by Lynn Morris
Mirabella whispered back, “Aye, verily, but I am constrained to turn from such iniquity, and not regard it forever.”
Giles arrived with the Smythes, and the proper greetings, curtsies, and bows took place. Although Mirabella and Rosalind had deftly planned the seating arrangements, the Smythes were not aware of their assignments, and took seats that proved most satisfactory to Rosalind, and most unsatisfactory to Mirabella. Mrs. Smythe, at Lady Camarden’s invitation, took the seat next to her with apparent bliss, and Mr. Smythe sat by his wife. To Mirabella’s consternation, Giles held out the seat by him, and Barbara sat down, smiling up at him. Now she sat in the second row between Giles and Denys.
Harry then came to Josephine in the front row, and requested the honor of sitting next to her.
Josephine turned to Mirabella and asked, “Do you mind?”
Mirabella was still staring at Giles and Barbara and answered absently, “What? But I—oh. Oh, no, of course I don’t mind, dearest.”
For a moment Mirabella considered asking if she might sit between Giles and Barbara. She had, after all, wanted to have some time with Barbara.
Then the wild absurdity of such a request—not to mention the rudeness—hit Mirabella. Also, a small timid voice somewhere in the back of her mind mumbled, But wouldn’t it be less intrusive, maybe even fitting, to sit between Denys and Barbara? After all, you are considering him as a suitor, and he knows it and seems to welcome it, and that way you could also sit by your friend, as you intended.
But that was not at all what Mirabella wanted, and angrily she silenced this bizarre Other Person talking in her head.
So what did she want?
No, no, no, just stop it this instant. This entire…thing…idea…train of thought is ludicrous! What difference does it make where everyone is sitting? That’s right, it makes no difference at all!
But as she watched Giles and Barbara, their heads close together, speaking in low tones, she realized that she was in truth nettled at the sight. She told herself that on her right, Josephine and Harry were talking, and on her left, Rosalind and Lord Trevor were talking privately, and that it was perfectly permissible and proper for them to do so. It so happened that in such a small group the ladies and gentlemen engaged in conversations as couples—
Couples? Giles and Barbara Smythe—a couple?
This upset Mirabella, and then she was puzzled as to why she was so upset, and then she grew vexed at herself for being upset, and then her thoughts were thrown into so much turmoil that she wished she could just get up and leave, and get some fresh air, and be alone for a while to sort it all out.
But that was impossible, of course. With a tremendous effort she wrenched her mind back to her surroundings. She realized that Denys must have said something to her, for he was staring at her with that quizzical expression of one who has spoken to a companion who is paying no attention at all. Then she became aware that not only Denys, but everyone in the loose circle was looking at her. Apparently the conversation had changed from couples (Mirabella still mentally stuttered over the word) to general group discourse.
Smiling brightly, she said, “Oh, I do beg your pardon, I was woolgathering. You are all looking at me so expectantly, I surmise that someone has spoken to me, so I’ll summon my wits and try to behave like a civilized human being.”
Gallantly Denys said, “Please, madam, you could never be other than the most elegant and gracious of ladies. We were discussing opera, and I said that though I enjoy Così Fan Tutte and Le Nozze di Figaro, I prefer opera seria to opera buffa, which I find a light and frothy diversion. In contrast, opera seria, such as Gluck’s Orfeo ed Euridice, Purcell’s Dido and Aeneas, and Handel’s Tamerlano present noble, eternal, tragic themes that enrich both the understanding and the soul. Knyvet said you would disagree with me, and I was interested in your thoughts.”
Mirabella felt suddenly impatient with Denys’s airs, and she answered somewhat brusquely, “Certainly opera seria consists of eternal and tragic themes, since generally they all ultimately end with death. But opera buffa is no less thought-provoking, for it, too, illustrates timeless themes. Così Fan Tutte deals with fidelity and loyalty, and Le Nozze di Figaro explores such human concerns as the complexity of love, and betrayal and forgiveness. Simply because opera buffa incorporates the element of merriment and appeals to one’s sense of amusement, such as do satire and parody, it does not necessarily mean that it is any less profound.”
Denys looked bemused, and Giles said, “I did try to warn you, Aldington. Leave it, you can’t win.”
Barbara sighed deeply. “I have no pretensions to such clever insights. In fact, I have difficulty understanding most opera on any count, for although I can speak French tolerably well, my Italian is lamentable. I’m not even certain exactly what Così Fan Tutte means.”
Airily Giles said, “The literal translation is ‘Thus Do They All,’ but it’s understood to mean ‘Thus Do All Women,’ or ‘Women Are Like That.’”
Spiritedly Mirabella retorted, “Oh, yes, understood by men, by misogynists. I must point out that it was Ferrando and Guglielmo that placed a wager on their fiancées’ faithfulness, and then proceeded to try to seduce each other’s fiancée. If that’s not betrayal, I cannot imagine how you would define it.”
Giles said, “I must agree with you, for the subtitle is Ossia la Scuola Degli Amanti, ‘The School for Lovers,’ not ‘The School for Ladies,’ and so it’s obvious that Mozart never intended to besmirch the ladies only. However, I must take exception to you naming me a misogamist. I don’t hate marriage, at all.”
In a high and unnatural voice Mirabella said, “Marriage! Who was talking about marriage? I certainly wasn’t!”
Gently Josephine said, “Mirabella, it was a malapropism, you see. Misogamist, not misogynist.”
Mirabella stared at her. “Oh. Oh, yes, of course. Misogamy.” She looked around at the group. Harry and Barbara looked bewildered, Denys looked confused, Lord Trevor looked amused, while Rosalind had the tolerant half-smile on her face that people tended to assume when they had no idea of the point of the joke. Giles grinned and winked at Mirabella, which for some reason irritated Mirabella even more.
The intermission ended. Mirabella found that now she had a difficult time concentrating on the performance. Her thoughts were still in a whirl, mostly of speculation about Giles and Barbara Smythe. Again and again she tried to focus on the splendid music, but she kept finding that her attention wandered. She told herself that it was because she was distracted; behind her Denys kept whispering to Barbara. Mirabella assumed that he was whispering translation to her, so as not to embarrass her. Again, she couldn’t hear the words over the music, but she did keep hearing the sibilant s’s that are so keenly audible to the human ear. By the time the performance had ended Mirabella’s nerves were so taut that she felt she could cheerfully strangle Denys Aldington. The vehemence of her emotions was an unpleasant surprise to Mirabella, as the offense was so trivial and innocuous. Generally she was not so highly strung. Severely she told herself to calm down and stop acting like an insane person.
The second intermission arrived, for as usual in the theatre, there was a second production. It was to be Thomas Dibdin’s pantomime, Harlequin and Mother Goose; or, The Golden Egg. Giles, Lord Trevor, and Denys begged leave to go and visit acquaintances in the other boxes, a common pleasant intermission diversion for the gentlemen and one strictly forbidden to the ladies. Mr. and Mrs. Smythe, with effusive thanks, took their leave, asserting that they rarely stayed for second productions due to the lateness of the hour. They secured Lady Camarden’s assurance that she would not mind chaperoning Miss Smythe, and said they would send back the carriage for Harry and Barbara.
Lady FitzGeorge, deprived of the male company she seemed to prefer, talked to Lord and Lady Camarden—mostly Lord Camarden, Mirabella noted wryly. Her father was immune to flirting, he seemed utterly tone-deaf to it, and her mother knew it. Lady Camarden’s expression was one
of narrow, dry amusement.
Josephine and Harry were talking together quietly, and Mirabella took the opportunity to sit down by Barbara. After some small talk, Mirabella said brightly, “It seems that you and Sir Giles have become friends. He’s a lot of fun, isn’t he?”
“Oh, yes, he’s witty and clever and a most congenial gentleman,” Barbara agreed, blushing a little. “He’s very kind to me.”
“He is a kind man, I suppose,” Mirabella said. “Although he does tease me unmercifully.”
“But that’s not unkindness, he enjoys matching wits with you, for you’re fully as sharp-witted as he. I’m not nearly so intelligent, so he treats me differently.”
“Barbara, you are not unintelligent, it’s merely that there’s a wide variance between peoples’ interests, education, background, and tastes. Mm—how, precisely, would you say that he treats you?”
Her smooth brow wrinkled. “He’s one of the few gentlemen that actually take an interest in what I have to say, in my opinions, in my viewpoint. At least, he appears to; as I said, he may simply be kind.”
“No, Giles is not artificial in that way,” Mirabella said thoughtfully. “It seems you’ve had opportunity for much conversation with him. Isn’t that—well, rather unusual? What I mean is, it’s so difficult for a single young lady to have any meaningful conversation with a gentleman, our discourse with them is so restricted, as we’re always so closely chaperoned, and critically observed, too, in social situations.”
“That is generally true, but I’ve found that Mamma has eased her fanatical hawk-eyed oversight of me this Season. I think that she’s come to trust me more, and also she’s seen that Harry takes very good care of me. As for my friendship with Sir Giles, it’s really because of Harry. He and Sir Giles and Captain Rosborough have been spending much time together, and so naturally I see Sir Giles, and Captain Rosborough, more than I see other gentlemen.”
“What do you mean? How does that come about?” Mirabella said in a tone much sharper than she had intended.
Barbara seemed not to notice, however. “Sir Giles and Captain Rosborough call almost every day to see Harry, for they’ve gotten into the habit of going to the Great Piazza Coffee House for breakfast. Also the three of them much enjoy Gentleman Jackson’s saloon, and Angelo’s Fencing Academy, and Sir Giles and Captain Rosborough are always dropping in to see if Harry wants to accompany them. One day they all took me and Mamma to Gunter’s, and Sir Giles and I sat together and talked for the longest time about the different confections we liked, and the ones we hated. And now Mamma allows me to ride in the park with only my groom and Harry as chaperones, although I’m only allowed to ride the Ladies’ Mile, and not Rotten Row. Often Sir Giles and Captain Rosborough ride with us.”
This so nonplussed Mirabella that for long moments she said nothing. Her mind furiously darted around, thinking that here was the reason she’d seen so little of Giles, this was why he and Lewin weren’t coming to breakfast or calling at the town house, this was why she hadn’t seen them in Hyde Park, for Mirabella drove only on Rotten Row.
Finally she managed to say, “You’re a fortunate young lady, then, to have two eligible bachelors so accessible. Most of us have to go through contortions to get a sentence or two alone with them. Tell me, darling, do you, perhaps, enjoy a pantomime more than you enjoy opera? It seems most people do.”
Barbara’s childlike blue eyes sparkled. “I must admit that I do, at least pantomimes are in English. Don’t you find Mr. Grimaldi’s performances to be absolute genius? He’s so skillful, so acrobatic, so athletic, he’s truly a marvel at physical comedy…”
While Barbara continued with her raptures, Mirabella was thinking that she and her parents and Giles must be the only people in London who found pantomimes and farce boring. To Mirabella the slapstick humor, sophomoric antics, stock characters, and unvarying plots could be truly entertaining only to children, like Punch and Judy shows.
Mirabella determined to forget, or at least put aside for the moment, the worrying questions she had about Giles’s relationship with Barbara. She listened to her friend with affectionate indulgence, for Barbara was so sweetly innocent, so full of childlike delight, that Mirabella couldn’t help but enjoy her company.
Finally the gentlemen returned. As Mirabella was sitting by Barbara, Giles again sat down on Barbara’s left, and Denys Aldington sat by Mirabella. Mirabella felt a momentary pang, thinking that in the past, in such shufflings in the box, Giles had always taken the opportunity to sit by her.
Harlequin and Mother Goose began, and Mirabella resigned herself to be bored, but determined not to show it, which would have been rude and condescending. Surreptitiously she looked around at the other boxes, and saw that almost every patron seemed convulsed with merriment, including such clever people as Lady Cowper and Count and Countess Lieven and even Mr. and Mrs. Drummond-Burrell. Her own companions laughed loud and long, except for her parents and Giles, who kept a permanent indulgent smile on his face.
Mirabella, now that she sat next to Denys, could observe him closely. She saw that he had lost his morose demeanor, and guffawed heartily, sometimes slapping his knee. It came time for the harlequinade, when the setting, characters, and stage scenery magically transformed from the fairy tale world to the rambunctious world of Clown and Harlequin. Now Clown shouted his famous stock phrase, “Here we are again!” and Denys roared it along with most of the audience. Again, when Clown asked his second famous phrase, “Shall I?” Denys gleefully shouted “Yes!” laughing uproariously.
Mirabella’s smile became a rictus, for she was gritting her teeth. How could I have possibly thought I could marry such a man? Even if he does finally throw off this silly Byronic persona, I could never countenance such a childish taste in humor, it’s insufferably tedious and eventually I’d go balmy…
It didn’t occur to Mirabella that her reasons for not marrying were much less coherent and logical than her reasons for marrying. In fact, her aversion to being kissed by Lord Southam and her disdain for Denys Aldington’s sense of humor were so strong that they were passionate. Mirabella would have vehemently denied that she felt any sort of passion, had her mind gone to this particular place. But it did not.
She began again to think of Giles and Barbara Smythe.
Chapter Seventeen
Returning home from the theatre at three o’clock in the morning, Mirabella knew only too well that she would have another sleepless night. She had no desire to talk to Josephine, so she made an elaborate show of fatigue and went straight up to her room. As Colette readied Mirabella for bed, she eagerly asked all about the women ma dame had seen, their gowns, their jewels, their hair, their headdresses. Normally it amused Mirabella to recount all this to her maid, but tonight she said shortly, “Colette, I’m deathly tired, don’t press me now.”
For once Colette was obedient, and said nothing more until she was ready to leave. She asked if Mirabella required anything else, and Mirabella merely shook her head.
She was wholly absorbed in thinking of Giles and Barbara Smythe. She thought over the last three months, and how she had noted that Giles always danced with Barbara twice at Almack’s and at balls. At first Mirabella had told herself that this was nothing unusual. Giles was well known to be so kind that he often sought out un-partnered girls and danced with them. Barbara had a stigma attached to her because of her mother, and Giles was just being his usual thoughtful self in paying attention to her.
That must be it, even though he denies it, with his usual gentlemanly courtesy. He pities her, much as I do, and takes pains to show friendliness to her, Mirabella thought with relief.
Instantly a sort of clangor set up in her head: Pities her? Escorting her in to supper every single time? Calling on her? Rides in the park? Taking her to Gunter’s? How many times? How often? What do they talk about?
The noisy questions, which were very much like the annoying shrill clangs of a bell, made Mirabella squint her eyes painfully and pres
s her hands to her ears.
On the nights when Mirabella was upset (which was rare) or simply bursting with energy (which was not rare) she often wandered around the grounds and gardens of Camarden. Being out of doors, breathing fresh country air, whether the gentle warm airs of spring and summer or the bracing gusts of fall and winter, always seemed to refresh and cleanse her in both mind and body so that she could go to sleep.
It was more complicated here in London, for one of Irby’s strictest duties was to lock up the house at night. Mirabella was so desperate to get out of the room and breathe that she considered waking Irby and demanding the garden door key. Most of the nobility would never have given this a second thought, but Mirabella, as she had been taught, had regard and consideration for the servants and rejected the idea. She could, however, at least go out onto the balcony overlooking the garden. The French doors were only bolted on the inside.
Taking a fat pillow, a single candle, and a glass of ratafia, Mirabella stole silently down to the ballroom and out onto the balcony. Settling comfortably on the pillow, her legs crossed Buddha-style, she sipped her ratafia and concentrated simply on taking deep breaths. She missed the ever-changing panorama of the night sky at Camarden, and the mysterious bloodless light of the moon, for in London the night sky was always a flat matte black. She closed her eyes.
From ages ago, she heard an echo of her old nurse when she was cross: Wot’s all this then!
Mirabella smiled, wondering to herself why on earth she had gotten so panicky. What was wrong with Giles being friends with Barbara Smythe? Giles was friends with many people in Town, men and women both. He was a particular favorite of many ladies of the haut ton for the reasons that Mirabella had already reflected on: he was congenial, amusing, kind, and always willing to round out a table, gallantly pairing with any young lady, no matter how plain, shy, or boring.
