The Spider's Touch (10 page)

Isabella parted her lips and gave a sigh. “Oh, yes, if you would help me to choose the artist, Lovett.”

“But did you not hear Mrs. Kean? The painters in the kingdom are all to be banished. Now, if I were brave, I could find it in me to
fault
his Majesty for an opinion that would rob us of the pleasure of having my lady immortalized.” Lord Lovett drew closer to Isabella to whispered directly into her ear. “I could wish he had never come. But how were we to know what a barbarian he would be?”

While he had been talking, Hester had grown increasingly restless. The tenor of his comments had gradually changed, escalating in rancour, and now, they had left the realm of humour to cross into what might be considered sedition. She could only pray that no one but herself had overheard his whisper to Isabella. She thought she was the only other person near enough to hear. His words had been uttered in the low, seductive tones of a lover. At least—they had seemed like a lover’s to Hester, who had never had one herself. She could appreciate Lord Lovett’s seductive skills, however, for what woman would be able to resist a gallant with the courage to express seditious sentiments on her behalf? Alone herself, and merely an eavesdropper, she had not been able to suppress a thrill at the sound of his voice.

She could not even blame Isabella for wanting to flirt with him.

* * * *

That evening at the ball, the etiquette was more relaxed, but Hester felt exhausted long before it started. She had never stood for so many hours on end, and there would be no respite until the ball was over. The only promise of relief was that it was supposed to end at ten o’clock, since the next day was a Sunday, and everyone must arrive at home by midnight to avoid offending the Sunday ban on travel.

She would not be offered the chance to change her position, for she could not dance. There were too many ladies present, and the couples were formed by rank. She understood that at many balls there were not enough gentlemen to go around, so those who did attend had to dance several minuets until the ladies had each received a turn. But tonight there were gentlemen in abundance, so that would not be the case.

With such a crowd, and the orchestra squeezed at one end of the room, the available floor space was small, so only a few couples could dance at once. Isabella’s and Harrowby’s friends had gathered around them to gossip while they watched the dancers perform. Isabella had already danced her turn, and Hester could see that she was bored now and impatient to leave, but they were trapped until the King chose to end the celebration.

The Princess loved to dance and did it very gracefully. Those who had not seen her dance before were astonished to find that she wore slippers instead of heeled shoes, and their surprise circled the room with the speed of an ignited fuse. When it reached Hester, in the form of a shocked exclamation from her aunt, she was at pains to conceal her amusement at their interest in such a triviality. She did not know that her reaction had been observed until Lord Lovett spoke at her elbow.

“You do not find the subject of the Princess’s shoes to be as fascinating as the rest of us, Mrs. Kean?”

She jumped at the low sound of his voice then turned to see his arched brow questioning her. She felt warmth stealing up her neck, but she could not honestly say that she was unhappy for his company.

“I
have
noted that there is more concern in this room for what everyone else is wearing than there is for—“ She had been about to say
the strength of the realm,
but she realized in time that the phrase would not be suitable to the occasion.

He seemed to divine the blunder she had narrowly avoided, for his lips twisted in a grin. “You have their character precisely. What was it Dean Swift used to say about the Court? I have lost his exact expression, but something to the effect of what infants they all are. Always grabbing and biting their friends and fighting over cakes. He never ceased to complain of the inanity of their conversation until he was banished to Dublin, but I understand that he would give his soul to be back among us, nonetheless.”

With a nod, he guided her attention across the floor, where the Duke of Marlborough was holding a court of his own. “Even the powerful have been banished for a while, but as you perceive, they always return. What do you say about Marlborough’s chances now? Do you think he will fall out of favour again?”

“Should he?”

The Duke had been blamed for the Foot-Guards’ inferior shirts, but he had explained the error by which they had been made and had sworn to replace them with all possible speed.

“You think he is loyal? But he has been known to correspond with the Pretender, too. I wonder which side he will choose, if James appears. Indeed, which side would any of them choose, and yet
...
here
they all are.”

The King’s officers
were
all here. His standard had been displayed throughout the day, and his troops had carried out the formalities due on his birthday. His Grace of Marlborough had come more splendidly dressed than the King. He was also better housed than the King, if reports on the building of his manor were true. After his victories over Louis XIV at Blenheim and Malplaquet, a grateful Parliament had awarded him a fortune, in addition to a grant of royal land from Queen Anne. It was said that he was constructing a house as grand as Versailles to stand as a reminder that it was
his
might and
his
talent that had beaten the Sun King. Sarah, his duchess, never ceased to complain about the architect Vanbrugh and the slowness of his work, but it was a different complaint of hers that came into Hester’s mind now.

Lord Lovett’s questions about the Duke reminded her that, according to the Duchess, the promise of funds had never been fulfilled. She had repeatedly appealed to Parliament, but no matter how grateful the people had been after the Battle of Blenheim, Marlborough was no longer their favourite, so her complaints fell on deaf ears.

The peers surrounding him now were Whigs, where once he had been a Tory. But that was before the Tory Party had pushed for a peace with France. The Whigs had opposed it, seeing the conquest of France as a way to advance their overseas trade.

Peace had brought its own troubles, of course, with soldiers flocking home only to find themselves without pension or pay. But they had a new champion now, the Duke of Ormonde. He, also, had been a general in the war with France and had always been popular with the troops. Handsome and dignified, he had an amiability that could easily undermine the appeal of any couple as arrogant as the Duke and Duchess of Marlborough.

Here, surrounded by his supporters, though, Marlborough could feel secure in the King’s estimation. Not so, his Tory rival. Ormonde had come this evening, yes. Hester had spotted him in a shadowy corner near the entrance, deep in conversation with a lady. But a pamphlet had circulated, criticizing him for allowing the mob to use his name. Everyone said that Mr. Defoe had written it as a friendly warning to Ormonde to renounce his Jacobite friends, the men behind the riots, if he did not want to lose his good name and anger the King. To Hester’s best knowledge, Ormonde had ignored the plea, keeping silent about the riots. She wondered if he simply relished the evidence of his popularity. But it was true that the more crimes the public committed in his name, the greater the risk that he would be blamed. King George had already removed him from his command. And Ormonde was certainly not loved by the current ministers, certainly not the ambitious gentleman from Norfolk, Mr. Walpole.

She became aware that Lord Lovett was waiting for her response.

“You asked if his Grace need ever fear banishment again. He does not appear to have that worry,” was her safe reply.

He raised one eyebrow to upbraid her for a cowardly response. Then, changing directions, he brought them back onto more familiar ground.

“We have yet to establish the extent of your affection for the Court. Would you care to be banished, Mrs. Kean?”

Slanting a look at him, she tried to read the seriousnous of his question, but his sardonic expression confounded her.

“Are you asking if I could give up the Court, now that I have experienced it?” she said.

When he did no more than shrug, she thought of a dream she had often indulged herself with and sighed. “I can imagine a situation in which I could remove myself from the Court and from London without the slightest hesitation or regret, but since that particular situation is never likely to arise, I admit, I should hate to trade all this activity for a quiet life somewhere else.”

“Do you not fear being banished for your impudence?”

She knew that he was teasing her, and took pleasure in the notion, but recalling his earlier comments, she thought she should give a prudent answer.

“It would be unwise for a woman in my place to complain of anything here, my lord. Or to laugh at anything either.”

“Oh, you mustn’t worry that I shall betray you, Mrs. Hester. It is a pleasure to find a woman with a sense of the ridiculous. May I confess that I was not aware of the cleverness concealed behind those placid, grey eyes of yours?”

Hester tried to hide the gratification his comment gave her, but she felt a smile digging mercilessly into her cheeks.

Fortunately, Harrowby and Colonel Potter chose that moment to stroll up, and since they were in the middle of a discussion about the horse Harrowby planned to enter in the horse matches next week, Lord Lovett joined in before she had to form a response. His final look at her was so provoking, however, that Hester’s heart quickened its pace.

With the gentlemen next to her, she could finally listen to Colonel Potter’s conversation. He seemed amazingly well-informed about Lord Hawkhurst’s business. The questions he asked had the air of being rehearsed. Clearly, he was doing his best to impress Harrowby with the talents he could bring to the post of secretary.

Lord Lovett had introduced him into their house, however, and the things he had said today made Hester wonder where his own loyalties lay. In the past two weeks, he had grown much freer with his jokes about the King, but so had many others as the ridicule in the streets had spread into the houses. Even Harrowby had been known to giggle at the King’s expense.

Was Lord Lovett, with his clever tongue, simply indulging himself and his friends with a bit of harmless truth? Or was there something more serious behind his jests?

She did not know anything of his circumstances, merely that he held a barony in Scotland, which was hardly likely to support him very well in town. He often dined at his friends’ expense, as gentlemen with minor fortunes frequently did. With his clever mind, she would rather have seen him in more worthy employment, but the sound of Isabella’s unrestrained laughter reminded her that very few peers or their wives ever turned their attention from pleasure to endeavour. There would always be people so wrapped up in their own entertainment as to be impervious even to the tensions that could erupt around them and ruin their lives.

Isabella was certainly one of these. And Sir Humphrey appeared to be, too, as he joined them with his fluttery gestures and his customary breathless excitement.

He knew everyone, of course, and greeted them with affection. He seemed not to notice the frown with which Colonel Potter acknowledged him.

He had not been with them a minute before a tall, elegant lady came up behind him and touched him on the sleeve. In a heavy French accent, she said, “Ah, Sir Humphrey, here you are, my dear. How charming to see you! Will you present me to your friends?”

A French accent was not entirely surprising at Court, with so many foreigners about. Sir Humphrey greeted her cheerfully, declaring that he had been meaning to seek her out, but she refused to let him forget the introduction she had requested.

He presented Lady Oglethorpe, first to Harrowby and Isabella, then to Mrs. Mayfield and Hester. “You already know Lovett and Potter, of course.”

The two gentlemen made their bows. There was a stiffness in Colonel Potter’s bow, however, which Hester was at pains to comprehend. In the very carelessness of his introduction Sir Humphrey had implied that they knew Lady Oglethorpe well, that in fact they were friends and not merely acquaintainces. Yet her proximity seemed to make Colonel Potter nervous, as if he would rather have had the power of denying her. Hester might have questioned her instinct or taken herself to task for a fanciful imagination, if the Colonel, who had stuck stubbornly close to Harrowby all evening, had not soon excused himself.

He took Lord Lovett with him, and they disappeared into the crowd.

If Lady Oglethorpe was in any way offended by their departure, she did not let on as she latched on to Isabella. “I was fortunate to find Sir Humphrey with you, for I have been wishing very much to meet the enchanting Lady Hawkhurst I have heard so much about. And now that we have met, you must promise to visit me. My house is in the Palace-Yard. You must come to take tea with me and my daughters—or better—come in the evening to one of my drawing-rooms.”

Isabella made a polite reply, though it was clear to Hester, who knew her cousin well, that she would rather have kept her former companions over this one who, despite all her cordiality, was only a female.

Noting the direction of Isabella’s gaze, Lady Oglethorpe added, “You are certain to meet your friends at my house. Lord Lovett and the Colonel are often there.”

Isabella’s interest was engaged at once, and she listened more attentively, as Lady Oglethorpe asked, “Do you follow the King to Hampton Court?”

“We expect to go. My lord is riding with his Majesty to Guilford to see the horse matches on the seventh. He says we shall have to spend some of the summer at Rotherham Abbey, because it will be expected of us, but we don’t wish to be away from the Court for very long.”

Hester found herself wincing at her cousin’s comment about Rotherham Abbey, since Isabella made it sound like a burden instead of the undeserved privilege it was. And Hester was kept from forgetting the blunder by the sight of Lady Oglethorpe’s knowing smile. “Of course you will not wish to distance yourself. The Court is vastly more diverting than the country. And, besides, you would not wish to lose any influence you might have with the King. Have you asked the Princess of Wales for a place?”