Mrs. McVinnie's London Season (10 page)

“
Rogues and blackguards,” she replied without hesitation. “And
Thomas told me never, under any circumstances, to have anything to
do with the men of the Royal Navy.”

It was as though
everyone in the room took a deep breath and held it. Jeannie looked
about her in perfect equanimity, her hands clasped in front of her.
She would have wished that Captain Summers would not stand so
close, particularly as his face was so red and he appeared to be
within a whisker of explosion. She looked him in the eye and did
not waver.

“
Of
course, he was an army man, and reason tells me that there might be
some prejudice between the two services,” she said. “Possibly you
are not as bad as all that. Prove it to me, Captain
Summers.”

She waited for the
explosion that never came. As she watched him, the captain set his
lips tight together, breathed deeply a few times, and then
sighed.

“
Very
well, madam, as you wish. I shall refrain from calling upon God in
moments of crisis.”

“
I
never said …’’she began. “Oh, you are aggravating. A prayer is
different.”

“
I
never found that prayer was efficacious while waiting to receive a
broadside, madam. Have patience with me.” He rubbed his hands
together and turned to Lady Agatha. “And now, my dear
sister—”

Larinda jumped to her
feet, clutching her robe about her. “I cannot see why I must submit
to any of this,” she exclaimed as her voice began to climb to an
unpleasant pitch. “I refuse to be tagged about by a Scottish nanny
with an accent so thick that no one can understand. And she is a
perfect quiz.”

Captain Summers leveled
his quarterdeck stare at his niece. She grew white about the lips,
but she held her tongue.

“
That
was unworthy of a Summers,” he said after a long painful moment.
“But by G—Godfrey, niece, you will dance to my tune or I will put
you and your aunt on a post chaise home to Suffolk.”

With a sob, Larinda
threw herself at her aunt’s side. “Can he do that? Oh, I do not
understand.”

Lady Smeath sighed, but
the look she shot the captain was anything but resigned. “I did not
tell you, my dear, but he is joined with me in the custody of you
and Edward.”

“
Oh,
pray do not stop there, Agatha,” the captain said as he handed the
pouch to Pringle and made for the door. “Larinda, I also have the
last word on any suitor you drag up the front steps and drop at my
feet.”

Larinda gasped and
looked at her aunt, who only nodded. “I cannot imagine what George
was thinking when he made that infamous will,” Lady Agatha
said.

Larinda burst into
noisy tears.

“
Oh,
do hush,” said her aunt, pushing her away. “How can one think with
that racket?”

“
Quite
right,” agreed the captain, pulling on his gloves. “I am off to the
Admiralty, where, I believe, your brother-in-law Lord Smeath is
awaiting me. We have some issues to discuss. Yes, Edward, do quit
bouncing about! What is it you wish to say?”

Edward sprang to his
feet and put his hands behind his back. “Sir, I was wondering.
Could I come?”

“
And
run the risk of a tumble in the water? I should say not, Edward,”
his aunt said.

“
Oh,
but—”

“
I
won’t hear of it!”

“
And
neither will I, my young chub,” said Captain Summers. “We would
bore you to death. Besides that, I will then go to Bond Street and
see if my tailor is still alive and on speaking terms with me.
Larinda need not have two quizzes on her hands. I would never for
the world, ah, scotch her chances at a beau.” He glanced sideways
at Jeannie, who still stood with her hands on Clare’s curls. “But I
believe the Tower of London lies in wait, eh, Mrs.
McVinnie?”

“
William, I protest! Think of the dirty crowds and the fog and
miasma from the river!”

“
None
of which will do him a particle of harm, Agatha,” Captain Summers
said. “The Tower it is, Mrs. McVinnie. You are condemned to it.
That is my first order to you.”

Jeannie smiled. “You,
sir, are going to be a great lot of trouble to me, I can tell.”

“
More
than you know,” he murmured. “And speaking of trouble, dry your
eyes, Larinda. Tonight Mrs. McVinnie and I will accompany you to
Almack’s.”

“
Over
my corpse,” she flung back.

The captain stood at
the door. “That will make you a most reluctant dancing partner, I
fear. How fortunate we are that the Season is young and Almack’s
will likely be thin of company. Perhaps no one will notice any
rigor mortis
.”

“
Quite
right,” Jeannie agreed. “Larinda, do you know that your face gets
splotchy when you cry like that? I hope that it will be gone by
this evening.”

Larinda ran to the
mirror, turning her face this way and that. She looked at her aunt
in anguish. Lady Smeath threw up her hands and left the room,
muttering something about having “no more say over my dear dead
brother’s children than a halibut.”

“
I
would recommend cucumbers on your eyes,” Jeannie said. “Shall I
send for some?”

Larinda pointedly
turned her back to Jeannie, who regarded her a moment more in
silence and then held out her hand for Edward. “Come, lad, and let
us see if Sir Walter Raleigh truly does haunt the walk,” Jeannie
asked.

“
And
shall we see the executioner’s ax?”

“
I
think we already have, laddie,” she replied after one more glance
at Larinda’s back. “Let us be off before it falls
again.”

They left the room
together, Clare trotting along behind.

“
Well,
my dears, it looks as though we must submit to the will of our
captain,” Jeannie said. “Edward, perhaps if you would find your
guidebook ….”

Edward dashed ahead and
soon returned with it, thumbing through it as he ran toward
her.

Jeannie laughed and
tried to ward him off. “Lad, you must give me time to change my
dress,” she protested. And time to collect my thoughts and wonder
for the hundredth time since breakfast what I am doing here.
Especially that.

Mary Bow was hanging up
the last of her dresses when Jeannie entered the bedroom. “I heard
from Larinda’s abigail that you are going to Almack’s tonight,”
Mary said, as she brushed at Jeannie’s one gray silk gown. “This
will do, I think,” she said doubtfully.

Jeannie touched the
dress and held it out. “Larinda is right. I will look a perfect
quiz,” she said. “Oh, Mary, I should be going to a modiste’s
instead of the Tower!”

Mary’s eyes opened
wide. “Oh, mercy me, never say that you chose jail over
impressment. He is a wicked, wicked man.”

Jeannie chuckled. “Yes,
and Captain Summers will likely have my head in a basket on Tower
Green. Mary, don’t let your mind run away with you. I mean to have
a pleasant stay here in London.” She took another look at the gray
dress; it had seemed so up-to-the-minute in Kirkcudbright. “Oh,
dear. Perhaps a stay in the Tower would be preferable to an evening
at Almack’s, especially in the company of this dress I know so
well.”

“
Well,
it is a little simple,” Mary said doubtfully.

Edward banged on the
door. Jeannie released the dress into Mary’s care again. “Mary, see
if you can turn it into something magic by ten of the clock
tonight.”

She left Mary shaking
her head and brushing furiously.

After considerable
debate over the merits of traveling to the Tower by water or over
land, Jeannie tossed a coin and hailed a hackney. With his
guidebook spread across his knees, Edward directed her attention to
the marvels of London and the City, pointing out buildings that she
had heard of all her life and never seen until this time, in the
company of a fourteen-year-old boy who knew scarcely more than she.
She closed her ears to the screams of anguish coming from the jehu
on the box, who cursed every cart that impeded his progress. I will
enjoy this afternoon, she thought as she clung to the dusty strap
in the hack and smiled at Edward, who sat with his nose pressed to
the window.

They waited for some
time in front of St. Paul’s Cathedral as porters and carters hauled
away the results of a collision between an egg cart and a fish
wagon. All about them, tradesmen shouted and urchins screamed
back.

Jeannie’s head began to
ache. It was throbbing with a life of its own by the time they paid
off the driver and stood before the Tower of London. She settled
her cloak about her and sniffed the air. It was a dizzying
combination of fragrance from the chocolate-colored Thames that
flowed past, and unrecognizable odors from Billinsgate Market,
where the fishmongers hawked their wares and spit after anyone who
would not buy.

As Edward took her hand
and led her into the Tower, Jeannie realized the source of her
discomfort. This was the first time in her life that she had ever
gone anywhere unescorted. Her daily walks about Kirkcudbright,
where she knew everyone, did not count. This was different. I am on
my own, she thought suddenly, and Captain Summers trusts me enough
to give Edward into my care.

“
Mrs.
McVinnie! This is no time to hang back. Think of all we have to
see.” Edward tugged at her hand.

Jeannie brought herself
back to the moment and gave his hand a squeeze. “Lead on,
laddie.”

Hand in hand, they
wandered through the Tower, following a group of walkers in the
wake of a yeoman warder, or striking off on their own when fancy
dictated. Hand in hand, they shuddered over the fate of the young
princes, smothered in their bedclothes. They sighed to see “Jane”
scratched on the wall of Beauchamp Tower, where Lady Jane had pined
for her young husband and watched him march to his fate on Tower
Green.

And there was the Bell
Tower, where Princess Elizabeth was sent by her sister Mary, and
then Bloody Tower, the home of Walter Raleigh for twelve long
years.

And I am begrudging a
couple of months at 3 Wendover Square, Jeannie thought was she
listened to the yeoman warder speak of Sir Walter and his devotion
to a jealous queen. She could only sigh and hurry along as Edward
dragged her to another tower, and another, reading aloud from his
guidebook to the amusement of fellow tourists.

The Tower was shrouded
in the shadows of late afternoon when she stopped and held up her
hands. “Surely there cannot be one more tower. I defy you to
produce one more.”

Edward closed the book.
“I think we have seen them all, Mrs. McVinnie, but look here, I
have saved the best for the last.”

Jeannie sniffed and was
reminded forcefully of the worst-tended crofter’s yard. “Edward,
what is this place?”

“
It is
the menagerie, Mrs. McVinnie.” He opened his guidebook again. “Look
here, it says that King Henry the Third in 1240 decreed the
creation of a menagerie.”

“
That
explains it,” she said. “I do not think anyone has mucked out the
straw in all these years.”

He regarded her
tolerantly with the look that the young reserve for the infirm and
feeble. “Can you imagine a greater treat?”

I can imagine a cup of
tea and a cushion to prop my feet upon, she thought as she followed
Edward into the only corner of the Tower they had not already
explored from cellar to ceiling.

A gentleman lounged
beside the open door that led into the menageries. He was dressed
in a coat of Bath superfine and wore pantaloons of an exquisite
biscuit hue. Jeannie tried not to stare, but she could not help
noticing that his neckcloth was arranged into an ornate style that
would have taken Tom the better part of a day to achieve. His hair
was cut, brushed, and pomaded into a style that was as careless as
it was calculating. The strong perfume about his person contrasted
oddly with his odoriferous surroundings.

As they watched, he
flicked upon an enamel snuffbox, put a pinch on the back of his
hand with one practiced motion, and inhaled.

“
Do
you think he is a dandy?” Edward whispered. “I have heard of
them.”

Jeannie tore her eyes
from the elegance before her. “I am sure you must be right. I
wouldn’t have thought this to be the haunt of men of fashion and
distinction.”

“
And
see how he looks about,” Edward whispered back. “Do you think he is
a spy, Mrs. McVinnie?” He clapped his hands. “That would be almost
too much to hope for!”

They entered the
menagerie. Jeannie covered her nose with her handkerchief.
“Goodness, Edward,” she gasped as her eyes watered from the fumes
rising off the molding straw underfoot. “We could have foregone
this treat.”

Edward was tugging her
forward when suddenly, immediately, her attention was captured.

Another young man,
dressed similarly to the one who stood sentry by the door, was
clambering over the rail that led into the elephant pit. As Jeannie
and Edward stared, eyes wide, he dropped down and stood looking up
at the elephant, which was looking back at him. They eyed each
other in perfect accord, until one of the other sprigs of fashion
at the rail leaned forward and carefully lowered a bucket of paint
into the pit.

With a smile and a bow,
the man in the pit caught the paintbrush that someone else tossed
him, and dipped the brush in the paint. Humming to himself, he
painted the elephant’s ears as high up as he could reach.

“
What
on earth ….” Jeannie began. She stared as the young man
motioned for another bucket and painted the other ear, all the
while humming to himself. Every now and then he would step back,
brush in hand, and contemplate the artistry of his effort. The
animal, chained to a stout post, swayed back and forth.