The Toast of the Town

by Alice Chetwynd Ley

  The Toast of the Town

  Alice Chetwynd Ley

  © Alice Chetwynd Ley 1999

  Alice Chetwynd Ley has asserted her rights under the Copyright, Design and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as the author of this work.

  First published in 1968 by Robert Hale.

  This edition published in 2016 by Endeavour Press Ltd.

  To our

  dear Helen Diana

  Table of Contents

  CHAPTER 1

  Angry Young Man

  CHAPTER 2

  Reckless Young Woman

  CHAPTER 3

  The Doctor Pays A Visit

  CHAPTER 4

  The Wager

  CHAPTER 5

  Anne Hume Mends A Coat

  CHAPTER 6

  Georgy Scores A Hit

  CHAPTER 7

  Freddy Is Optimistic

  CHAPTER 8

  The Rescue

  CHAPTER 9

  Two In A Gig

  CHAPTER 10

  Freddy Talks

  CHAPTER 11

  Two’s Company

  CHAPTER 12

  The Eavesdropper

  CHAPTER 13

  A Reproof From Hugh

  CHAPTER 14

  The Morning After

  CHAPTER 15

  Brief Ecstasy

  CHAPTER 16

  Georgy In London

  CHAPTER 17

  Lady Routledge’s Soirée

  CHAPTER 18

  Intercession

  CHAPTER 19

  Susan Takes A Risk

  CHAPTER 20

  An Heir For Beau Eversley

  CHAPTER 1

  Angry Young Man

  Darkness had fallen, and the watchman had already started on his rounds; but judging by the commotion in Curzon Street, it might still have been broad daylight. There was a constant clatter of wheels and hoofs as carriage after carriage passed over the uneven cobbles. Link boys ran here and there carrying flares to light the chairmen, who jostled each other and exchanged rough jests in a strong Irish brogue as they plodded along bearing their elegant burdens.

  Outside my lord Eversley’s house, which was ablaze with light, the vehicles and sedan chairs halted to discharge occupants attired for the most part in the first style of fashion. The visitors made their way up the red-carpeted steps to the bright, welcoming interior of the house, where footmen resplendent in handsome blue livery waited to announce them in sonorous tones to Viscount Eversley and his family.

  ‘My lord Pamyngton!’ intoned a footman. ‘My lord Curtoise and Miss Waverley! Mr. Sheridan!’

  Richard Brinsley Sheridan, renowned alike as a politician and a playwright, advanced towards his hosts to make his bow. As he did so, he took stock of them with the keen eye that had observed and noted so many of the follies and foibles of his day.

  He had often enough heard them called the irresistible Eversleys. Well, there was some truth in it, he acknowledged, seeing them all standing together. They were a strikingly handsome family, with their arresting tawny hair and almost classical cast of features. The eldest son, Hugh — known to the Town as Beau Eversley — had the advantage of his two brothers in height, and also in elegance of manner. The middle one, George, was more stockily built, and had the look of a sportsman. Close to his side was the pale, mousy little girl to whom he had recently become betrothed. What a fool the chit was, reflected Sheridan, to stand next to Viscount Eversley’s younger daughter, Georgiana!

  For Georgiana Eversley was undoubtedly the kind of female whom men looked at twice, and then again as often and as lingeringly as opportunity permitted. It was not so much that she was an uncommonly handsome female, either, the playwright decided with unerring perception. Her real attraction lay in the sheer vitality of her, which shone from her exciting green eyes, and showed in every slightest movement of her supple body.

  His glance passed reluctantly from Georgiana to her elder sister Evelina, whose married name was Cunningham and in whom traces of the same allure lingered. Last of the Eversley brood was Frederick, a young man of nineteen who gave promise of being his brother Hugh all over again.

  There was someone missing, though, thought Sheridan with a slight frown. Yes, of course, it was Beau Eversley’s wife, the dark little female with the elfin face and big, dreamy eyes that so patiently worshipped her husband. His glance ranged about, and eventually discovered Susan Eversley sitting close by among a group of dowagers. He smiled; the little creature could manage to look pretty even when she was breeding, it seemed. She was really very like her Mama, the spirited Maria. He must go and pay his respects. Yes, undoubtedly the Eversleys were an interesting family, and with a streak of wildness — if all accounts were true — which was not unexpected in people with hair of that colour. Material for a play? He smiled to himself, remembering the success of ‘The School for Scandal’ and of his more recent, though very different production ‘Pizarro’. One never knew; sometimes material would lie dormant in the creative mind for years, before bursting into urgent life. Time would show.

  After Mr. Sheridan had made his bow to Susan and passed on to join a group of other acquaintances, Georgiana Eversley came over to her sister-in-law and slipped into a vacant chair beside her.

  ‘I fear this is going to be a vastly tedious affair,’ she whispered in Susan’s ear. ‘I am bored to death already, and I’m sure you must be, in such company.’

  She flashed a look at the group of dowagers gathered round Susan, and made a wry face. She particularly disliked the small, sharp-featured lady who sat on Susan’s other side. This was Mrs. Curshawe, mother of George’s betrothed, and well known for her acid tongue.

  ‘Nothing of the kind!’ returned Susan, with a laugh. ‘I have been having a most entertaining conversation with Mr. Sheridan. He is one of the few people, you know,’ she added, lowering her voice, ‘to whom I can speak of my mother, for naturally he knows her as an actress.’

  ‘Well, let us hope that your neighbour didn’t hear you at it,’ said Georgiana, ‘or it will be all over Town by morning! Really, Sue, can you imagine whatever George can possibly see in that insipid Caroline Curshawe? I dare swear she never says or does anything that Mama hasn’t first approved — and just imagine how that limits the possibilities!’

  ‘She is only eighteen,’ whispered Susan, with a guilty look in Mrs. Curshawe’s direction.

  ‘If she lives to be eighty, she’ll never be anything but a dead bore,’ asserted Georgiana. ‘Her brother’s just the same — and believe it or not, Sue, Hugh’s been such a muttonhead as to ask all three of them to join us at Fulmer Towers next month! I declare I think I shall cry off altogether!’

  ‘But you can’t — he’s asked Lord Pamyngton, too, and you know very well that Pam won’t enjoy it unless you are there.’

  ‘Stuff!’ Georgiana tossed her red-gold curls, which tonight were piled high on her head in Grecian style, and confined by a green and gold ribbon. ‘Pam won’t complain while there are men enough in the house to make up a shooting party, or some other sporting expedition. It’s altogether too much to ask me to endure the company of all the Curshawe family at once!’

  ‘Hush, she will hear you,’ whispered Susan, with a warning glance at her neighbour.’

  ‘Much I care,’ retorted the irrepressible Georgy. ‘But if you’re afraid of being overheard, let’s move, Sue — I’m sure you would like a glass of lemonade, or something, and there will be no one in the refreshment room at present, so we can be as unguarded as we wish in what we say.’

  Susan obligingly rose, and with a quick word of excuse to the older ladies accompanied her sister-in-law across the crowded salon in the direction of the refreshment room.

/>   ‘And to think George once fancied you!’ went on Georgiana, in disgust. ‘It’s beyond belief that he could turn to such a — mouse — as Caroline Curshawe after that!’

  Susan coloured a little. ‘That was a long time ago, Georgy — and, anyway, you know very well it was only calf-love.’ She laughed. ‘Do you not recall how quickly he recovered from it when I made him drive me to my grandfather’s house in Middlesex, and his favourite horse injured itself on the way? I never saw such a change in anyone — 1 should have found it most upsetting, had it not happened to be the very thing I was praying for!’

  ‘Oh, yes!’ Georgy laughed in her turn. ‘But a horse, Sue! You cannot expect to compete with such a powerful rival! You must know by now, even if you didn’t realize it then, that the Eversley men think the world of their horses.’

  ‘All the same,’ said Susan, as they threaded their way among small groups of people who were chatting together, ‘I think Caroline’s exactly the kind of girl he needs. She has an amiable, yielding disposition, and George likes to have his own way. Surely that promises well for their domestic happiness?’

  Georgiana made a face. ‘Domestic happiness! Is that the recipe you and Hugh have for it? One to do all the giving, and the other all the taking? It wouldn’t suit me, I promise you! Not unless I am to be the one who’s doing the taking!’

  By now they had reached the room where some light refreshments were set out. Georgiana guided Susan to a chair, and handed her a glass from the tray which was quickly brought over to them by a watchful footman.

  ‘We shall be out of earshot, here, at any rate,’ she went on, looking around. ‘For a while, that is to say. It will fill up presently — or someone will come in search of us.’

  Susan sippd her lemonade, considering her sister-in-law thoughtfully over the rim of the glass. She and Georgiana were old friends, for they had been at school together. She knew she could speak frankly.

  ‘I’m worried about you, Georgy,’ she said, at last.

  Georgiana arched her delicate eyebrows and smiled incredulously. ‘About me? Why?’

  Susan frowned, her dark eyes troubled. ‘You seem so restless, my love. I can’t help feeling that you would be a great deal happier if you were to marry.’

  Georgy gave a short laugh. ‘Oh, it’s always the same with you wedded folk! You can’t wait to hustle everyone else into your state of slavery. I’m very well as I am, I thank you. I am mistress of my father’s home, and more or less free to do as I please. What possible advantages could marriage bestow on me? It’s different for girls who are subject to tiresome parental rule — such females may very well wish to have an establishment of their own.’

  ‘But do you not find yourself longing for a companion to share your life, for children? Surely when you see my little Maria you must wish that you, too, had a child!’

  Georgy laid a gentle hand on Susan’s arm. ‘Your baby Maria is a darling, Sue, and I love her as dearly as even you could wish. But why should I be at the trouble of getting my own children, when evidently you mean to keep me well supplied with delightful nieces and nephews? Besides, I fear I should make but an indifferent Mama.’

  ‘You can’t tell,’ said Susan, wisely, ‘you may fancy you are not the least little bit maternal, but when you hold your own baby in your arms, it’s a different story, believe me! But never mind that, Georgy — that’s to come later. Tell me truly, now; is there no gentleman of all the many who pay you attentions, whom you would care to wed?’

  Georgiana shook her head decisively.

  ‘Not even my Lord Pamyngton?’ persisted Susan. ‘I’ve often watched you together, and it seemed to me that you had a certain — liking — for him.’

  ‘Oh, Pam!’ Georgy’s mouth curved in a smile. ‘He’s prodigious fun — the more so because he’s quite content to indulge in a little light flirtation without trying to push matters to a declaration. Come to think of it, I don’t believe his interest in me is any more serious than mine in him. That’s what makes his company more agreeable to me than that of almost anyone else.’ ‘All the same, I think you’re wrong. I believe him to be very taken with you. He’s biding his time, mark my words.’

  ‘Stuff!’ replied Georgy, lightly. ‘Every man who escorts me to a ball doesn’t have to be in love with me, you know!’

  ‘But most of them are,’ retorted Susan. ‘You’ve had at least five offers of marriage, to my knowledge.’ ‘Six,’ amended Georgy, her green eyes dancing mischievously. ‘Seven, if you count Walter Shayne asking me twice.’

  ‘There! You see, you’re quite the toast of the Town!’ exclaimed Susan. ‘And much good it does you, you ungrateful creature — with all those suitors, you still cannot find one to your liking.’

  ‘Pooh, they’re all the same,’ said Georgy scornfully. ‘Except Pam, that is. He’s a little different from the rest. But don’t think’ — she rounded accusingly on Susan, in time to catch a complacent look on her sister-in-law’s face — ‘that I mean to marry him, or indeed anyone! I’m quite content as I am.’

  ‘And why not? Any lady might be content with much less,’ drawled a lazy voice. ‘Shame on you, Miss Georgiana, for hiding yourself away like this! It’s positively shabby, I declare! Mrs. Eversley, your husband is looking all over for you, with a very harassed expression on his face. I must put him out of his misery at once, poor fellow — but here he comes, I see.’

  Both ladies looked up. The speaker was a tall, elegant man in his middle twenties, wearing the full evening dress of dark coat, white waistcoat and knee breeches, and with his fair hair swept back in the fashionable Brutus crop. Georgy’s face coloured a little as she looked into the twinkling eyes of Viscount Pamyngton. Could he possibly have failed to hear the rest of her speech? She and Susan had been too intent on their conversation to notice him at once.

  If he had heard, he gave no sign. ‘I was hoping to persuade you to dance,’ he continued, extending his hand with the evident intention of assisting her to rise.

  ‘May I hope for that pleasure? Or aren’t you in the mood for dancing at present?’

  ‘Why not?’ Georgy shrugged white shoulders which were attractively displayed by her low-cut gown of gold silk and gauze: emerald eardrops quivered and flashed with the movement. She rose lazily, and placed her hand lightly on his arm. ‘Lead on, Pam.’

  Beau Eversley took the seat which his sister had just left, and drew his wife’s small hand into his own firm clasp. ‘And how is my love?’

  She dimpled at him. ‘Oh, splendid, Hugh — never better!’ She stared thoughtfully after the retreating forms of Georgiana and Viscount Pamyngton. ‘What is to become of Georgy, dearest? Do you think she will wed my Lord Pamyngton, after all?’

  ‘God only knows.’ Evidently the subject did not greatly interest him. ‘She likes him well enough, it seems.’

  ‘I wish she would decide on someone!’ said Susan, with a small sigh. ‘She is for ever receiving offers, but no one seems to suit her. All of them have been eligible in every way — excepting old Sir Percival Codicote,’ she added, with a shudder, ‘and no one could like him! But so handsome and spirited as she is, and already one and twenty … Surely she must be capable of falling in love with someone?’

  He laughed. ‘I see you are just like all the other females, after all — matchmakers, the lot of you! Oh, yes, I’m very sure that Georgy’s capable of falling in love, right enough. The thing is, being such a contrary female, she’s probably waiting until someone totally ineligible turns up!’

  Susan was not the only member of the family to speculate about Georgy’s matrimonial future. Evelina Cunningham had just been boring her husband with the same theme, when she was interrupted by her brother George coming up to them.

  ‘Do me a kindness, Eve, and help entertain a friend of mine,’ he said, hurriedly. ‘The thing is, he scarcely knows anyone here; and what with doing the gallant by Caro, I can’t find much time to take him in tow, myself. Getting engaged plays the very devil with
a fellow’s private life — things will be easier when we’re married, for she can’t expect that I should dance attendance on her, then — a fine cake I should look, shouldn’t I? Not the thing at all to have a husband hanging about his wife — no offence meant, Cunningham?’

  Cunningham grunted, and Eve laughed. ‘Oh, George, you are impossible! Very well, where is this friend of yours?’

  ‘He’s over there, talking to Caro,’ replied George, with a gesture of his head.

  Evelina looked towards Caroline Curshaw, and saw that her companion was a young man with a crop of dark brown, curling hair. He was wearing a deep blue coat which fitted rather too tightly over his broad shoulders, and his cravat was negligently tied, but nevertheless there was an air of assurance about him.

 
  ‘Oh, yes — bruising rider, boxing, cricket — anything in that line,’ replied George. ‘A devil to go, is old Jock — I knew him when I was up at Oxford. Hadn’t seen him for years, and chanced across him the other day, in St. James’s St., so naturally I asked him here tonight. But I fancy such affairs aren’t much in his line. Come over, and I’ll present him to you.’

  The young man, whose name neither Eve nor her husband quite managed to catch, was duly presented, and remained chatting to them for some time in a voice that held traces of a Scottish accent. Eventually he offered diffidently to lead Eve into the dance, and she accepted.

  ‘You’ll find me a shady rusty, ma’am,’ he apologized, as they took their places. ‘It’s some time since I attempted anything of the kind!’

  With all the charm of the accomplished hostess that she was, Evelina set his fears at rest. But as the dance progressed, she could see that he had little need to apologize. He moved with a natural grace that a practised performer might have envied. At one stage, they passed close to Georgiana, who was dancing with Pamyngton, and he turned his head to look at her for a moment