Mrs Hall, perceiving her host and hostess, was already proceeding with alacrity down the receiving line, and Elizabeth and Georgiana caught up and made their low curtsies to their host, hostess, and Miss Anne Young. Slight bows and nods were made in acknowledgement and Georgiana was finally free to look about the handsome room, while Elizabeth and her mother ingratiated themselves with Lady Young.
It was a sign of distinction indeed, to Mrs Hall and her oldest daughter, to be included in invitations to Lady Young’s card parties and dinners. For within the walls of number seven, Wimpole Street, was all the happiness they could wish for. The best of society was here to be met with, and one’s social circle could be widened simply by the respect garnered when casually throwing out that you had just attended a dinner, or a gathering, by Lady Young, the evening before. Mrs Hall had been the recipient of a first dinner invitation only two weeks previously and she and her two daughters, barring young Julia, had been flattered to attend what they considered to be their first engagement of importance since arriving six weeks before. There had been other dinners and assemblies both public and private, and card parties, but to be invited a second time to Lady Young’s meant to Mrs Hall that she was becoming intimate with the right circle, and she very much wished to find a place within that sphere.
With some fussing, Mrs Hall was now seated with her sister and daughters, Elizabeth immediately perusing the room from behind the shelter of her pink brisé fan. Georgiana made a little conversation with her aunt and looked about her. It was about eight and a half o’clock; soon the business of the evening would begin, and everyone would be gaily at cards, observing the tables, or eating and drinking.
The room was filling with guests, some even finding an early seat at one of the several card tables which stood about the room. Along the wall, a great sideboard boasted ports and madeiras and dishes of sweetmeats, which the servants quietly handed about under the watchful eye of a butler.
Colonel Walker, who was standing at the sideboard, and had been trying to catch her eye, signalled to Georgiana and, after some covert nodding and smiling between them, came over with two glasses of ratafia, one of which he proffered to Georgiana, and the other to Elizabeth. Both girls took the refreshment, one gladly, and one rather stiffly, and Colonel Walker, neither despising the stiffness nor improperly receiving the gladness, took the liberty of seating himself between the girls, and began some general conversation on the number of guests and the furnishings of the room, with the familiarity of a good friend.
Indeed, good friend he was to the family, since he was their close neighbour at home, and now their constant companion in town. A well-looking, single gentleman of forty, Colonel Walker was all modest good breeding and amiable good temper. An intimate friend of Mr Hall, he had been in the militia for some years, had made his humble fortune, and retired to the village of Loweston Glebe, to live a quiet life. Lidcombe, the residence of his choice, was happily situated a mere three miles from Loweston, the principle house of the humble little village and the inherited seat of his old friend. The short distance, convenient enough for walking, meant that he was a perpetual day guest there. He always came to town for the season, being a man who enjoyed all the normal pursuits an unattached gentleman might wish to engage in, and took pleasure in offering his services to his friend’s widow and her daughters while in town, whenever they might wish his assistance.
Since the death of her husband two years prior, and finding herself ill-equipped in understanding of anything to do with ‘the vastly unpleasant business of money’, as she termed it, Mrs Hall had enlisted the Colonel’s assistance in so many pecuniary matters that now he was on intimate terms with all their private financial affairs, and many of their domestic ones. This could have been a source of embarrassment to Mrs Hall, but the Colonel, so disinclined to judge or to gossip, and being the very epitome of discretion, had left her with no reason to complain, and every reason to sigh over ‘the dear Colonel’s kindness for a poor widow with three daughters to bring up alone’.
The Colonel’s attachment to the family and his very sincere wish to ingratiate himself with them, had obliged him to offer counsel where he could, and discretion where it was necessary; it had prompted him to make himself indispensable to his old friend’s widow and her girls. Now, quite naturally, he had come to think of the Halls as his own property; after all, what man, reasonably confident in his own potential powers of heroism, can resist the urge to try them? Mrs Hall, finding him indispensable, and being herself of a shrewd and speculative nature, further encouraged him in this self-ordained heroic role by shamelessly charming his ego, and thereby perpetuated his constant readiness to assist.
Privately, Georgiana thought Mrs Hall had once or thrice thought of the Colonel for herself, but this notion she cast aside after discussing it seriously with Cousin Henry and having him scoff at the idea. She had been laughingly affronted. ‘It is not so ridiculous, you know, Henry! Mama is only six years his senior and that has not stopped other widows from thinking of younger men. Not that the Colonel would think seriously of it, I am sure.’
‘And pray, why are you so sure he would not think of it, if you think she would, Miss Know-All?’
‘Because, Mr Full-of-His-Own-Consequence, I happen to believe the Colonel has his eye on another young woman. There! Now you wish to know who, and I shall not tell you, because you won’t believe me! I declare, Henry Hall, you think you know all there is to know, and cannot abide when a woman might know more than you! Do not glare at me, I am not afraid of you! Besides, I can see you are trying not to laugh!’
The Colonel continued his visits to Loweston, always bringing small gifts for the girls and the odd brace of pheasant or rabbit from his own land for Mrs Hall’s kitchen, never once making comment on their lowered position in society now that Mr Hall had departed and left them in near poverty. It was a sign of great tact and delicacy in the Colonel, to Mrs Hall’s thinking, that the he refrained from speaking of her deceased husband’s excesses, and his wasting of their fortunes, as she viewed the matter. And when Mrs Hall took Georgiana into society, to a dance or evening party, the Colonel’s services were solicited by that lady to walk with Georgiana, and prevent anyone tripping her, or to steady her on the stairs. To be embarrassed by her daughter’s indisposition more than was necessary, was not to be endured!
Georgiana, not very grateful for this singular attention, but much too full of civility for the Colonel to show anything but gratitude, had a suspicion that this willingness to flatter her mama and attend so solicitously to herself, was motivated by another object; she had a suspicion of Colonel Walker’s attachment to her sister.
It was to Elizabeth that he always looked for an opinion on this or that, and he was frequently seen watching her when he thought himself unobserved. He took all opportunities to call at Loweston, and had been almost a daily caller at Charles Place these two months past, since he himself had arrived in town. But if his object was to win Eliza, thought Georgiana, Eliza had proven herself cold and ungracious; she had been nothing but disdainful of his attentions since their arrival in town, ignoring his overtures and treating him with a cold civility which was so polite that it could not be faulted, and yet contained so little warmth that he surely must be repelled! But to Georgiana’s amusement, the Colonel seemed not at all put out by such polite nothings, and continued his attentiveness to both herself and Eliza without rancour or bitterness.
Now, he made polite conversation, addressing Elizabeth just a little more often than her sister, and eagerly ascertaining her thoughts on this or that feature of the room, her opinions on the latest fashions, and praising her ability at Whist. Having solicited her restrained permission to partner him at the card table, he took his leave of Mrs Hall, Aunt Fanny and Georgiana.
‘Ladies, Miss Georgiana, I know you will forgive me for abandoning you, but I see that Lady Young is about to organise some more tables, and knowing Miss Hall’s luck with cards, I took the trouble of securin
g her as partner, to see if she will bring me good fortune! I have not the sharp eye that she does, and perhaps I will learn by watching her cunning!’
Aunt Fanny happily waved them both away with an exhortation to win and turned back to her sister. Georgiana watched Elizabeth allow herself to be seated at a nearby table. Now, every card table was happily occupied, and a young lady whom Georgiana was not acquainted with had sat at the fine piano forte which stood at the back of the room, and begun a pretty sonata which Georgiana recognised as one of Playel’s.
Very near her, three ladies sat talking, and spying them, Georgiana gave them a nodding smile. The two Osbourne girls were pleasant acquaintances, remarkably pretty, and both having that refinement of manner which allowed them to receive the attentions of both sexes with an easy politeness, and without affectation. Their mother, who sat with them, had been a handsome woman in her time, and now, even in her late forties, still held something of the former beauty which was reflected in the countenances of her young daughters.
Miss Lilly Osbourne, the oldest, was closest to Georgiana in age and each time they had met at some public ball or card party, they had furthered their acquaintance into warm friendship. Miss Osbourne had shown herself to be unaffected by the sight of her friend’s limp, choosing to ignore it politely and prevent any embarrassment of explanation that was so often forced from Georgiana by other young people with a good deal less good breeding, and a great deal more open curiosity than they ought to have.
An amiable, high-spirited girl, Miss Osbourne was animated in company and her face glowed with interest in the world around her. Now, she smiled when she saw Georgiana scanning them, and immediately took leave of her friends and came to her side. ‘Georgie!’ She kissed Georgiana’s cheek and sat next to her friend. ‘I have not seen you since last week, at the assembly at Lady Allerley’s. What a crush there was that night! But I think there must be three or four dozen here, or more, do you not think? It will be very hard upon us if we are not even to get a seat at the tables!’
‘I don’t think I mind, for myself, Lilly,’ laughed Georgiana. ‘I am not a great card player as you know, and hope very much for some music! Aunt Fanny says Anne Young is to sing. I hear she sings very well.’
‘I have had the pleasure of hearing her, and the rumours are quite true. I long to hear her again. But perhaps we shall have some dancing later, too. I do long to dance! I hope there are enough young men for us all to have partners! Frederick Young is here; I am so glad, for he is a nice young man, even though he is quite a dandy! And look, there is Tom Laidlaw too, with his mama and sisters. I do hope he will ask Esme for the first two dances. My poor dear sister will be quite distressed if he dances with anyone else!’ She laughed, then covered her mouth with her elegant fan. ‘I ought not to tease her so. But I do hope he will ask her, if there is dancing, or she will be quite cast down tomorrow!’
Georgiana sighed. ‘Mama has more or less forbidden me to dance tonight. I cannot think why at all, for she usually bears the sight of it with great fortitude, then gives me such droll lectures at home afterward! She has been fussing quite ridiculously over my looks tonight. I believe she wishes to marry me off tonight and no later! But she says I am to stay close to her side all evening.’
‘Oh, but shall you not dance if you are asked?’
‘Not if Mama has her way! I’m quite sure Eliza will get away and find a partner, even if it just the Colonel! You must take pity on me Lilly, and come to me quite often so I can talk. Will you sit at the card table with me if Mama makes me play? I could bear it so much more if you were there, too!’
‘Only if you sit at Casino, for I do not like Whist at all. But shall I tell you some interesting intelligence? I have secrets!’
‘Secrets! So, you have been spying, have you? Well, then, you must tell me, for if you do not, I shall find them out anyway, and deprive you of the pleasure of divulging them! Is it about your sister and Tom Laidlaw?’
‘Dear me, no! This is vastly more diverting than my sister’s silly love affairs!’ Lilly bent her head closer to Georgiana’s, so as to avoid the hearing of Fanny and Mrs Hall, who were still seated beside them. ‘I have heard we are to have a guest tonight,’ she said in a low, serious tone. ‘My friend, Catherine Hailsham told me yesterday that her brother Charles, who is in the navy, told her that his good friend Captain Asher Brandt is come into London, and is to be present here, tonight! Can you believe it? The “Beast of Thornleigh”, come into society again! It must be due to Lady Young’s influence, for he has not been seen in society for these three years past!’
Georgiana frowned, her brows knotted in thought. ‘Captain Asher Brandt? Was not he the young man who Miss Hailsham tried for several years ago? It was the talk in all the drawing rooms that season. She chased him across London, and nearly caught him too, until he went off to war. Then he was rather badly burned in some battle, I cannot recollect which, and retired from society.’
‘I believe so, yes, that is he. Poor Catherine was most disappointed! He was quite a catch, even then. All that head and gun money, you know! Now she says she would not have a bar of him, with his face so altered. He has a seat in Yorkshire, I understand, his brother’s estate, “Thornleigh” I believe it is called. The brother perished at sea, I recollect. In the same battle!’
‘But what did you call him, Lilly? A beast? How awful!’
‘Why, he is known quite commonly as “The Beast of Thornleigh”. His looks are much damaged, you know. It is sad, is it not? I suppose it is not very feeling to call him a “beast”, but the name has stuck, I fear, and he is known in those parts more by his face than by his former name. I believe he was decorated too, for bravery or service, or something, poor soul.’
Georgiana considered this. She was touched and saddened by the story, and remembered something of the unfortunate tale being related several years back. Her aunt Fanny was intimate with the Selkirks and had heard it from that source. The whole tale had greatly affected Fanny’s sensitive heart, and she had related it at table on more than one occasion, sighing over the fates of those gone to sea, never to come back. The story was made more poignant since her own Mr St. George had many years ago met a similar, watery end.
Georgiana glanced at her mother, who was still talking in hushed tones to her aunt, as if they, too, were deep in some secret conversation. Perhaps her aunt had also heard of their guest tonight and was sharing the intelligence with her mother. Well, her mama would have something to take her mind off the threat of having Mrs Selby’s gouty conversation!
Georgiana turned back to Lilly. ‘I can only feel pity for the Captain, then, for everybody will stare at him — you know how they are here. They stare at me when they think I do not see them, and I have only a limping gait! But I wonder what brings him back into society after such a time?’
‘Catherine could not say, for her brother said only that some urgent business brings him to town. I, for one, am glad he is to come into society again, for I very much wish to see this “Beast of Thornleigh”. Do you think he is so very awful in appearance, Georgie? But you must remember him, for were you not in town then? Was he so very handsome three years ago?’
‘I cannot tell you. I do not think I was ever in the same room with him. We moved in very different circles while my father was still alive. We came to London, of course, for the season, but Mama had to be content with much less grand invitations than we are obliged to accept now that Aunt Fanny is sponsoring our season. My aunt moves in different circles, and we low people must, I am afraid, put up with great dinners and house parties by the cream of the ton!’ She laughed at her own words. ‘I think I shall bear it all well enough, though. And I have met you, dear Lilly, which makes my happiness in these occasions complete, for if I cannot have the pleasure of your company when I cannot dance, I can have the pleasure of watching you!’
‘Well, I do hope you get an opportunity to see me dance, but it will not be half as fun if you do not dance, too!’
Lilly was suddenly silenced from any more comment, by the interruption of Mrs Hall, who leaned over to speak into Georgiana’s ear in a low voice.
‘Georgiana, my dear, your aunt tells us we are to be introduced tonight to some amiable gentlemen from the navy, who are guests of Lady Young’s! Your aunt has arranged that they be introduced, and I wish you to be a good girl, and converse with them a little! And pray,’ she added in a sharper tone, ‘do not walk about the room in that manner you have sometimes, as if it did not signify that people stared! Stay seated, unless you are moving to one of the card tables, or to supper. I do not care to have you parade about your indisposition as if you were proud of it!’
At this disconcerting speech, Georgiana threw Lilly a speaking look, and made to answer her mama. The sudden onset of a strained hush turned her attention to the door, however, as three men in naval uniform came into the room. Two were in their early thirties, with handsome although rather worn, ruddy faces. They bowed politely to Lady Young and Sir Thomas, and looked about them with interest.
‘Look, that is Charles, Catherine’s brother, and Captain Brandt’s intimate friend,’ whispered Lilly, clutching Georgiana’s arm. ‘Is he not handsome! For a sailor, I mean,’ she added, colouring slightly. ‘But such horrors! That must be Captain Asher Brandt! How dreadfully altered he is!’
The third gentleman stood behind the two other men. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and powerfully muscled beneath his Captain’s dress jacket. His shaggy hair was sand-coloured, fashionably long, and swept thickly back from his forehead. His skin, on the unmarred side of his face, was a tanned, slightly wind-roughened brown. He bore sharp features that would once have been called handsome; a strong, straight nose, and an intelligent, high brow. His open eye, for to Georgiana’s horror, she could only discern one, was a dark brown, almost black. Tinges of grey at his temples lent his face an air of odd distinction, which seemed ill-juxtaposed against the craggy tilt of his full mouth, and his face was more careworn than that of his comrades.
Beauty and the Beast of Thornleigh Page 3
