The Chocolate Debutante

by M C Beaton

  He saw a shadow cross her eyes and added quickly, “Not with my present company, I assure you. This is the first time in ages I have officially attended the Season. Before, when I came to London, I indulged in wilder games, trying to persuade myself I deserved a reward.”

  And part of the reward was Mrs. Palfrey, thought Harriet, but she said aloud, “You appear to have gained a reputation as a heartbreaker. How did you manage that if you did not attend the Season, were absent at the wars, and then on the land for so long?”

  “It was based on that stupid duel with Jeynes and then just before that I had an amour with a lady of the ton. I thought it was all very light and frivolous, and then she told me that she would prefer to be married in St. George’s in Hanover Square although she knew fashionable weddings were usually now not held in church. I told her that I had no intention of marrying her, had never said anything at all to give her that impression. She tried to commit suicide.”

  “How dreadful!”

  “It was rather dreadful for me, for it was a society suicide, that is, when the lady or gentleman makes sure that there are plenty of attendants to find them when they have taken enough laudanum to make it dramatic rather than fatal. I am well aware, Miss Tremayne, that I am telling you things I have never told anyone before and that such things should not be discussed with a gently bred lady. But there have been enough misunderstandings between us and I do not want any more, and so I would like to tell you about Mrs. Palfrey.”

  Harriet held up a hand. “Please, don’t.”

  “No,” he said firmly. “You must be made to understand. Mrs. Palfrey laughed about the scandal, made it plain that in her eyes our liaison was to be a business arrangement. Her lawyers met with my lawyers and the deal was struck. She was always light and amusing in, yes, I admit it now, often a malicious way. But I began to visit her less and less frequently. I did not think it mattered that much to her. I was unconsciously giving her time to set up a new amour. I never guessed at such depths of rage or jealousy. You must believe me.”

  “I suppose I must,” said Harriet. “But as I have told you, I have been out of the world and until this Season never heard any gossip and so it all seems strange. What will you do now? Set up another mistress?”

  “Miss Tremayne! Still, I suppose I deserved that. No, I will not, Miss Tremayne, and you know why.”

  She looked down at the water. It was very glassy and ripples like those on a Chinese painting ran out from the bows and sent a rolling wash undulating to the bank. She had not the courage to ask him what he meant, did not dare ask him. For if he simply said that his experience with Mrs. Palfrey had put him off women for life, then she knew she would be almost sick with disappointment.

  “We have been standing long enough listening to my chatter,” he said. He signaled again to a waiter and put their empty glasses on his tray. “We will sit and listen to the orchestra.”

  And so they sat side by side in amicable silence and listened to Mozart and the plash of the oars and the birdsong from either bank of the river.

  At Hampton Court a splendid repast had been laid out for the party on tables on the lawns by the river. Harriet and Lord Dangerfield appeared to neither hear nor see anyone else. Harriet, usually a stickler for good manners, kept forgetting to talk to the gentleman on her other side. She and the earl discussed books and plays, the war, the harvests, the state of the nation, all the subjects a man did not usually talk to a lady about.

  Wine was flowing liberally, as was usual at these affairs, and many of the gentlemen and a few of the ladies were becoming very drunk indeed. By the time they all rose to have a tour of the palace, several of the guests were under the table and many of the others were walking unsteadily around the rooms.

  All the while, Bertha covertly watched her friend’s glowing face and saw the tenderness in Lord Dangerfield’s eyes when he looked at Harriet. So it was Harriet all along, she thought with a burst of proprietary pride. For had not she helped Harriet to choose her modish clothes?

  The party next went outside and made for the maze. “Do you particularly want to see it?” Lord Dangerfield asked Harriet.

  She shook her head, so he tucked her arm in his and said, “We’ll take a gentle promenade in the grounds. Now, isn’t that a sad sight?”

  Servants were carrying the bodies of the guests who had drunk themselves into unconsciousness back onto the barge. The earl and Harriet moved into the formal gardens, talking easily about the plants and flowers. Harriet confessed that she knew little about gardening, and Lord Dangerfield said that despite his distress at his aunt’s legacy, he had benefited from it in that he was able to have the gardens at his home landscaped.

  And then they both heard someone ringing a hand bell as a signal that they were to return to the barge. Harriet made to leave, but he held her back. He turned her to him and looked down at her, at that passionate mouth.

  “No,” she said faintly, but he bent his head and covered her mouth with his own.

  The feelings she experienced were devastating. She found she could not hold back and returned his kiss with her whole heart. At last he held her tight and leaned his cheek against hers, feeling her body tremble against his own. The bell sounded once more. He took her arm again. “We do not want to be left behind,” he said.

  They walked back out of the gardens and down to the river.

  On the journey back, they sat side by side again, listening to the orchestra. The air had turned chilly, and Harriet summoned her maid, Lucy, who put a shawl about her shoulders. The folds of the shawl were draped over her hands, and her heart leapt into her mouth when the earl’s hand slid under the covering of the stole and clasped her own.

  And so hand-clasped, they both sat like people in a trance, unaware that the gossips of London society were studying the pair.

  “Look at Dangerfield,” said Lord Ampleforth sulkily to a friend. “Smelling of April and May and yet he would do nothing to help me further my suit with Miss Colville and now she is engaged to Courtney.”

  His friend drawled, “I wonder what Sir Thomas Jeynes will say to this. He’s been courting Miss Tremayne.”

  Lord Ampleforth grinned maliciously. “I’ll find out.”

  “How?”

  “I shall have great pleasure in telling him about this romance!”

  Harriet said good-bye to Lord Dangerfield at London Bridge. He stood beside her carriage after helping her in and said, “Tomorrow? Come driving with me.”

  “At what time?”

  “Two o’clock.”

  “Not the fashionable hour?” teased Harriet.

  “I am tired of being fashionable.”

  “Two o’clock, then,” said Harriet softly. He stood back and swept off his hat in a salute as her carriage moved off.

  Harriet had no intention of telling Susan about Lord Dangerfield, but she was annoyed to find the girl fast asleep in the middle of her bed, which looked as if a tornado had hit it. Susan lay in a pile of tumbled sheets and blankets, a pretty nightdress ridden up almost to her neck exposing her naked body.

  Giving an exclamation of impatience, Harriet tugged the nightgown down. Susan woke up immediately and Harriet saw with contrition the alarmed look in her eyes.

  “It is only me, Aunt Harriet,” she said.

  Susan sat up and looked wildly around. Then she hung over the edge of the bed and peered underneath.

  “Susan, Susan! That dreadful woman has gone. No one is here to harm you.”

  Susan appeared to relax. She stretched and yawned. Harriet noticed that there were shadows under her eyes and her mouth was very red and swollen.

  “I am going to call the physician,” said Harriet.

  “No, no, Aunt. Good heavens. You fuss over me too much.” Susan was now completely awake. “I did not tell you for fear of worrying you, but I did not sleep at all well last night because every time my eyes closed, I had nightmares. Did you have a good time?”

  “Yes, very pleasant. Susan! Wh
at is that bruise on your neck! It looks ugly.”

  Susan jumped down from the high bed and went over to the mirror and peered at herself. “Oh, that,” she said. “I remember. It was in the Rookeries. This dreadful old hag clawed at my neck just before Jack rescued me.”

  “Never mind, Susan. Charles will be back tomorrow. You both would have enjoyed the barge sail today. The weather was perfect.”

  “And how goes Sir Thomas?”

  “He could not attend. He is indisposed.”

  “Good.”

  “Susan!”

  “I cannot like him. He looks like a wolf. I keep expecting him to slaver at the jaws.”

  “That is enough! I am to go driving with Lord Dangerfield at two o’clock tomorrow.”

  “You are friends again?”

  “Yes,” said Harriet curtly. “Now, should Mr. Courtney or any other gentleman call while I am out, you are to entertain him or them in the drawing room with Lucy in attendance and the door open.”

  “Yes, Aunt,” said Susan meekly. “I am going to dress and I will join you downstairs and we can have a comfortable coze.”

  There had been nothing up with Sir Thomas. He had merely not wanted to spend a day with boring Harriet. He was in his club that evening when he found himself being hailed by young Lord Ampleforth.

  “Tol rol,” said Lord Ampleforth by way of greeting. “You missed the boat today.”

  “Couldn’t be bothered.”

  “In fact, you missed the boat in more ways than one. Dangerfield and Miss Tremayne are sooooo in love.”

  “Fustian! She does not like to breathe even the same air as he.”

  “Well, I was there and you weren’t and they had eyes only for each other.”

  Sir Thomas scowled horribly and then demanded, “And what is that to me?”

  “Thought you’d like to know,” said Ampleforth amiably, and drifted off.

  Dammit, thought Sir Thomas savagely. Verity was right all along.

  His first idea was to hurry around to Harriet’s and drip what poison he could into her ear about the earl. But if she were as enamored with Dangerfield as young Ampleforth thought her to be, then that might serve only to turn her against him.

  His busy brain rattled through various possibilities, and then he remembered the name Barncastle, Miss Barncastle of South Audley Street. What would that clutch of spinsters think of one of their sisters falling prey to such as Lord Dangerfield? He leaned back in his chair and picked up his glass of wine. Miss Tremayne might not listen to him, but she would listen to them.

  Lord Dangerfield planned to take Harriet for a quiet drive to the Surrey fields, where he meant to kiss that beautiful mouth again and ask her to marry him. He was later to wonder why he had left the proposal so long, for the day turned out to be a disaster.

  The traffic in Piccadilly was very bad. Furthermore, a brewer’s dray had overturned, temporarily blocking the street.

  Harriet passed the time until they could move on by telling Lord Dangerfield her worries about Susan. “I found her when I returned yesterday, fast asleep. She said she had been having bad nightmares and the sheets and blankets were all twisted. The poor child had shadows under her eyes and her mouth was very red and swollen. I hope she did not get an infection in the Rookeries. And she had such a bruise on her neck. She said in the Rookeries, some hag attacked her.”

  “My poor innocent,” said the earl.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I happen to know Courtney was returned yesterday, not today. I may have an evil mind, but if I found a young lady lying in a pile of twisted sheets with shadows under her eyes, swollen lips, and what sounds remarkably like a love bite on her neck, I would assume nightmares were the very last thing she had been having.”

  “You mean…?” Harriet looked at him aghast.

  “I should think so. And there is something else.”

  “There cannot be!”

  “It has been nagging at my mind that Mrs. Palfrey seemed remarkably well informed about your household. One of your servants is not loyal. She must have known exactly when and how to deliver that note. Had you not been asleep, you would have demanded to know the contents, would you not?”

  “Oh, this is too much. We must return.”

  “As you will. But you must allow me some time to turn my carriage in this press.”

  Although he completed the operation quite quickly, Harriet felt they were taking an age to return to Berkeley Square.

  Once there, she hurried before him into the house. The butler in answer to her questions said that Miss Susan had gone to lie down. Mr. Courtney had called but had stayed only ten minutes.

  “Did you see him leave?” asked the earl.

  “No, my lord, but Miss Susan sent for me and told me that she had sent Lucy out to buy silks, Mr. Courtney had left, and that she was going to her room and did not want to be disturbed.

  Her face grim, Harriet mounted the stairs, followed by the earl. “Would you like me to go to her bedchamber?” he asked.

  “No, she is my niece and I will deal with her.”

  They stood together for a moment outside Susan’s bedroom door. “Better get it over with,” said the earl, and threw open the door.

  Charles Courtney and Susan were lying on top of the bed together, arms tightly around each other, mouths devouring each other. They had all their clothes on, which should have relieved Harriet, but she was too shocked at Susan’s abandonment to see clearly. She would have run to the bed to pull Susan from it, but the earl drew her back.

  “Wait!” he commanded.

  He said softly, “Susan is still an innocent and you may say too much while you are so shocked. Leave this to me.” He raised his voice and shouted, “Miss Tremayne orders that both of you present yourselves in the drawing room as soon as you have made yourselves respectable.”

  Harriet allowed him to lead her downstairs. “Now, now,” he said gently. “It is not so terrible. They are betrothed.”

  “He was eating her, or that’s what it looked like.”

  “People deeply in love do kiss like that.”

  Harriet blushed a deep, mortified red. “I have failed as her aunt, as her chaperone. Such behavior is not that of a lady.”

  “If such behavior were not that of a lady, then the population would decline rapidly and the aristocracy would die out.”

  “Passions are for the vulgar.”

  “A stupid idea. Search your own heart, Harriet. Think of the kisses we exchanged at Hampton Court.”

  Harriet twisted a fold of her skirt in her fingers and looked at the floor. It suddenly occurred to her at that moment, despite the turmoil of her feelings about Susan, that he had kissed her and she had kissed him back, and yet he had said no word of love. He had not declared his intentions. He should have declared his intentions. He had not. And she had been prepared to go out with him that very day and unescorted by any maid or footman, too. She colored again, unaware that he was watching her with affectionate amusement.

  The door opened slowly and Charles and Susan entered hand in hand, looking sheepish.

  “Young man,” said Lord Dangerfield, “it would be as well if you went this day and got a special license. I am sure Miss Tremayne will agree with me. You may make the explanation to your parents and Miss Colville’s parents purely romantic. To put it bluntly, if you do not hurry up, you will be leading a pregnant girl to the altar. No! I know you have kept within reasonable bounds so far, but how long will it last?”

  “I am so dreadfully sorry,” said Charles.

  Susan walked forward. “Pooh! What a fuss about nothing.”

  “You tricked me, Susan,” said Harriet. “Mr. Courtney, I am sadly disappointed in you. I am shocked. Take yourself off. Until the wedding, which I trust will be as soon as possible—and how I am to explain that to her parents I do not know—you are to behave yourselves.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” mumbled Mr. Courtney.

  “I will leave you, too,”
said Lord Dangerfield, “but I am going only as far as the servants’ hall to see if I can find out which one was reporting your movements to Mrs. Palfrey. Do not be too hard on your niece, Miss Tremayne. Such things may shock your sensibilities, but they are very human.” He smiled at her, but she turned her face from his.

  After an hour’s diligent questioning, Dangerfield discovered that a housemaid had left Harriet’s employ the day after Susan’s abduction, that she had often been absent from work, and that she seemed to have more money than a servant of her class should have. Satisfied at last, he returned upstairs to be told by the butler that Miss Tremayne had gone to lie down and begged to be excused. He told the butler to make sure Miss Tremayne learned the name of the guilty servant and also that she no longer had anything to fear, and took himself off.