Gayle Buck (17 page)

As it happened, Mr. Davenport was already wavering. He had at first spent the better part of his waking hours at his club so that he could escape his sister. But he quickly found it awkward to accept the sympathy that his acquaintances offered when they learned of his daughter’s unfortunate lapse in health. When he could no longer look anyone in the face, he began to hide at home in his office and began to feel as much a prisoner of his fit of anger as was Lydia.

On only one occasion did Lydia come downstairs for dinner, and that was when Mr. Davenport declared that he would not have his daughter stewing in the sulks. But Lydia’s woebegone face, her subdued manner, and her obvious loss of weight so greatly affected him that he did not demand her presence at the dinner table again.

However, Mr. Davenport remained haunted by the memory of his daughter’s unhappiness, and began to have his first misgivings over the way he had treated her. When next Lady Basinberry taxed him over Lydia, he made a grudging show of giving his permission for Lydia to accept and to go on morning calls if she so wished. “However, I still will not have that Hughes fellow in my house, and so you may tell her, Beatrice. He is to blame for this and I’ll not have him poisoning my little girl’s mind anymore,” he said firmly.

“Very well, Edwin,” Lady Basinberry said, signaling her disapproval with her chilly tone. But she considered her brother’s concession a small triumph, brought about by her own unceasing efforts. She turned her hand to the next step, which was to coax Lydia out of her rooms and put her into her father’s company as much as possible, for as she told Michele, “I wish Edwin to positively swim in guilt.”

Upon giving over Captain Hughes’s note to Lydia’s maid, Michele had not been surprised when she saw a change for the better in her cousin’s overall demeanor. However, she had not expected Lydia’s initial euphoria to sustain her for very long. Michele found Lydia’s sudden calm acceptance of her circumstances odd, until it crossed her mind that her cousin, by using her personal maid as a go-between, could have remained in clandestine communication with Captain Hughes. Michele felt her suspicions justified when Lydia did not seem particularly affected by her father’s continued barring of Captain Hughes from the house. Michele wondered if she had given more credit to Captain Hughes’s sense of honor than it deserved, for if ever there was a young lady who was ripe for forbidden assignations, it was Lydia.

Mr. Davenport was unable to withstand the pressures of his own stinging conscience and his daughter’s subdued manner. He gave in and rescinded his ultimatums over Lydia, forgave her for her waywardness, and finally resigned himself that she would never be Lady Randol. However, he remained adamant against Captain Hughes, unreasonably sticking to his belief that that gentleman was solely to blame for the rift between himself and his beloved daughter.

Chapter Sixteen

One morning Michele entered the breakfast room to discover Lady Basinberry already at the table, deep into the contemplation of the morning’s stack of invitations. Michele seated herself, replying to the footman’s soft query that she would like eggs and a slice of ham from the sideboard. She then served herself coffee. “Good morning, my lady,” she said.

Lady Basinberry was sipping her morning tea and waved in reply. When she put down her cup, she gestured at the pile of invitations on the silver salver. “We have several new invitations, as you see. I wished to consult with you and Lydia which of these would most suit you, for they are all of the same ilk, not frightfully important but assuredly entertaining.”

Michele had picked up one of the gilt-edged cards, but at Lady Basinberry’s statement she glanced up quickly. “Did you say Lydia?” she asked, surprised.

Lady Basinberry smiled. There was a look of satisfaction in her eyes. “Yes. I spoke quite sharply to Edwin again yesterday evening.
He has relented at last.”

“But this is marvelous news!” Michele exclaimed.

“I have sent word up to Lydia, and . . . Ah, there you are, my dear. Michele and I were just discussing these invitations. Pray join us, Lydia,” Lady Basinberry said, holding out her hand to her younger niece.

Lydia took her aunt’s hand and dropped a kiss on her alabaster brow. “Thank you ever so much, Aunt Beatrice!”

She sat down at the table, looking fresh and lovely, and she laughed when she met Michele’s smiling gaze. “I am to be free again, cousin!”

“So I understand. I am happy for you.”

Lydia asked the footman for her usual toast and chocolate before she turned again to her aunt. “I am so grateful to you, Aunt Beatrice. I know that if it had not been for you, Papa still would not have come around. I am so looking forward to getting out into society again, you can have no notion,” she said excitedly.

Lady Basinberry held up an admonishing forefinger. “You are not out of the woods yet, my girl. I have wrung a concession from your father that you may attend such assemblies as I deem suitable, and you may now receive callers at home. However, he remains quite adamant against Captain Hughes, and the house remains closed to that particular gentleman.’’

Lydia’s face fell. “I might as well return to my room, then.”

Lady Basinberry chided her with an unusual show of gentleness. “Come, Lydia. Such a poor show of spirit is unworthy of a Davenport.”

“Oh, can you not understand, Aunt Beatrice? I love Bernard, and to be parted from him is more than I can stand,” Lydia said despairingly. There was the sheen of tears in her eyes.

Lady Basinberry had disagreed with her brother’s refusal to have Captain Hughes in the house, feeling that Lydia would be the more driven toward him. She had not been able to alter Mr. Davenport’s mind, however, and now she said, “I do not agree with your father’s policy toward Captain Hughes, but it would not be proper of me to countermand his orders in his own house. However, I shall allow you to speak with Captain Hughes if you should chance to meet him in society. Not to do so would almost certainly cause comment, since it is well-known that he is one of your most persistent admirers.”

Lydia’s expression brightened immediately. “May I truly, aunt? You are so kind, Aunt Beatrice! Truly the very, very best of aunts!”

Lady Basinberry snorted at such an accolade. “I must warn you not to show a hint of partiality to Captain Hughes, Lydia. Your father is bound to hear that I have allowed you to converse with the captain, and I cannot defend my benevolence on the grounds of its being only common civility to speak with the gentleman if you subsequently throw yourself at Captain Hughes’s head. In such circumstances, I would wash my hands of the entire matter.’’

“I will be circumspection itself,” Lydia said, only too happy to make such a promise if it meant she would be allowed to speak with her beloved military gentleman. She plucked a card from the stack of invitations, and her eyes lighted up once more. “Oh, famous! We are invited to a masquerade on Tuesday next. I have always wished to attend one. Michele, have you ever been to a masked ball?”

Michele, who had quietly listened to the conversation that had transpired, nodded. “Indeed I have. It was a vast masked company, lent mystery and romance by the pretense of anonymity. It was all very outrageous and completely delightful. I enjoyed myself immensely.” She laughed at Lydia’s envious expression. “You are of a mind ripe for such frivolities, cousin, I can see.”

“I cannot think of anything more delightful,” agreed Lydia. She read the invitation again, a smile on her lips and anticipation in her eyes. “What delicious fun we shall have.”

“I am sorry that I must disappoint you, Lydia. We will not be attending the masquerade. The hostess is not of the best
ton,”
said Lady Basinberry without looking up as she perused another invitation.

Lydia’s mouth fell open in dismay. “But why ever not, aunt? Even if the hostess is not quite the thing, I know that simply everyone will be there.”

“Precisely so, Lydia. The guests at these sorts of functions are a mixture of gentlefolk and the vulgar. It is not the sort of company that I wish you to be associating with.” Lady Basinberry saw that her niece was drawing breath to argue, and she said firmly, “Not another word, Lydia. My decision is quite final.”

Michele watched the disappointment come over her cousin’s face and she regretted that she had described her own experience of a masked ball with such enthusiasm. She wished that Lydia could be brought back to her former light-hearted self. Her cousin had had so few nice treats in the last fortnight and more. Michele turned to Lady Basinberry. “My lady, perhaps I may offer a compromise.”

“Not you also, Michele. I had thought you past such frivolous entertainments,” Lady Basinberry said, sighing.

Michele laughed. “I admit to a taste for frivolity, then. A masquerade is always amusing in the proper company. Perhaps Lydia’s wish for an evening in masks may be met by a masquerade night at Vauxhall Gardens.”

“Oh,” breathed Lydia. She turned a hopeful gaze on Lady Basinberry. “Pray say that we may go, aunt. I should like it excessively.”

Lydia’s pathetic eagerness was patent. Lady Basinberry could not find it within her to again dash the gathering anticipation in her niece’s eyes. She pursed her mouth thoughtfully. “I have no real objection, Lydia, if it is to be a small private party.”

Lydia clasped her hands together in an excess of happy emotion. “The party will be all that is respectable. It shall be Michele and I and you and dear Papa—”

Lady Basinberry snorted. “I wish that I might see Edwin draped in a domino with a mask over his face. What a ludicrous thought!” Her thin lips turned up in a slow malicious smile. “And it is one that I find undeniably entertaining. I shall speak to your father, Lydia. I believe that a masquerade night at Vauxhall will be quite an unexceptionable outing.”

Lydia was radiant. She jumped up from the table. “How fortunate that I planned to go to the shops on my first day out, for I do not own a domino and I must order one at once.”

Michele rose as well. “Do you mean to go immediately? I think that I shall bear you company, for I did not bring a domino with me from Brussels.”

Lydia looked somewhat startled. “Oh! That is, I had meant to take my maid with me. I expect it to be a rather dull outing, you know.”

Michele raised her brows, feeling somewhat surprised. “I beg pardon, cousin. I did not realize that you would prefer your own company.”

Lydia flushed, aware that Lady Basinberry was regarding her with speculative curiosity. “It is not that, of course not! I suppose that I am so used to being alone these days that I did not express myself well. Pray do come, Michele, and we shall leave my maid at home. Then we shall not be crushed among the packages in the carriage, for I mean to spend every last farthing of my pin money.”

Her dark eyes dancing, Michele said, “I doubt that my uncle would approve of such a plan.”

Lydia tossed her head, her expression defiant. “Papa can hardly expect me to toe the line when he has behaved so abominably.” She swept out of the breakfast room, leaving her cousin and her aunt staring after her.

Lady Basinberry poured herself another cup of tea. “I think Edwin made a graver error than even I realized,” she commented with a shade of satisfaction. Lydia’s show of independence had pleased her. She had not thought the girl capable of such spirit.

“I shall try to curb Lydia’s worst impulses,” Michele said.

“I do thank you, my dear. But perhaps it would be best simply to allow Lydia her head. I would rather that she express her resentment by buying out the shops than cast her energies into less acceptable avenues. Captain Hughes is not out of the picture, after all.”

Michele contemplated her aunt’s expression. “I take your meaning, of course. However, I promise you that Lydia shall behave with decorum while in my company.”

Lady Basinberry smiled. “You are a staunch ally, Michele. I am grateful. Lydia will be waiting for you. I expect that I shall not see either of you again until tea.” Recognizing that she was dismissed, Michele left her ladyship alone to drink her tea.

Lydia insisted that they first visit a glover and a milliner before going on to the modiste’s shop. “My white gloves are quite soiled even after laundering. I simply cannot reenter society with yellowed gloves,” Lydia said as she chose a pair and handed them to the saleswoman.

“And the milliner?” asked Michele. “I know full well that you have already a hat for every occasion.”

Lydia dimpled and slid a mischievous glance at her cousin. “I do, of course, and some I have not yet worn. But I should like to present Papa with a truly outrageous bill for behaving in
such
a way.” Lydia tripped out of the glover’s with Michele laughing in her wake.

The visit to the milliner proved to be a very pleasant half-hour of browsing among ribbons and feathers and bonnets of straw, lace, and velvet. While Lydia did her determined best to discover the most opulently trimmed and frivolous bonnet that she could, Michele found herself succumbing to temptation as well. The hat she chose was one of chip straw, trimmed in blue satin and lace and white feathers. She set the bow jauntily under one ear.

“How very becoming it is on you, Michele,” said Lydia, coming up behind her cousin and inspecting Michele’s choice with approval.

Michele glanced past her own reflection in the mirror to smile at her cousin. What she saw made her eyes widen. She spun around on the seat. “My word!” she exclaimed, ogling the befeathered and beaded creation crowning Lydia’s head.

Lydia giggled and raised her hand to brush the wide brim of the bonnet she wore. “It
is
frightful, is it not? Papa will have a fit,” she said cheerfully.

“Indeed he will,” said Michele, awed. She waited until her cousin had given the huge bonnet over into the reverent care of the saleswoman. She said urgently, “Lydia, you do not truly mean to buy that ridiculous contraption, surely!”

“Most definitely I do. And I shall wear it, too,” Lydia said.

When they left the milliner’s, it was to give into the care of their driver two large bandboxes. Lydia next directed the driver to the address of the modiste, and she and Michele alighted to enter the shop. The modiste instantly recognized the young ladies and rushed over, waving aside the lesser attentions of her assistant. “Miss Davenport, Mademoiselle du Bois, it is a pleasure! Is the gracious Lady Basinberry not accompanying you this morning?” she said, her bright eyes darting toward the door.