“Of course, it would be lovely to have a baby around, even if it were not my own… You do not know how lonely it gets, being home all day while the captain is away. He is very good to me, in his way, but it is not enough.”
She began to cry, and not in the picturesque way a heroine might. These were sick, swollen, drooping, weepy tears, not the gentle ones one might see in a play nor the hot, fresh, vigorous tears one might see in a strong young woman. They were tears like a crumbling defence; a show of weakness that made the spark of compassion hesitate. Mary shifted her feet, unsure whether she ought to acknowledge the grief or pretend not to notice it.
When the tears turned into ragged sobs, Mary finally pulled out a handkerchief and offered it to the noblewoman. Lady Lucy buried her face in it. Mary wanted to tell her that it was not her fault, that the captain was to blame for all of it—their straitened circumstances, their childlessness, and his own faithlessness—but she feared to touch the sore pride of her friend. I told myself remaining silent about these things respected their peace. Mary averted her gaze from the woman. Now I think I am just a coward. She could not push through the fear, however unjustified it felt. What can I possibly say?
In the end, she merely patted her friend’s back and murmured, “I am sorry.” Lady Lucy wiped her tears and pressed the handkerchief back into Mary’s hands. “Would you like to go home?” Mary asked, uncertain how to please her.
“Oh, no. It is so dull there.” Lady Lucy sniffled. “Let us go to my parents’ home. It is their visiting day, and I am seldom able to see them.”
“Of course.”
They moved towards the door, but Lady Lucy hesitated. “Might we bring Prince? He must get very dull here. And my mother has pugs, you know. He could visit them.”
Mary viewed the snoring pug with a dubious expression. “I suppose, if you look after him. He does not care for me.”
Lady Lucy, her red-rimmed eyes looking more cheerful, scooped up the dog and carried him while Mary sought out Addleby. The ladies’ maid received the news of Prince’s day trip with a smile that mingled glee and relief. “I shall try to bear his absence, miss.” Dry humour tinged her voice as she turned to the noblewoman. “Do not let him run riot with your mother’s gowns, Lady Lucy. It is all he lives for here.”
Downstairs, Mary ordered the carriage while Lady Lucy held the dog. Lieutenant Stubbs met them at the door, and when he heard their destination, surprisingly, he volunteered to attend them. “Kitty and I could do with an outing,” he said, riffling his thick, dark hair.
Mary did not welcome their presence, but she had no reason to deny it, and they all piled into the carriage. Kitty was feeling petulant after a quarrel with Lydia, so she sat tight-lipped in the corner. None of the other three were great talkers to begin with, and aside from a polite question from Lieutenant Stubbs and an inane answer from Lady Lucy, the ride to Lady Crestwood’s was conducted in silence.
The house of the Crestwoods was on the same lane as the Wickhams’, and it featured a similar white stone facade and elegant entryway. Unlike their home, this one boasted a full ballroom in the back and several more bedrooms. Lady Crestwood gave them a tour, accompanied by her protégée, Miss Poppit, who was staying with the Crestwoods this week. Lady Crestwood took Miss Poppit’s adoration as a matter of course, but laid herself out to impress the other visitors with her home. “You have never seen it, Miss Bennet, Lieutenant Stubbs.” Her eyes dropped for a moment. “And Lucy, dear, you have been so long from us, you may have forgotten where things are!” Lady Crestwood’s laugh did not hold the same power and forcefulness as usual. It sounded almost wistful.
“It is truly an enviable home,” Miss Poppit said as she accompanied them, “not only for the rarity of its decor, but for the friendly quality Lady Crestwood has given it.” Her eyes crinkled with a light of affection, even as her tone remained fluid and polite. Mary puzzled over the woman’s expression. Sometimes she felt sure Miss Poppit was an ambitious fortune hunter, anxious to acquire rank and whatever else she could get. At other times, the gentlewoman appeared almost…sentimental.
“I have never seen such an estimable place.” Lieutenant Stubbs had doffed his cockaded hat when he had entered, but his every movement declared him a soldier. His lean, straight shoulders bore his epaulettes well, and his stride had the confidence of a man who had faced the horrors of a battlefield. But his voice held a tone Mary had seldom heard from him: deference. That must be how he sounds to a commanding officer. It made sense that he might respond that way to Lady Crestwood—nearly everyone found themselves an obedient subaltern to her commands.
“I am very lucky to be here.” Sincerity rang in Miss Poppit’s voice, and Mary wondered where Miss Poppit would be without her patron. Perhaps Miss Poppit’s own home was not so pleasant. “Will you not tell me about some of your war experiences, Lieutenant?”
“I have found they are too grim for ladies, Miss Poppit.” Lieutenant Stubbs’s smile was wry, and it suited the dark, moody handsomeness of his face well.
Miss Poppit looked intrigued. “You may find me of stouter heart than most.”
Kitty’s vigorous nod seconded her. “My sisters cannot bear it, Miss Poppit, but some of us are not so squeamish, are we?” She threw a look of superiority at Mary, who moved closer to Lady Lucy as a result. Thank goodness I have a real friend now and need not rely on the approval of my sisters all the time.
As they chatted, Lady Lucy spilled forth a voluble stream of talk to her mother, and Mary followed behind them all in her customary silence. She considered asking Lady Crestwood for help with Hannah, but she doubted the noblewoman would know of anything more to do than the London charity Lydia’s vicar had suggested (after discreet enquiries), and she feared Lady Crestwood might indulge in gossip about a fallen maid in the Wickham household.
So Mary merely trailed behind, lost in her ruminations. When they returned to the drawing room for tea, Miss Poppit, Kitty, and Lieutenant Stubbs settled in a corner together—carefully apart from the rest, so as not to disturb them with ghastly war tales—and Lady Crestwood tugged on Prince’s ears with a liberty that made Mary cringe and fear he might bite her.
“I shall just run up to Papa and see how he is,” Lady Lucy said. Her eyes had lost their red rims, earned in her earlier bout of tears, and her skin had regained its usual pallor. All flush of prior emotion had been shed.
“He is doing something Parliamentary and confidential in his study, my dear, and likely will not have time for you.” Lady Crestwood gave another exuberant pull at Prince’s ear, but he only growled and snorted before rolling over for a rub.
“I will just see.” Lady Lucy disappeared. Prince sat up to see where she went, but then rolled over to enjoy Lady Crestwood’s pats again.
“Here is tea at last.” Lady Crestwood straightened as the teacart was rolled in and gestured at Mary to prepare it. As Mary worked, Lady Crestwood glanced at her protégée, whose eyes were lit up as she listened to Lieutenant Stubbs’s tales. “What are you speaking of, Miss Poppit?”
“Lieutenant Stubbs was telling me about his last campaign.” Miss Poppit’s back regained its rigidity, and she no longer leaned towards the young man, though a splotch of redness heated her cheeks. “I rather think he must have been very brave.” Her words were cool, but there was an insistence to them Mary did not understand.
Lady Crestwood’s eyes narrowed. “I am sure he was. No doubt almost as brave as Sir Reginald was, travelling to the Holy Land to obtain rock samples. Or Mr Covington, in the latest hunt.”
“That is hardly the same thing, madam.” Miss Poppit’s tone was surprisingly chilly, given she spoke to her benefactor, but with a graceful lift of one arm, she dismissed the topic as if it meant nothing to her. “Mrs Stubbs, shall you be going to Almack’s this week?”
“We do not have vouchers.” Kitty accepted the teacup Mary offered her with a grim smile. Miss Poppit received hers with gentle fingertips, as if the cup were a bird alighting on
a trembling limb.
“That is hard,” Lady Crestwood said, with a hint of compassion that subtly edged into something else as her eyes rested on Miss Poppit. “A voucher to Almack’s is a dearer prize than any spoil of war, is it not?” She gave a light laugh, as if to suggest it was merely a joke, but there was an undergirding of iron in it.
“Are you coming, Miss Bennet?” The eager light of competition in Miss Poppit’s eyes was intended for Lydia, not Mary, no doubt. “I cannot believe that Mrs Wickham was denied tickets…was she? I believed her to be friends of the lady patronesses.” Her eyelids lowered demurely as she asked, but her gaze remained fixed on the source of the answer.
“Lydia has vouchers,” Mary said, “and of course we shall attend. But from what I hear, we shall both enjoy our time at the London Ladies Information Society more than Almack’s.”
“Do not be ridiculous.” Lady Crestwood had been tipping her teacup to watch the cream swirl in it, but now she set it down with a clack. “The London Ladies is all very well, but when one has the duty of bringing out a young lady, Almack’s is the obvious choice, and very pleasing it is too. Miss Poppit and I will attend every Wednesday.”
“I do not think it is the attraction of the ladies’ information or society that lures Mrs Wickham.” Miss Poppit raised her cup almost as if it were a weapon, and in the glint in her eye, Mary saw a ferocity that disturbed her. Thank goodness I am too much of a mouse to have a rival. Miss Poppit seems so pleasant…until Lydia is brought up.
“What do you mean?” Lieutenant Stubbs’s voice was carefully controlled, but his limbs had tensed, and his fists were clenched at his sides.
With a light lift of her shoulders, Miss Poppit said, “Oh, nothing. Pray, where has Lady Lucy got to? Lord Crestwood must be more talkative than usual to keep her this long.”
“I am here.” With a guilty blush, Lady Lucy entered, stepping over one of her parents’ dogs and taking a seat close enough to permit her to scratch his ears. Mary served her tea and biscuits and, after a moment of hesitation, served herself another two biscuits. Usually she would take one and nibble it in ladylike fashion the entire time, fearing to appear voracious. But the grumble in her stomach seemed to matter more to her now. Perhaps Mrs Holt is right. I cannot help Hannah and Lydia if I am famished, can I? She chewed on a biscuit, letting the sweetness crumble over her tongue and mingle with the bitterness of the tea.
“Lord Crestwood must have had a great deal to say,” Miss Poppit said.
Lady Lucy’s blush deepened. “Oh, Papa was very busy arranging papers for his safe. I spoke to him, but he did not mind me much.” She reached back down to the pug and rubbed his nose, cooing at him and abandoning the conversation.
Prince apparently took offence at Lady Lucy’s petting a new dog, for he trotted over and pushed his head into the young woman’s hands, snarling a little at the Crestwood pugs. They snarled back, and the resulting contretemps took enough of Lady Lucy’s attention that her mother felt safe enough to speak of her.
“Poor Lucy!” Lady Crestwood’s smooth bulk could not lean with any grace, but she cast her voice low enough not to be overheard. “Her father and I guarded her like hawks—” Her voice broke. “Actually, perhaps we did not lay on such a guard as we ought. I did not think we had any need. Lucy never seemed to care very much for anything.”
“I do not think she had much space to care, Lady Crestwood.” Mary was shocked at her own daring, but she clamped her mouth shut to prevent herself from taking it back. For better or worse, Lady Crestwood did not seem to think of her comment.
“Our home was so peaceful, all in harmony.” The dogs snapped at each other, and Miss Poppit and Kitty delayed their chat enough to throw disconcerted stares at the pugs.
“I do not think that Lady Lucy—” Mary wanted to make the mother understand, but Lady Crestwood was accustomed to ruling on every matter.
“She picked up every notion from me, and we were all content. Then this accursed Captain Roarke came along! He quite cut up our peace.”
You thought it was peaceful, but that is because you had no idea what Lady Lucy was thinking or feeling. Mary had enough courage to think the thought, but not to speak it aloud. Her hands balled up in frustration, crumbling one biscuit, which she set down hastily. “Lady Crestwood—”
“I cannot help her much now, poor girl.”
“You could invite her here more often.”
Lady Crestwood’s eyes widened. “But she is always welcome! We always wish her to come. But she knows we disapprove of her husband’s behaviour, and in some misguided loyalty, she stays away from us unless there is a special reason.” She studied her daughter, who was now hugging a Crestwood dog. “I do not know why she came to us today.”
Mary’s gaze followed Lady Crestwood’s. Her revelations shed new light on Lady Lucy’s sudden interest in visiting her parents. She must have felt very sad indeed, or very angry with the captain. Mary wished again she had asked Lady Lucy to confide in her.
“There is little I can do for my Lucy.” Lady Crestwood sighed again. “But I have learned something, and I will do better by Miss Poppit.” Lady Crestwood’s brow furrowed as she watched Miss Poppit laugh at something Lieutenant Stubbs said. Miss Poppit’s usual hauteur had thawed, and she craned towards the lieutenant and Kitty. “She fancies herself in love with a poor soldier, a lieutenant like your Stubbs there. Lieutenant Babbingford, he calls himself. I did not keep a keen enough watch on my Lucy, but I will not make the same mistake again. No spendthrift adventurer will make off with this young lady.”
The undertone changed to a more usual, drawing-room tone of voice, and Lady Crestwood said, rising, “Lieutenant and Mrs Stubbs, we must not keep you and your sister any longer. Mr Covington is so good as to take Miss Poppit riding with his sister in Hyde Park, and she must not be late.”
Miss Poppit’s eyes had been crinkled in amusement in talking with Lieutenant Stubbs, but her face smoothed. “Good-bye, Lieutenant. Good-bye, Mrs Stubbs.”
Lady Crestwood had not finished her commands. “Lucy, I will take you home myself.”
“Yes, Mama.”
As Mary joined the Stubbses and sought out the carriage, she cast a glance back at the mother and daughter. Perhaps her talk with Lady Crestwood had produced some small good, and the two would have a meaningful talk on their ride home. I daresay Lady Crestwood is not too cowardly to have unpleasant conversations.
“A very pleasant visit, was it not?” Kitty said, her good cheer restored by the visit. Her husband made a sound of assent and helped Kitty and Mary into the carriage. A footman presented Prince, holding him at arm’s length and waiting.
“Oh, I forgot him.” Mary almost cursed when she realised they would have to take the pug home without Lady Lucy to charm him. “Just, um, place him here.” She waved a hand at the carriage floor and scooted back in her seat when the footman deposited him. Prince’s spirits must have been lifted by his own visit, for he did not growl even once, and Lieutenant Stubbs hummed and slapped his knee, gazing out the carriage window.
“Lieutenant Stubbs, I do not suppose that you have any ideas about what to do about Hannah?”
Irritation creased lines in his face. “Certainly I have an idea. Shove her out into the street and be done with it.”
“Oh, Lieutenant Stubbs! Surely you can think of something else. What are we to do with her?”
“How should I know what is to be done with such a person?” His chin lifted. “You cannot think that I have ever—”
Mary’s cheeks heated. “No, of course not.”
His chin came down, and Lieutenant Stubbs was mollified enough to offer a suggestion. “Well, perhaps there is some charity in London that will take her.”
“That is what the vicar said, but Hannah does not want to stay in London.”
“Who on earth cares what the girl wants?” Kitty said, her good humour ebbing at the subject. “She has had enough of what she wants already. She will simply have to m
ake do.” She studied Mary’s face as they bounced along and swung with the motion of the carriage. “I do not understand you, Mary. You always preached a great deal, but you never took things further than that. Now you cannot seem to stop interfering in things.”
“Interfering!” It was the second time she had been called that, and it stung from Kitty even more than it had from Mr Cole. After all, she could say that Mr Cole did not truly know her, but her sister surely did.
“Well, whatever you do, at least have the decency to keep us informed. I hate it when people go creeping round my back.” The lieutenant’s humming did not resume, and the sullen look had returned to Kitty’s face. Mary regretted ruining their mood, but she found herself floundering deeper and deeper with the obligations she had bound herself to.
There must be someone who can help. Perhaps Mr Cole would have an idea. Surely he would have more compassion for Hannah than Lieutenant Stubbs or Kitty did. Though his careless flirting enraged her, he also treated her with more respect than Lieutenant Stubbs ever did. And he had a ready laugh and intelligence. He would have some ideas, she was sure. And he would listen to her, and teach her geology, and together they would craft a lecture sure to make Lady Crestwood choose him for the Informed Ladies of London Association. Even his dog was benign, perhaps enough that Mary could learn to love him…
Amid her musing, she reached down to pet a dog, and Prince’s indignant bite wounded both her daydreams and her hand.
The London Ladies Information Society had had enough of the general squalor of Maddox’s Assembly Rooms, and with donations from the Informed Ladies of London Association and a host of other groups, they had gathered enough money and volunteers for a thorough cleaning and refinishing of the assembly hall. Lydia, still keeping her head down to please Lieutenant Stubbs, did not come to assist, but Kitty agreed to go with Mary and aid in the transformation.
A Learned Romance Page 15
