by M C Beaton
Susan gave her a mildly irritated look, saw over Verity’s shoulder a footman take the pudding away, and heaved a little sigh. She focused on Verity.
“I am Mrs. Verity Palfrey,” said Verity. “We have not met. You are Miss Colville.”
“If we have not been introduced,” said Susan vaguely, “then you should not be talking to me.”
Verity gave a silvery laugh. “Tish, at an al fresco event like this, one does not stand on ceremony. Walk me a little. I must warn you.”
Susan, who was trying to learn to be dutiful, looked around for her aunt, but Harriet was well away from her, walking along on the arm of Sir Thomas Jeynes.
She nodded and walked off with Verity. “What do you want to warn me about?”
“Lord Dangerfield,” said Verity.
“The earl? Why? What is up with him?”
“He is a bad man.”
Susan frowned. “I think you had best talk to my aunt. He has been all that is kind.”
Verity leaned forward. “He is not for you, my little milksop. He is my lover. He has lain in my arms and fondled my breasts.”
Susan looked highly irritated. Had this silly woman not accosted her, then she might have been able to get her hands on that pudding. She looked beyond Verity and saw Harriet approaching on the arm of Sir Thomas, and her face cleared.
“Oh, this is all easily dealt with,” she said. “Aunt Harriet always knows what to do.”
Verity made a desperate clutch at her arm, but Susan tripped up to Harriet and said in her clear, lisping voice, “You must help me, Aunt. There are social situations I still do not know how to handle. That woman there, Verity something, warned me against Lord Dangerfield. She says Lord Dangerfield is her lover and that he has lain in her arms and fondled her breasts.”
Harriet felt as if she had been suddenly and violently slapped in the face. The normally urbane Sir Thomas was goggling in horror at Susan.
Harriet was the first to recover. Verity was rapidly making her escape, calling on her maid and footman. “I do not know why such a person has been invited here,” she said. “She is a slut, Susan, a member of the fashionable impure. You must not listen to such filth. Do not let her approach you again.”
“Very well,” said Susan. “But what an odd thing to say. I could have had a chocolate pudding, had she not accosted me.”
Harriet saw Lord Dangerfield, and her face set in hard lines. “Excuse me,” she said.
At the same time, Susan saw Charles Courtney and would have gone to join him had not Sir Thomas said quickly, “If you want chocolate pudding, Miss Susan, then you shall have it.”
“How?” asked Susan, her pretty face betraying the animation it always showed when sweets were mentioned.
“Come with me.”
Harriet marched up to the earl. “A word with you.”
“Now what have I done?” he asked plaintively.
“Walk a little with me. What I have to say to you, my lord, is not for polite ears.”
He took her arm in his. “This is so sudden.”
“I do not jest.”
They walked away from the other guests and along the edge of the river. The sun was very hot and only a light breeze rustled the young leaves of the willow trees leaning over the water.
Behind them came the jaunty sounds of a military band, hired for the day to entertain the guests. The tune was “The Girl I Left Behind Me,” and for a long time afterward Harriet could not listen to that air without a sharp feeling of pain and shame and loss.
He released her arm and turned to face her.
“Now, Miss Tremayne.”
“My lord, your mistress, Mrs. Verity Palfrey, accosted Susan and warned her against you.”
“The devil she did!”
“There is worse.”
“Can there be?”
“She said you had lain with her and… and fondled her breasts.”
He turned away from her, and his eyes raked the guests.
“I believe she has gone. My lord, Susan has no knowledge, and, I confess, neither have I, of the dark world of the demimondaine. It has been a shocking and disgusting episode. She has achieved her aim, however. I will make sure Susan is never in your company. Pray tell your mistress that if she comes near my niece again, I will tell all London of her behavior, and such invitations as she still can command will be canceled.”
“Then listen to my advice,” he said. “I am not the only sinner in London. There are worse, and one of those is Sir Thomas Jeynes. I believe he has befriended you and your niece in order to spite me.”
“You are not only a lecher, but a vain lecher.”
“Do not preach to me from the height of your ivory tower, you withered spinster!”
Her hand seemed to move of its own volition. She struck him hard across the face and walked away as fast as she could, longing to escape to the sanctuary of her bedroom and cry her eyes out.
Susan was sitting alone at a table, wolfing down a large chocolate pudding. “Get up!” Harriet spat out. “We are leaving.”
Harriet turned and saw Charles Courtney hovering nearby and waved to him. He came hurrying up. “I do not wish to drag you away,” said Harriet, her eyes glittering with unshed tears. “Please take us home.”
“Gladly,” he said. They began to walk toward the carriages. Harriet knew she should stay to thank her hostess, but all she wanted to do was escape. She would send a servant with a note. Lucy, the maid, fussed behind them, itching to tie the bow on the sash on Susan’s gown into a better knot. She had been in seventh heaven since her mistress had decided to become fashionable. Not only had she Harriet’s new clothes to fuss over, but those of the beautiful Susan.
Charles Courtney drove them home as fast as he could, knowing that there had been a scandal. He refused any offer of refreshment when they reached Berkeley Square, and Harriet thanked him profusely.
“May I call on you tomorrow, at two o’clock, say?” he asked. “I have something of great importance to ask you.”
In all her misery, Harriet sensed relief. He was going to propose and she would make sure Susan accepted him.
They were supposed to be going to the opera again that evening, but Harriet told Susan that she wished for a quiet evening at home. She sat down in the privacy of her bedchamber for a good cry. But the tears would not come. Her eyes were dry and sore and there was a lump in her throat. She lay down on the bed and tried to sleep, to run away into sleep, but sleep would not come. A footman scratched at the door and said that Lady Dancer had called.
Harriet answered that she would be with her presently. She rose and splashed cold water on her face and made her way down to the drawing room, feeling tired and old.
Bertha, Lady Dancer, sprang up as Harriet entered the room and cried, “What a scandal! What delicious scandal!”
“What are you talking about?” demanded Harriet.
“Why, the shocking affair at the Debenhams, to be sure. Verity Palfrey has ruined herself completely, but it has had the desired result of bringing young Courtney up to the mark.”
Harriet sank down into a chair. “You had better explain.”
“Charles Courtney and Mrs. Turnbridge—you know Mrs. Turnbridge, Harriet, fat and forty and ears like a bat. Well, they saw Verity leading Susan aside and then Susan looked startled and headed for you, and so Mrs. Turnbridge followed and heard Susan saying that the Palfrey female had warned her off Dangerfield by telling her she was his mistress and that he had lain with her and fondled her breasts. La, that piece of gossip went around like wildfire. Mrs. Palfrey has ruined herself completely. Such language! She will not be invited anywhere now.”
“And how did that bring Courtney up to the mark?”
“Mrs. Turnbridge told him, and he said that little Susan ought to have a protector against the wicked world and he would wait no longer. So all’s well that ends well. Why, Harriet! You look quite devastated.”
Harriet conjured up a wan smile. “You forget
. I am not used to the ways of the world. I detest vulgarity and have been subjected to too much of it this day.”
Bertha’s eyes were shrewd. “A little advice from a friend, Harriet. Such dreadful things happen and one has to accept them with ladylike calm, no matter what. It was going too far to remonstrate with Dangerfield and then slap him in the face publicly. He has great social power.”
Harriet turned her head away. “I was overwrought,” she said in a stifled voice.
“You should apologize to him.”
“He called me a withered spinster.”
“Tut! What did you say to provoke such a remark?”
“I said that he was not only a lecher, but a vain lecher.”
“Harriet! Fie for shame, fie! Listen to me. Many men have mistresses. Does he frequent the bordellos of Covent Garden? No, not that anyone has heard. He has a mistress of good family and bad morals. All very ordinary and respectable. You are lucky in young Courtney. But any older man, any handsome man, any charming man, is going to have a mistress somewhere. Do you know that Mrs. Turnbridge actually suggested that she thought Dangerfield was interested in you?”
“To which you said?”
“To which I replied that no man could look at any other woman while the fair Susan was around. And at least she saw the sense of that. But your worries are over. Do not encourage the attentions of Sir Thomas. I do not trust him.”
“He has been all that is kind, Bertha. I prefer to judge people for myself.”
“As you will. I will call on you tomorrow to hear the news of Courtney’s proposal.”
Lord Dangerfield made his way up the stairs to his mistress’s drawing room. His heart was heavy. He should never have come to London. Verity had behaved disgracefully, but he had only himself to blame for that. He had been tiring of her for some time and he should have severed the relationship long before this. He felt disgraced and grubby and yet his very guilt made him obscurely blame Harriet for everything. But he should not have insulted her. She would never speak to him again.
Verity was sitting sobbing. He sniffed the air, which was pungent with the smell of onions.
“Onion juice may produce effective tears,” he said, “but the smell is awful and it makes your eyes and nose red.”
Verity lowered her handkerchief, which she had soaked in onion juice, and glared at him.
“All you achieved this afternoon, Mrs. Palfrey, was to shame yourself and insult me. You will not be surprised to know that our liaison is at an end. You may keep this house, and my lawyers will arrange a generous settlement. I will, however, hold on to the title deeds until the end of the Season. Should you approach either Miss Susan Colville or Miss Harriet Tremayne during that period, you will end up with nothing.”
“I was jealous,” wailed Verity. “Cannot you understand that?”
“Yes, I can. I will even find it in my heart to forgive you, for you have damaged only yourself. By tomorrow all your social invitations will be canceled.”
“I thought we would marry,” said Verity.
He was about to shout at her that he would not marry a whore, but bit his lips. She was of good family, he had lain with her, it was a reasonable ambition. He thought ruefully that if he had associated with women of Harriet Tremayne’s character earlier, he might have been more alive to the situation. Before Harriet, he had never thought of women as individuals with minds and personality. In other words, he had thought of them in the way that ninety percent of his peers did.
“Let us not have any painful scenes,” he said, moving toward the door.
“That little blond minx has bewitched you.”
“Believe me, I have no feelings for Miss Colville whatsoever.”
He bowed and left. Verity cried then, tears of pure fury. Lord Dangerfield had never got to know her very well. Had he done so, he would have turned about and threatened her with more than the loss of a settlement and a house. For Verity was a passionate woman and a dangerous one. Nothing was ever her fault. Her social disgrace was entirely Susan’s doing. She was sure she had not been overheard, therefore it must have been Susan who had told everyone what she had said. Six invitations had already been canceled. Susan must be got rid of… permanently.
Lord Dangerfield went to his club. The first person he saw was Charles Courtney, who blushed when he saw him and made to move away.
“No, stay,” commanded the earl, and sat down beside him.
“I would like to point out,” said Charles rapidly, “that I am about to propose marriage to Miss Susan.”
“Excellent idea,” said the earl. “My heartfelt congratulations.”
“I hope she will have me,” said Charles, visibly relaxing. “I am grateful that you are taking it so well.”
“I have no interest in Miss Susan whatsoever,” said the earl, wondering how many times he was going to have to point out that fact.
“It is just as well,” said Charles, “for her aunt appears to have taken you in extreme dislike. She slapped your face.”
“She had good reason to. The provocation was great. I have a great favor to ask of you.”
“That being?”
“I have a certain… interest… in Miss Tremayne.”
“Ah-ha!”
“To that end, I would be grateful if you and Miss Colville, without betraying my interest in her, could find ways to put us together.”
Charles was flattered that the great Lord Dangerfield should be appealing to him for help. “I will do what I can,” he said eagerly, “but why did she slap your face?”
“I called her a withered spinster.”
Charles was deeply shocked. “I cannot believe any lady would ever forgive such an insult.”
“But you will do your best?”
“Yes, I can but try.”
“Then, as Miss Susan has not yet accepted you, may I make a suggestion on how to win her heart?”
“Go on.”
“Before you call on her, purchase the finest box of chocolates which Gunter’s has on offer. With your hand on your heart, promise her a lifetime of sweetmeats. That will do more for you than talk of love.”
“She is inordinately fond of sweet things.”
“As she does not appear to put on a pound or develop spots, I see no drawback to a happy marriage.”
“I am grateful to you and I will indeed do my best to restore your friendship with Miss Tremayne.”
Susan accepted with good humor the news that Charles Courtney was to propose to her. “Am I supposed to accept him?” she asked.
“Oh, yes,” said Harriet. “He is highly suitable.”
“Sir Thomas is quite interesting.”
“He has been kind to us, but not a suitable man for you, Susan. Too old and experienced.”
“You mean like Dangerfield. Such a pity you are not experienced as well as being old, Aunt Harriet.”
“You are impertinent, miss.”
“I did not have my morning chocolate. Lucy said you told everyone I was to have tea instead. Without my morning chocolate I feel crotchety.”
“I have told you and told you that you will ruin your teeth and your health. Now, go and tell Lucy to make sure you are wearing one of your best gowns.”
Harriet waited in the drawing room for Charles. Susan had been told to wait in her room until summoned. The heat was still stifling. The awnings outside covering the windows cast a gloom over the drawing room. Flies buzzed over the gallipots. She felt tired and jaded. All at once she missed her bluestocking friends and longed to return to her old life. Would this Season never end?
Charles Courtney was announced. He came in carrying the largest box of chocolates that Harriet had ever seen. She wanted to protest but then decided that the present would encourage Susan to accept him.
“I am come,” he said, “to ask your permission to pay my addresses to Miss Colville.”
“You have my permission. Your parents approve?”
“Yes, very much so.”
&n
bsp; “Then I will send Susan to you. You may have ten minutes alone with her. All that tiresome business of lawyers and settlements can be dealt with later. Although her mother and father trust my judgment, I feel it would be politic for you to go to the country and ask their permission as well. I will give you their direction before you leave. Now I will fetch Susan.”
