Talk of the Town (17 page)

“No hurry, dear Lady Melbourne,” Mr. Brummell said, patting her hand.
“My
position, and your own, of course, permit us even to speak a moment to Miss Ingleside without fear of falling into anonymity. Did you enjoy the Deitweiller’s rout last night, Ma’am? One hears you were there—for a moment.”

“Yes, we could only spare them a minute for we are very busy. You may have heard we are engaged in writing a book.”

“So I’ve heard. Am I to be one of your victims?”

“No, we are only writing about highly placed and famous people. Good day, Mr. Brummell, Lady Melbourne.” She curtsied and walked away before he had time to retort.

“What a bold minx it is,” Brummell laughed to his companion. “I really regret that that girl has sunk herself. I should enjoy crossing swords with her again.”

“I can’t think why. You always get the worst of it,” Lady Melbourne roasted him.

“You didn’t distinguish yourself,
Cat.
I am out of practice. With her for a sparring partner I would improve.” He turned back to Cruikshank’s cartoon. “What do we think of this?” he asked.

“We are amused. It is quite like him.”

“That won’t sound well at the clubs. We want more panache. Shall we declare that having outgrown his father’s throne, he is now occupying the floor? And looking very much at home there, too.”

At the carriage Effie enquired fearfully what had occurred between her niece and the pair at the window. “Just commenting on the display,” Daphne told her, but the sparks shooting from the girl’s eyes belied her mild answer.

“I don’t suppose Beau mentioned anything about our party? I know Lady Melbourne won’t come.”

“He didn’t mention it,” Daphne said, but in her heart she knew there was to be no redemption through the party. Their curtness told her clearly that she and Effie were through, and she became resigned to skulking off to Bath, where she was beginning to think they ought to spend the rest of her visit, with the two of them going to Wiltshire at its termination.

She began assembling her belongings from all the corners of the apartment and was just asking to have her trunks hauled up from the cellar when Effie came to her door. “It’s St. Felix,” her aunt said, smiling brightly.

“What does he want?” Daphne asked.

‘‘He wants to see you."

“I don’t want to see him. Tell him I am too busy.”

“I’ll do no such thing. Comb your hair and go say how-do-you-do, at least.”

Daphne was reluctant to face Lord St. Felix in the midst of her disgrace, yet she also felt a strong urging to run down to the Blue Saloon as fast as her legs could carry her. “I suppose I must say hello as he is come,” she said and brushed out her curls in preparation for the meeting.

When she entered the room, she said, “You must excuse the mess. I was busy upstairs. We have not been receiving callers the past few days.”

“You would have received a call from me yesterday had I been in town,” he answered.

“Oh, I didn’t realize you had been away,” she said. She wondered then if he knew of her disgrace. She had not been at Almack’s, and he had not been at the Deitweiller do. To discover whether his sister might have told him of the latter, she asked if he had been to see Lady Elizabeth.

“No, I came here directly I got back from Kent,” he said. “In fact, I haven’t been to my own house yet.” He still wore a many-caped driving coat.

This seemed like an undue eagerness for her company. “Is there a particular reason for this call?” she enquired.

“Yes, a most particular one. I want to find out how things are going, after the fiasco at Almack’s the other night.”

“Oh, you were there! We—that is—I did not attend. I’m afraid my absence might have caused a little talk.”

“Particularly as you made no excuse but announced—to Brummell of all people!—that you stayed away because of your aunt not receiving a voucher. You must know a divorcée is not welcome there.”

“They draw the line at bigamists! The Prince..."

He waved away her objection. “Prinney is a law unto himself.”

“As a divorcée is my best friend and aunt and hostess, I did not choose to go either.”

“You couldn’t leave well enough alone!” he charged angrily and threw his driving coat on a chair. “Having achieved the impossible and got yourself invited, you must thumb your nose at the world and snub everyone who matters in town. Good God, what am I going to do with you!”

“Say goodbye, if you like. We are leaving for a holiday in Bath.”

“No, that’s the wrong move. If you run now we’ll never be able to hold up our heads.”

“We?” she asked in astonishment.
“You
are not involved in our disgrace. It has nothing to do with you."

“It has a great deal to do with me. I consider Mrs. Pealing as a sort of surrogate mother. You recall telling me she might almost have been my mother. She was extremely kind in all her dealings with my family, and I wish to repay her.”

“She never had any intention of publishing that story or any of the others she could if she wished it. You know that was all a misunderstanding.”

“Oh, publishing—I forgot all about that. I referred to the duel, and the suicide threat, and so on."

“You mean she told you the whole thing, and she made
me
promise not to!”

“It slipped out. She was not
bragging
about it, if that is your fear."

“Yes, slipped out, while you put a dozen sly questions to her. Well, it serves you right if you found out what you didn’t want to hear.”

“Certainly it does, but that is of no importance now. I don’t consider your situation hopeless by any means."

“You don’t know the worst of it,” she warned.

“What else have you been up to? More chicanery?” he asked with foreboding.

“We were so foolhardy as to accept an invitation we received to a small rout.”

“You shouldn’t have, not after the scrape at Almack’s. Let’s hear all about it. Cut dead by half the group there, I imagine.”

“No, by all of it, with the hostess herself falling into a fainting fit at our feet.”

He swallowed uneasily and asked, “Where did this take place? Not at one of the better homes I trust?”

“Deitweillers.”

He considered the name and seemed unsure whether to include it amongst the better homes. “Who was there?”

“Your sister, for one. Our visit was so brief I hadn’t much chance to notice.”

“We may manage to keep it quiet.”

“Oh, no, we are too notorious for that, Aunt Effie and I. It is quite the talk in the city today. Brummell mentioned it to me.”

Daphne was unsure why she was telling all this to St. Felix. Her most ardent wish had been that he never hear a word of it, but once he was there in person the whole came tumbling out. He would desert them like the others, and she wanted to have her fate sealed once for all, that she might get on with making a new life.

“Ah, still on terms with the Beau, are you? That’s good.”

“You said he didn’t matter! You said he was on the verge of ruin!”

“He may go on being on the verge for a year. He isn’t done for yet. I’m glad you have retained his friendship.”

“I haven’t retained it! I insulted him just this afternoon."

“Oh, lord, can you
never
keep that tongue of yours between your teeth! What happened?”

She gave him some idea of their conversation, and he shook his head at her folly. “He’s out then. And Lady Melbourne was with him, you say?”

“Yes, and she hardly let on to recognize me at all. She wouldn’t have spoken if Brummell hadn’t been goaded into exchanging insults with me. The situation is clearly hopeless, and Auntie and I mean to hide our heads in shame at Bath, after which I must find some weapon to beat Papa into accepting her at home. But you needn’t look so distressed. Auntie gave up on Society years ago, and I never thought to set up as an Incognita at all when I came. Once I am home, all this unpleasant interlude will be soon forgotten. I am not ruined, you know, not in Wiltshire, in any case, and that is where I belong. I shall make a very good match in spite of all this tempest in a teapot here.”

“You would give me to understand you have all the country beaux at your beck and call?”

“But of course. Did you doubt it for a minute?”

“No, but I think you can do better than a country beau. Have you no desire to revenge yourself on those who have calumniated you?” he asked in a leading fashion.

“I would adore it if Auntie would publish every scandalous story she knows, but she is too sweet-tempered to even take offence at the Turkish treatment she has received. It is her decision to go to Bath, and I come to think she is right.”

“Well, I do not. You will both remain in London, and you will come to Bess’s ball next week.”

“It is
naturally
our first aim to do as you say, but there is a difficulty. We have not received invitations, you see.”

“You will.”

“It is very kind of you to wish to redeem your surrogate mother’s reputation, but you exert yourself to no purpose. We have gone beyond redemption and mean to run and hide in Bath.”

“When did you plan to leave?”

“In a few days’ time.” She didn’t mention their pending party.

“Don’t be in a hurry. I’ll see you again before you leave. I am having a ball myself and had hoped to coerce you to come to it.”

“Now there is a change. It is not long since you were trying to coerce me
not
to attend your sister’s tea party. Neither face nor form did you wish to darken her door.”

“I hope I have more luck this time. What I ought to be doing is threatening to beat you if you come,” he said, smiling in a way he had not smiled at her before. There was something intimate in this look.

“Yes, it’s clear your actual aim is to keep us away at all costs, and you know the likeliest way to achieve it is to pretend you desire our presence.”

“But I do desire your presence, Miss Ingleside. Face and form are both welcome. Did I
really
say that?”

“Indeed you did, and a great many other rude things. I have them all carefully jotted down in my memoirs, for the epilogue.”

“Do you have jotted down as well how you goaded me on to it? I was never in your company once that you were not tweaking me.”

“And how beautifully you responded to every pinch!”

“You have been leading me on to make an ass of myself from the day we met. You could have told me your aunt had no intention of printing any of those stories."

“I told you a dozen times, or tried to, but I soon perceived there was no telling a St. Felix anything.”

“You can tell me something I want to know. Where exactly in Wiltshire do you reside?”

“Near Trowbridge. Just a hop away from Bath. We might stop in at home en route.”

“What is your father’s place called?”

“Ingleside Manor. Why do you wish to know?”

“I like to know where my friends come from.”

“You don’t mean to say I still have a friend? And the one person, too, I would have sworn was an enemy."

“Oh, no, I never make an enemy of a beautiful lady If I can help it.”

“Next you will be telling me I have a charming disposition!” she laughed, surprised and very well pleased at the compliment.

“You base that on the assumption that love is blind, no doubt; but you will remember I have eyes to see you are beautiful, and they also show me clearly that you have the disposition of a termagant.”

“What a disappointment! I have not made a conquest after all, then?” she quizzed.

“You haven’t half exerted yourself, Miss Ingleside,” he replied and arose to pick up his driving coat.

“No more have you.”

“No, I have been too busy trying to hate you.” His warm smile told her how little he had succeeded. “Good day.”

He was gone, and Miss Ingleside sat looking at the empty doorway, wondering if he meant what she thought.

It was clear, in any case, that he meant to help her and Aunt Effie regain their footing in London society. James’s daughter was ready to get her back up at any offer of help, but there was enough of her mother, or perhaps just feminine nature, in her that she did not totally disdain the offer to share her burdens with such an eager young man. In fact, she thought the main difference between herself and Effie was that her aunt wanted the help of a man to engineer a comfortable escape, while she welcomed the offer of one to help her stay and fight. She felt some fear that the man in question meant to have things very much his own way. “That’s the wrong move.” “You will both remain in London.” Never a question, but bald assertions and commands. He was the sort who would
tell
a girl she was going to marry him, not ask her. The considering frown that puckered her brow faded, and a smile settled on her ups as she pondered these faults on the part of Lord St. Felix.

But despite his faults, she felt the need of guidance from him or someone like him. He had said she shouldn’t have come to London alone, and he was right. She had accidentally achieved an early success, but inexperience of city ways had nearly undone her; and if St. Felix could and would set her on the right path, she would do what she could to go along with him. Aunt Effie meant well, but she was neither wise nor strict enough to be a good guide.

Chapter 12

St. Felix’s next stop, even before going home, was to Charles Street to see Bess. He found her at home but had to wait out the departure of some callers.

“You have to send cards to Mrs. Pealing and her niece for your ball,” he said as soon as they were alone.

“It is impossible, Dickie.”

“Call me Richard, if you please.”

“Yes, well, it is still impossible. What has the silly girl done now but go barging into a party the very night after not going to Almack’s, and there was never such a sight, Richard. Mrs. Deitweiller fell over in a swoon, and the two of them trailed out the room after her, happy for any excuse to leave for everyone was snickering.”

“Very civilized behaviour, I’m sure; and yourself amongst the snickerers, Bess?”

“No one could keep a straight face. We were all hoping they’d come back in, but they hadn’t the gall for that. What can have gotten into them to attend?”