The Paradise Will (21 page)

‘Truly astonishing, upon my word,’ breathed Piers, in an awed whisper.

‘I see you are almost lost for words, Mr Kilworth.
Bang up to the knocker,
was the expression you used, was it not?’

‘Lord, yes! Complete to a shade, dear lady!’

‘Thank you. However, keeping this upon one’s head is difficult and I daresay I shall be unable to move tomorrow for the pain.’

‘But think of the impression you have made! Your guests will talk of nothing but the sight of you wearing those ostrich feathers for months.’

‘Did you know Mrs Bailey was also rendered speechless when she saw me? Of course,’ she added in a prim voice, ‘she was envious.’

‘Most likely,’ agreed Piers innocently. ‘Not everyone can wear feathers with such aplomb.’

‘No. Sadly, she does not possess the necessary poise.’

‘Quite so, dear lady – or the necessary stamina,’ he said, noting Letty
struggling
to stifle a giggle as Mrs Nash tried to incline her head in acknowledgement. ‘At the first opportunity, I will describe your attire to Lady Jersey,’ he added.

‘You will?’ gasped Mrs Nash, her headdress quivering with her excitement. ‘Ah, you are too kind! I hope she will enjoy hearing of my efforts to follow the latest fashion – Caroline and I do our utmost not to appear provincial. Well, I must circulate, but I should congratulate you on your gown, Miss Ravenhill. Such delicate work! Such exquisite design! Send me the name of your
dressmaker
and I shall favour her with some commissions.’

She walked away, holding her head rigidly still, to speak to Alyssa and then Sir Giles; Mrs Nash was every inch the gracious, if uncomfortable, hostess.

It was after supper that Alyssa became aware that some guests, particularly ladies, were whispering. She thought she had imagined that their attention was directed solely at her, but eventually admitted that, for whatever reason, she had become the topic of conversation. Murmurings behind cupped hands and
disapproving
looks became commonplace and, try as she might to ignore them, Alyssa felt like a newly discovered unpalatable species.

Had she committed any social
faux pas
? She could think of none: she had danced with those gentlemen she needed to according to etiquette, smiled at and made small talk with the dowagers, and had not confused her wine and water glasses at supper. It was unlikely to be connected with Gil as they had limited their time together.

Yet all eyes were now upon her. Overhearing a snigger as she walked by a group of ladies, Alyssa lifted her chin but began to feel hunted. In need of
reassurance
, she looked for Gil but there was no sign of him. Only Piers and Letty were close by, and it was Letty who spoke first.

‘Lyssa, I was coming to talk to you,’ she said, looking concerned.

‘And I you: I suddenly seem to be the subject of everyone’s attention.’

Letty glanced at Piers, then back to Alyssa. ‘Piers and I had noticed.’

‘I don’t understand why,’ said Alyssa, with a shrug and a wry smile. ‘I remembered my manners and even laughed at Mr Pendlebury’s appalling jokes. It’s disagreeable, try as I might to ignore it. I wonder if Gil is aware what sin I have committed.’

Piers murmured, ‘I know, Coz. Mere tomfoolery, of course, but unpleasant all the same. I wanted to land a facer on the fellow who repeated it to me, damn him!’

‘Tell me what I am accused of, Piers.’ When he hesitated, Alyssa demanded urgently, ‘What is it?’

Piers gave a sigh of resignation, ‘Your supposed adventures as Mr Esidarap have become general knowledge and, as is usually the way, the story has not only spread quickly but grown more outrageous with each telling. To the ladies present, you are now renowned for masquerading as the most profligate rake ever to grace London and consequently, unsuitable for this genteel gathering. It has had a different effect on the gentlemen: most of them think you a regular out-and-outer, and up to every game, although some are—’ He stopped and then added, ‘Well, I will only say that the fellow who told me was lucky to escape a punch in the bone box. I didn’t like his tone or the way he referred to you, Coz.’

The colour drained from her cheeks. ‘Good God! B-but how can this be? I never intended – it was only said as a
joke
! Few people knew that Banbury tale; Letty and Gil would never speak of it in company and the only others were Mrs Nash and her daughter….’ Her voice trailed away and she raised her eyes to Piers in dismay.

‘Think you’ve hit the nail on the head,’ he said, in a sombre voice. ‘Miss Nash has been letting her tongue run away with her, and to my mind, deliberately.’

‘The spiteful miss knew exactly what she was doing,’ declared Letty.

‘She spoke of exacting revenge, but I did not imagine she would do this.’ said Alyssa. ‘My reputation will be ruined if that ridiculous tale becomes generally known – and she knows it.’

‘Hmm … things do look a mite sticky, Coz.’

‘I must confront her.’

‘No, don’t do that. Not wise,’ said Piers, shaking his head vehemently.

‘I am not afraid of Miss Nash!’

‘No, dash it, of course not! Just not the thing to make a scene, that’s all. Lord, you might look guilty if you march up to that hellcat and start accusing her in public. Most likely that’s exactly what she wants you to do. She’s been damned subtle and you need to think how to respond.’

‘Perhaps you’re right,’ admitted Alyssa slowly. ‘Oh, where is Gil? He will know what is best.’

‘He’s coming towards us, and he looks exceedingly angry,’ observed Letty.

Gil did look forbidding: he was frowning, his lips compressed into a thin line. Having heard the whisperings about Alyssa, he had bit back the retort that sprang to his lips and instead had taken pains to tease out the original source. When his suspicions were confirmed, anger suffused him. He had expected Caroline’s spite to manifest itself in some way but with this, she had gone beyond the pale. He, too, wanted to face her, but to do so would embarrass the squire and his wife and might be the reaction she had set out to provoke. But her mischief-making could not be left unchecked, for while Gil did not care for gossip, many others did and would believe the tale to be true. Alyssa’s name could be irrevocably damaged if the story was not nipped in the bud.

‘Gil! Have you heard?’ said Alyssa, in urgent whisper when he reached them.

He nodded. ‘It is at Caroline’s instigation, her attempt to wreak revenge on us, and you in particular. It will not be allowed to serve,’ he said, soothingly.

‘Oh, I wish I had never invented that nonsensical story,’ she cried.

‘Don’t say that. It was funny, and Miss Nash deserved it,’ said Letty.

‘Letty is right,’ agreed Gil, warmly. ‘None of this is your doing, my darling.’

Piers, who had been watching and listening, grinned. ‘Lord, I
knew
there was something afoot,’ he said, throwing Gil and Alyssa a mischievous glance. ‘Should I wish you both happy now?’

‘Pray lower your voice, Piers,’ begged Alyssa. ‘No one here knows, and Gil promised the squire we would be circumspect.’

‘You may do so at a more appropriate time, Piers,’ said Gil, with a clipped smile. ‘For now, let us return to the matter at hand.’

‘But how can we stop people thinking the story is true and preferably teach Miss Nash a lesson at the same time?’ queried Alyssa.

‘What if I ask her to dance?’ said Piers, inspiration having descended on him with near-perfect timing.

‘Ask her to dance?’ echoed Letty, in amazement.

Gil cocked an eyebrow and drawled, ‘I cannot see how doing so will afford Caroline a lesson.’

‘Wait and see,’ said Piers, with another enigmatic grin and a wink.

‘Very well, you obviously have something in mind so I leave it to your
discretion
. In the meantime, the three of us will instigate a counterplot.’

‘What shall we say?’ asked Alyssa.

‘Make a joke of the whole thing, my love. We must laugh nonchalantly and explain it was in fact your
distant relative
who masqueraded as Mr Esidarap. It will be the simplest way, rather than deny it completely, or give the truth that it was a nonsense story; people will readily accept that a fictional relative is to blame. I shall explain to the squire what has happened. He will not be too pleased, I think, with his daughter’s behaviour.’

‘Lord, yes – an excellent suggestion, Coz,’ agreed Piers. ‘Best say it was some cousin on your father’s side who was responsible, twice or thrice removed – you know the sort of thing! Blame the escapade on a bad offshoot of the clan; every family has one.’ Piers laughed. ‘Right, while you three apply yourselves to
counterplotting
, I’m going to claim Miss Nash’s hand for the next dance.’

Spying his quarry, Piers made his way purposefully towards her. Any guests idly observing the dancing thus far would have confirmed that Piers was the most elegant gentleman taking part. Sir Giles was skilled, too – in spite of his size and build, he was light on his feet – but Piers possessed that certain panache of young men who have graced the finest ballrooms in Europe and his sense of style combined with an entirely masculine flamboyance left ladies eager to be his partner. When he danced with Letty, even the sharpest critic amongst the
dowagers
declared they made a pretty couple.

Miss Nash had also noted his expertise and when Piers approached, smiled engagingly and asked if she would do him the honour, she was pleased of this opportunity to shine in front of her guests. She accepted Piers’s invitation and smiled with satisfaction as he led her to join the set.

Mrs Nash, observing this gratifying little vignette with a sigh of pleasure, was also delighted. This evening was compensating somewhat for the shock of Sir Giles’s matrimonial plans not including Caroline. The event was an
acknowledged
success: every person of consequence within thirty miles was present, the food deemed superb, the musicians declared praiseworthy, the coloured lanterns in the garden marvelled at and best of all, each lady stunned by her magnificent headdress. A stiff neck was the only blight marring her pleasure, but even painful muscle spasms could be forgotten when she espied Piers leading Caroline out for the next set. Her bosom swelling with pride, Mrs Nash prepared to enjoy the spectacle.

At first, Piers made amiable conversation. He was experienced in flattery and Miss Nash was susceptible to it – something Piers had been quick to realize. So he smiled, cooed, complimented and told one or two anecdotes, all the while carrying out his steps gracefully.

Caroline, for her part, soon relaxed, enjoying partnering this handsome consummate dancer. It was therefore astonishing to Caroline, Mrs Nash and everyone else watching, when Piers’s elegance began to falter and he acquired all the grace of a length of wet muslin. Where his movements had been precise, now his co-ordination deserted him and he stumbled, murmuring an apology. His partner was not pleased, but she gave a gracious smile; after all, even the best dancer could err once. But his clumsiness continued and when Caroline turned, expecting to be facing him, she found herself in embarrassing isolation instead – Piers had gone the wrong way.

Momentary chaos ensued and Caroline blushed fiercely, not helped by interested spectators tittering loudly. Piers, who seemed totally unconcerned, uttered another smiling abject apology and blamed tiredness for his lack of expertise.

‘Then I advise you to wake up – unless you wish to make me look ridiculous,’ she muttered.

He bowed and whispered, ‘My apologies, Miss Nash. I shall attempt to do better.’

His movements, however, did not improve, and became even more disjointed. Piers fell out of step and missed his cues, but smiled disarmingly throughout.

Caroline’s rage mingled with acute embarrassment. A guffaw of laughter came from among the growing audience as Piers bowed towards the gentleman next to him instead of his partner. A deep crimson blush burnt in her cheeks as she clenched her teeth together in anguish. There could be no immediate escape; it was unthinkable to leave her partner in the middle of the dance and whether Piers’s clumsiness was deliberate or accidental, she had no choice but to stay until the end. Something she anticipated would reflect well upon her had instead turned into a disaster which could not end a moment too soon.

Gil, who did not have the opportunity to appreciate Caroline’s embarrassment in dancing with Piers when his limbs resembled those of a jellyfish, was
encountering
his own difficulties.

The campaign to convince everyone the
on dit
about Alyssa was a case of mistaken identity had been largely successful. Almost everyone he spoke to was initially only too eager to decry her, but Gil’s calm, almost offhand manner combined with the weight of his authority, soon took effect. He laughed and blithely dismissed the story, declaring the tale an old one – infamous indeed but carried out by a distant cousin. Alyssa was not involved and it was, he observed drily, idiotic to assume she might have been. Could they not see Miss Paradise was a lady wholly incapable of this misdemeanour? His audience would then nod sagely and declare they had known all along she could not commit a scandalous masquerade. Gil continued in this way, gradually diminishing the notion of Alyssa’s involvement. As Caroline’s embarrassing moments with Piers were reaching full tilt, Gil, satisfied with his progress, found himself next to Mortimer Tilbury.

Mortimer Tilbury was a stout, middle-aged roué, an unpleasant man full of his own importance and one who was not generally liked. He also had a
predilection
for heavy drinking, and Gil could see at once he had partaken readily of the contents of the squire’s cellar.

Gil eyed him with distaste. As a drunkard, Tilbury’s opinion did not carry weight in most quarters and he therefore saw no need to discuss Alyssa with him. Instead, he gave a curt nod of acknowledgement before attempting to move on but Mortimer Tilbury detained him.

‘ ’vening, Maxton! ’S fine gathering, is it not?’ said Tilbury, waving an arm to indicate the collected company. ‘
Damn
fine gathering, and Nash’s not one to be close-fisted with his wine.’ Mortimer held up his glass and owlishly studied the red liquid, trying to focus. ‘Take this burgundy, for ’xample – ’s wonderfully
mellmellow
,’ he said, slurring his words.