In an effort to rouse Hester from her depression and apathy six years before, Lowell had taken out a subscription for her to Mr Garimond's Journal of the New Scientific and Philosophical Society. The fact that the Society was exclusively for gentlemen was disregarded.
Even he could not have foreseen its effect. Hester read it eagerly, and then, greatly daring, sent in a short article on the use of mathematics in ciphers. Lowell had helped to keep her identity secret by delivering it in London himself. To her delight, the article was accepted and for some years now, with Lowell's help, Hester had been sending articles in quite regularly. She called herself "Euclid", for Mr Garimond insisted that all his contributors used the names of famous mathematicians of the past.
For the past year or more Euclid had been engaged in a duel of wits with "Zeno", the Journal's senior contributor. Zeno usually wrote scholarly articles on the philosophy of mathematics, but in response to something Hester had written in that first article he had set Euclid a cipher puzzle. He challenged "him' to solve it before the month was out. This was now a regular feature, Mr Garimond acting as receiving office and umpire. Hester had just finished deciphering the latest, and it would soon go with Lowell to the Society's offices in London.
Lowell was waiting for her in her attic. "Any luck? Have you managed to persuade Mama? I heard the discussion as I came up."
"No," Hester said in a resigned tone. "I'm to be frizzed and primped and dressed up and paraded in London, somewhat long in the tooth, but apparently still hoping for a husband. Why, pray? So that some man can take me off home and assume he has the right to tell me how to act and what to think. I truly think the world is mad—to condemn, as it does, half of the human race to mindless nonentity. Things will change eventually I suppose— women won't tolerate it for ever. But it won't be in time to save me."
"Hold on, old thing! Not all men are unreasonable—as you ought to know." He spoke reproachfully. She went to him and hugged him.
"Oh, don't pay any attention to me, Lowell, I'm just totally out of humour at the idea of going to London again. I'm an ungrateful beast. You've been wonderful. I don't know what I would have done without you. But you wait and see! You're only twenty-two—still reasonably young. Another couple of years in society and you'll be like all the rest."
"No, I won't," he said stoutly. "But people do change in six years, you know. Perhaps some of those fellows might look at you differently now." Then he added casually, "I know you have this prejudice about Dungarran, but he seemed very pleasant when we met him in Northampton. He's probably forgotten what happened six years ago." When his sister remained silent he went on, "Hester, he can't have been as bad as you think him. Why do you mind him so much? Or was there something more? Something you haven't told me.
Hester's voice was muffled as she bent over the bureau, searching through her papers. "Whatever could there be? He was one of Hugo's friends and he did what Hugo asked him. He was kind enough to me until it all went wrong." She emerged from the bureau, somewhat flushed. "Did you want something, Lowell?"
"Well, I came to hear Mama's verdict. And I wondered if you had anything for the Journal. I'm out for the rest of the day and off to London early tomorrow morning. Have you anything for Garimond? If so, I could deliver it on Friday."
"Where are you going now?"
"To collect Henrietta from her dancing lesson.
I expect I'll spend the rest of the day at the Vicarage."
Hester suppressed a grin. Lowell had avoided his baby cousin like the plague only months ago, but he was now fascinated by her recent transformation into a very pretty young lady of fashion. She decided not to tease him, but said merely, "I have something but it isn't quite ready yet. I'll leave it in your room."
"What is it this time? Another article?"
"No, it's a new cipher they sent me, and I've finally cracked it. I'm rather pleased with myself, it was quite difficult. You see this line—''
"Don't try to explain, Hes!" Lowell said hastily. "I'll take your word for it. I wouldn't know where to begin."
Hester looked at him in some amusement. "Lowell, however do you convince Garimond that you're the author of these communications? You must meet him occasionally."
"Never. He's a bit of a mysterious bird himself. But I don't claim to be the author. I just deliver the envelope to an elderly cove at the Society's office in St James's Square."
"Lucky for us! It saves a few explanations— especially as you are so determined not to be another mathematician!"
"Lord, Hes, I wouldn't know how! But I'd give a lot to know what those clever codgers in St James's Square would say if they knew Euclid was a woman."
"It would give them all an apoplectic fit! But do take care not to let it out, Lowell—I don't give a pin for their apoplectic fits, but it would mean an end to my fun, too."
"I won't," her brother said confidently. "I like a bit of cloak-and-dagger work. When will the new stuff be ready?"
"It only wants a few corrections and then I'll write it out in my Euclid hand. I'll put it inside your overcoat before I go to bed."
"Right-eeo."
Lowell disappeared with a great deal of clattering down the stairs. Hester shook her head, then smiled fondly. He was a good brother.
She sat down at the bureau, took out her papers and put on her grandfather's spectacles which she had found with his things, and which she now found useful for close work. They never left the attic. But after a few minutes she took them off again and sat back. She was finding it difficult to concentrate. It was Lowell's fault for mentioning Dungarran's name. That and the knowledge that she could not avoid seeing the man again in London... Lowell was right. She hadn't told him everything. There was one scene that no one knew of. No one but herself and Dungarran. It wasn't surprising that she had wished never to face him again. He had appeared to be so kind, so interested in her—until she had found him out. It had very nearly broken her heart to find that her idol had feet of such poor clay... And even then she had refused to accept it. Hester's eyes strayed to the tiny window, but what she saw was not the green fields and trees of Northamptonshire but the drawing-rooms and streets of London in 1806...
Hester Perceval's preparation for her debut at seventeen was unusual. Her talents in the drawing-room were no more than adequate, but Mrs Guarding, a woman with advanced views on the education of women, had taken great pride in Hester's gift for languages and her agile mind. She had encouraged Hester to believe that an intelligent, informed woman could create interest in badly needed reforms, bring the rich, particularly those in London and the south, to appreciate the difficulties of the poor in the north.
An older and wiser Hester now knew better. Mrs Guarding was usually the most astute of women, but in Hester's case her enthusiasm had overcome her judgement. Social change has been brought about by intelligent Women. But such women have been mature, sophisticated matrons with an established position, women of tact and experience who know their world, not naive seventeen-year-olds with a strong sense of mission and no idea how to handle it.
All had gone well for the first few weeks after Hester's arrival in London in the spring of 1806. Her adored brother Hugo was ready to look after her and introduce her to his circle of friends, all of them prominent in the Ton. Feminine enough to enjoy the pretty dresses her mother had provided for her, she accepted with pleased surprise the compliments the gentlemen paid her on her appearance. Fascinated by life in the metropolis, at first she spoke little and observed much. She soon came to the conclusion that Mrs Guarding was right. Though society had been kind to her, it was all too frivolous, too uncaring. As soon as she had found her feet, she would start her campaign...
Meanwhile it was very pleasant to be looked after by Hugo's friends. It took a little time for her to become accustomed to their languid drawls, their refusal to take anything seriously, but it was flattering to a girl not yet eighteen to be attended by some of the most eligible young men in society. Even Dungarran, f
amous for his reluctance to put himself out for anyone—"Too fatiguin'!" was his favourite phrase—spent time teaching her the dance steps she had ignored at Mrs Guarding's. Elegant, handsome, with dark hair and cool grey eyes, he spoke less than the others, seldom paying her the pretty compliments she came to expect, but this did him no harm in Hester's opinion. There was an occasional glimmer of amusement in his eyes which intrigued her, but it was usually quickly replaced by his normal, indifferent courtesy. Though he evaded all her attempts at serious conversation, Hester was certain that behind the idle man of fashion there was an intelligence, an intellect she could respect. Inevitably, sadly, she was soon on the way to falling in love with him. She found herself listening for his lazy drawl, searching the crowds for a sight of his tall figure, always so immaculately dressed, rivalling Hugo in his calm self-possession. But though he was instantly welcome wherever he went, invited to every function, he was not always to be found. He seemed to come and go very much as he pleased. And as time went on he became even more elusive. Without him, life in London soon became very boring to Hester.
After a month, finding most conversations, even the compliments, tediously repetitive, she began her campaign. She would interrupt a frivolous discussion on the newest fashion for a collar, or Beau Brummell's latest ban mot, in order to comment on the condition of the workers in the north, or the passage of a bill for reform through Parliament. This was met with blank stares. When invited out for a drive she took to lecturing her companion on the greater role women could, and would, play in public life, or expressing a desire to be taken to the poorer districts of London in order to observe living conditions there. Needless to say, no one ever took her, but even the request caused the lifting of eyebrows...
Her mother saw what was happening but found herself powerless to stop it. Her remonstrances, her pleas to Hester to stop trying to reform society until she was better informed of its manners and customs, fell on deaf ears. Hugo warned her, his closer friends did their best to deflect her, but Hester remained obstinately idealistic, stubbornly sure that intelligent discussion could solve the problems of the world... The result was inevitable. Society began to ignore, then neglect her. The flow of compliments, the invitations to drive or ride, dried up quite suddenly as Miss Perceval was pronounced guilty of the worst sin of all. She was a bore. And not even a pretty one.
Chapter Three
At first Hester was puzzled rather than distressed. The young men around her had listened so charmingly. They had paid her such pretty compliments, taken such pleasure in her company. What was wrong? Why didn't they want to listen to her?
The awakening was painful. Alone, as she so often was, on a balcony overlooking one of the rooms in the Duchess of Sutherland's mansion, half hidden by long curtains, she heard a burst of laughter from below and then voices.
"I don't believe it! You must be making it up, Brummell! Are you trying to tell us that Hester Perceval actually took Addington to task on the question of Catholic emancipation? Addington!"
"My dear chap, every word of it is true, I swear." Hester looked cautiously over the balcony. Seven or eight young gentlemen were gathered underneath. She drew quickly back.
"Oh God!" There was despair in Hugo's voice. "What has she done now? What did he say?"
George Brummell was a born mimic. Addington's self-important tones were captured perfectly. "My dear Miss Perceval, how you can think I would discuss policies of His Majesty's Government with an impertinent chit of a girl I cannot imagine. And why the devil you should see fit to mention such a subject in Lady O'Connell's drawing-room has me even more at a loss."
Shouts of laughter, and applause. Then Hester strained forward as she heard Robert Dungarran's drawl.
"Poor girl! I know that blistering tone of Addington's."
"Come, come, Robert! Little Miss Cure-all deserved the set-down. She's an impudent ninny. What have politics to do with a woman? Their little brains simply aren't up to it!"
"Do tell me, George—are yours?"
More laughter, and the good-natured reply. "I've never tried t' fathom them—even if my health permitted me to try. Fatiguin' things, politics. All the same, Hugo, isn't it time you did something about the girl?"
"Quite right, Brummell!" The interruption came from Tom Beckenwaite. "Dammit, when I'm with a woman I don't want to think—that's not what they're for!" He gave a low laugh, which was followed by a chorus of ribald remarks. Hester was shocked. She had always regarded Lord Beckenwaite as a true gentleman. A fool, but a gentlemanly fool. He spoke again.
"The fact is, Hugo, old dear, you are wasting your time. Your little sister is incurable. And un-marriageable. Demme, there's a limit to what a fellow can stand! I'm as ready as the next man to do a friend a favour, but your sister is demned hard work, and that's not something I look for. She never stops talkin'! Ridin', drivin', dancin'—it's all the same! Talk, talk, talk!"
"Hugo—" Hester leaned forward again. This was Dungarran speaking. She smiled in anticipation. He would defend her against these asses. He seldom spoke but when he did it was always to the point. They would listen to him. His drawl was more pronounced than ever. "Hugo, I'm sorry to say it, but it's time you did something!"
"Not you too, Robert!" Hugo said resignedly.
"Have a word with Lady Perceval, old chap. Your wretched sister's behaviour is doing neither herself, nor anyone else, much good. She is too young, and much too foolish for life here. Get your mother to take her back to Nottingham, or Northampton or wherever it is you all come from. Perhaps the country air will blow away some of her silly notions. Bring her back when she's learned how to behave. But, please, not before."
Hugo said stiffly, "She never used to be like this, and I'm sorry for it. I don't know what my mother was thinking of, bringing her to London with her head full of such nonsense."
"It's not nonsense, exactly. Just absurd coming from your sister." Dungarran again. "It would be better suited to a graybeard with a corporation than a child out of the schoolroom. A girl into the bargain."
"I don't know what to say to you all. She's my sister and I love her, I suppose. But believe me, when I asked you all to give her a good start to the Season I never imagined it would be such hard work. You've been Trojans."
"Well, from now on, dear boy, your sister can lecture someone else. This Trojan is retiring to his tent. Wounded in the course of duty, you might say. Shall we look for the card-room?" A chorus of agreement faded as they went away, leaving Hester sitting in her chair staring into space. How could they talk of her like that! How dare they! Shallow, stupid... It was as if a veil had been ripped from her eyes. She could now see that their smiles had been sly, their compliments mere flattery, their attentions empty... She drew in a shuddering breath. They were all fools! Every one of them! Fashionable fools with no more brain than a pea! Heartless, brainless fools!...
"You're looking serious, my dear. Are you alone?"
She looked up. An elderly gentleman was gazing at her in concern. His face was vaguely familiar.
"Sir..." she stammered. "You must excuse me. I...I am a little...a little..." Her voice faded.
"My dear girl, you are clearly upset. How fortunate that I happened on your hiding place. Come. You shall have something to restore you, and then I shall take you back to your Mama. Or..." He eyed her speculatively. "Perhaps you would tell me more of the very interesting reforms in the north you've been studying?"
Hester looked at him in surprise. "I've talked to you before? I'm afraid..."
"No, but I was there when you were talking about them to Lady Castle. I found them quite absorbing. May I know more?"
This was balm to Hester's wounded pride. Here was a man of mature years, obviously distinguished, who, far from laughing at her, respected her views enough to want to hear more! What a contrast to those...fribbles of Hugo's, especially Dungarran! Here was someone who really appreciated her.
They talked for a moment or two, and never since she came to Lond
on had Hester had such an attentive listener. After a moment he winced as a burst of music came from below, and said, "I hardly dare suggest it, but we would be more private in the library. Of course, if you don't care for the idea we could continue to sit here..."
The temptation to sit there on the balcony, to be seen by people who did not appreciate her as they ought, was very strong. But he went on, "The Duchess has a splendid selection of books on the subject...?"
Books! She hadn't seen a book in weeks! Hester smiled and nodded with enthusiasm. She was too shy to ask him his name, but he clearly knew her family. There could be nothing wrong in accepting the invitation from such a very distinguished-looking old man. The cane he used to support him was of ebony with a silver-chased top. His coat was of blue velvet and the ribbon and diamonds of some sort of order was pinned to its front. His white hair was tied back in the old-fashioned way with a velvet ribbon. He was altogether the epitome of august respectability. Filled with pride at having attracted the attention of such a man, she accepted the arm he offered and let him guide her through the doors and on into the library. He led her to a sofa by the window. On a table next to it was a decanter filled with wine, and some glasses.
"Sit down, Miss Perceval. Will you have some wine?"
"I'm not sure... Why did you shut the door?"
"Do you not find the noise outside disturbing? You are young, of course. Your hearing is more acute than mine. Would you like me to open it again?''
"Oh no!"
An Unreasonable Match Page 3
