Evelyn Richardson (4 page)

Chapter Four

During Lord Mainwaring's short tour of inspection at Camberly, it was rapidly borne in upon him that young and female though she might be, Lady Frances Cresswell commanded the respect of the surrounding countryside. He could see for himself her well-drained, well-tilled fields, her neatly maintained cottages, and the excellent quality of her livestock. Sir Lucius confirmed this as they enjoyed their port together following an elaborate repast at his comfortable manor. “At first I couldn't believe that Cresswell would do such a damn-fool thing. Even if he did spend most of his time with his moldly old books, he was a mighty clever fellow. But Frances not only has a good head on her shoulders, she seems to know how to handle her people. Of course, she's got an excellent man in Dawson, her steward, but he tells me she knows all the accounts inside and out and can hold her own in any conversation with a farmer. I hear that she's always having the latest agricultural tracts sent from London. She has a quiet way with her that seems to reassure people and inspire trust. And it isn't easy having care of those twins, either. A rarer bunch of scapegraces I've never been privileged to see. Fine rider too.” He waxed eloquent. “Never seen a better seat or lighter hands.” From such a purely old-fashioned country gentleman as Sir Lucius Taylor, this was high praise indeed. Mainwaring departed in a thoughtful mood. He respected the older man's judgment but not to the point of describing Lady Frances Cresswell as someone with a “quiet way” about her.

Of course, in his niece Kitty's eyes she could do no wrong. At any other time he would have been amused at her naively enthusiastic description of such a paragon, but it did not suit him to be forever hearing the praises of someone who had had the impertinence to interfere in his vastly complicated affairs. And then to imply that he wasn't succeeding very well at them was outside of enough. In fact Lord Mainwaring was beginning to find the companionship of Kitty, charming though she was, slightly tedious. Even in his salad days he had never had much use for the awkward enthusiasms or, worse, the false sophistication of young misses, and had done his best to avoid them at all costs, choosing instead the more amusing company of older women whose married status did not threaten his bachelor existence. Liaisons with them gave him freedom to choose charming flirtations or relations of a more intimate nature. In both cases each party was perfectly aware of the rules. In fact, young people of any age bored him. He could not understand his cousin Lady Streatham's extraordinary interest in her own offspring, let alone those of her friends. Having led a solitary life himself, abandoned largely to the care of nurses and tutors, he could see no earthly reason for parents to spend any more time and thought than was absolutely necessary on creatures who had no intelligent conversation to recommend them and who were more likely than not to make a mess of the drawing room. All in all, he was quite ready to leave the restrictions of marriage and families to his friends, while he retained the freedom to choose his own amusements.

It was not long before Lord Mainwaring was eager to leave Camberly and return to the more scintillating companionship offered in the metropolis. He had had his fill of dinner conversations that seemed to consist chiefly of a discussion of the varied and mysterious ailments that threatened Cousin Honoria and the manifold accomplishments of Kitty's idol, Lady Frances. Since these consisted of the decidedly dull ability to tutor her brother and sister, manage an estate, and write books, he was less than charmed. If there were a class of women who bored Lord Mainwaring even more than simpering misses, it was the bluestockings, whom he stigmatized as women forced to affect eccentricities because they were too tedious or unattractive to command attention in any other manner. It was fairly easy to avoid the languishing eyes of hopeful young ladies and the blandishments of their matchmaking mamas. A man as wealthy and distinguished as Lord Mainwaring learned this skill from the moment he entered the ton. Far more annoying, because less obvious, were the tactics of these women whose only aim in life seemed to be to meddle in others' affairs and to advise them on how to conduct themselves with more propriety, more social conscience, more virtue, more seriousness of purpose, and always—as in the case of his bevy of aunts—to marry and produce heirs.

It was thus with relief that at the end of the week he bid goodbye to his niece, gave final instructions for her journey to London, climbed into his curricle, and set his powerful grays on the road to London.

Lord Mainwaring was not the only one relieved that his visit had come to an end. Kitty, having endured his rather critical company for several days, felt her confidence at handling the rigors of a Season fast slipping away. It was not that her uncle had actually voiced any actual disapproval of her dress or behavior, but his entire bearing and conversation betrayed such exacting standards that she despaired of ever living up to them.

She could see that at the very least her conversation was uninteresting to Lord Mainwaring, and at the worst, it annoyed him. Several awkward dinners had left her desperately wishing that her parents' rather liberal interpretation of Monsieur Rousseau's maxims had not encouraged them in a blithe neglect of formal education. Rather, they had allowed their children to educate themselves, following natural inclination at the expense of a discipline which would have forced them to attend to the newspapers and books likely to cultivate not only their minds but also, more important, their conversation. Instead of following such a program, as she knew Lady Frances had. Kitty had familiarized herself with every dramatic episode, every improbable plot in the latest novels from the circulating library. However, her natural optimism, one thing that had been fostered in the indulgent atmosphere of Camberly, soon reasserted itself. The arrival of a letter from Lady Streatham, cautioning her not to purchase any of her wardrobe until they could consult the modistes in London, assuaged any lingering doubts she had about the forthcoming Season. So it was that before she had seriously begun it, Kitty abandoned the rigorous reading program she had devised for herself in favor of poring over the latest Belle Assemblée.

Lady Frances, lacking a guardian who ruthlessly ordered her affairs, had spent the better part of her week cajoling and effecting compromises among various members of her household. Cassie and Frederick had raised a loud wail of protest at the prospect of removing to town. “We won't have any places to explore, and we'll have to be clean all the time, with nothing to do but listen to a lot of dull conversations,” complained Freddie.

“And there won't be any trees to climb at all,” Cassie chimed in with disgust, only to break out again as a new, more terrible thought struck her. “We won't have our ponies to ride, or Wellington or Nelson to play with.”

“Of course I would never leave our friends behind,'' Frances defended herself indignantly. “Do you think for one moment that I want to give up riding Ajax? John Coachman and some of the stableboys will take all the horses to London before we go, and then will return to drive all of us to London, including Wellington and Nelson. You don't seriously think I'd leave those two mischief-makers here, do you? They would have the place all to pieces in no time, I daresay.” She continued wistfully, “It won't be as exciting to ride in the park for any of us, but we shall certainly ride. Who knows, you may make some new friends there. Of course we shall be sure to visit the Tower and Astley's Amphitheater. And no one visits London without tasting the ices at Gunter's. Perhaps, if we're lucky, there will be a balloon ascension.” By the time she had finished describing some of the delights to be enjoyed in the metropolis, the twins were reconciled.

“And,” Frederick assured his twin, “if we're that busy, we can't have time for too many lessons!”

Aunt Harriet was rather more difficult to convince. “Never heard of such a stupid notion! Leave Cresswell when the gardens will be coming to their peak? You are all about in the head, my dear. And you know that the aphids on the roses were so terrible last year that I must be particularly vigilant this spring.'' A cunning look came into her eyes. “You know that once people hear you are in town you'll be invited to balls, routs, and every type of frivolous amusement those fashionable fools can devise. Surely Kitty will insist that you accompany her to Almack's, at least the first time.”

“Yes, but I shan't mind this time, now that I won't be disappointing the family if I don't snare some unfortunate for a husband. Having discovered I am not the romantic or marrying sort, I won't be the least bit upset if no one pays much attention to me. In fact, the less attention I attract, the better time I shall have. I don't believe a man I would enjoy marrying exists, so I shan't be hoping to meet him as I once might have done. Besides, I shall amuse myself observing the idiocy from the safety of the chaperones' corner. You see, you can't worry about me on that score. I thought we could have a few select dinner parties and invite Sir John Perth, now that he has returned from India. Perhaps he will have discovered some new horticultural wonder you know nothing about. Besides, he's a great friend of Sir Humphrey Repton and would perhaps agree to bring him along. Papa knew Sir Humphrey, but not well enough that I could invite him to dinner.''

If Frances had counted on sparking some interest with the name of the botanist and noted landscaper, she was only partially successful.

“That's as may be.” Aunt Harriet eyed her suspiciously. “But what about my orchids, miss? You know I can't leave them with Swithin. He thinks they're too outlandish.” Her aunt dismissed the head gardener, her chief crony at Cresswell, with scorn.

“No, I had thought to take them with us. James will take them to the baggage coach when John takes the horses. You may have the front bedroom, which, in addition to being very sunny, has a dressing rom. If that's not sufficient, there is the breakfast parlor for the rest of your horticultural darlings.” A wicked little smile accompanied this generous offer. “And surely you would like to visit Kew again?” her niece quizzed her.

“Very well, miss. I only hope you are not sorry you went to all this trouble for a silly chit like Kitty.” She continued, nodding sagely at Frances' raised brows, “You're going about things in your usual style, putting yourself to a great deal of trouble on someone else's behalf without the least thought for the inconvenience to yourself. Kitty's a very sweet girl, but even you will allow that she's rather flighty. Any number of eligible young men will do for her, and she won't need your help or support in finding them. I had certainly better come to London to protect you from your own generous impulses.” With that Parthian shot she swept out, leaving Frances in her wake, prey to conflicting feelings of amusement, exasperation, and gratitude.

It only remained for Frances to organize the twins and herself and leave instructions with the rest of the staff for the closing of Cresswell and preparation of the London house for their occupancy. This monumental task was far easier for her than convincing the people she loved to leave a place to which they all were so strongly attached. She truly did need to meet with her publisher, and though it was unconscious on her part, she did long for the mental stimulation of the metropolis with its plays, operas, exhibitions, and bookstores. It would never have occurred to her to think her life dull. Between the duties of the estate and the education and rearing of her younger brother and sister, she never had a quiet moment, but she did miss the interesting discussions she had enjoyed so much with her father. There was no one in the immediate area who understood her intellectual interests, much less shared them with her. Sir Lucius and his wife, though jovial and as kind as could be, didn't seem to feel the need to know or think about anything beyond the immediate concerns of farming and family, and looked with some suspicion at anyone who did. They had both adored her father, but whenever they had been with him, there had been something in their attitude that suggested apprehension that he might at any minute burst into wild philosophical speech rather like a madman.

The following week found Kitty and a protesting Ned ensconced in Mainwaring's impressive mansion in Grosvenor Square, while Cassie, Frederick, Frances, Aunt Harriet, Wellington, Nelson, and the orchids were beginning to settle in close by in an elegant but less-imposing house in Brook Street. Within a few hours of arrival the household had reverted to normal. Cassie, summoned by Wellington to rescue Nelson from a precarious position in a tree, had torn her new pinafore. Freddie had discovered that the mews of London had far more horses and stableboys to befriend than the combined stables of Camberly and Cresswell. Higgins had taken the cook to task for selecting a scullery maid who was obviously in an interesting condition, turned the wench off, and procured a neat and willing young person much more suited to a genteel household. And Aunt Harriet, having bullied James, the youngest footman, was tenderly placing her orchids in the most advantageous positions, commiserating with them all the while on the miseries of a coach trip to London. Seeing that everyone and everything was in order, Frances, mindful of her most pressing reason for visiting the metropolis, dashed off a note to Kitty informing her of their safe arrival.

Chapter Five

The note was delivered as that young damsel was trying on a bewitching confection just arrived from a very expensive milliner. Its high crown and broad brim trimmed with delicate plumes set her delicate features off to perfection and contrived to make her look both innocent and enticing. The bright red— ponceau, the modiste had called it—ribbons matched the trim and ruching on her striped walking dress, complimenting her large brown eyes, delicately rounded chin, rosebud mouth, dimples, and dusky curls. All in all, it was a very satisfying transformation from her serviceable brown merino. London would be thoroughly delightful, she thought, if she had a properly appreciative audience. The Cresswells were not the ideal audience for an attractive young girl, but they were an audience. And at present, they were the only ones she knew in town, so she decided to afford them the first taste of her newly fashionable appearance by taking a cup of tea with them and sharing news of the ton gleaned from her few previous days in the metropolis.