The Tarrant Rose

by Veronica Heley

  “That is all very well, but how am I to disabuse my uncle’s mind? He is certain that you intend to offer for me.”

  “Gracious heavens! The idea never occurred to me.”

  He was laughing at her. She did not know what to make of him.

  The music ended. She curtseyed, he bowed.

  He led her back to her aunt. “Till tomorrow.”

  Chapter Eight

  “Any news?” It was the Earl’s invariable greeting nowadays when he entered his library.

  Mr. Stone abandoned his frowning study of the map of Scotland. “We are expecting the courier any minute. What is the latest gossip?”

  The Earl was still in his ball dress. He yawned, and leaned against the mantel, studying the fire.

  “The men criticize the Government for inaction. One or two talk of raising a company of volunteers to fight the Pretender, but it is all rather as one talks of the prospects of hunting next season. Academic, rather than immediate. They grumble because the King has prorogued Parliament, but that is more because it cuts off their vent for hot air than because they want to plunge into action. There is a general feeling that happenings north of the Border are no concern of theirs.”

  Mr. Stone grunted. “Your uncle’s to blame, as usual. He doesn’t want Parliament to meet on the 19th, because he wants to keep Newcastle out of touch with his supporters in the Commons. I believe you are right, and Lord Carteret is working for a coup d’état. Cabinet discussions have been heated, shall we say? The King puts forward your uncle’s ideas at every point. No wonder the business of the nation is at a standstill.”

  “Many of my uncle’s ideas are good, and his knowledge of European affairs is second to none. The treaty with ‘Antimac’ goes through?”

  “My apologies,” said Mr. Stone, after a short pause. “I have allowed myself to lose sight of the larger issues. You need not remind me that your uncle is a master of strategy. I only wish that he were not plunging us into civil war to gratify his ambition. No, I apologize again. I agree with you; he did not intend the Pretender to have any success at all. He forgot that Wade and Cope are only human, and make mistakes like the rest of us. Sometimes I think he sees politics as some giant game of chess.”

  The Earl started, but Mr. Stone did not notice, for Mr. Denbigh hurried into the room, holding a letter in an oilskin pouch. “From David Vere, Edinburgh.”

  The dispatch was opened and spread on the table, so that all three men could read it at once.

  “So Edinburgh is lost!” said the Earl. “This will create a stir.”

  “Cope will stop him. With fresh troops …”

  “Troops newly embarked from sea transports are never at their best. Besides, these are recruits, as raw as the rebels. What does David Vere say about the strength of the Highlanders? Ah … here it is. ‘Reports say they have two thousand men who are well-armed and well-shod, and upwards of one thousand more who are indifferently armed and clad, and whom the local people call Walidragles. They are billeted outside Edinburgh, and I will ride out to see them at first light tomorrow.’”

  “Two thousand well-armed, and another thousand badly-armed. Undisciplined troops, without horses, and with little ammunition.” Mr. Stone began to look happier. “Well, that is good news, if it can be trusted. This is the first report we have received from Edinburgh.”

  “Others will follow,” said the Earl. “Trust me. I am sure of five men, who will be with us heart and soul in this business. Three others have promised to gather information and send it to us, but will not actively spy for us. We should have ample information coming in, from now on.”

  “You have done well,” said Mr. Stone. “And now that you are back, will you not see what can be done to moderate your uncle’s influence in the cabinet? We must have Lords Lieutenant named for all the northern counties, but the King delays, which means that the militia are not being raised …”

  The Earl nodded. “I will see what I can do. Perhaps my uncle can be persuaded to look on himself as proxy Commander in Chief? I can do nothing with the King direct. I am too young and untried a politician.”

  “And don’t forget that Newcastle expects you to present your bill on smuggling this session.”

  “What? Are you serious? To prepare it is one thing, but I had not expected to have to present it. It stands no chance at present. No, I should be laughed out of court.”

  “Does that matter? We have to manufacture some reason for advancing you in the ministry, or giving you our confidence if you go abroad as Ambassador. We cannot trumpet your work with our agents for obvious reasons. Let it be the bill, if you please.”

  Sophia put her hands on her hips and glared at her reflection in the mirror. She was wearing a blue saque gown of her ladyship’s, which was very becoming, but she did not look pleased with herself. She swung round, the sacque swinging from her shoulders, strode across the room, and drummed on the windowpane. Lady Midmain closed her eyes. She was not feeling strong that morning. … perhaps the champagne last night, or the battered oysters—?

  “Sophia, do sit down and keep still! My head will split!”

  Sophia sat down, but she did not sit still. She tugged at her lovelock, curling it round her fingers. Her eyes went from side to side of the room, considering possibilities. The Earl could not possibly mean to make her his wife … it was not to be thought of … she would not think of it. It was merely that he had seen an opportunity to turn the tables on her, and had done so. It amused him to laugh at her, as she had once laughed at him. Once Sunday was past, and he had claimed her lovelock, she would see no more of him. What, then, were her prospects?

  The Midmains had invested a certain sum of money in her, buying her new gowns, giving her tutors, taking her everywhere. It was not to be thought of that they would throw good money after bad by continuing to treat her as their favorite niece. No, once it was made clear to Lady Midmain that the Earl was not going to marry Sophia, she could hope for little in the way of further aid. The invitations would cease to arrive. Perhaps Mr. Dalby might call once or twice more … a pity that he was not a marrying man. … Mr. Carramine had written to say he would be in Town again next week, with Sir John and Marjorie Bladen. It would be pleasant to see old friends again, although she hardly knew what she would have to say to them. So much had happened. …

  The doorknocker resounded. Sophia flew to the window. A footman was leaving; perhaps he had brought a note from the Earl of Rame, apologizing for not being able to come.

  The butler entered, bearing a posy on a silver salver. “For Miss Tarrant, my lady. From Mr. Dalby.”

  Lady Midmain started and sat upright. Almost, she had dozed off. “From whom? Dalby? Great heavens above! What next?”

  Sophia was looking for a note, but there was none. “He said he would call on me this morning. He has a particular question he means to ask.”

  “What? This morning? Child, where are your brains!” To the butler, “Deny him; we are not in this morning. Except to the Earl of Rame, of course. He is expected any minute, that may be him, now!”

  Once more the doorknocker fell. The butler left. Sophia caressed the posy, measuring the strength of the hope that it brought her. She said, “Mr. Dalby will propose, I think. It will be a very suitable match. Don’t you agree, Aunt?”

  “I do not agree. You must not see him until the Earl has proposed to you, and everything is settled. You were foolish to encourage Mr. Dalby by giving him two dances last night. I thought at the time that …”

  The butler threw open the doors. “The Earl of Rame.”

  He bowed over Lady Midmain’s hand. “How kind of you to receive me when others are turned from your door. Mr. Dalby is making quite a commotion out there in the street.”

  “Yes, I had to refuse him. My head aches sadly this morning, and I could not … but such an old friend of the family as yourself. … Sophia? Make your curtsey, child!”

  Sophia swept the Earl a curtsey, but continued to hold Mr. Dalby’s p
osy. He levelled his glass at it, but made no comment. No doubt he had guessed its provenance. His bow had been perfunctory. He turned back to Lady Midmain.

  “I would not for the world overstay my welcome if you are unwell. I came merely to bring some letters to Miss Tarrant from her brother and aunt. I was up in the north recently, you know, and happened to come across young Jasper. He is quite well, in decent lodgings. We cracked a bottle together and exchanged news. Did you know he was corresponding with little Miss Bladen? His news of Hamberley was more recent than mine.”

  Sophia said that she doubted if Sir John approved of his daughter’s writing to her brother.

  “Where is he?” asked Lady Midmain, holding out her hand for Jasper’s letter. “Edinburgh? What might he be doing there?”

  “Then he is not with the rebels,” said Sophia, thankfully.

  “People will jump to conclusions,” said the Earl. “I daresay he went to Edinburgh just to have a look at them.”

  “But the rebels are not in Edinburgh, are they?”

  “I’m afraid so. The news will be all over Town by now. You have not seen the papers this morning?”

  “I only read the gossip columns,” said Lady Midmain. She pressed her fingers to her forehead carefully, so. as not to disturb her maquillage.

  Sophia sat still, absorbing the blow. It was cruel of Fate to destroy her chance of a good marriage like this. And what foolishness, to follow the Pretender … she did not need her aunt’s second sight to know that this escapade of Jasper’s was bound to end badly.

  “He said nothing to me about joining the rebels,” said the Earl. “I do not think one should condemn him unheard.”

  “He gives no reason for being in the north,” said Lady Midmain, scanning Jasper’s letter. She held it out to Sophia. “Here, take it. It is addressed to you. Nothing but assurances that he is well, and that we are not to worry about him. When anyone tells me that I am not to worry, I feel strongly inclined to have hysterics. Nothing is more certain to produce feelings of anxiety than to be told that you are not to worry.”

  “Perhaps my other piece of news will please you better,” said the Earl. “Your sister, Miss Tarrant, is at present on her way down to London to take over the administration of my household, and in particular to look after my son.”

  “Nan? Coming here? Why … she could not possibly … you have not considered … her back, you know. And although she may be able to give the impression of being an agreeable person on short acquaintance, her temper is not … in short, I cannot feel that …”

  “I have always had a particular fondness for the Tarrant ladies,” said the Earl, seating himself beside Lady Midmain and pressing her hand. “They are so sprightly, so accomplished, and such a pleasure to look at. If I may make so bold, they adorn company, wherever they go.” He raised Lady Midmain’s hand to his lips. “You are such modest creatures, you Tarrant ladies, that you underestimate your effect on other people.”

  Sophia began to shred the posy in her lap.

  “But her back … she is not strong,” said Lady Midmain.

  “She must not be asked to overtax her strength in any way. I agree with you entirely. Once I have her safely under my roof, we shall have to see what the doctors can do for her, although I fear it is too late for us to be able to achieve any great improvement in her condition.”

  “But … I do not see the necessity … she was happy enough in our cousin’s house in York. At her age, and with that white hair, she cannot expect to move in the best Society.”

  “‘Age cannot wither her, nor custom stale her infinite variety,’” quoted the Earl. “She was most unhappy at her cousin’s house. Her opinions were of no consequence, and she had nothing to do but sit and listen to the grumbles of a foolish, lazy woman. You would have wished to remove her, as I did, if you had known the truth. As for moving in Society, she will do as much or as little of that as she chooses. I believe Jasper managed the disposition of his affairs badly, but once I looked into the matter, I found that with a little judicious management, enough could be set aside to provide a pension for your aunt. It is she who honors my house by accepting a post with me, not the other way round.”

  “But …” Here Lady Midmain’s gaze alighted on Sophia, and she stopped. Sophia met her eyes, and accurately translated the expressions which flitted over her ladyship’s face. There was speculation, followed by hope, followed by excitement. Lady Midmain had come to the conclusion that the Earl had invited Miss Tarrant into his household in order to please Sophia.

  “Niece, you say nothing. Why do you not thank the Earl? Stupid girl, look what you have done! You have pulled Mr. Dalby’s posy to pieces. But that is no matter.”

  Sophia rose and fled to the window, laying her forehead against the cool glass. She did not know why the Earl had done this thing, but she was almost certain that he had not been influenced to do so by the thought of pleasing her. Was it all a trick? Did he mean to bring Aunt Nan down to London, and then to dismiss her as capriciously as he had engaged her? He would then have deprived her of all means of livelihood. But then, what about the pension of which he had spoken? Jasper had certainly not supplied the money for that. Lady Midmain might believe it, but Sophia knew better.

  Down in the street someone waved to her. It was Mr. Dalby. She stared back at him, and then waved. She wished she had not destroyed his posy, or she could have held it up to show that she appreciated the gift.

  The Earl was at her elbow, glass to his eye. “Ah, Mr. Dalby. A very pleasant young man. He waves to us. How friendly of him. We must wave back, must we not? I wonder if he is intending to walk my way. I have a book which may interest him, by his hero, Jethro Tull. Of course, he may already have read it.”

  Having managed to give the impression that he and Sophia had together saluted Mr. Dalby, the Earl wandered back to Lady Midmain, and resumed his seat beside her. Sophia heard him say something about having met Mrs. Dalby, who was cock-a-hoop that her son should at last be thinking of matrimony.

  Their voices sank. Sophia guessed they were speaking of her. She did not move from the window, but tears filled her eyes, and began to spill onto her cheeks. She saw it all now; the Earl had raised her high in Society, so that he could watch her fall. He had given her the opportunity to meet eligible gentlemen, and now he was instructing Lady Midmain to deny Mr. Dalby access to her niece. Everything he did, was to one end; that she should be humiliated.

  She heard the name of Sir John Bladen mentioned. She wiped her cheeks dry and moved closer to her aunt.

  The Earl was saying that he had had a letter from Mr. Carramine, who should be back in Town that week. He was to travel up with Sir John and Marjorie Bladen, who were to stay with some relatives in the city. It appeared that Sir John was come to seek another wife, having been refused by two matrons in Sussex.

  “It is not clear,” said the Earl, “Whether Sir John wants wealth or health most in his future bride, but in either case, Miss Marjorie is in the way. No stepmother wants a pretty girl like that around … so capable, too. They wager ten to one that Miss Marjorie will not return to Sussex unwed, and five to one that Sir John will take back a bride. It is said that he is become desperate, after haying been rejected so often. He beat his first wife to death, I believe? Or is that a slander? And my friend Mr. Carramine reports that Sir John talks of renewing his acquaintance with Sophia.”

  “Over my dead body!” promised Lady Midmain. “I assure you the man shall not set foot in my household.”

  “I do not see how you can prevent him,” said the Earl. “His manners are not precisely … what is the word I am looking for … elegant? But he is a man of some substance … in every sense of the word.”

  “You never liked him,” said Sophia, turning her shoulder on the Earl.

  “True. But he did not precisely take me to his ample bosom, either. A coarse creature.”

  “His daughter is one of my dearest friends.”

  “A delightful girl. I reme
mber her with pleasure.”

  “And will you arrange for her to be presented at Court, too?”

  “I doubt it. A most fatiguing business, arranging for the entry of a young girl into Society, especially when she cannot keep a still tongue in her head. Lady Midmain, your servant. I fear I must leave you.” He made a slight inclination of the head in Sophia’s direction and left.

  “Hussy!” screamed Lady Midmain. “How could you be so wicked! You destroy all the chances he gives you! Have you gone mad to speak to him so rudely?”

  Sophia flushed, but did not answer. It was all too true; she had behaved badly. She moved to the window to watch the Earl leave. He had not brought his sedan chair, but a large man whose features were vaguely familiar, attended him. Mr. Dalby was still there, lounging against the railings. The Earl crossed the road to speak with Mr. Dalby, but evidently did not persuade him to abandon his vigil. The Earl left, walking rapidly.

  Sophia waited for a pause in her aunt’s diatribe, said she was sorry if she had seemed rude, and might Mr. Dalby come up now?”

  “Mr. Dalby? Are you out of your mind? Do you want it spread all over the town that you receive Mr. Dalby as soon as the Earl’s back is turned? You must be more circumspect, my girl. When the Earl has declared himself, you may see whom you will, for it will be no concern of mine what you do then. But from now on, we will keep a close watch on you; no more tête-à-têtes, or giving Mr. Dalby two dances at a ball.”

  “I believe Mr. Dalby to be serious in his intentions.”