Animating Maria (9 page)

‘That sort of arrangement is all very well for a high-nosed aristocratic lady with nerves of steel.’ Amy sighed. ‘I fear that unless you stop living in dreams and begin to grow up a little, Maria, you will be crushed by the experience.

‘I must find out where Miss Frederica Sunningdale is residing,’ said Maria dreamily. ‘Such a charming young lady I met at the inn. I do not have any friends, and it would be pleasant if she could be my bridesmaid. Will Yvette be making my bride gown? Should I wear a veil? I know it is not fashionable to be married in church, but I think I should like that. Do you know a church with really good stained-glass windows? I find it very romantic when different-coloured shafts of light strike through a really good stained-glass window.’

‘Tcha!’ said Miss Amy Tribble.

Miss Spiggs had ingratiated herself so much with Mr and Mrs Kendall on her return from London that she had managed to move into their home as companion to Mrs Kendall. She had also succeeded in worrying them dreadfully about the Tribbles. They did not want to think they had made a mistake, but Miss Spiggs sighed and shook her head and said she feared the Tribbles were adventuresses and not very good
ton
. Amy Tribble was coarse to a fault and Effy was like an ageing courtesan.

So persuasive was she that they were on the point of setting out for London to rescue their daughter when the news of Maria’s engagement to the Duke of Berham broke about their ears. As they stared at the day-old newspaper and cried and exclaimed, a letter from the duke was delivered to say he would be arriving shortly.

‘So what have you to say to that, Miss Spiggs?’ crowed Mrs Kendall.

Miss Spiggs stood her ground. ‘I do not think the Tribbles had anything to do with it,’ she protested. ‘Maria met the duke at that inn. Remember I told you we was stranded there and he gave a ball.’

‘But you said he never even looked at Maria!’

‘I didn’t want to raise false hopes, but,’ said Miss Spiggs, looking modestly down her nose, ‘I did put in a leetle word with his grace myself. ‘‘You are not married,’’ I said, ‘‘and Maria Kendall is the most beautiful girl in the kingdom and has a good dowry.’’ ‘‘Miss Spiggs,’’ he said, ‘‘you are a wise woman and anyone with a companion such as you must surely be a lady of elegance and refinement.’’’

‘If that is the case,’ said Mr Kendall wrathfully, ‘I shall ask them Tribbles to give that money back.’

‘Oh, they will say I had nothing to do with it,’ said Miss Spiggs, ‘for they are great liars.’ She felt secure. The Kendalls would never be so vulgar as to ask the duke himself how he came to propose.

In this, she underestimated the Kendalls.

A few days later, the duke’s footman arrived on the doorstep to say that the duke was staying with a friend in Bath, a Mr Tarry, and begged leave to call.

Mr Kendall promptly sent back an invitation to dinner at five o’clock and then opened his purse-strings wide to impress the duke. Although his house was quite small, he hired ten liveried footmen from an agency. They were to line the steps on either side of the entrance when the duke arrived. His butler, Butterworth, had been a mine manager in the old days, a wiry Yorkshireman with a face like a poacher and blunt manners that suited the Kendalls well, but they had the foresight to warn him to guard his tongue when the duke was present. They also hired a French chef, a Monsieur Duclare, a thin, neurotic creature who specialized in elaborate sauces. Then they felt they should have at least one pretty parlourmaid and appealed to Monsieur Duclare for help, considering that gentleman to belong to the upper echelon of servants. But Monsieur Duclare had been unemployed for some time and had been living on the immoral earnings of one Sally Rutger, a successful prostitute with golden hair, blue eyes, and an easy slatternly manner that made her a prime favourite with the gentlemen of Bath, and so he engaged Sally.

Then, at the last moment, Mr Kendall rushed out and hired a small orchestra. He then wondered where to put them until his wife suggested they house them in the bedroom over the dining room and get them to play very loudly near the fireplace so that the strains of music would filter down the flue. Just before the duke was due to arrive, the household was crammed to bursting point with servants and musicians. Everyone was quarrelling with everyone else, except Sally, resplendent in tight, low-cut print gown, white gauze apron, jaunty cap with streamers, and red-heeled shoes, who ogled everything in breeches.

The duke felt unusually nervous as he descended from his carriage. He had discounted his mother’s remarks about the Kendalls being pushy mushrooms. She was probably thinking of some other couple. She was very muddled and absent-minded these days. The Kendalls were no doubt a worthy, decent couple.

He then recoiled in surprise, for at the sight of him a double line of footmen shouted, ‘Huzza! Huzza! Huzza!’ and from an open upstairs bedroom window crashed out the strains of ‘See the Conquering Hero Comes’.

Feeling dazed, he walked into the hall. The footmen crowded in after him and there was an unseemly scrum as they fought among themselves for the honour of taking his grace’s greatcoat.

‘Get back, you scum!’ roared the butler, Butter-worth, and the footmen sulkily filed down the narrow back stairs to the kitchen, where a stream of hysterical French oaths greeted them.

‘Sorry about that, your grace,’ said the butler, taking greatcoat, hat, gloves and cane. ‘Can’t get good staff these days.’ He ran a calloused thumb over the cloth of the duke’s coat. ‘Nice bit o’ stuff,’ he said. ‘Bath superfine?’

The duke glared down his nose and said, ‘Please announce me.’

‘Can’t,’ said Butteworth laconically. ‘Got to pay off that mob,’ meaning the footmen. ‘Here, Sally, take his grace into the parlour.’

Sally came swaying up to the duke and dropped a low curtsy. He noticed he could see her nipples. She looked up at him roguishly and ran a pink tongue slowly over her lips.

‘Is this the home of Mr and Mrs Kendall?’ he asked, wondering whether he had arrived by mistake at a brothel that was throwing some sort of a party.

‘Oh yes, your grace,’ giggled Sally. ‘Be so kind as to follow me.’

She threw open the double doors of the parlour and shouted. ‘’Ere ’e is!’

Mr and Mrs Kendall rose to meet their future son-in-law. Mrs Kendall was wearing so many jewels and necklaces on her massive bosom that she looked like a tray in a jeweller’s window. Mr Kendall was squeezed into a pink silk evening coat. His fat face was painted and rouged and the starched points of his shirt were digging into his cheeks. Behind them stood Miss Spiggs, simpering and curtsying.

After the introductions, Butterworth appeared with champagne and Sally carried around the tray of glasses. She handed one to the duke and winked.

‘A toast!’ said Mr Kendall. ‘To the happy couple.’

The toast was duly drunk. ‘My boy,’ said Mr Kendall, trying to throw an arm about the duke’s shoulders, but the duke stepped quickly away, ‘you are lucky to be marrying into such a wealthy family, although I am sure you are not short of a bob yourself. Look at my wife’s jools. A fortune on that dress alone.’ He then proceeded to give the duke an inventory of everything on his wife’s person, including where it was bought and how much it cost.

‘I am sure our respective lawyers will agree as to the marriage settlements,’ said the duke stiffly. He looked away from the Kendalls and his eye fell on Sally, who raised the hem of her skirt to show a well-turned ankle.

‘Can’t hear that orchestra,’ said Mr Kendall. ‘What do they think I pay them for?’ He bent down and shouted up the chimney, ‘Play louder, you monkeys!’

The resultant blast of sound effectively drowned out any further chance of conversation.

They moved through to the dining room. The table was groaning under the weight of gold plate that bore the Earl of Sotheby’s coat of arms. Sotheby had lost all his money recently, mused the duke. The Kendalls must have bought his entire dinner service at auction.

As they waited to be served, the orchestra mercifully fell silent, but there came sounds of a fight from belowstairs, French curses, and then the sound of Sally screaming.

‘Pay no heed,’ said Mr Kendall. ‘Servants are the devil. So, your grace, you could have knocked me down with a feather. Mind you, Miss Spiggs here told us she had put a word in your ear.’

The duke looked frostily at Miss Spiggs, who turned as red as fire and then said incoherently that it was just her little bit of fun, just joking.

‘Ho, you was, was you?’ snapped Mrs Kendall. ‘And you saying it was all your doing and blackening the Tribbles’ names and saying I had wasted my blunt.’

‘Never mind that now,’ said Mr Kendall. ‘We’ve got a real Frenchie as a cook, your grace, so you’ll get all those foreign messes you society people like.’

The company continued to wait uneasily for their food, all trying gamely to make conversation and all wondering what on earth was happening below-stairs.

The butler entered, followed by Sally. Sally’s gown was torn on one shoulder, showing even more delectable flesh, and the butler had a black eye.

He put down a large tureen on the table. From it came the homely smell of beef broth.

‘What’s this?’ screeched Mrs Kendall.

‘Not my fault,’ said the butler passionately. ‘It was them hired footmen got fresh with Sally and that Frenchie starts screaming and hollering and they was all punching and gouging. Then Frenchie runs off after throwing the entire contents of the pots at them footmen. So I went along to the chop-house and ordered the dinner from there.’

‘The soup smells excellent,’ said the duke. ‘Why not serve it?’

This social disaster had the effect of silencing the Kendalls and Miss Spiggs. The duke was able to enjoy his meal in peace. His only worry was how to break the engagement to Maria. For of course he could not marry her. Such in-laws were out of the question. At last the covers were removed, the port was brought in and the ladies retired.

‘I must apologize for this evening,’ said Mr Kendall. ‘I usually keep a good table.’

‘On the contrary, dinner was excellent,’ said the duke and meant it.

‘I need a larger house,’ said Mr Kendall gloomily. ‘Never thought of it until now.’ Then his face brightened. ‘Course, we’ll be living with you after your marriage, your grace, so the question won’t arise.’

‘You will not be living with me,’ said the duke. ‘I am plagued enough with relatives of my own.’

‘As you will,’ said Mr Kendall, ‘but you’ll need our advice as to how to handle Maria. Give her a touch of the birch if she annoys you. That’s the way she’s been brought up.’

The duke thought compassionately of Maria but then hardened his heart. He had made a rash mistake, a dreadful mistake. He decided to approach the Tribbles and pay them a large fee if they could break the engagement. He did not believe for one moment Maria’s promise to give him his freedom should he change his mind.

Maria made her début, without the duke, who had not yet returned, at the Livingstones’ ball. She was a great success, as were the Tribbles. Every matchmaking mama wanted to know how they had achieved such a prize for their charge. Frederica Sunningdale was at the ball, and Maria was delighted to renew her acquaintance. They arranged to meet the following day. Beau danced with Maria and begged her forgiveness so humbly that Maria warmed to him. In fact, she felt she could forgive anyone anything, she was so elated and happy at her success. Absence made the heart grow fonder. She forgot about the duke’s haughty manner and remembered only that he was handsome and rich.

Maria went out driving with Frederica the following day. Frederica was anxious to hear all the details of the romance, and so Maria obliged, and, by the time she had finished, felt quite sure she really was in love with the duke after all.

Although Amy and Effy were enjoying their success, they still felt uneasy. ‘Such a stiff neck as that duke will be shocked by her parents,’ said Amy. ‘What if he comes roaring back and wants out of it?’

‘He cannot get out of it,’ said Effy, ‘unless he is prepared to face a great deal of scandal and a possible breach-of-promise suit in the courts.’

‘I suppose they aren’t
that
bad,’ said Amy.

Effy sighed. ‘Oh yes, they are, sister dear.’

She then noticed Amy had stopped listening to her and was gazing hopefully across the floor. Mr Haddon had arrived.

He walked straight across to them, bowed before Amy and asked her to dance.

Effy bridled as the couple walked away together. It was too bad of Mr Haddon to raise hopes in Amy’s silly breast. Also it was not fair of his friend, Mr Randolph, to stay away from so many functions. Her eyes narrowed and she tapped her foot. Amy was not going to steal a march on her. She must not marry. Effy began to plot and plan ways to draw Mr Haddon’s attention to herself.

But the duke’s return from Bath on the following day soon put any such ideas out of Effy’s head for the time being.

Both sisters knew something was badly wrong when he merely bowed to Maria and said he wished to see the Misses Tribble alone.

Maria left the room, looking worried. While he had been away, she had dreamt of a handsome, lover-like duke, and to see him again as he really was, cold, bad-tempered and withdrawn, made her wish she had never promised to marry him.

‘What do you wish to talk to us about, your grace?’ asked Effy, after he had been served with wine.

‘I met Miss Kendall’s parents. Although I did not, after all, ask for their permission to wed Miss Kendall, I fear they gave me their blessing nonetheless. I cannot ally myself with such a family.’ He proceeded to describe the dinner party. He was greatly offended when Amy laughed and laughed and finally said she had not heard anything quite so funny in ages.

‘But you cannot break off the engagement,’ cried Effy, glaring at Amy. ‘It would be a great scandal.’

‘Exactly. And that is why I am prepared to offer you three times as much as the Kendalls are paying you to persuade Maria that we should not suit.’

There was a long silence while both sisters looked at each other in dismay. Both had been sure the couple would not suit, but they gloried in this great success and that success was worth more than any money the duke could offer.