dancing with Mr Dansey, I mean the Monster of France,” said Beth. “I hope he can control that outsize domino and not trip in it.”
“Not he,” said Elizabeth. “Not that I’ll answer for anyone else not standing on it!”
Beth enjoyed dancing; and though her dance with Mr Dansey was curtailed by Mr Chetwode falling headlong as he did an allemande the wrong way into the outrageous domino, it was still fun.
She was claimed next by Edward.
“Who is that Julius Caesar fellow?” he demanded.
“What, Oh, Pirate, did you wish to challenge the Imperial trireme on the high seas?” asked Beth, merrily.
“I do like to know who people are,” said Edward. “You are a green girl, and you stand in danger of silver tongued rogues.”
“Why, I did not think that Mrs Medlicott would invite silver tongued rogues!” said Beth. “He is a cousin of hers, and Elizabeth refers to him as Philip; he is some four years older than her, so a year older than I. Does that satisfy your curiosity?”
“Ah, yes, the Honourable Philip Devereaux,” said Edward. “Well, he is held to be an eligible bachelor and welcome anywhere.
Beth wondered whether to tease Edward that he did not sound at all pleased about Philip Devereaux’s eligibility, but decided that there were times to speak, and times to hold one’s tongue.
She danced with Mr Devereaux as promised and laughingly told him that she must be honour bound to withhold Elizabeth’s plans for vengeance. Mr Chetwode claimed a dance, and so did several other young men whom Beth thought she had met at Elizabeth’s rout party. It was all very exciting!
One of the masks was an outrageous beak, the head-dress of the young man wearing it the red poll of the greater spotted woodpecker; and Beth managed to slide away sideways as he bore down on her, having noticed that he liked to use his beak to ‘peck’ at his dancing partners. She ran into Major Whittall.
“Oh, Major, I mean, Admiral!” she said. “May I sit the next dance out with you?”
“I’d be delighted, Miss Renfield,” said the Major, who considered pretence to be rather foolish. “And by the next ball, I hope to have my arm back in action, to be able to dance, for surely all will be peace very soon!”
Consequently, Beth was able to drop a polite curtsey to the woodpecker and declare that she was claimed for this dance; and fortunately Major Whittal was too fond of his own consequence to be hurt by any suspicion that he had been used.
The supper dance with Edward was perhaps the best of all, for they had much time to chat, and compare notes about their guesses as to who was whom. And then it was the unmasking before supper, and Madelaine Vardy noticeably wilted and hunched her shoulders even as she took her mask off.
“And the prize for the most decorative mask goes to Miss Meynell for her butterfly,” announced Amabel Medlicott, “The most humorous to Mr Blacknell” – a man Beth knew only by sight – “for his outrageous woodpecker, and the most grotesque to Miss Renfield, whose gargoyle looked quite ready to spill water onto passers-by!”
There was applause, and Beth thanked Mrs Medlicott for the beautifully-tooled leather-bound notebook which was her prize. It was a lovely thing, with gilding in the tooling and gilded edges to the pages, which had been already carefully cut apart to use. Beth personally thought that Mr Blacknell might have been a more amusing person to get to know, had not his games with his beak been rather too boisterous; but perhaps he would grow out of such things. However, it had been a most enjoyable ball, and was another first for her, both her first ball and her first masquerade!
Chapter 9
“Oh, my dear Beth, we have been invited to a ball at Arvendish House!” said Letty. “Lord and Lady Arvendish are quite leaders of society, and of course they are friendly with Lord and Lady Everleigh.”
“Who are Lord and Lady Everleigh?” asked Beth.
“Oh Beth! The parents of Lady Cressida Stonhouse!” said Letty.
“I do wish that these aristocrats would not have such very different names that they use!” said Beth.
“Well, of course, they have a family name which may be the same as their title if they had the title from the very beginning of it, or acquired other titles subsequently. That young limb who played the questionable song is Viscount Stonhouse as well as having the surname Stonhouse.”
“I see, I think,” said Beth. “So the family were given an earldom as well as the viscounty for some signal service like procuring girls for Edward IV, supporting Henry VIII in his divorce plans or lending money to any random Stuart?”
“Cynicism aside, yes,” said Letty. “Dear me, now you have come out of yourself, my dear, I declare you are quite as bad as Grey!”
Beth chuckled.
“Well, as you were very fond of your husband, I shall look upon that as a compliment,” she said. “Anything in the papers this morning?”
“There’s a report of Lord Wellington taking a wound,” said Letty, “a spent musket ball in the thigh, but not serious enough to make him quit the field of battle. That’s the action of the twenty-seventh of March. Oh, and there’s an announcement that one must expect soon a proclamation regarding a cessation in hostilities, but nothing definite said; mere speculation, along with the assumption that now Princess Charlotte may be expected to marry the Prince of Orange.”
“Is he the stupid one who looks like a frog?” asked Beth, “for if so, she’s wasted on him.”
“He may have hidden talents; and besides, it’s a dynastic marriage,” said Letty.
“I’d have thought someone who was not a ruling prince would be better for the only child and heir of the Regent of England might me a better choice,” said Beth.
“Well, I have no doubt the Princess will manage to make her feelings clear if it is not her choice; she is quite good at doing so,” said Letty dryly. “As to the rest, it is just the same old thing about negotiations having broken down, and reprinting reports that are ten or twelve days old. I thought we might go shopping, and make sure your ball gown for this ball is truly memorable.”
“Letty, I have ball gowns, and as I wore a domino, I can wear the one I wore last night,” said Beth.
“No, we want a proper gown for you to make a debut in what is the highest society to which you might normally aspire,”
said Letty. “And a petticoat of silver tissue, with sheer satin-striped muslin over it, and adorned with pink roses is what I have in mind.”
“It sounds monstrously extravagant,” said Beth. “But I confess, I would like to wear such an extravagant confection.”
“Well, then, we shall go shopping,” said Letty. “The ball is on the sixth; plenty of time.”
This shopping trip had more purpose to it than the previous one, where the ladies had been purchasing a selection of cloths that might be made up, though Beth was delighted to bump into Madelaine Vardy.
“Madelaine! I loved your costume as a multi-layered cake, and how elegant you looked, walking tall inside it!” she said.
Madelaine gave a slightly hysterical giggle.
“Oh, Beth!” she said, “I was never meant to be a cake, Mother said I should dress as the leaning tower of Pisa as I drooped so, only I forgot to droop at all!”
“How unkind of her!” Beth’s eyes sparkled in anger.
“Do you think so? Oh Beth, is it totally evil of me to dislike my mother?”
“Well, I dislike your mother, and I don’t even know her as well as you do,” said Beth. “She is quite unkind to you, and maybe she does not mean to be, but you would think by now she would realise that the more she bullies you, the more you droop and the clumsier you get.”
“I think she thinks I merely lack will-power,” said Madelaine, gloomily. “For two pins I’d run away and…and become a governess!”
“Do you have the education to become a governess?” asked Beth.
“Oh! Yes. I have had a very expensive education and enjoyed learning,” said Madelaine. “I could teach quite happily.”
“You may be a bit too pretty for a household with a teen-aged son, or an errant father, but if you do decide to run away, I will certainly help you,” said Beth. “I see your mother returning from the haberdashery counter with the triumph of Blucher at the gates of Paris.”
“They found her the ribbon she wanted, then,” said Madelaine. “Even if they had to send a girl to purchase some from elsewhere and make no profit. Mother always gets what she wants. Mother, you recall Miss Renfield, do you not?”
Mrs Vardy looked at Beth with dislike.
“Yes,” she said.
“So clever to dress Madelaine as a tall cake with icing, to give her the courage to stand tall when wearing a mask,” enthused Beth. “I was tremendously impressed.”
“Hmph! Yes, well, we are purchasing something for her for the ball at Arvendish House, on Wednesday next,” said Mrs
Vardy, her eyes glittering in triumph. “Madelaine received an invitation to attend.”
“Yes, it will be my first big ball,” said Beth. “Exciting, is it not?”
Mrs Vardy’s face froze, and the chagrin she felt that the dumpy little nobody would be going as well was plain upon her face. Beth smiled at her with real happiness at having managed to spoil a piece of spite and gloating. Madelaine was hiding how pleased she felt. Doubtless the wretched woman would spend the whole journey home, and after, wondering out loud how come Miss Renfield should also have been invited; and complaining about it.
Edward was waiting when Letty and Beth got back to their house, pacing up and down outside.
“Your fool footman won’t let me in to wait, and it’s perishing cold out here,” he said, greeting Letty with a peck on the cheek.
“I am very sorry, Edward, he is a London footman and very proper,” said Letty. “I shall tell him that in the future you may be admitted when I am absent, since you are my nephew. Ah, Simpson, Mr Brandon is always to be admitted, he is my nephew, and since he is now a very cold nephew, the urn and tea caddy if you please, in the blue parlour,” she added as the footman opened the door.
“Very good, Madam,” said the footman.
“Now, have you news for us, Edward?” asked Letty.
“Yes, but I have no intention of sharing it until that supercilious fellow has served tea and taken himself off,” said Edward. “I know it’s a deuced unfashionable time to come calling, but I’ve some news I must share with you, before you hear a garbled version from someone else, or read it in the newspapers.”
“It sounds ominous,” said Letty. “Ah, Simpson, thank you, that will be all.”
Letty unlocked the tea caddy and mixed the tea the way she knew Edward liked it, which being the way her sister had served it was a mix she liked herself, and that Beth had learned to like as well as any other mix she had tried. The urn was hot, and Letty raised and lowered the tea pot a few times to steep the tea before pouring. Edward helped himself to sugar, looking a little apologetic for taking three good sized lumps.
“I can’t claim it was a shock, but though I was not surprised, it was still unpleasant,” he said.
“You’re making a mull of it,” said Beth. “Start at the beginning.”
Edward smiled, briefly.
“That would go back to before the time Uncle Adam got married, at which point Tiffany, his wife, had been seen much with Evelyn, Lord Finchbury. But the budget of news that I wish to impart really begins with Tiffany having given birth overnight to a baby girl. And that baby girl has a tuft of dark hair, and ears with slight points on them. Both Uncle Adam and Tiffany are blonde, and the only person I know with slight points to the ears is Finchbury. Add to that a bouncing baby of seven and a half pounds at what is supposed to be seven months, and even Uncle Adam had conniptions.”
“Oh, poor Adam,” said Letty. “He just about worshipped that ridiculous girl.”
“I know,” sighed Edward. “And she admitted it, and screeched at him that she would not have married a boring old fool like him if it had not been necessary. And of course, he could try to get a son on her as soon as possible and say as little as possible about this girl, but he didn’t marry her for a son, he married her because he was so besotted. And she has fallen from her pedestal with a crash. I was prepared to push, but I didn’t have to. She jumped.”
“Wouldn’t it have been unkind to your uncle to have pushed?” said Beth.
“Possibly, but it would depend on whether she took a lover and foisted another cuckoo into his nest,” said Edward, “because I surprised a look on her face last time I was there, and it made me angry on Adam’s behalf, and chary that she might go seeking diversion elsewhere. So there is to be a Crim. Con. case against her, because she wants to divorce Uncle Adam. At least, she does at the moment; and as there were witnesses to her admissions, she is going to get her wish even if she changes her mind later and wants it hushed up. That her maid was also induced to admit to meetings with Finchbury in a place of assignation means it should at least be quick ad easy. Adam is devastated, but quite devoted to baby Lydia already; Tiffany wants nothing to do with her. He told her that he would provide for the baby, and arrange that all she brought to the wedding is restored to her, for she had a handsome jointure.”
“Generous,” said Letty. “Especially when one considers how expensive it is to proceed to a private bill to obtain a divorce. And I doubt he’ll get much out of Finchbury, whatever damages are set.”
“He would not wish to hold on to anything that was hers, I wager,” said Beth, “save the helpless baby which caused all the trouble, but unwittingly, that she is also betraying by not wanting her. I expect he feels fellow feeling with the poor little scrap.”
“Indeed,” said Edward. “Anyway, I thought it best to make you aware, before someone asks you about it.”
“Dear me, yes,” said Letty. “Tongues will wag, however quietly it is done. After all, it will be necessary to make sure that it is known that the poor baby is not in any way going to inherit titles or anything else of right, otherwise she would be the Lady Lydia. Oh, Edward! That means that you are Adam’s heir again!”
Edward shrugged.
“At least it’s a role I am prepared for,” he said. “Beth, will you mind being a baroness if Uncle Adam does not remarry for a second time?”
“Edward, do you mind having a secret betrothal to someone of no land or fortune, who cannot add to the barony in any way?” said Beth.
Edward shrugged.
“Oh, I’m sure you will bring calm good common sense to the lands, and be an admirable baroness,” he said. “We know each other tolerably well, now, do we not? And that makes for a good partnership.”
“How unromantic you are, Edward,” said Letty.
“I’m not a very romantic person,” said Edward. “But do you mind, Beth?”
“Not if you think me suitable,” said Beth. “I am sure I can learn to be a baroness. If I can learn this pesky waltz that Aunt Letty wants me to have the chance to dance, running a barony will be relative child’s play.”
Edward laughed.
“Phlegmatic and practical as always,” he said. “And that is more likely to stand you in good stead as a baroness than a title or two, and all the tea in China.”
He finished his tea, and took his leave.
“Well!” said Letty.
“Or indeed, not well,” said Beth. “It will be most embarrassing for all those most nearly concerned, of course. Let us hope that a victory is announced soon, and that it chases all other news right to the back of all the papers, so the whole business may be got over quickly and quietly. If Bonaparte is found to have a fatal wound, as was suggested, it will be much more likely to take up half the papers in speculation.”
Letty laughed.
“I doubt that the war will arrange itself to the convenience of Edward and his uncle,” she said. “What a silly piece Tiffany Pelham was, to be sure! Fancy permitting a rake like Finchbury to sweet-talk her into his bed! But then, the Pelhams have never been noted for their brains. It will doubtless be the talk of the ball, but may with luck be a nine-day wonder and will blow over.”
Letty did not add that it was not improbable that Amelia Hazelgrove was likely to turn on her not inconsiderable charms towards Edward again, once she thought him heir to a barony once again; it would only serve to worry Beth.
Beth wondered if The Beauty would try to get her hooks into Edward again, and whether he would be fool enough to fall for her wiles; and swore quietly to herself that Amelia Hazelgrove would not have him. She said nothing, however, of this to Letty, for fear of upsetting her.