Wilful Impropriety (34 page)

Smith bowed elegantly. “As you wish, sir.”

“Papa!” Iris joined us in the garden, her maid close behind her. “What are you doing?” She gasped as she saw Smith held at the point of Prince Michael’s saber. “Put that down, Mr. Hugo. You might hurt someone.” She flew to Smith’s side. “Michael, are you hurt?”

“What the devil are you doing here, Iris?” growled Papa.

“Only a little.” Smith smiled bravely at Iris.

“I kicked him,” I told Iris. “I confess it. I don’t know who he is, but I can tell you who he isn’t. He’s not Prince Michael of Falconberg. He’s probably not even really called Michael Smith.”

Smith made another elegant bow. “Allow me to introduce myself. Walter Robinson, at your service.”

Iris regarded him with horror. “What did you say?”

I pointed to the man we’d known as Mr. Hugo. “He is Prince Michael of Falconberg.”

Iris recoiled. “You!”

“Do you think it wise to reveal your identity so soon, Hugo?” Papa asked Prince Michael.

“I cannot permit this mountebank to go on exploiting the friends of Falconberg,” Prince Michael replied. “Nor could I let him elope with your daughter.”

Iris had been regarding her Mr. Smith with horror. At Prince Michael’s words, she turned upon him angrily. “Elope! Who said anything about eloping?”

I produced the note, now much crumpled, from my bodice. “He did. Here’s the message he sent you.”

Iris took the bit of paper from me and read it by the light of the lamp Papa held. As she read, her expression changed from disbelief to incandescent rage. She turned first to me. “How dare you steal my private correspondence?”

“I had to.” I extracted the feather and the wilted pennyroyal from my bodice and held them out to her, a full confession of my guilt. “I do apologize.”

Iris’s voice had gone alarmingly soft. “What are these weeds?”

I explained the symbolism of the pennyroyal and the feather. “You see the danger you were in,” I finished.

“I see the danger you are in,” Iris countered, “for keeping this from me. If a man sends me a leek, it does not make me a marvel of domesticity. If a man invites me to elope with him, it does not make me do so. If you couldn’t leave the bouquet alone, you should have told me. The message was for me. You should have let me decide what to do about it.”

“You were fascinated by him,” I reminded her. “I’ve never understood why. I didn’t know what you’d do.”

“You were quite fascinated with me, you know,” Walter Robinson murmured. “No one could blame you for it.”

“You.” Iris came to stand directly in front of the man she’d called Mr. Smith. “Did I enjoy flirting with a man we all believed to be a prince? Of course I did. Your attention made me more interesting to others. Who wouldn’t enjoy that? But would I have run away with you? Don’t flatter yourself. Break Mama’s heart, dishonor Papa, and ruin my family name? For you?”

Iris laughed scornfully, but I knew my sister too well to be fooled. I could hear the sadness underneath the scorn. No matter how she denied her feelings for the false prince, I could guess where her heart lay.

“Iris, come away.” I took my sister’s hand and drew her toward me. “Leave this to Papa. Let’s go in.”

To my surprise, Iris listened to me. She let me lead her away from the false prince and the true one. We left the gentlemen in the kitchen garden, explaining themselves to Papa.

When her maid and I had her tucked safely into her bed, I patted Iris’s hand. “I’m sorry. I should have told you.”

“Yes, you should have.” Iris wouldn’t look at me. She smoothed the coverlet this way and that. “But there’s something I should have told you.”

I gazed at my sister blankly. “There is?”

“I lied.” At last Iris looked at me. Her eyes were clear and her voice was back to normal. “Until I learned to dance the madera, I wasn’t as popular as I let you think. I made up all sorts of stories about the balls I went to, but in truth, the invitations I received had more to do with Papa’s position than with my looks.”

At first I thought she was joking, but her expression was quite serious. “Why on earth did you do that?”

Iris looked back at the coverlet. “It was easier that way. I didn’t want to tell you how frightened I was, or how snobbish Lady Worbury can be, or how alone I felt. At first I didn’t want you to be scared, because soon enough it will be your turn to come out into society. But you were so interested, so impressed. I loved that. I didn’t want you to know what a hard time I was having. I wanted you to look at me as if I were the belle of the ball.”

“But you
were
the belle of the ball,” I protested.

“I was when I danced the madera.” Iris put her hand over her eyes. “Now everyone will laugh at me, for I thought I was dancing with a prince, and all the time he was a fraud.”

“You have danced with a prince,” I reminded her. “A prince taught you the steps in the first place.”

To my great relief, Iris gave a little ripple of laughter. “I can’t believe it. Meek little Mr. Hugo. A prince.”

“He wasn’t meek when he was teaching you to dance. And you should see him with a saber.” I remembered the duel. “Papa has given him sanctuary in exile. That’s what he said.”

Iris leaned back against her pillows. “Papa knew all along?”

“He must have.” It was my turn to shake my head. “I should have guessed. Charles and William are too young to need a Latin tutor yet.”

“I should have guessed too,” said Iris. “No Latin tutor ought to dance like that.”

“Is it truly as bad as you say,” I asked Iris timidly, “being snubbed and having gentlemen tread on one’s toes?”

“Sometimes it is.” Iris took my hand. “But sometimes it is splendid. There is music and dancing, and lovely things to eat. There are men like Lord Camborough, who couldn’t snub anyone if he tried. You’ll have time to ready yourself for it.”

I gazed at Iris in wonder. Her love and care for me made my throat tighten.

Iris held my hand tight in hers. “I’ll be there to look after you. Don’t worry, Olivia. You’ll have a season to remember. I promise.”

Mama and Miss Amberly descended upon us then, and I was sent to bed in short order, my ears fairly ringing with the scolding I received.

From that night on, Iris told me the truth about her experiences in society. She was right. People did laugh at her for believing Mr. Smith’s lies, but she wasn’t the only one they laughed at. In a few weeks, it was all forgotten.

Prince Michael Christian Ludwig Hugo von Falconberg went home to claim his rightful throne. Papa arranged it beautifully. He writes to us regularly, letters in his own handwriting, not his secretary’s.

Lord Camborough asked Papa for Iris’s hand in marriage. Iris had told Papa to say yes, and he did. Lord Camborough and Iris are betrothed. When they are married, I am to be maid of honor. Next season, it will be my turn to make my debut in society. I’m not dreading that anymore. I won’t need to pretend to be someone I’m not. My sister will be there, and she’ll look after me.

Compliance with, and deference to, the wishes of others is the finest breeding.

—Routledge’s Manual of Etiquette,
1875

No person who has not a good ear for time and tune need hope to dance well.

—Routledge

•   •   •

The dancing master was summoned to Evering Park before the last of the winter frost had burned off the lawn, so that Leah could polish herself before the London Season began in the summer.

“Are you sure that’s enough time to keep Leah from making a spectacle of herself?” asked Reg at supper.

Leah lowered her fork out of sight of the table and debated her chances of landing a successful blow on his leg, if she tried.

Their mother, however, was the sort who kept a firm eye on which piece of cutlery was in use, and what for, and she cleared her throat and glanced at Leah over the bridge of her nose.

“I hope both my children might keep from making spectacles,” she said, with warning looks at each of them in turn.

Leah set down her fork. Reg smoothed his dark hair and shot her a triumphant look.

Her father added vaguely between bites, “I’m sure all will be well. And Reg, naturally, as Leah’s brother, you will use your superior knowledge of all our upcoming Society to assist her.”

(He said it with a sigh; he wasn’t fond of London. Leah was already seventeen, and her mother had yet to prevail upon him to take them.)

Reg, who had already spent three summers in London doing whatever it was young men did when they went to London in the summer all alone, looked Leah up and down for a moment with a look of mild horror at the realization that she would be linked to him in public.

“You needn’t act as if I’m Medusa just because I can’t waltz,” Leah snapped.

“Leah,” said Mother, “don’t be peevish. Everything is settled; do let’s all try to be settled, too.”

Leah stared at her fork without blinking until the next course came.

•   •   •

Miss Hammond had been another of her mother’s clever ideas, and had replaced Leah’s governess two years ago as a genteel companion, in preparation for that inevitable Season.

(“She had a good family,” Mama had told her with a sigh, two years ago, as they sat in the morning parlor and waited for Miss Hammond to appear and throw her vocation on their mercy. “And some prospects, once.”

That was when Leah began to worry about London.)

Of all her mother’s schemes, however, Miss Hammond had been by far the best. She was only nine years older than Leah, and had a way of looking at Reg as if she wished she could light him on fire, which kept Leah from being peevish more often than anything else could.

As Leah knocked on Miss Hammond’s door, she could feel a weight already falling off her shoulders. Miss Hammond would know what to do.

(The thing that frightened her most about going to London was that she was still so often foolish, about little childish things.)

Miss Hammond was dressed for the evening (occasionally she was summoned to provide music in the evenings, if Reg was out, and they could enjoy music without him groaning about it), and Leah was comforted just to see the familiar deep gray bombazine in the candlelight.

Miss Hammond had been reading; the book still sat open on her little table, next to her lamp. (She read essays and histories and love stories, one after another, and made a little chain of pockmarks around Father’s library.)

“I can’t bear to go to London,” Leah said without preamble. “I’m going to throw myself from the attic window. Shall you come?”

Miss Hammond smiled and stepped aside.

“Why don’t you come in, first,” she said, “and tell me what’s happened.”

•   •   •

To attempt to dance without a knowledge of dancing is not only to make one’s self ridiculous, but one’s partner also. No lady has a right to place a partner in this absurd position. Never forget a ballroom engagement. To do so is to commit an unpardonable offence against good breeding.

—Routledge

•   •   •

Mr. Martin came highly recommended by the Ladislaws (“Their oldest girl married a Duke,” said Mama, with a significant look at Leah), and if one was to welcome a dancing master for as long as Leah required one, then he was the only sensible choice in the matter.

And he was going to come, and Leah was going to learn everything she could from him.

(“Your mother is only trying to make sure you don’t have any worries when you’re there,” Miss Hammond had said, tucking some stray hair behind her ear, looking as young as Leah. “Suffer a little now, so that when you have your Season you are secure in yourself, and then you’re free to enjoy the evening when you’re in the ballroom. I’ll be there, if you have any worries, but it’s much better to study before one recites, no?”

Leah thought about that. A moment too late, she said, “All right.”

Back in her own room, she had looked at her round, ordinary face in the mirror for a long time, her mousey hair and strong nose, two small dark eyes that flickered and shook until she blew the candle out.)

•   •   •

Reg had gone into town for the morning on some pretense, and Father had declared he wasn’t in to visitors, so it was only Leah and Miss Hammond and Mama to greet him when he came.

“Reg should have to study with Mr. Martin, too,” Leah said. “He promised not to make a spectacle of himself in London.”

“He learned his manners at school,” said Mama, as if that was an endorsement.

Leah would have been more than happy to learn dancing if it could have been part of an education in London. It would be worth suffering a mazurka every so often if you were also learning mathematics and history and articles of law.