The Tarrant Rose

by Veronica Heley

  “According to my aunt, it would be more a question of holding my tongue.”

  “Not everyone who moves in Society is a fool, but I grant you might do better if you used your eyes rather than your tongue at first. What would you settle for? A ball, a rout party, a visit to the opera, an evening at Ranelagh, and a presentation at Court? I daresay I could arrange it for you.”

  “In return for … what?”

  “That lovelock.” He indicated the curl of hair over her breast.

  “You would do all that for one lock of my hair?”

  “And for the pleasure of putting you in my debt.” Her face reflected uncertainty. Was she to take his offer seriously? He made his leisurely way to the door. “By the way, what have you told your aunt about our previous meetings?”

  “Only that you came to visit my brother several times prior to purchasing Tarrant Hall. Nothing else.”

  “Very wise of you. I do not think you have seen me today, either. I must remember to tell the butler about that. A guinea should do the trick.”

  “I don’t understand. What do you mean to do?”

  He gestured to the open window. “Listen, and you will learn.” He was gone. She hurried to the window and crouched down beside it. The sun was high and warm on her bare head. She played with her lovelock, and then set it between her teeth. Had he meant it? He had enjoyed her discomfiture, but by inviting her to laugh at it, too, he had made it seem that they were almost friends, instead of enemies. She would like to take him apart, to see what he was made of.

  There was a swirl of movement in the garden below, and a tall figure in brown silk made his way among the guests, stopping here and there for a word, a compliment, to kiss a lady’s hand. Lady Midmain sat on cushions on a stone seat in an arbor, with her cronies around her. The Earl made his way to her, and apologized for being late. The arbor was covered with roses, but their first bloom was over, and Sophia could see him well enough. He was bending over Lady Midmain’s hand, and then looking around, as if searching the company for some face that he had expected to see. “So where have you hidden her, Lady Midmain?” He had raised his voice slightly. Sophia could hear every word.

  “Who?” asked Lady Midmain. She smiled up at him. Evidently he was a favorite with her.

  “Why, the latest rose from Tarrant Hall. The Tarrant ladies are known as the Roses of Tarrant Hall, are they not?” He bowed to Lady Midmain once more. “Have we not all sat at your feet since your husband plucked you from the rosebed in Sussex? All these months that I have been at Hanover I have wondered how your niece was faring with you. She was not in the same class as yourself, not a tea rose, but … a wild rose, shall we say? A rustic Venus, tall and stately, and with such eyes and hair …” He kissed the tips of his fingers and threw the kiss in the air. “I must confess to curiosity. With your knowledge of the world you must have been happy to tutor the girl, for though she may have been the toast of the county, yet she lacked polish, and would not have known how to comport herself as your ladyship does, in Society. Well, madam, what have you done with her?”

  “Why … I …” Lady Midmain was vexed.

  “Is she ill? But no; Miss Sophia was never ill.” He looked around at the company, gathering their attention. “She has told you the story of our first meeting, I suppose? Was it not amusing? I was telling my friend Lincoln about it the other day, and he said it was just the sort of tale His Majesty would find diverting. Yet I hesitated. I thought it had probably been told a dozen times this summer in England. Stale jokes, you know, are …”

  “What is this story?” enquired a stout matron.

  “Why, surely you must have heard it from her own lips! My foolishness on that occasion was …”

  “My lord, you intrigue me.”

  “Tell us!”

  “Oh, but this is absurd. Of course you must know. Well, if you must hear it again, know that it was all my own fault. When I am in the country, and not expecting company, I like to wear old clothes; clothes which, according to my valet, are a disgrace and ought to be burned. Now you must know that I had never visited my Manor at Hamberley near Tarrant Hall before this spring, and I was not known there except to one of the magistrates. He, poor fellow, was so over-awed by my appearance in formal attire, that he gave it out I was six-foot-six high. The following day I rode out unattended, wearing one of my comfortable old coats. I was riding a spirited horse, which had been some time without exercise. I let him have his head, on a private road. Miss Tarrant appeared under my horse’s hooves, and I fell off my horse at her feet. …” A buzz of appreciative laughter. The Earl shook his head, mock-tragic. “Ah, but you must not laugh. When I recovered consciousness, I thought I had died and been transported to another world, for there was this beautiful girl bending over me, all solicitude … her eyes … her hair … her complexion … What beauty! What tenderness! I was slightly hurt … no more than I deserved to be, for I had nearly ridden her down. She took me back to Tarrant Hall and—now you may laugh, if you will—she mistook me, in my old coat, for my own secretary! Yes, it is quite true. There was I, without hat or wig, wearing a coat with a patch on it, and I could not convince her that I was really the Earl of Rame. Yes, I had to laugh, myself. Her mistake was very understandable.”

  “I daresay it made her blush when she found out the truth,” said the stout matron. “Poor thing!”

  “Over that we will draw a veil,” said the Earl. “She treated me better than I deserved, and nursed me back to health. When I heard that the Tarrants would be forced to sell the Hall, I made them an offer for it. It will prove an admirable hunting box, when various alterations have been carried out. So now you understand why I ask—where is Miss Sophia?”

  “Oh, clever!” whispered Sophia. There was a spattering of applause in the garden below, where everyone had crowded round to hear the Earl’s tale. “Very romantic!” said one. “Is she so very pretty?” asked another. “I don’t remember the girl, egad!”

  Lady Midmain had her answer ready. “My niece has been suffering from a summer fever, a lowness of spirits which made her avoid company.”

  “Not fatal, I hope?” said the Earl. “Perhaps I should ask my doctor to call?”

  “That will not be necessary,” said Lady Midmain, smiling widely. “The girl will be perfectly well soon.”

  “Tomorrow, perhaps?” said the Earl. “I am at St. James’ tonight, and if Lincoln has not already told the King the story, then I will. Only, if Miss Sophia is really sick, and the King wishes to have her presented to him, as he surely will when he hears that she is your niece …” And he bowed gracefully to Lady Midmain.

  “She will be well tomorrow,” promised Lady Midmain.

  “Ah. Then perhaps we may all meet at Ranelagh tomorrow night? I hear the latest divina to sing there is something out of the ordinary.”

  Certainly Lady Midmain intended to go, as did most of the company there. And most certainly Sophia would be urged to join them.

  “Then I am satisfied,” said the Earl. He bowed to the company, and, making the excuse that he had some tiresome business to attend to, left.

  Sophia should have been exulting in her change of status from poor relation to debutante. Instead, all she could think of was that her corsets hurt. Gone was the black stuff dress and hated cap; she wore one of her ladyship’s newest gowns, a confection of white silk embroidered with pink flowers and trimmed with lace. The skirt had been let down to a reasonable length. There was a posy of pink flowers in the knot of lace pinned on her fashionable coiffure, and the lovelock along her neck had been polished with silk till it shone. There were thin slippers of pink silk on her feet, and a gauze scarf had been draped around her shoulders by her ladyship’s own maid.

  Many carriages were making their way to Ranelagh that night, to hear the latest Italian singer perform. Lights shone in the trees and were reflected in the waters of the pool in front of the rotunda. Sophia marveled, and was dumb.

  “Hold your head up,” said La
dy Midmain, who had not stopped admonishing Sophia from the moment she had been called down from her attic to assume her new position in the household. “And keep your elbows in. Don’t drop that scarf, whatever you do.”

  The paths round the pool were filled with the fashionable crowd as they slowly made their way into the rotunda, where the concert was to take place. The wide skirts of the ladies, the brocaded coats of the gentlemen, were mirrored in the pool. Sophia wanted to say that she had never seen anything so beautiful before, but her aunt was still talking.

  “… and remember never, never contradict a gentleman as I heard you contradict Sir Gregory this morning. You know nothing of politics. No woman can ever know anything of politics. Or farming. Remember that!”

  She widened her lips into a false smile, bowing to an acquaintance. “What a dreadful man that is! A tongue like an asp, but it would never do to cut him. A connection of the Walpoles, you know. For heavens’ sake, child! Don’t stand there, gaping like a fish! Smile! Look as if you were enjoying yourself!”

  She exchanged curtseys with a passing belle. “What a fearful shade of green … it makes her look fifty! Now, remember that you cannot expect to engage the Earl in conversation for long, but even a few minutes may establish you in the eyes of the world. He will certainly make a point of speaking with you, if he intends to present you; although, with the Pretender in Scotland, I don’t really know what the world is coming to, and a thousand things may happen to divert him.—Lady Lincoln, your servant. Yes, this is my niece, Sophia. Truly, a rose, as you say. How kind of your ladyship, we most certainly will be there. A pleasure. … And remember, Sophia, that is just a sample of the kind of invitation you may expect, if you can interest the Earl for more than a minute or two. A rout party at Lady Lincoln’s! True, it will be a dull affair, for she is not one of the smartest of hostesses, but her influence—her uncle, you see, is …”

  “The Duke of Newcastle, I know. She married her first cousin, Lord Lincoln, and he is also a nephew of Newcastle’s. She seems very pleasant.”

  Lady Midmain uttered a genteel scream of anguish. “Don’t! My dear child, don’t ever let me hear you speak of anyone as ‘pleasant’!” She shuddered. “What would the Earl say if he heard you! Lord Lincoln is one of his most constant companions. If you mention the invitation to the Earl, you must do so in terms of gratitude.”

  “Just had a thought!” said Sir Gregory, stopping in the middle of the path. “The Earl—why he should pick out Sophia? Mystery, really. Heard something this morning which might explain it. They said he was to marry Lady Millicent Fairweather, did they not? Arranged by Lord Carteret; good match, well-connected, wealthy. But it hangs fire. For some reason the Earl can’t be brought up to scratch, and goes off to Hanover for the summer instead of marrying the lady. Heard this morning that Newcastle’s put forward his own candidate for the Earl’s hand. Miss Paget; distant cousin of Newcastle’s, very wealthy. Nothing against her, that I know of. Interesting, isn’t it?”

  “Sir Gregory,” said his lady, pulling him from the path. “We are in the way. People are being prevented from passing. Why should the Earl’s marriage cause him to take an interest in Sophia?”

  “Politics,” said Sir Greogry, tapping the side of his nose. “The Earl’s a coming man, they say. Always at the King’s elbow this summer. Very close with that secretary of Newcastle’s, the man Stone. Looks like Newcastle wants to lure the Earl into his camp, by offering the Paget girl. Carteret wouldn’t like that, having arranged for the Earl to marry Lady Millicent. The Earl wouldn’t wish to offend his uncle, but if he wants to make his way in politics, he mustn’t offend Newcastle, either. Cleft stick. Plays for time. Doesn’t take either of the girls till he’s seen which party has most to offer him. Pays court to Sophia to throw dust in their eyes. Subtle man, the Earl of Rame.”

  Sophia felt very tired. She had been in the hands of dressmakers and perruquiers since dawn that day, and her aunt had decreed that she must eat less, to reduce her figure to acceptable proportions. She did not know quite what she had hoped for from the Earl, but Sir Gregory’s words had stripped her of illusion. His explanation felt right. She was no more than a pawn in the game the Earl was playing.

  “If that is so,” said Lady Midmain, “then we should order a couple of new gowns for Sophia. If he launches her into Society, she may take … even without a dowry, it might not be impossible for her to catch a husband. It all depends on the Earl.”

  Sophia caressed her lovelock, and said, under her breath, “Damn him, damn him, damn him!”

  Lady Midmain hissed, “Hold your shoulders back, girl; and don’t mutter!”

  The great rotunda was divided into three sections; there was a platform in the center, on which the orchestra were at present tuning their instruments, there was a wide floor space around the platform on which the company would promenade in the interval, and lining the fabric of the building were the privately hired boxes, to one of which Sir Gregory now led the way. A footman was already laying out a choice supper for the Midmains and their guests. Sophia was very hungry, and felt she might enjoy the evening, after all. Life was very odd, she thought; yesterday she had been wondering how many dreary years of service she would have to put in before death put an end to life; yesterday she would have imagined herself in seventh heaven if she had received an invitation to spend an evening at Ranelagh. Now she was there, and all she could think about was the pressure of her corsets on her ribs, and whether she could manage to filch some chicken off the table before her aunt could stop her from eating anything. Then there were people to whom she had to be polite, and smile and say yes, it was very romantic meeting the Earl of Rame like that, and yes, didn’t he have the most beautiful manners, and yes, she did think he was one of the most handsome men she had ever met. … How well he had done his work!

  Damn his eyes!

  A heavyset young man plumped down beside her and panted out a greeting. He said he had been wondering where she had been all summer. She did remember talking to him at his mother’s card party in the spring, didn’t she? He had often thought of her, and her theory about Jethro Tull’s new seed drill. Now she remembered him. Of course! She had got into trouble with her aunt through talking farming to him, but it appeared that this strange young man thought none the worse of her for her interest in that direction. In the course of conversation it emerged that he had not heard the gossip about the Earl of Rame and Miss Tarrant. Sophia was amused. Had she made a conquest, all by herself, without help from the Earl?

  Young Mr. Dalby—for that was his name—disappeared when the divina arrived to sing, but he promised to return in the interval. Lady Midmain told Sophia that she had behaved very prettily so far, but must discourage Mr. Dalby from monopolizing her. The divina sang at length, and with many trills. Her “shake” was much admired, according to the Midmains. Sophia formed the impression that neither the orchestra nor the singer knew precisely which note the latter was aiming for, but kept her opinion to herself.

  The divina retired amid applause. Sophia turned, and found the Earl was seated directly behind her. She had not heard him enter. She felt color rise to her cheeks. He looked amused. He bowed over her hand and said that he was charmed to renew their acquaintance. He complimented Lady Midmain on her protegée. He said all that was right and proper, and then turned from the ladies to speak to Sir Gregory.

  Lady Midmain signalled to Sophia to speak to the Earl, but she could think of nothing to say. Her aunt was not to be denied, however. She said that Sophia must be tired of sitting still for so long, and suggested that the Earl might care to promenade with her during the interval. The Earl hesitated—a masterly stroke, thought Sophia—and then offered her his arm.

  “You blushed quite charmingly,” he said, once they were out of the box. “How was it managed?”

  “When you are tightly laced,” said Sophia grimly, “Any sudden movement is likely to produce an undesired physical effect, such as blushing, or fainting. You do
not have any food on you, do you? I am starving, and my aunt says I must diet.”

  He actually unbent enough to laugh. “Must I come courting you with food, in future?”

  “You are not courting me at all. You do not fool me. You are using me as a screen, while you decide whether you marry Lady Millicent or Miss Paget. Sir Gregory told me all about it. I assume that one—or both—of them is here tonight, and that that is why you hesitated to be seen walking around with me. Am I right?”

  “Miss Paget is not yet sixteen, and is in a ladies’ seminary at Bath. Lady Millicent is here, certainly.”

  “I expect someone will be bound to tell her about you and me. How will you explain your latest escapade to her?”

  “She is too well-bred to make a scene. She will take my story at its face value, or pretend to do so.”

  “What if I were to tell her that you offered me carte blanche?”

  “She wouldn’t believe that,” he assured her. “It would be out of character, you see.”

  “But it happened!”

  “Did it? Who says so? Did anyone overhear us? Can you bring a witness?” He pinched her arm, just enough to hurt. “Don’t make mischief unnecessarily, Sophia.”

  “Oh!” she cried, and broke away from him.

  “Gently,” he said, and catching her hand, tucked it back within his arm. “Everyone is looking at you. You cannot afford to be seen quarreling in public with me until you are established in society. Did Lady Lincoln invite you to her party? Ah, good. I won’t be there, but she will look after you.” He took out his watch, and frowned at it. “I must go.”

  “To pay your respects to Lady Millicent, I suppose?”

  “Certainly, but I did not mean that. I have another engagement later this evening, and I leave Town early tomorrow morning.”