A Second Spring (18 page)

 “The new dresses were Lady Chingford’s notion, not mine,” said Chloe, trying to hide her hurt. She knew Edgar was right, but need he put it so bluntly? “Her ladyship, at least, cares what I wear, if only so I do not disgrace her and Doro. I fear I had not the courage to argue with her, but doubtless you will know how to explain that you intend to revoke her order.”

 “Well...er....” Edgar blenched and tugged on his neckcloth as if suddenly aware it was tied too tight around his bull neck. “I didn’t mean you’re to countermand her, you looby,” he blustered. “A fine return that would be for her ladyship’s condescension in inviting Georgie for the Season. Sometimes I wonder if you haven’t got more hair than wit. If anything makes Lady Chingford take snuff, I’ll know who’s to blame!”

 He flung from the room, leaving Chloe limp but triumphant.

* * * *

 The evening gown ordered by Lady Chingford arrived just in time for Chloe to change into it for dinner. An overdress of dark blue British net fell from the high, brief bodice to reveal several inches of the pale blue satin slip, set all around with white silk roses. Posies of tiny white rosebuds adorned the short, puffed sleeves, and a matching wreath ringed the small turban of blue crape.

 Her ladyship’s dresser condescended to arrange Chloe’s fair hair in a topknot, with curls over her forehead and ears. Pinning on the turban, the woman looked Chloe up and down.

 “Gloves, madam?” she said. “Slippers?”

 Georgina had foreseen the need and consulted her sister. Dorothea, whose pin-money—excluding modiste’s bills—for a month exceeded her aunt’s dress allowance for an entire year, was only too delighted to oblige. The girls had dragged Chloe out to the shops that afternoon.

 White kid slippers and elbow-length gloves, even half a dozen pair of silk stockings, Chloe gratefully accepted. Doro was sadly disappointed when she was not permitted to purchase for her aunt a charming fan painted with cherry-blossom in the Chinese fashion, and a shawl of the softest cashmere.

 “I shall buy them for myself,” she had said, “and you shall borrow them, Aunt Chloe.”

 With the addition of her gold chain and cameo pendant, Chloe wanted for nothing.

 “I believe her ladyship will be satisfied,” the dresser deigned to admit.

 Chloe stared at herself in the looking-glass. She was really quite smart, fine enough not to be discomfited by the fashionable matrons to whom Lady Chingford proposed to present her. Lady Molesworth would not be able to disdain her as a provincial dowd.

 Presumably Lady Molesworth was going to attend the musicale, since Georgie expected to meet her daughter, and her brother had told Chloe he would be there. She could not wait to tell Sir Lionel about her passage at arms with Edgar.

 Edgar cornered her in the drawing room before dinner. After a brief animadversion on the extravagance of her dress, he apprised her of the names of the ineligible young gentlemen she was to prevent Georgina encouraging.

 “I suppose I must trust you to judge any new acquaintances,” he said discontentedly. “If she should contrive to attract some greater prize than Tiverton, I’ll have to decide whether a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush.”

 “You are so certain of Sir Lionel?” Chloe asked.

 “Of course I am, devil take it! Everyone says he’s looking for a wife—stands to reason, he needs an heir now he’s inherited the baronetcy—and he don’t spend half as much time with any other female. And why else should he bother to do the pretty to you?”

 “Yes, of course,” she murmured sadly.

 “So keep what wits you have about you and tell me if any better prospect looks set to bite. But don’t be taken in by a title. There’s many a lord living on the edge of the River Tick. Understand?”

 “Yes, Edgar.”

 Satisfied, he went off to give Georgina her instructions. Chloe promptly resolved to report to him at once any young, amiable lord who so much as exchanged a word with her niece—and to suppress any eligible who was disagreeable or over the age of thirty.

 After dinner, Edgar went off to his club. Lord Welch and Dorothea had dined out with friends, so the carriage had plenty of room for the Chingfords and Chloe and Georgina. The musicale was held at a house just around the corner, but Georgie had explained to her aunt that one simply did not walk to an evening engagement.

 They were shown into a large saloon, formed by two apartments thrown into one. At one end was a dais with a pianoforte; sofas and easy-chairs stood around the walls and the centre was filled with rows of straight chairs, many already occupied.

 The first person Chloe noticed was Sir Lionel. He must have been watching for Georgina, for he came towards them at once, before they had even greeted their hostess. His face was alight with pleasure.

 Chloe’s breath caught in her throat. How could Georgie fail to succumb to such a devastatingly attractive gentleman? And one so obviously delighted to see her!

 Gathering her scattered wits as Lady Chingford presented her to the hostess, Chloe curtsied and received a nod and a smile in return. Then Sir Lionel was beside them, bowing to the Chingfords, greeting Georgina, and turning to Chloe as her niece whisked off to join Arabella and another girl.

 “Are you fond of music, Miss Bannister?” he asked.

 “Yes, sir, though I have had no opportunity to hear any but the band at our local assemblies and the amateur performances of neighbours’ daughters.”

 He grimaced, his dark eyes twinkling down at her. “That is what I expected this evening. A horrid penance! But it seems we are in for a treat. Our gracious hostess has secured the services of Muzio Clementi.”

 “Clementi? The name is familiar,” said Chloe, feeling sadly ignorant.

 “No doubt you have seen it on printed music. Signor Clementi is a publisher, as well as a composer, piano-builder, teacher, and a very fine pianist. I believe you will be impressed. But come, we have a little time to spare. May I make you known to my sister, Lady Molesworth?”

 “I shall be happy to make her acquaintance.” Chloe laid her hand on his proffered arm. Another proof of his devotion to Georgina—he wanted his family to meet hers. Not to mention that her presence must be the reason he came to a musicale he had originally regarded as “a horrid penance.”

 He was saying something in a low voice.

 “I beg your pardon?” she said in confusion.

 “This is your first
ton
party, is it not? I daresay you find it as overwhelming as I did my first. I was just begging you to excuse Elizabeth if she does not rise to meet you. She is not in the most robust of health.”

 “I am sorry to hear it, sir.”

 Elizabeth Molesworth was on one of the sofas at the side, sitting very upright with a cushion at her back. Approaching on Sir Lionel’s arm, Chloe picked her out at once, for Lady Molesworth had her brother’s prematurely greying hair. In contrast to this, despite lines of pain, her face was youthful, her expression lively and interested.

 She patted the sofa beside her. “I expect Lionel has told you about my wretched back, Miss Bannister,” she said. “Do pray sit down so I need not crane my neck. I have been looking forward to meeting you. Go away, Lion, and see what Arabella is up to. Miss Bannister and I mean to have a comfortable cose.”

 “Only until the music starts,” he warned with a smile, accepting his dismissal in good part.

 Or rather, accepting his sister’s permission to join Georgina, Chloe realised.

 “Lionel is very fond of music,” said Lady Molesworth. “He is become the chief prop and stay of the Philharmonic Society, I vow.”

 “Sir Lionel seemed very pleased that Mr Clementi is to play tonight.”

 “Quite enraptured!” she agreed, laughing. “It is delightful to see how he blooms since leaving the sea, now he has the opportunity to enjoy the many activities for so long unavailable to him. But I would not have you suppose he has no time for his family. He has been an indispensable help to me in escorting Arabella about, for her father is much occupied with government business, and I find it necessary to limit myself, I fear.”

 “How very distressing for you, ma’am, and for your daughter.”

 “She goes on well enough, having a fortunate disposition to be contented. But please, do call me Elizabeth, for I am sure we are going to be the greatest friends, like Arabella and your Georgina. I must tell you how glad I am that they are so often together. Arabella is a sad scatterbrain and much in need of a leavening of Georgina’s common sense. What, Lion, back already?”

 “They are opening the pianoforte.” Sir Lionel waved towards the dais. “I don’t want to miss a note.”

 Chloe rose.

 “Will you not sit with me?” exclaimed Elizabeth.

 “I ought to find Georgina.”

 “The girls will come to no harm. It is not a public concert, after all, and dashing young blades avoid musical evenings like the plague,” Elizabeth assured her with a smile.

 So Chloe found herself seated between her new friend and Sir Lionel as their hostess led an elderly gentleman onto the dais.

 “We are honoured tonight by the presence of Signor Muzio Clementi,” she announced to a burst of clapping. “Signor Clementi will begin his recital with one of his own compositions.”

 Chloe was convinced nothing could distract her from the presence of Sir Lionel so close beside her, his sleeve brushing her arm. Yet after the first few notes she was conscious only of music. The flood of glorious sound filled her head, driving out all else.

 She emerged from her daze too late to join in the applause. Sir Lionel was regarding her with a slight smile.

 “There is a concert of the Philharmonic Society next week,” he said. “Will you go with me?”

 “Oh, I—”

 “And Miss Georgina, of course. You are going to stay in Town?”

 “I think so. I want to tell you about Edgar....”

 But Arabella Molesworth came over with Georgie to say hello, and as she turned away to ask after her mama’s comfort, Lady Chingford arrived. The countess bore Chloe off to be introduced as “my daughter-in-law’s aunt” to a bewildering number of ladies and gentlemen.

 “Excellent,” said Lady Chingford as people began to drift back to their seats. “Now you may take Miss Georgina about with no need for me or Dorothea to accompany you. I am glad you came to Town, Miss Bannister, and I cannot imagine why your brother did not send you in the first place. So much more suitable!”

 Chloe wondered whether she ought to go and sit with Lady Chingford or return to her former seat. She did not want to force herself upon Elizabeth Molesworth, who, for all her professions of friendship, was a very new acquaintance. Nor did she want to offend her by deserting her if she was expected. As she dithered, feeling rather lost, Sir Lionel appeared at her side.

 “Come, Miss Bannister, you know I shall never forgive you if you are not settled before Signor Clementi reappears.”

 “I should never forgive myself, sir,” she retorted with a grateful smile, and returned with him to the sofa.

 The second half of the concert was if anything better than the first. Clementi played a sonata by Mozart, and then, as an encore, two nocturnes written by his own pupil, John Field.

 Afterwards there was supper, with no chance of private conversation. Chloe listened with interest to the talk of the new, romantic style of composition represented by Field’s work. Several people spoke of the Philharmonic Society concert next week, where a new symphony by Beethoven was to be played as well as an old one of Haydn’s.

 “I should very much like to attend the concert,” she said shyly to Sir Lionel when he took his leave.

 “Splendid. I shall get half a dozen tickets and we’ll make up a party. May I still hope to see you tomorrow morning, or is an early ride too much to expect after a late night?”

 “Oh no, not at all. I believe fresh air and exercise will help me to put the impressions of tonight in perspective.”

 “Opal will be delighted, and I look forward to hearing about your skirmish with your brother. Until tomorrow, Miss Bannister.”

 His sister and Arabella came up then, Elizabeth leaning heavily on her daughter’s arm. “We have had no chance for a proper talk,” she said. “Will you and Georgina take tea with us tomorrow afternoon, Chloe, if you are not otherwise engaged?”

 “Gladly, if you are sure we shall not disrupt your rest?”

 “Nothing suits me better than to have a few friends favour me with a call. We shall expect you tomorrow at four.”

 She took her brother’s arm and he supported her effortful steps from the room. Chloe watched, thinking how wonderful it would be to have a brother like Sir Lionel instead of the tyrannical Edgar.

 Not until she snuffed her candle and settled for sleep did she realize that once again she had failed to say so much as a word on Georgie’s behalf. There had been no opportunity, she excused herself. But tomorrow she simply must address the subject before she told Sir Lionel about the ousting of Edgar.

* * * *

 Opal recognized Chloe and greeted her with a happy whicker.

 “Did I not say she would be delighted to see you?” said Sir Lionel.

 “She recalls the sugar,” Chloe said, laughing as she gave the mare another lump.

 Again Sir Lionel lifted her into the saddle, but this time she was prepared for the curious shiver that shot through her. She controlled her reaction, and Opal stood firm.

 As he passed on his way to his roan, the mare turned her head to nuzzle at the bulging pocket of his riding coat.

 “That’s for the ducks,” he told her severely. “I remembered to bring bread today,” he said to Chloe. “I only hope it will not rain and cut short our ride.”

 Surprised, she looked up at the sky, hung with a pall of grey. For some reason she had had a vague impression that the sun was shining. “It is quite warm,” she said quickly, afraid he might decide not to go at all. “I don’t mind a wetting, and surely a sailor must be inured to being soaked through.”

 “‘Water, water, everywhere,’“ he intoned, mounting. As they set off for the park, followed by the groom, he went on, “‘Nor any drop to drink.’ Probably Coleridge’s best known lines, yet elsewhere in the same poem he writes charmingly of ‘merry minstrelsy’ and music like an angel’s song.”