The Marquess and Miss Davies (16 page)

“Intelligence? Wit?”

“Oh, very well. But why not—”

“I would prefer—”

They heard a soft knock on the door.

“Carys? Isa?”

Lady Reggie. Isolde jumped off the bed to open the door and their sister-in-law entered. Smiling, to Carys’s relief.

“Where is Tally?” both girls asked.

“Asleep, the little imp,” said Lady Regina. “Apparently the footmen played peek-a-boo with him until he was too exhausted to keep his eyes open.”

The twins were charmed by the thought of James and Will, both large men and a bit rough at the edges, down on their hands and knees with a baby.

But Reggie’s next words were less than reassuring. “Your brother is furious,” she said to the twins. “He has threatened to forbid both of you the waltz.”

“Tal is always annoyed about one thing or another,” said Isa.

“You know that isn’t true,” the viscountess protested

“Oh, very well. But he is a
marquess
.”

“I believe Talfryn sets greater store on gentlemanly behavior than title.”

“How dull.”

Isolde would defend her sister to the ends of the earth, as they all knew. Lady Regina attempted a different approach.

“Carys, if you like this man, there are things that can be done. But do not force your brother to withhold his approval because he has taken Lord Leighton’s conduct in dislike.”

Even Isolde was silent on the point.

“I was equally at fault,” said Carys, softly.

Isa was about to protest, but Lady Regina smiled broadly, bringing the conversation back into a lighter vein. “Well I should certainly hope so!” she said. “The width of that gentleman’s shoulders alone is enough to make any woman weak in the knees.”

They all burst into laughter. But the seriousness of the topic remained.

“I am riding out with him in a few days time,” said Carys. “Will Talfryn object?”

“I will see that he does not,” said Reggie. “On that occasion. But Carys—”

“I will be careful,” said Miss Davies, and hoped that she could keep to her word. If the marquess stroked her hair, or tried to kiss her, would she really wish to pull away?

“Lud,” said Isolde.

* * * *

As chance would have it, for good or for ill, the next day brought notes from two gentlemen, neither of whom was the Marquess of Clare. The Misses Davies shared the letters over the breakfast table, with both their brother and his wife as interested observers.

The first was a lengthy missive of page after page of flowery script, from Lord Brabury. Carys skimmed the first few paragraphs. “Ah! Lord Brabury is to publish his second volume of verse.”

Both Isolde and and Lady Regina began laughing.

“Apparently the first volume sold well enough to encourage his publisher.”

“Who is this Lord Brabury?” asked Talfryn. “I seem to recall the name—”

“Well,” said his wife. “How might one explain?”

“Tobias Brabury is,” said Isolde, “an aspiring poet—”

“—of a certain kind,” finished Reggie.

Lord Davies frowned.

“His poems are rather ... distinctive,” said Carys, who was occupied with a small piece of fried ham, and carefully not looking at her brother. She began cutting it up into tiny pieces.

“Distinctive?”

“Vivid,” offered Lady Regina. “Colourful.”

Two lines had appeared between Talfryn’s eyebrows. He was aware that the women of his household knew something that he did not, and he disliked the feeling.

“Oh, very well,” said Isolde. “The poems are of an amatory nature.”

“Ah,” said Talfryn. “Well, in that case Carys shall certainly not—”

“He’s harmless!” said Carys. “Nobody minds his poetry—half the
ton
has read it and the other half wants to—and, he is my friend. I will
not
refuse to see him.”

Lord Davies was taken aback. “I was given to understand,” he said, with some emphasis, “that your interest is directed elsewhere.”

Carys blushed. “He is a
friend
,” she repeated, but her brother clearly thought this a havey-cavey business in and of itself.

“One is not friends,” he said, “with poets of this reputation.”

“I am too!”

“She is too!”

“Gods,” said Tal.

Lady Regina gave her husband a speaking look. “Disagreements are bad for the digestion,” she said. “We can discuss this later.”

The viscount retreated without quite giving up. “We will,” he said firmly.

Carys put Lord Brabury’s letter aside to be read in its entirety at her leisure. The other note, which was lying unopened by the teacup, was now in question. Sighing, she removed the wax seal, scanned it quickly for the signature, and then shook her head.

“I can hardly believe that he would write,” said Miss Davies.

Isa understood immediately. “Mr
Torvald
?”

“The one and only.”

“Jonathan Torvald?” said Talfryn, who seemed to have brightened. “The botanist?”

“Yes. I met him some time ago at the Royal Society. How can you possibly know him?”

“I’ve never met him personally,” said Tal, “but Theodore Percy is an enthusiast of wildflowers, you know. He said something about a particular orchid—”

“The green-winged orchid,” said Carys.

“The very one. At any rate, Percy was convinced that there must be some way to develop them in the hothouse, and I remember him mentioning the name.”

“He’s a bore,” said Isa, flatly.

“I can’t imagine—” began their brother, and then made the wise decision to not argue the point. He smiled at his sisters. “Does that gentleman have a book to publish as well?”

“‘Twould be a
boring
book.”

“Oh, hush,” said Carys, continuing to read. “He begs pardon for any previous misunderstanding—”

“Ha!” said Isolde. “I just bet he does.”

“What—?” began Talfryn.

“‘Tis nothing,” said Carys, and was spared any further explanation when Mrs Espey arrived with Taliesin, who had been freshly washed and dressed in a tiny outfit of finely milled cotton, complete with a cap and soft leather shoes with four buttons on the side.

“Babies smell wonderful,” said Carys, who had taken him immediately from Reggie.

“I scarcely get to hold my own son in this house,” complained Talfryn.

* * * *

“Why do you suppose Mr Torvald has written?” wondered Isolde.

They were riding in Green Park shortly after breakfast. These rides were a nearly daily activity now that the weather had improved. Isa would never be the equal of her sister as a rider, but she was comfortable on Jesse, and had even survived a brief tumble the week before when, exhausted from a previous night’s dancing, and drowsy in an unusually warm morning, she had fallen off her mount. Fortunately onto a particularly soft area of the turf.

“I suspect,” said Carys, “that he has learned our brother is now in London.”

“Ah,” said Isa. “Of course. So this is an opportunity he could not pass up.”

“What has he to lose?”

“Exactly. What did he say?”

“Well, besides the supposed apology—and why is it men cannot manage such a thing?—and his hopes that I am well, et cetera, et cetera, he was wondering if I would be attending the next meeting of the Royal Society.”

“Gods, why?”

“He will be speaking again, and he thinks I might be interested in his recent discovery of a new sub-species.”

“You cannot even consider it!”

“Why not? I’ve no interest in the gentleman, but the green-winged orchid is an innocent party.”

Isolde rolled her eyes.

“It’s very pretty, you know.”

“You will only encourage him. Not to mention that if Tal finds out what he’s really been up to he won’t be allowed within miles of Pencarrow.”

“That,” said Carys, “would be Mr Torvald’s problem. And I still have hope.”

“Of?”

“The Royal Society.”

“Pah. And what about Lord Brabury? He seems to have sent you an entire manuscript.”

“Oh, heavens, I put his letter aside—I suppose I shall have to read the entire thing at some point. And send him a note of congratulations on his second book.”

“Do you suppose—?”

“The title is
Fondest Dreams
.”

“Yes, then.”

“Indeed.”

Years later Carys and Isolde would be able to laugh about it.

The difficulties began with Talfryn’s decision to accompany Carys to the coming meeting of the Royal Society—a predictable decision, as Isa pointed out. Their brother wished to see this Mr Torvald for himself.

“A scientifical gentleman may suit you,” commented Lord Davies to his sister, that evening at dinner. “They have a steady head on their shoulders.”

By this time Isolde had already taken the opportunity to talk with Lady Regina, and to explain Mr Torvald’s lack of appeal. But Reggie only shook her head and shrugged, as if to say ‘
I
can’t talk any sense into him’. The dowager viscountess, seated at her son’s other hand, frowned. This was first she had heard of another outing to the Royal Society, something of which she did not entirely approve. But if Talfryn was to go with his sister—

“A botanist, you say?” she asked Carys. “That seems an odd choice of occupation for a grown man.”

“Not at all, ma’am, but—”

“You surely remember Sir Joseph Banks, mother,” said the viscount. “He is a botanist as well.”

“Well, in that case, I suppose ... He was made a baronet, was he not?”

“Indeed.”

Isa, turned away from their mother, grinned and mouthed ‘if only a botanist duke!’ to her sister.

“He has found a new sub-species of orchid,” said Isolde. “I imagine there will be no end to the excitement.”

The viscount frowned, but Isa’s eyes were open and innocent. Carys sighed.

* * * *

 The viscount, of course, wished to consider Mr Torvald as an alternative to the marquess, but as he was decidedly
not
an option, Isolde realized she would have to attend the meeting as well. She explained this to her sister as they were preparing for bed. Taliesin had been put to sleep, albeit only an hour past—he already keeps
ton
hours, Lady Reggie said, with a groan—and there was nothing else to amuse them downstairs.

“Nonsense,” said Carys, as they prepared for bed. “You will hate it as much as last time.”

“Ha. I would not miss it for the world.” Isolde did not think it would take their brother more than a minute or two to realize the ‘scientifical’ gentleman’s true colours. ‘Twould be nearly as entertaining as a ball.

“Let us see what you have to wear,” she said to her twin.

* * * *

Mr Torvald’s presentation occurred immediately before the first interval in the proceedings, which was perhaps unfortunate, as the gentlemen members were feeling peckish and were quite aware that only steps away from the door a fine buffet awaited them. But the botanist persevered, explaining his discovery of the new subspecies of green-winged orchid rather close to Tavistock, at the western edge of county Devon.

Tavistock
, thought Isa. Of all the places in England, you are tramping around not twenty miles from Bodmin Moor—and the Davies estate. How convenient.

Mr Torvald was emphasizing the need to continue efforts to identify the exact range of this group.

“Which range probably extends into Cornwall,” she whispered to Carys. “What do you suppose?”

“Shh.”

“He will probably find a rare variety nearly within Pencarrow’s horse paddock.”

“
Shh
.”

The viscount’s eyes had narrowed. Isolde guessed that he was beginning to form suspicions; the viscount was not an untrusting man by nature, but where the welfare of his sisters was at question he was acutely sensitive to all manner of wiles.

Young ladies were not the only ones who possessed such things, as Isolde well knew. She settled back into her seat and smiled. The introductions shortly to come should prove interesting.

* * * *

“Miss Davies! How wonderful that you took the trouble to attend my poor offering!”

Oh, don’t tempt me, thought Isa.

“Lord Davies, allow me to introduce Mr Jonathan Torvald,” said Carys. “Mr Torvald, this is my brother, the Viscount Cardingham.”

“So pleased to meet you!” enthused the botanist. He took Talfryn’s hand and shook it vigorously, somewhat as if he was attempting to pump water from a recalcitrant well.

“Yes. Yes, of course,” said Tal, extracting his hand. “I understand that you have met my sisters at previous meetings of the Society.”

“Indeed I have had the pleasure! They are both utterly charming, as I’m sure you know. Ha ha!”

Lud, what a nodcock.

“And they have long assured me that you have some interest yourself in the wild country surrounding your estate. Such a beautiful place, and so much to learn from the flora of the area!”

Ah, thought Isolde. He does not waste time.

But before Lord Davies could respond to this rather forward remark, another male voice—much deeper and more commanding than Mr Torvald’s—broke in.

“Miss Davies. Miss Davies. Cardingham.”

They all turned to see the Marquess of Clare only steps away.

Isa smiled at him, very little surprised. It appeared that Lord Harcourt had received her note. She and her sister curtseyed. Mr Torvald remained with mouth half-open. Isolde, assuming that he was unacquainted with the marquess, thought that the botanist must be making a rapid social calculation. Was this a gentleman to whom he might introduce himself?

‘Twas not. Still, one had hopes. Perhaps the botanist would try.

“Lord Leighton,” said Talfryn, breaking in, and no-one could mistake the element of frost in his voice. “What a surprise to find you here tonight.”

Isa could have laughed out loud. My dear foolish brother, she thought,
do
proceed. The less sympathetic your behavior the more Carys will find him appealing.

And indeed her sister did speak up. “Lord Leighton visits the Society regularly,” she said. From what Isa knew from Lord Harcourt this was a complete facer, but their brother had no means to immediately discover it.