Bething's Folly

by Barbara Metzger

  “No, we cannot simply be married like that. There will be gossip enough as is.” Lord, he thought, if he just married her out of hand next week, what a feast the vultures would have on her reputation! “Besides, you should have a gown of your own, a trousseau and all those things. Why, Margaret has started already, and she won’t be married until next winter. You know, that just might help us. Mother has promised to take Margaret to London for her bride clothes. Perhaps they could be persuaded to go next week, and you and your aunt could be Mother’s guests at Carlyle House. That way you can get introduced around before the announcement, see about your clothes, be there to look at houses with me.”

  “I don’t know ... Aunt Claudia won’t travel. She says it makes her sick, but I believe it’s the pug who can’t stand long carriage rides. Either way she’ll never go to London, just for a shopping expedition.”

  “Well, Mother will be happy to have you anyway; in fact, she could say you are a friend of Margaret’s, so you won’t be bothered so much at first.”

  Details of the trip were left pending consultation with the Duchess. Other items were discussed, such as a companion for her aunt, the wedding breakfast, the honeymoon. They agreed the breakfast would be better held at Carlyle Hall, with its larger facilities. As to the wedding trip, Elizabeth refused to miss the last of her horse’s training or the race itself, so they would return to London after the wedding to their new house, and plan a tour for the summer. This took care of immediate concerns, except for a letter to Elizabeth’s solicitors concerning the legal contract to be drawn. Carleton wished to stop for it on his way to London in the morning.

  “I never want you to think I married you for your property.” He smiled, despite being serious. When he sensed she would have made some comment about why he did propose to marry her, he quickly went on: “I am sure my mother will want to call. May I bring her along when I come tomorrow morning?”

  “Must she know about the contract, business transaction, as you call it?”

  “She will only know that I offered for you and you did me the honour of accepting. She’ll be thrilled. You’re not sorry you did accept me, are you, because of all these details?” He smiled down at her, then gently put his hand to her cheek and lightly, quickly, kissed her. No, she was not sorry.

  Elizabeth was a little nervous about receiving the Duchess, whose first words, however, after greetings and congratulations were “What can I do to help?” She expressed her delight in introducing Elizabeth to London, her readiness to agree to any plans Elizabeth and Carleton had already made. She regretted the haste in preparations but seemed to understand the difficulties about uncles and race horses as though they were an everyday problem. There were no experienced opinions being dictated to Elizabeth, no lectures about what she must do and not do. Seeing the two women so happily in sympathy with each other, and Aunt Claudia fussing contentedly, Carleton excused himself to continue his journey to Town with letters to the solicitors, Ellie and Elizabeth’s old governess. He would return in a few days with, it was hoped, arrangements well under way, and then escort the ladies back to London when they were ready.

  “Maybe I shall even get to see Folly’s Pride between times,” he joked on his way out. “Perhaps I’ll ask him to be my best man.”

  After his departure, talk reverted to members of the wedding. Ferddie Milbrooke would of course stand up with Carleton; whom did Elizabeth have in mind for her attendants?

  “I thought I might ask Margaret, your Grace, since I really have no one closer and we are to be cousins. There is a difficulty about someone to give my away, however,” Elizabeth said uncertainly.

  “I thought your uncle was your guardian...?”

  “Yes, your Grace, he is, but I have never been his, to give away or not. In fact, I dislike him excessively and have refused to have him under my roof.”

  “Oh, my. Alexander did warn me you were something of an Original.” She said this with a smile, no hint of reproof. “Who else is there? No brothers, but a cousin perhaps? An uncle from your mother’s family?”

  “No, there is no one like that. I would love to have Robbie, who has been like an uncle to me, but I don’t suppose it would do the Duke’s health much good to have his daughter-in-law being given away by the head groom!”

  Both women laughed, then the Duchess said, “Thank you for considering the Duke’s feelings, my dear. I’m afraid my husband would find the idea enchanting, but I am afraid you would suffer when the newspapers recounted the tale. How would it be if your uncle were invited to Carlyle for the wedding? That way you would only need see him for the ceremony, not under your roof! You could say the house was filled, as I understand you’ll want your governess here, and your Mademoiselle Elena, to help with your clothes.”

  “Yes, and we’ll be having rooms redone for Lord Carleton,” Aunt Claudia put in, surprising Elizabeth, who hadn’t yet thought of that necessity.

  “Of course. Are you sure you won’t mind, your Grace, for there is my Aunt Eunice, too. She is nearly as impossible as Uncle Aubry.”

  “I assure you there is room enough at Carlyle Hall to lose an entire family tree of odious relatives! Are there children, too?”

  “There are four terrible brats. I see no reason to invite them, especially with the chapel so small.”

  “What a shame. Flower girls and ring-bearers always look so charming.”

  “The girls would only trip each other in the aisles, your Grace, and one of the boys would be bound to swallow the ring!”

  When even Aunt Claudia admitted that the stable boys would add more dignity to the occasion, the Duchess laughingly conceded. She went away from the visit well pleased and passed along her satisfaction to the Duke, together with an invitation for them to dine at Bething after Carleton’s return, “If your Grace is up to it,” the Duchess repeated, her eyes twinkling. “Oh, yes, your new daughter says that you might come early, if you wish to view the finest thoroughbred ever born to race.”

  “ ‘The finest thoroughbred ever,’ is it? Yes, she’s Bething’s daughter, all right! Damn, I like the chit already. Well, tell her I am up to it!”

  A flurry of activity now swirled around Elizabeth such as she had never seen in her quiet life. First there were preparations for her journey to London—she had to look her best to go shopping—a dinner for the Duke, renovation of certain rooms in the manor. There were letters, interviews and lists. Everything in the house had to be discussed with Taylor and Aunt Claudia, everything on the grounds with Jackson. When Carleton returned, he had great news of a small house on Grosvenor Square he was hoping she would approve. He also told her she might now go ahead with whatever plans she had for the Folly, as her own modest funds were finally released to her, plus a handsome marriage settlement. In addition, he had somehow managed to convince Uncle Aubry to pay for her trousseau, whatever she needed.

  “So you can shop London bare! I expect to have the best-dressed wife in Town. Remember to order what you will need for the summer, too. Aubry expected a honeymoon trip.”

  “How did you do it? I can’t imagine him offering such a gift!”

  “Not without a little prompting. All it took was my offering to pay for your bride clothes. It didn’t take him long to see how he would look if the bills for his ward were sent to me. So you have a special account just to handle your purchases.”

  Elizabeth clapped and was delighted to learn that her uncle would already have left for his home by the time she reached London.

  Dinner for the Duke and Duchess went smoothly, especially after Folly’s Pride was brought up and paraded around the front drive. Carleton was still a little skeptical, saying he would like to see the beast run before he put money on him, but the Duke declared his prospects excellent, more so after Elizabeth recounted his background over dinner. The Duke could not have been more enthusiastically approving—of the horse and his son’s fiancée—if he had raised them himself. He was so pleased with Elizabeth, in fact, that he told Carleton
the Grosvenor Square house would be their wedding present, if she liked it, of course.

  And then London! The trip alone was a novelty, with Margaret companionably excited. Elizabeth had been to Town with her father to see the sights and visit horse sales, but not since his death, not as a young woman. The crowds, the noise, even the dirt fascinated her all over again. Now she noticed gowns, carriages, houses. Mademoiselle Elena was sent for as soon as the ladies arrived in Berkeley Square. Ellie, all hugs and smiles, arrived with a carriage full of samples, sketches and assistants. The samples were discussed in committee first, for immediate needs. As Mademoiselle explained to the Duchess, the samples were always in Miss Bitsy’s size, as repayment of the debt she owed the previous Lord Bethingame. She was as excited as Elizabeth that the new Earl would be paying for the new gowns, since she was not in his debt at all! Next, sketches were brought out, and swatches of materials. Ellie’s design for the wedding gown was instantly approved, although laces could not be selected until the veil worn by generations of Carlyle brides was unearthed. Elizabeth ordered one special ball gown for utmost priority, the dinner-dance the Duchess would give in a week’s time to announce the betrothal. She also chose designs for two other evening dresses, a military-style riding habit, and a promenade gown for now, summer gowns for later.

  “Ah, ma chérie, there is no time for more! After the wedding, anything! Until then, this is all I can provide. You must patronise the other modistes also, it is only fitting for the wife of a Marquis.”

  Margaret was to have two of the sample gowns altered to fit since their colours were more becoming to her than to Elizabeth, and the Duchess ordered a gown from one of the sketches she admired, to be made up whenever it would be convenient. Deeply gratified, Ellie was certain that for the Duchess, next week would be convenient if she had to sew Elizabeth’s wedding gown herself on the way to the ceremony!

  The following days were spent shopping, indeed patronising almost every fashionable store in London. There were underclothes and nightdresses, shoes and bonnets to be purchased, in addition to more dresses for every imaginable purpose. Hours were spent in fittings and browsing, one entire morning at the Pantheon Bazaar selecting ribbons, fans and gloves. The Duchess often sent the two girls out with Bessie and footmen while she made social calls. After luncheon tradesmen came to show samples of wallpaper and upholstery fabrics for the Grosvenor Square House, which Elizabeth had loved at first sight. It even had a small garden in the back. Carleton was staying in his bachelor rooms, coming to Carlyle House for meals and these conferences. He generally approved Elizabeth’s choices, except for his study, where he wished to place the furniture from his present residence.

  “But I intend to use the study, too,” Elizabeth protested. “In fact, I plan to do a lot of business while I am in London. I cannot discuss stud fees in a gilt-edged drawing room!” A compromise was reached whereby an office was created between the dining room and the present study, necessitating tearing walls down, more workmen, more confusion, but Elizabeth was satisfied. Carleton’s days were mostly spent at the new house, overseeing the crews, or at various official buildings, tracking down permits and licenses. The two were almost never alone together, their only quiet times the short carriage rides in the park with Margaret along. Both girls had to be present for tea, for the Duchess was carefully inviting the most influential of London’s hostesses to meet them. The Duchess never warned Elizabeth, “Lady Jersey comes today, so be on your best behaviour if you wish the voucher for Almack’s,” or “Lady Rothingill joins us; she is the worst gossip in Town.” Elizabeth was introduced as a young friend of Margaret’s, from the country. Although most of the guests had their own thoughts on the matter, such was the Duchess’s stature that if she had declared Miss Bethingame a Red Indian princess from the colonies, so she would have been considered. It was the Duchess’s game; she had only to announce the rules and everyone was delighted to play. Most of these women were impressed with Elizabeth for her own sake, as Lady Carlyle had counted on. Her natural charm was found to be unspoiled by the boredom affected among the sophisticates; neither was she awkwardly shy, like an unfledged debutante. Anyone who had known her mother was instantly her friend, as was anyone remotely interested in horses, fashions or a hundred other topics.

  “What a refreshing change to find a girl with conversation,” the Duchess was complimented, and “How fortunate for your niece to have such a lively, attractive companion.” The voucher to Almack’s was sent round the next day, and invitations began to pour in. Acceptances for the Duchess’s own party were also forthcoming, keeping everyone busy with correspondence and lists in their free time, of which there was not much, especially since the Duchess insisted they all rest before dinner each day. Elizabeth and Margaret protested at first, but after a full day of being fashionable and a night at the theatre or the opera, they learned to welcome the respite. The Duchess was not accepting invitations this week, knowing there would be ample later, after Elizabeth’s presentation at Court, her bow at Almack’s, the engagement announcement. It was enough to let her be seen and enjoy herself before she became a curiosity. Carleton escorted the ladies, and Captain Hendricks when he could, and some gentlemen friends of consequence of the Duke and Duchess. Ferddie Milbrooke joined their number, too, having given Elizabeth a quick hug under Carleton’s amused eyes before dinner, saying, “I could not be happier if I were marrying you myself!”

  They went to Almack’s, that pillar of propriety, on the Wednesday before the engagement party, as soon as a suitable outfit was ready for Elizabeth. It was a pale rose from Ellie’s sample gowns, filled in around the neckline. The ladies made quite a stir at the venerable institution, arriving only minutes before the doors were closed, and with Carleton and Milbrooke in tow. The Duchess’s infrequent visits alone were noteworthy, but these two handsome bachelors were virtual strangers at the gates. Miss Bethingame must be some prize, indeed, to have accomplished this! Everyone wanted to meet her, or at least get a close look at this new addition to the London scene, so she was the centre of a crowd throughout the evening after Carleton led her out in the opening quadrille and Ferddie had the second dance. She had no further opportunity to dance, through the constant introductions, which was how Sally Jersey had warned her it would be. Toward the end of the evening, however, Carleton spoke with his mother, then with Lady Jersey, who gave her nod to Elizabeth as a waltz was played. That Carleton should even have attended Almack’s for Miss Bethingame’s sake was enough for the gossips. When he requested—and received—permission for her to waltz at her debut there, the matter was clinched. The Duchess started to receive congratulations, which she did not bother to deny, with the formal betrothal only a day or so away.

  Elizabeth knew she looked her finest for the ball—everyone told her, Carleton’s hand at her waist especially. He was in his satin knee-breeches and blue superfine, but had changed his diamond stickpin for a plain gold horseshoe which had belonged to Elizabeth’s father, her engagement present to him. She was in a gown of palest yellow silk, with clusters of blue forget-me-nots embroidered on the bodice and scattered at the hem. She also had on the engagement ring, now sized to fit, and she showed it off proudly. The dinner guests toasted her health and happiness; Carleton lifted his glass, thanking them for all their kind wishes and proposed a toast himself, “to a certain horse, who had better win the Ardsley Cup, for all the haste and hurrying he is causing, but who has my eternal gratitude. Ladies and gentlemen, good luck to Folly’s Pride.” He kissed Elizabeth’s cheek while the company laughed and clapped, before moving to the rooms cleared for dancing. This was not a huge crush like the country ball at Carlyle, and Elizabeth had already met most of the guests, so she was totally at ease, laughing and joking with Carleton’s friends, accepting their extravagant compliments with good humour. In all she was happy, her dimples flickered delightfully—she was a great success.

  “It’s a good thing we’re getting married so soon,” Carleton teased when h
e took her hand for the first dance. “You might decide you would rather have one of your many admirers, if you had enough time to think about it.”

  “Oh, I’ve already had time for another offer, though I don’t think it was for marriage, so you needn’t worry about my reneging.”

  “Don’t tell me you’ve received a proposition of that nature on the very day of our engagement! I can see I’ll be calling out my own friends next. No, I will not ask who, I’ll just smile and see who looks guilty.”

  Instead of staying with her in surveillance, though, he left her among a crowd of young men to pay his respects to other ladies. His parting words were, “Enjoy yourself, darling, save the waltz for me,” which set the pattern for the next two weeks of her stay in London. At all the balls and dances she attended, no matter how many gentlemen were asking to dance, the waltz was always Carleton’s. If she was already on the floor waiting for the music to start when a waltz began, she simply excused herself to her partner and waited for the Marquis to appear. Once she even refused Prinny himself, who laughed when she told him why. The Regent was so charmed by her he had the band play another waltz immediately, claiming his right to that one, at least. The tale was told all over London, increasing her consequence, until everyone was wanting to meet the Beauty who could chance offending Royalty without thinking twice.

  Besides balls, the time was spent with more dress fittings and more conferences about the house, only now Elizabeth and Carleton went together to check the progress. He called for her in his high-perch phaeton and they drove in Hyde Park after the inspections, stopping constantly to greet acquaintances and accept congratulations. Carleton let Elizabeth take the reins a few times, only to be teased when his friends rode up to say that she was a finer whip than he.

  “Just you wait,” he told them, setting off again, “until you see her on horseback, then you’ll know what a paragon she is!”