Lady Madeline's Folly (19 page)

When she received cards from Mrs. Henry Aldred inviting her to attend a masquerade party, she knew just how unwelcome an unwelcome invitation could be. She struck Eskott’s name off her list, slowly, sadly. She crossed and crossed it out till there was nothing but a blot of ink on the page where it had been. Then she wrote it again at the top of the list, only to cross it out again the next day, when he was seen on the strut with Lady Susan.

The ball was considered a marvelous success. It was termed a “squeeze,” than which no higher praise could be heaped on it. The prince regent dropped around for an hour; two royal dukes attended, six cabinet ministers, the prime minister, and a clutch of the more illustrious Whigs.

Madeline had a new gown made up in emerald green to match her eyes. Eskott had always liked her in green. She contrived to get a diamond brooch to stay in her hair by means of a pair of crossed hairpins securing it at the clasp. She wore new white kid gloves up past her elbows, and looked extremely well. Everyone said so, except Eskott, who of course would hardly be expected to attend without a card. She had some little suspicion he might attend on Lady Susan’s as her escort. Lady Susan had the same hope, but he declined, and she had to make do with her brother.

The season was at its very zenith. Lady Madeline’s engagement book was so crowded she had to scribble in the margins to squeeze in all her appointments. After her own ball, she took the inexplicable decision to go home to Highgate.

“You see Aunt Margaret is complaining of feeling poorly,” she pointed out to her father, to have some reason to proffer.

“What, ‘Had a touch of megrim the other evening, and went to bed early’?” he read, lifting his brows in astonishment. “That is nothing. You must not lose out on the season only for that. She will be very sorry if you do. Why, you always love the season, Maddie. I remember your first one as though it were yesterday. What high hopes we had, eh? And still have too,” he added heartily, seeing the shadow settle in her eyes.

“It seems a hundred years ago.”

“You are fagged after the exertion of your ball. Take a day off from trotting. Stay in and retire early this evening. That will set you back up on your pegs.”

“Perhaps I shall. And if I don’t feel more the thing, then I can always go to Highgate next week,” she agreed. She could be swayed by anyone these days. She had got an inch cut off her hair only because the coiffeur suggested it, when she had been trying for a year to let it grow. Nothing seemed to matter enough to argue about.

“I am speaking against the Reform Bill in the House tomorrow afternoon. I thought you would come to hear me. You mentioned you would keep the day open. That will be an easy afternoon for you, sitting and listening.”

“Yes, I have it marked here on my calendar.”

“I wonder if that is why Eskott didn’t show up at our ball,” Fordwich went on, his brows bristling in consideration. “He is pushing pretty hard for the Reform Bill. I daresay it is his way of saying what he thinks of my views, without having heard a word of my speech. I rather miss his visits. I though he would use our ball as an excuse to come back. He mentioned last week he was looking forward to it.”

Madeline looked at her father, aghast. “You didn’t tell me that!”

“Did I not mention it? Yes, it was the first time he had spoken in a month. He has been holding himself very aloof, even in the lobby. There was a deal of gossip about the affair of the letter, and your foolish... Naturally he would not want to show the world he took no offense at such Turkish treatment. His pride demands it, but I thought he would come to our ball.”

“I didn’t invite him!” she confessed.

“Good God! Why not?”

“We didn’t receive cards to his, and I—”

“He is holding his off till the fall little season this year.”

“You didn’t tell me that either.”

“I thought you would know it. You hear all the
on dits.”

“No, I only hear half of them now,” she said.

“You soon won’t be hearing any of them, if you go on in this slipshod way, not sending Eskott a card to our do. This year more than ever you should have done it, Maddie. We have done him an injury. It is for
us
to make the first step of atonement. Instead of that, you deliver the man another slap in the face. I don’t know what has come over you lately,” he grouched, but did not wait for an explanation. He was already looking around for his file of correspondence.

Madeline sat down and wrote her aunt half a letter, squeezed it into a wad, and threw it in the wastebasket. There was no fire in the grate. Already it was spring, too warm for a fire. She should have sent Eskott a card to her ball. His speaking to her father was a hint, a reminder that he had not received one. It must have gone against the pluck to have done it. He would not have spoken had he not meant to attend. She had come that close to getting him back, but her pride—vanity—had prevented it.

Her life had gone wrong from the moment Henry Aldred had marched into this saloon, strutting and preening and she succumbed to the unutterable folly of thinking she was in love with him.

Chapter Seventeen

The next day was fine enough that Fordwich had his open
carriage brought out. Madeline drove with him to Westminster to hear his speech. Maybe she should set up a phaeton and take the ribbons herself. Many of the more dashing ladies in the city were doing so. It would give her a new interest. Eskott would teach... Oh, but Eskott could not be asked to do these little chores for her any longer. How difficult it was to break herself of the habit of thinking he could.

She was not the only spectator in the visitors’ gallery, but she was one of a small handful. Folks had more interesting things to do on a fine spring afternoon than sit in that dusty, dingy eagle’s aerie listening to dull speeches, without even seeing the speaker.

There was a long tirade by a member of the opposition, inveighing against the prince’s hiring himself a private secretary at two thousand pounds per annum, before her father arose on a new order of interest, the Reform Bill. He was against it, of course.

It seemed wrong-headed of him to support a system that sent members of parliament to represent empty barns or a clutch of one or two families, while vast areas of densely populated terrain had no representation. The county members were elected, but they were outnumbered four to one by the borough members. And even some of the county votes were arranged by one or two great families. Surely that could not be right. Like a child, she had always accepted her father’s dictum on it, without giving it a thought. How shallow Eskott must have found her.

When she roused herself from her reverie, she saw the visitors in the gallery had dwindled to a pair of young lovers, who were using the privacy of the room to hold hands, and stare out the window toward Vauxhall, probably planning some clandestine meeting at the gardens. She envied them.

Her father finally finished his speech, to mild, one-sided applause. She looked at her watch, wondering if she should wait and go home with him, which might mean sitting for another hour or more in the gloom, or go on alone and send his carriage back. She decided on the latter course as being slightly less boring. She arose and turned toward the staircase, to see Eskott standing, looking at her. It was not his old granite face he wore, but a sober, rather sad one. Her heart raced at the sight of him.

“I have a note from your father,” he said, holding out a slip of paper.

“Thank you,” she answered, startled. There were a dozen questions in her head. How did Eskott come to be running errands for her father? Had he
offered
to do it? Had it occurred to him she might be present today, when Lord Fordwich was to speak? She did not give voice to any of them, but unfolded the paper and read that she was to go home without her father, as he had a committee meeting with some other members.

“If you need a drive, I am leaving now,” Eskott said offhandedly.

“No, thank you. I have the carriage. I’ll send it back for Papa. He’ll be here for some time.”

“As you wish. May I escort you downstairs at least, call your carriage for you?”

“That would be helpful. Thank you.”

Their footsteps sounded hollow on the echoing stairs, slow, measured treads. “You are loyal to spend such a lovely afternoon indoors,” he remarked as they descended.

“My father expects it. I must compliment him when he gets home, you know.”

“I cannot offer my compliments. He is dead wrong, as usual.”

“Yes,” she said unthinkingly, her mind busy to find some more interesting topic. She should apologize about her ball.

“Dare we hope you are coming to see the light of reason at last?” he asked with a surprised laugh. He sounded nervous.

“What do you mean?”

“It is not like you to agree with me in these matters, Madeline.”

“Oh, but I
do
think Papa is wrong this time.”

“Sure you won’t come home with me?” he asked, as he opened the doorway into the sun, which seemed blindingly bright. “I have got a new team of grays I am eager to show off; that is why I persist.”

“All right. I would like to see them. I am thinking of setting up a phaeton and pair myself.”

“I expect Captain Townsend will be happy to teach you to handle the ribbons,” he said, with a nod to the stable boy to bring his curricle.

“He has returned to Portugal.”

“I had not heard it.”

“He was wounded, which is why he was in England at all.”

“I thought perhaps he was your new protégé.”

The arrival of the curricle and team caused a little stir of excitement. The grays had to be complimented, their points extolled to Madeline. They drove up Whitehall and down Pall Mall toward St. James’s Street, discussing politics, while Madeline wondered how to turn the chance meeting to better advantage.

“I was surprised to hear you criticize your father’s speech,” Eskott said.

“It seems wrong, little boroughs having their own member sent to London.” Such members as
Aldred,
she thought, but did not say.

“They are owned by wealthy, influential gentlemen, who appoint their own man.”

“Yes, owned by men like you,” she answered, to introduce some levity into the talk.

“And Lord Fordwich,” he retaliated. “Whigs and Tories alike—we are all active in this borough-mongering. It must be stopped, but till it is, you know, there is no point in not using it to our advantage. Rather ironic when you think of it: we are appointing men to vote themselves out of a job.”

“Did you happen to be at the St. Patrick’s dinner at the Freemasons’ Tavern, Eskott? It turned out a debacle, I hear.”

“It had Covent Garden beat all hollow for entertainment. The prince was booed and hissed, and old Sherry, drunk as a skunk, took to his feet to defend him, clutching the edge of the table to keep from falling over. The inebriated defending the indefensible. Marvelous comedy, but deemed poor politics, like so many of poor Sherry’s efforts lately. He’s a faithful dog—the last of us who
do
defend the prince. His remarks were drowned out in the general booings and hissings. They might have been worth hearing too. Dead drunk he’s still a better speaker than most of us. He is dependent on the prince’s charity, which is a strong goad to fidelity. Of course,
your
daily reading, the
Morning Post,
whitewashed the affair. Well, bought up lock, stock, and barrel by Carlton House, what can one expect? They found Prinney an Adonis of loveliness, as usual.”

“I didn’t know Prinney owned a paper!”

“You must have detected the whiff of Hanover in it before now! Pity you had not seen Leigh Hunt’s attack in the
Examiner;
it brought the matter into perspective. ‘A corpulent gentleman of fifty—a libertine over head and ears in debt and disgrace.’ The Hunts were arrested immediately, of course. Brougham will have a field day defending them, with yours truly aiding and abetting him, and likely getting stuck to pay the fine into the bargain.”

“I knew there was more going on than I hear at home. They never said a
word
about any of this.”

“They would like to pretend it is not happening. There were upwards of ten thousand people in Pall Mall the day of the Queen’s Drawing Room, and not one whisper of applause when Prinney went through. Dead silence, ominous silence even.”

“I hear Forbes tried to resign.”

“It was foolish of Prinney to make him stay on. He went to dinner at Taylor’s next night with the prince’s buttons and lining removed from his coat, and made a point for everyone to see it. Taylor has fallen out with the prince as well. There is a rumor running around that he tried to seduce Taylor’s wife and got knocked down by the outraged husband, but it is only a rumor.”

“It’s nice to hear all the inside rumors again,” she said, hoping to hint him into resuming his visits.

“Subscribe to the
Examiner
,” he suggested.

“I will.”

“Actually, it’s been temporarily shut down pending the trial, but some other sheet will spring up to take its place. Listen closely to hear what rag is being denigrated at home, and you’ll know what one to buy.”

“I’ve finally gotten around to reading Byron, and can return it to you now.”

“Keep it. I hinted for another from him, and he told me with a pointed smile that the book was also for sale. So I bought a copy, and he autographed it.”

They were at the corner of her street, perilously close to home, and still no real rapproachment had been made. “Shall we go on to Hyde Park, or are you in a hurry to get home?” he asked. “These grays need exercise, which is French for saying I want to show ‘em off a little in the park.”

“I’ll be happy to go with you. I must observe all your fiddling tricks, as I shall soon be setting up my own team.” This was a definite opening for him to volunteer his services, if he was looking for an excuse.

“Going to set up as a Lettie Lade, are you? I wonder you haven’t done it before now,” was all he said.

“Do you know of a good pair up for sale? Not
too
wild. I am just a beginner.”