Chapter Fourteen
The next morning Aggie woke to the sound of Dillydums’s cheerful chattering. The monkey was swinging gleefully from the bed curtains. His little black eyes gleamed at her impishly as he reached out a tiny paw toward another hold.
“Cecilie,” Aggie called. It was time to get up anyway. She was rather interested in hearing what Cecilie would have to say about the previous evening. She did not intend to mention Lord Gale herself, of course; the less said about that Bond Street fribble the better. But if he had appealed to Cecilie, she might mention the fact and it would certainly be good to discover what she could.
Aggie pushed back the covers and reached for her robe. It was impossible to sleep with the little monkey chattering and swinging overhead. She smiled briefly. It was really no wonder that Denby had been startled by Dillydums, especially since he had not even known there was such a creature in the house.
As she moved toward the wardrobe to choose a morning gown, Aggie’s smile turned to a frown. She was having far too much good feeling for the man who had deserted her. The whole thing still seemed impossible. Surely she could not have imagined the feeling that had existed between them. It was true she had been young and naive, but still... She sighed, choosing a gown temporarily forgotten. It seemed incredible that he could have departed as he had, without so much as a word. Yet he had done it. She sighed deeply. The more she saw him in relation to Cecilie the more she realized that he was a good man. If he showed perhaps more temper than was comfortable for those living in his establishment, that was to be expected. At times Cecilie’s behavior was enough to make anyone enraged. And always he seemed to have Cecilie’s best interests at heart. It was not uncommon for a guardian to marry his ward where and when it would benefit him and not every man would give consideration to the wants and wishes of the young woman involved. Yes, Aggie thought, his lordship was behaving very well where Cecilie was concerned.
As for herself - She brushed the thought aside and reached hurriedly for the gown. She would not think of him in relation to herself, he meant nothing to her.
But the gown that Aggie withdrew, a sprigged rose muslin several years old, had a rip in the side seam, which she discovered as she was about to draw it over her head. With an exasperated noise, not at the rip but at the thought of his lordship and the new gowns which it evoked, she tossed it on the bed and went to look for another. The next, of blue dotted muslin, was also faded, but at least its seams were intact. She pulled it on.
“Good morning, Aggie.” She turned as the gown fell around her to see Cecilie standing barefoot, rubbing her eyes.
“Good morning. Did you sleep well?”
Cecilie nodded. “Yes, of course.” She opened her arms to Dillydums, who jumped into them and began to play with a stray curl that had escaped her nightcap. “What are you doing in here bothering Aggie?” Cecilie asked the monkey in cooing tones.
“He wasn’t bothering me,” said Aggie. “It’s time to get up.”
Cecilie nodded. “Yes, it looks like a lovely day. I was wondering if we might go to Somerset House and see the paintings from the Royal Society’s Exhibit. I should like to see some of Lawrence’s latest portraits.”
Aggie considered. “I think you had best ask his lordship for permission.”
“There are many great and beautiful paintings on display there,” said Cecilie soberly. “I am sure it would be good for me to see them.”
Aggie smiled dryly. “I should not tell the Earl that they are educational,” she said. “Your last attempt at education was very difficult for us all.”
“I know,” said Cecilie in a repentant voice. “And I’m truly sorry for it. But it was great fun,” she added, her eyes sparkling at the memory. “It’s such a shame that young Mr. Sadler didn’t want an aeronautical wife. It would be a perfect life.”
Aggie looked grim. “I’m afraid our ideas of perfection differ considerably. But if you want to go out today, you’d better get to his lordship right away. Before he leaves.”
Cecilie nodded and went off to be dressed.
When she met Aggie at the breakfast table a little later, Cecilie was smiling happily. “His lordship has already eaten,” she said gaily. “He thinks it’s a grand idea to go to see the paintings. He even says I may take Dillydums along.”
This piece of news was not particularly gratifying to Aggie. It was not that she disliked the monkey. Dillydums was a good little animal. It was only that it was hard enough to keep Cecilie in hand without having to trouble oneself with her pet. Well, she told herself with resignation, she would just have to do the best she could.
So it was that some time later she and Cecilie came down in walking dresses and bonnets, ready to appreciate the great works that the Royal Academy Exhibit offered to the public. Cecilie wore one of her new walking dresses of pale blue sarcenet embellished with white ribbons. Her bonnet was rather small, of white straw trimmed with blue flowers, and looked much better than the gigantic shovel-shaped one she had first settled on. Aggie was glad that she had been prevailed upon to change her mind.
Aggie’s own gown of dove gray jaconet, though old, had not had much wear in Dover and was still presentable. She wore the bonnet designed to go with the dress, a small unobtrusive affair that was probably quite outdated. She did not really care.
Dillydums, in his blue trousers and red jacket, seemed to have sensed that he, too, was going out and he clung to Cecilie and chattered excitedly.
Aggie glanced around as they came down the stairs, but his lordship was not in evidence. Quite probably he was out, attending to his business. At least, she thought with an inward smile, he was probably not with Lady Alicia, not this early in the day. It was unlikely that the lady had even one eye open by now.
As the carriage moved through the crowded streets, Cecilie and the monkey peered excitedly out the window. “Be sure you have a good hold on the leash,” urged Aggie. “If Dillydums gets loose out here, we shall never find him.”
“Yes, Aggie, I’m being careful,” Cecilie replied without turning her head. “But the city is so exciting. How I wish I might be free to roam about. There is so much to see.”
“Cecilie!” Aggie tried to keep her voice even, but was not successful. “It is very dangerous for a young woman to be about in the street alone.”
“I don’t see why,” said Cecilie stubbornly. “Look, over there there’s a girl just my age. She’s alone.”
Aggie looked. The girl in question was wearing a stained and torn muslin gown. Her hair was tangled and her feet bare. She moved about offering her flowers to passers-by. To Cecilie she probably looked happy and carefree, but Aggie saw the signs of hunger in the brown eyes cast so prettily upon the customers and under the city grime she glimpsed several large bruises. This poor child did not lead a pleasant life. “That girl is very poor,” she said to Cecilie. “It may look like fun to sell flowers for a little while, but to be forced to do it every day for long hours and to go hungry if you fail - that would not be so good.”
Cecilie turned sobered eyes upon her companion. “Oh, Aggie, I know you’re right, but it just looks so exciting out there and I seem always to be kept in.” She reached into her reticule. “We must buy some of her flowers.” She leaned forward to direct the coachman and minutes later several large bunches of marigolds lay on the floor of the carriage. They would undoubtedly wilt long before their return to Grosvenor Square, but Aggie made no comment.
As the carriage drove on, Cecilie said no more about becoming part of the crowd, but her eyes watched everything avidly. Finally the carriage reached Somerset House and a groom helped them descend. Cecilie’s eyes sparkled as she surveyed the people about her. “I do so like to be out in public,” she said happily. “It makes me feel so much more alive.”
Their admission paid, they entered one of the great halls where paintings hung one above the other reached four and five high to the elevated ceiling. Some seemed so high up that they were difficult to see
properly. Cecilie gazed round in awe. “My word, Aggie, I never realized there were so many.”
“Take your time looking at them,” Aggie advised. “One cannot rush an appreciation of art. We must give it time to sink into our senses.”
Cecilie nodded. She seemed to be studying a painting that depicted the hazards of the steeplechase. Aggie let her eyes drift till they came to rest on a peaceful sylvan scene. Some people might like the great battle scenes or historical portrayals; others seemed to favor the portraits of well-known personages such as those the newly knighted Sir Thomas Lawrence was wont to do. But she herself favored the charm of a quiet landscape or sometimes the more rugged look of a seascape.
“Look there,” said Cecilie. “Aren’t those figures from the Bible?”
Aggie nodded. “Yes, if I’m not mistaken, that is one of the works of Benjamin West.” Privately she thought the painting a trifle insipid, but she did not say so.
They moved on around the room. “Someone must like horses,” cried Cecilie.
Aggie smiled. “George Stubbs excels at painting horses. I believe he has done a book on the anatomy of the horse.”
Cecilie looked at her. “You mean all about bones and such?”
“Yes, I understand a really good painter must know what is under the surface.”
Cecilie looked thoughtful. “I suppose that would help. Here are some portraits by Sir Thomas Lawrence,” she continued. “I wish he would paint me as he did that lovely lady.”
Leaning closer, Aggie read the name on the portrait and examined it again. She had known the woman whose likeness the painting was supposed to represent, and she felt somewhat surprised at the freedom Lawrence had taken with reality. The subject of the portrait seemed much younger than she had even five years ago. And there was a certain refinement to her features that was lacking in the original. Her hands seemed far too delicate and beautiful and her eyes excessively brilliant. In fact, but for the evidence of the name card, which clearly could not be denied, Aggie would not have recognized the lady at all. Perhaps, she thought to herself a bit ironically, perhaps this was what accounted for Lawrence’s great popularity.
Cecilie paused to stare up at a fine country scene. One of David Wilkie’s, Aggie had no doubt, though she could not see up far enough to distinguish the name. It was not difficult, however, to recognize his fine feeling for color and his enthusiasm for depicting a story of humble contemporary life.
Cecilie pointed to a painting showing rough shaggy horses at feeding time. “I like that,” she said.
Aggie smiled. “So do I. I believe it is one of George Morland’s. He also does country scenes. That one further up, of the gypsy encampment, looks like this work.” She indicated it to Cecilie.
Cecilie sighed. “I suppose it takes a great deal of study to be a painter.”
“It does indeed,” agreed Aggie. “And then a man is often not given the regard due his talents.”
“Are there no women painters?” asked Cecilie with the beginning of a pout.
“There was one in the last century,” said Aggie. “Angelica Kauffmann. She often painted the intricate ceilings and friezes of houses designed by the great architect Robert Adam. If I am not mistaken, she also did some portraits and allegorical scenes. Of course, her father was an artist, too.”
Cecilie shook her head. “I suppose I should not like to go clambering about on ladders and such. And I suppose the Earl would frown upon a painter for a husband.”
Aggie hid her smile. “I’m afraid so, my dear. Unless he were someone of great renown. And in that case he would most likely already have a wife.”
Cecilie grinned. “And, too, it might be calamitous if Dillydums were to get loose among all those paints!”
Aggie could no longer hide her smile. “Indeed it would,” she replied. “I expect you are much wiser to look elsewhere for a husband.”
Cecilie nodded. “Yes, I suppose so. But I should hope to get riveted soon. I am tired of hanging out for a husband.”
“Really, Cecilie. Riveted is hardly an appropriate word for entering the state of matrimony.”
Cecilie shrugged. “I don’t see why not. That’s what the Earl called it the other day when he was speaking to his friend.”
Aggie’s heart skipped a beat. Of course he would be cynical about marriage. He had managed to escape being leg-shackled for this long. Surely that was indicative of something.
“Drat,” said Cecilie suddenly, recapturing Aggie’s attention. “I should have been smart enough not to wear these new shoes. Could we go sit down on one of those benches in the middle of the hall?”
“Of course. We shall have to send the shoes to be stretched.”
“Yes,” said Cecilie. “I suppose so.”
They found two empty places together and sat down. Cecilie looked hurriedly around and then began to pat Dillydums, who seemed rather anxious for the chance of further exploration. “There are certainly a large number of people here,” Cecilie said.
“Yes,” agreed Aggie. “I guess Londoners like to be out and about - to be seen.”
“I suppose they do,” replied Cecilie. “That seems rather normal to me. It’s stuffy and terribly dull to be shut up in the house all the time.” She leaned back to consider a painting very near the ceiling and Aggie relaxed. It was lovely just to sit there and look around. She was lost in contemplation of a picture of a sunny tidewater. The water sparkled as if real and she wondered idly if it were the work of Calcott. He was not a great painter, but occasionally he did quite lovely things with water. How pleasant it had been in the days of her youth to wander here for whole afternoons, her maid trailing behind, her gaze resting on some picture while her mind was off in flights of fancy or serving up for her delectation memories of times with the handsome young Viscount. Just so had he looked at her, just these words had fallen from his lips. Her eyelids slowly closed as memories crept in upon her.
She almost jumped to her feet, so startled was she when Cecilie said, “Oh, Aggie, look who’s here.” Recovering herself, Aggie opened her eyes to find Lord Gale beaming down on her. Today his attire was a little more decorous. There was nothing explicitly wrong with any particular piece of it. But taken together there was the feeling of something not quite right: a cravat too intricately tied or too high, a coat not quite as it should be. She could not be sure, but the effect of the whole made her uneasy.
Lord Gale, however, seemed in high spirits. He beamed down on her with cheerful friendliness and kissed her hand. Then he returned his admiring gaze to Cecilie. “Miss Winthrop, what a pleasant surprise to find you here. Do let me offer you my arm and we shall make a grand tour.”
Cecilie got to her feet with great alacrity. “Oh, that would be capital. Why don’t you wait here, Aggie, and rest? Lord Gale will take care of me.”
Aggie got to her feet too, shaking her head. “It’s very kind of Lord Gale to offer himself as escort. And we shall be pleased to have his services, but you know you cannot be going about alone.”
Lord Gale’s friendliness abated not a jot. “Of course,” he told Cecilie. “Miss Trimble knows best.”
Cecilie was obviously not of the same opinion, but she made no further demurrer, merely prettily taking the arm Lord Gale offered and smiling up at him engagingly. That smile gave Aggie some concern, for it was decidedly that of a female on the catch for a husband. Still, she told herself, she would do well not to worry yet. Lord Gale might be a graceful dancer, and even a prime rider, though he had nothing of the athlete about him to indicate it. He might be (or say that he was) excessively fond of animals and children, but it was obvious from his shock of brilliant red curls that his chest could not possibly be covered with a tangled mat of black. Just wait, she counseled herself, and Cecilie would see his weaknesses. She must.
As she followed them from place to place, only half listening to the bits of wisdom with which Lord Gale hoped to impress Cecilie, she caught herself wondering how the girl could possibly think th
is popinjay a man -when every day she had before her the example of the Earl - a gentleman of the first caliber. Of course, there was no accounting for taste and Cecilie was young and impressionable, easy prey for a man who knew how to offer extravagant compliments.
A sudden cry from Cecilie shattered her musings and with horror Aggie looked up to see Dillydums making his way across the crowded room by jumping from shoulder to elegant shoulder, with an occasional excursion across some frantic lady’s bonnet. “Oh, Aggie, do catch him!” Cecilie cried. “He’ll be so frightened.”
In indecision Aggie looked from Cecilie to the monkey. “Oh quick, he’ll be lost forever!” Cecilie cried, tears standing out in her eyes.
“Stay right here,” Aggie commanded, “until I get back.” Then she set out in pursuit of the monkey. It was not difficult to tell his direction since pandemonium seemed to follow in his wake. Several rather stout ladies had been so startled by his rapid advance across their ample shoulders that they had fallen victim to the spasms and were laid out prone upon the floor, being fanned and comforted by their hardier sisters.
Aggie tried to ignore the sharp looks that more than one patron of the exhibition gave her as she hurried on through the path of devastation. Finally, after skirting several fallen ladies, she reached the door and was most relieved to find that Dillydums had taken refuge in the arms of the man who guarded it. The monkey raised his little head and, spying Aggie, scrabbled into her arms.
“The little feller was just scared,” said the guard, glancing with contempt at the ladies whose palpitating hearts had so unnerved them. “And no wonder,” he continued, a twinkle in his eyes. “Them great creatures is enough to sceer anyone. And him such a little thing.” And he gave Aggie a wink.
A Matter of Honor Page 16
