by Gayle Buck
Sarah shook her head, confused. “I am not certain that I understand, Grandmama. Why has the marquis remained unmarried?”
Lady Alverley’s smile grew wider as she watched her granddaughter’s expression. “The marquis has stated on several occasions that he cannot bear the thought of having a wife around him for fear of catching some disease.”
“What an object of pity,” murmured Sarah.
“You need not waste your compassion, Sarah. The Marquis of Yarwood is an entirely selfish creature. Come, I shall introduce you,” said Lady Alverley, taking Sarah’s elbow and sweeping toward the gentleman. He had risen and, surrounded by his entourage, was slowly making his way out of the concert rooms.
Lady Alverley hailed the marquis as she approached him. He took a hurried step backward and waved his handkerchief in agitation. “No closer, my lady! I beg you, no closer!”
Lady Alverley stopped. “As you wish, my lord. Allow me to present my eldest granddaughter, Miss Sarah Sommers. She was quite taken with the performance this evening. I have told her that you are a great patron of the Philharmonic Society Orchestra.”
“Indeed, I thought the performance very fine, my lord,” said Sarah, somewhat at a loss. She had been disconcerted by Lady Alverley’s rush to introduce her to the marquis and was not certain how to respond to her ladyship’s gambit.
Even at a distance, Sarah could smell the heavy scent that the Marquis of Yarwood favored. He had apparently doused his person, and each time that he waved the handkerchief, a fresh wave of oppressive scent wafted toward her. Sarah disliked it excessively.
The Marquis of Yarwood waved his handkerchief again in a dismissive gesture. “Oh, the Philharmonic does its best. But it cannot be compared to the Continental orchestras, of course. A pity that the Continent is undergoing such barbaric turmoil or we could bring truly great musicians to our shores.”
“Perhaps one might appreciate the foreign artists better on their own soil,” suggested Lady Alverley with a malicious glint in her eyes.
The marquis shuddered. “Pray do not even suggest it, my lady! I would die in a fortnight of stepping foot outside our dear London. I am very susceptible to any change in my immediate environment. And now I really must go, my lady. I have been too long amongst this crowd. Ah, I have been so imprudent tonight! I daresay that I shall take an infection of the lungs.”
“Let us pray not, sir,” said one of the marquis’s hangers-on.
“Indeed! Just so,” said the marquis. He did not bow or say a departing word, but simply walked away. Sarah thought she had never seen anyone half as rode.
The marquis put his handkerchief up to his nose. As he leaned on the shoulder of one of his confidantes, he said, “Did you see, Trevalyn? Did you see how close they came? I actually felt the touch of their breaths! I must have myself purged as soon as I arrive home. And these clothes must be burnt. A pity, for I liked this coat.”
Sarah turned to her grandmother. She shook her head. “Extraordinary!”
“Quite.” Lady Alverley shrugged in dismissal. “It is a worthless creature. Painted and padded and full of formless fears. But exceedingly rich, and because of that, though he is caricatured and disliked, the marquis is also catered to and tolerated. Pah! He is never on my guest lists, I assure you.”
“I am unsurprised, ma’am,” said Sarah, reflecting that even if Lady Alverley did choose to send out invitations to the marquis, that gentleman would most assuredly not attend. She had never met an odder personality.
Lady Alverley glanced around her with irritation. “I cannot imagine where Margaret and Marie have gone. It is quite annoying when I wish to go home.”
“Perhaps they have gone to call the coach, Grandmama, knowing that you do not like to wait,” suggested Sarah soothingly.
Lady Alverley’s expression cleared. “Of course! I know that you must be right, Sarah. Let us join them at the curb at once.”
* * *
Chapter 12
Surprisingly for one who seemed so thoroughly focused on her social obligations, Lady Alverley made a practice of attending early morning church services every Sunday. She was always accompanied by Miss Hanson and her granddaughters. Her ladyship bowed and nodded to all of her acquaintances, and exchanged pleasantries with those who could claim a firmer footing with her.
Lord Tottenham made a point of coining across to greet Lady Alverley and her ladyship’s party. He bowed over each lady’s hand in turn, saying all that was civil and generally making himself agreeable. He was a middle-aged gentleman past his prime, but was always extremely well-turned out in his attire. He did not aspire to dandyism, perhaps because he was aware that his thickened figure would not appear to advantage in the exaggerated fashions adopted by some of the more dashing gentlemen.
“It is a particularly beautiful spring, is it not? I am often tempted to drive in the park, for I enjoy taking the air. I count myself fortunate whenever I chance to meet you or your lovely granddaughters, Lady Alverley,” said Lord Tottenham with a grave smile.
“You are too kind, my lord. For my pan, it is always a pleasure to run into a close acquaintance such as yourself,” said Lady Alverley. “I trust that you will come take tea with us again one day this week?”
Lord Tottenham’s deeply creased face eased into another grave smile. “Certainly I shall do so, my lady.”
“Ah, here is my carriage! We shall look forward to it, my lord,” said Lady Alverley, holding out her hand to him. Lord Tottenham took leave of the ladies and walked away to enter his own carriage.
After the service, her ladyship often consented to go walking in Kensington Gardens, where the lilacs were coming into bloom. That particular Sunday, Lady Alverley and Miss Hanson took only one or two slow turns about the paths before seating themselves on a bench. Sarah and Margaret continued to stroll at a sedate pace.
Margaret said suddenly, “Did you notice how Lord Tottenham looked at us this morning? It made me wonder what he was thinking.”
“I, also, noticed the peculiar intensity of his lordship’s gaze. And I am positive that he actually squeezed my fingers ever so slightly,” said Sarah, reflecting for a moment. She chuckled suddenly. “Margaret, I have the most lowering suspicion that his lordship has decided to actually offer for one or the other of us.”
“No!” exclaimed Margaret, her eyes rounding. “Why, he is quite old and a father besides! Oh, Sarah, what if he makes me an offer? What must I say?”
“Say what you will, Margaret,” said Sarah. She laughed at her sister’s reproachful expression. “I admit that I, too, shrink at the thought of having to turn down some gentleman’s offer. However, at least in Lord Tottenham’s case, I don’t think that it shall actually come to that. His lordship is so correct in his manners that I feel positive that he shall apply first to our grandmother before he would speak to either of us.”
Margaret’s expression cleared magically. “Then it will be quite all right, for Grandmama can easily turn down Lord Tottenham’s suit.”
“We shall have to make it quite clear to Grandmama that is what we wish her to do,” said Sarah.
“Quite! Lord Tottenham is not the gentleman for either of us,” said Margaret positively. With very little effort, she banished all thoughts of Lord Tottenham from her mind and began to entertain her sister with several observations and anecdotes that she had already garnered since their debut into society. Shortly thereafter, they rejoined Lady Alverley and Miss Hanson and returned to Alverley House. They forgot to mention Lord Tottenham to their grandmother, but as it would shortly be revealed, it was completely unnecessary. Lady Alverley was experienced enough to recognize the signs of increasing interest in her granddaughters.
Lady Alverley was particularly pleased that the gentlemen who called at the town house or sent in their tokens of admiration had swelled in number. There were those who had to be discounted, of course. Lady Alverley had high requirements that must be met in order to win her approval. Gentlemen of low birth or
insubstantial income or of unsavory reputation were not encouraged. Then there were those who were tolerated because they were of good ton and it would not do to slight them. Lady Alverley had no intention of insulting families which she had known for decades. However, Lady Alverley privately considered certain of these gentlemen to be totally ineligible, also, and so they were subtlely discouraged from dangling too ardently after her granddaughters.
By the time that her ladyship’s grand rout took place, Lady Alverley had already determined which gentlemen she considered to be acceptable partis for her granddaughters’ hands.
Lady Alverley’s rout was attended in such numbers that the guests could hardly find standing room on the staircase and had to push their way through into the drawing rooms. Several bunches of candles shed a bright blaze of light in the hot rooms, but melted so rapidly in the heat that drops of warm wax splattered on the company below.
An hour after it had begun, Lady Alverley dismissed her granddaughters from the receiving line. Margaret was escorted away by Mr. Matthews, a tall thin young gentleman whose taste in dress was dandified. His closely curled hair was brushed forward from the crown so that locks shadowed his high forehead. His starched shirtpoints touched his cheekbones. His cutaway coat sported huge brass buttons and his frilled shirtfront was fixed with an enormous diamond stickpin. His tight-fitting pantaloons were strapped under the arches of his Spanish leather pumps. Sarah thought that Mr. Matthews always looked a shade overdone. However, the gentleman did have an elegant bow and he was an excellent dancer, which was why Margaret liked his company.
Lord Eustace claimed the privilege of escorting Sarah away from the receiving line. Sarah smiled up at him, her spirit soaring.
Sarah was wearing a high-waisted décolleté gown of gold tissue. The skirt fell full and long to the floor with a demi-train and the slippers that peeped out from under her hem matched the fabric of her dress. Delicate plumes had been set into her curly locks and she carried a gilt-edged ivory fan. Her hazel eyes sparkled and the heat had put a blush of rose into her face. She appeared stunning, as more than one admiring gentleman had already told her. Sarah hoped that Lord Eustace had noticed and approved of her appearance.
As they slowly made their way through the crowd into the drawing room, Lord Eustace nodded toward Mr. Matthews and Margaret, who were preceding them. “Your sister is in remarkable spirits this evening, Miss Sommers,” he observed.
“Yes, Margaret is always happy when she is with friends,” said Sarah quietly. Her own happiness in being singled out by Lord Eustace was dimmed. It was very lowering to discover that a gentleman could be thinking about someone else, rather than the lady whom he had on his own arm.
Sarah made up her mind that she wasn’t going to allow Lord Eustace’s indifference toward her to spoil her evening. She knew that she was looking her absolute best and there was no reason to feel or behave like a wallflower. And if Lord Eustace wanted to pay court to someone else, why, then he could go with her good will.
Sarah paused to chat with several personages known to her. She and Lord Eustace quickly became part of a lively group. Eventually Sarah had the doubtful satisfaction of accepting Lord Eustace’s civil excuse that he had seen a friend whom he had not yet greeted. She watched him walk away, a queer tightness in her throat. But then she shook off the pall of depression that threatened to overtake her and turned back to her other companions. She laughed and conversed with unusual vivaciousness.
Several minutes later, Sarah found herself cut out of the group by Lord Mittenger. When his lordship had drawn her a little apart, he raised Sarah’s hand and pressed his lips to her fingers. The light of admiration was in his dark eyes. “Miss Sommers, you are incomparable. My admiration for you is without bounds. My heart leapt within me at first sight of you tonight. In short, I am your most obedient servant.” He kissed her fingers again.
Sarah’s eyes widened at the baron’s unexpected show of devotion. The gentleman had always behaved in such a correct fashion that this display was almost alarming. The thought fleeted across her consciousness that Lord Mittenger had by degrees been growing more attached. Perhaps the gentleman was toying with the notion of offering for her.
Sarah’s heart quickened, almost in panic, and she glanced around for a distraction. She pointed with her fan. “Look, my lord! There are Lord and Lady Frobisher. I haven’t had the opportunity to greet them yet this evening. Will you be good enough to escort me through this crowd, my lord?”
“Certainly, Miss Sommers. I count it as my joy to perform any service on your behalf,” said Lord Mittenger, offering his arm to her. He smiled with a greater degree of warmth than was his usual custom.
Sarah smiled in acknowledgment, at once forming the intention to disengage herself from the gentleman as soon as possible. Lord Mittenger was acting so uncharacteristically that Sarah feared he might actually press his suit in public. She had not the least desire of encouraging the baron in his apparent course.
Sarah greeted Lord and Lady Frobisher with enthusiasm. “How glad I am that you were able to attend, my dear friends. The evening would have seemed rather flat without you.”
Lord Frobisher’s eyes crinkled as he bowed. “Very good of you, Sarah.”
“Indeed it is, my dear.” Lady Frobisher embraced Sarah lightly, and as she did so, murmured in her ear, “You look quite hunted. Perhaps a rescue is in order?”
As they parted, Sarah’s glance at her ladyship was eloquent. “Of course, you know Lord Mittenger?”
“Indeed we do,” said Lady Frobisher, at once holding out her hand to the baron. “How do you do, my lord? It was only last week that we saw you, I think, though it seems longer. Lord Frobisher was telling me earlier that he has read about a most fascinating steam engine that has been developed.”
“Indeed, my lord? Where did you read of it?” asked Lord Mittenger, his attention at once riveted.
Lord Frobisher looked startled. He cast a swift glance down at his wife, who gave him a significant nod. “Oh, I say. Let me think for a moment. It was written up in one of these scientific journals. Of course! I have it now.”
As her husband began telling Lord Mittenger about the steam engine, Lady Frobisher said, “Oh, Sarah, I believe that Lady Alverley was looking for you a moment ago. Her ladyship was in the front room.”
“Thank you, Mary. I shall go to her at once,” said Sarah. She quietly made good her escape, leaving Lord Mittenger deep in conversation with Lord Frobisher.
It was difficult making a path through the tightly packed company, but Sarah managed it at last and entered the front room. She found Lady Alverley engaged in conversation with several personages.
When Lady Alverley saw Sarah, she turned aside with a polite word. “Well, my dear! How are you enjoying the evening?”
“It is a marvelous function, dear ma’am. I think everyone who was invited has come tonight,” said Sarah.
Lady Alverley smiled, very well pleased. “I believe you are correct, Sarah. I have had an excellent turnout. Now, my dear, was there something in particular you wished of me?”
“Lady Frobisher had said that she thought you might be looking for me,” said Sarah.
“If I said so, I cannot recall why now,” said Lady Alverley, glancing at her sharply.
“Perhaps she was mistaken,” said Sarah with a smile. “I am sorry to have pulled you from your guests, Grandmama.”
“Quite all right, my dear,” said Lady Alverley with a smile and a nod.
As Sarah stepped away, she overheard one of Lady Alverley’s friends. “Such an attentive girl, Adelaide. You are fortunate.”
Almost immediately Sarah was drawn into conversation with acquaintances and she remained talking with various personages for the next hour and a half. The crush of people, the blaze of the candles, and the pervading heat all began to take their toll. Sarah used her fan incessantly, directing a constant eddy of the heated air into her face. She started to develop a headache. But she continue
d to smile and exchange witticisms with Lady Alverley’s guests. The evening began to seem interminable.
Sarah tried to edge her way toward the refreshment tables. She thought if she could just have something to drink she would begin to feel better. But the crowd was so heavy that she could not push her way through at any speed. She began to despair of ever winning through. The headache was pounding in earnest now.
Sarah’s head spun. The heat was so oppressive that the air seemed dead and she suddenly felt as though she couldn’t breathe properly. Sarah swayed.
A large hand grasped her elbow, steadying her. “Miss Sommers, are you quite all right?”
Sarah recognized Lord Dissinger’s voice. She looked up and with difficulty focused her eyes, meeting his concerned gaze. “Lord Dissinger. I-I fear that I am about to be ill.”
His lordship looked alarmed. “Don’t do that, Miss Sommers! Here, I’ll take you out on the balustrade. A little fresh air is just the thing you need.”
Sarah scarcely heard him. The headache was pounding so viciously that she was blinded. She felt the gentleman’s hand under her elbow, supporting her and urging her forward. There was the sound of a bolt being drawn back and then a rush of cooler air.
Sarah drew in a deep breath. Her vision cleared and she saw that she was standing on the balustrade that overlooked the moonlit gardens. Lord Dissinger was still holding on to her elbow and he was gazing down at her with an anxious frown. Sarah sought to reassure him. “Thank you, my lord. I am much better now.”
“Are you absolutely certain, Miss Sommers? For you looked whiter than paper just now,” said Lord Dissinger.
“Oh, yes. The night air has completely revived me. It was just the heat. I started to get the headache and then I felt so ill all of a sudden,” said Sarah. “But the nausea has quite passed off now.”
Lord Dissinger nodded and let go of her elbow. He shook his head. “That is the drawback of these routs. There are always such crowds and the windows are nearly always all closed. Even the staunchest of us fellows feels the heat. I am happiest when I can leave town and go into the country. I am glad that you are feeling better, Miss Sommers. Do you wish to go back inside?”
