by Gayle Buck
* * * *
Lady Alverley desired to leave the Frobishers’ ball at an earlier hour than was her usual wont. She complained that her new headdress was pressing into her head. “I should never have purchased it. I shall not listen to Constance Philby again, I assure you,” she said irritably as she entered Alverley House, followed by Sarah.
Their entrance was heard, and Miss Hanson and Margaret emerged from the drawing room. Lady Alverley greeted them and repeated her complaint about her headdress, adding, “It is giving me the headache.”
“Perhaps a glass of ratafia would be in order, my lady?” inquired Miss Hanson.
“Yes, that would be nice,” said Lady Alverley, nodding. She gave her cloak to the butler. “See to it, Herbert. You may bring it into the drawing room.”
“Yes, my lady.”
Lady Alverley preceded the rest of the ladies into the drawing room. Immediately she pulled off the offending, heavily jeweled headdress and dropped it onto an occasional table. “Detestable thing. I would toss it into the garbage, but it came too dear.”
“Perhaps you might take it back, my lady?” asked Miss Hanson.
“I shall certainly do so.” With a sigh. Lady Alverley sat down on a silk-striped settee. “Come sir down beside me, Margaret. You appear completely hagged this evening. Didn’t you have a good time?”
Margaret nodded. Her smile did not quite reach her eyes. “Of course, I did, Grandmama. I always do.”
Lady Alverley patted her youngest granddaughter’s hand. “Never mind being civil, Margaret. You did not miss a thing. It was a surprisingly insipid affair, I thought. We shall all feel better for some ratafia.”
“I enjoyed myself, at least,” remarked Sarah. She was still savoring the sweet memory of her waltz with Lord Eustace and the mending of the breach between them. She had been reluctant to leave when Lady Alverley declared it to be time to do so. It had been the best function she had attended in some time.
“I am glad, Sarah. By the by, I have been meaning to tell you. Earlier this week I sustained a visit from Lord Tottenham. He made an offer for your hand,” said Lady Alverley.
Sarah abruptly came out of the clouds. She stared at her grandmother. “Oh! And what did you tell him, ma’am?”
“I told him, quite civilly, that since he has a nursery of hopeful children, he would do better to solicit the hand of a maiden lady already grown stable in her character, rather than that of a flighty young miss,” said Lady Alverley with a thin smile.
“Really, my lady! Sarah is not in the least flighty,” said Miss Hanson, shocked.
“At least, I hope that I am not,” said Sarah with a laugh.
“Of course you aren’t. However, it was a simple, effective way of discouraging his lordship without giving offense,” said Lady Alverley.
“Quite masterly,” said Miss Hanson admiringly.
“I thought so,” nodded Lady Alverley.
“Have-have you had any offers for me?” asked Margaret with a studied indifference. She did not look up, but was seemingly more interested in making pleats in her skin than in the answer to her question.
“As a matter of fact, Margaret, I have.”
Margaret looked up quickly. Sarah was astonished by the intensity of the expression in her blue eyes. “Who from, Grandmama?”
At that moment, the door opened, preventing Lady Alverley from answering. The butler entered with a decanter and glasses on a tray. He served each of the ladies and exited.
Lady Alverley and Miss Hanson tasted the ratafia with every appearance of gratification. Sarah set hers aside, un-tasted. She didn’t need a glass of wine to enhance her sense of well-being that evening.
Margaret took a small sip and wrinkled her nose. “Ugh! How disgusting.” She put down the wineglass. “Grandmama, were any of the offers from gentlemen that we know?”
“Why, yes, of course. I have had to turn away Mr. Lawrence and Captain Jeffries, as well as a score of gentlemen whom I can most kindly describe as hanger’s-on and witless puppies,” said Lady Alverley.
At Margaret’s downcast face, Lady Alverley patted her hand. “Never mind, my dear. I know that you are disappointed. But there will be an acceptable parti come forward before the end of the season. I am sure of it.”
Her ladyship’s reassurance did not appear to elevate Margaret’s deflated spirits. Margaret got up from the settee. “If you do not mind, Grandmama, I shall go up to my room. I have a bit of the headache.”
“Do just as you like, Margaret. Now kiss me and go on,” said Lady Alverley in a kind tone. When her granddaughter had kissed her cheek and exited the drawing room, she said irritably, “What ails the girl? She is bluer than I have ever seen her.”
“I am sure that Margaret is simply overtired, ma’am. She will be better for an early night,” said Sarah quickly.
Lady Alverley nodded. Her frown did not lighten, however, as she reflected for a few moments. “Do you know, I quite thought that Lord Mittenger was going to come up to scratch. But all of a sudden he simply stopped calling. We scarcely see his lordship any more.”
“I can explain that, Grandmama. Lord Mittenger did make me an offer. But I refused him,” said Sarah quietly.
“What?” Lady Alverley glanced swiftly at her companion. “Why did I not know of this, Marie?”
Miss Hanson looked alarmed. “My lady! I had no notion! That is, I wondered but—”
“Lord Mittenger broached the subject to me in a private moment, Grandmama,” said Sarah quickly. She did not want her grandmother’s wrath to fall upon Miss Hanson’s helpless head. “His lordship quite took me by surprise. I had no inkling of his intent.”
“I find it difficult to believe that Lord Mittenger so lost his head that he forgot all convention! His lordship’s manners are generally so correct,” snapped Lady Alverley.
“Nevertheless, that is what happened,” said Sarah with a steady look.
“One may never predict what a gentleman might do under the inspiration of the moment,” said Lady Alverley, obviously much put out. “And you refused him, Sarah! Lord Mittenger! What, pray, were you thinking?”
“I was thinking that I did not love him,” said Sarah quietly.
“Love! Nonsense! This is naught but caprice! You have whistled down the wind the most obliging offer that you are now likely to receive,” said Lady Alverley angrily.
“I know it, ma’am.” A smile suddenly hovered about Sarah’s mouth. “I have thought about it any number of times since, believe me.”
“Regretted your mistake, have you? Well, and so I should hope! Oh, go away! I cannot bear to look at you just now.”
As Sarah obediently left the drawing room, she overheard Lady Alverley’s complaint to Miss Hanson.
“What am I to do, Marie? Margaret has fallen into the megrims and Sarah insists upon holding fast to this ridiculous romantic nonsense!”
“I’m sure I don’t know, my lady.”
“Oh, must you always be such a witless parrot, Marie!”
* * *
Chapter 18
The great actress, Mrs. Sarah Siddons, was on the bill at the Theatre Royal in Covent Garden. She was a commanding figure with dark locks and eagle eyes, perfectly cast in Shakespeare’s tragedy Macbeth. It was a magnificent performance.
Between acts, the torches came on. Those seated in their private boxes overlooking the stage and the pits were soon visiting and being visited. Several gentlemen seated in the pits took advantage of the brighter lighting to openly ogle the ladies in the boxes through their quizzing glasses.
Sarah saw Margaret look over the edge of the box and smile suddenly. Her sister waved her fan, acknowledging one of the bold gentlemen. Margaret realized that Sarah was watching and instantly she stepped to the back of the box.
Sarah glanced out over the pits below to discover who had won her sister’s notice. She had no difficulty in picking out Captain Jeffries. The cavalry officer was a half-head taller than anyone around him and he was
still looking toward the box. When Captain Jeffries saw that he was under observation, he smiled and raised a gloved hand to Sarah, before he turned away.
Various admirers came into the box to pay their respects to Lady Alverley and her party and to offer to fetch refreshments. Lord and Lady Frobisher were among the stream of visitors. Lady Frobisher requested the favor of their company at a dinner that she was planning for a fortnight hence. Lady Alverley accepted for them all. She inquired about Lord Eustace. “We have not yet seen him this evening.”
“Eustace will probably be along later. He ran into an old friend who begged his company at supper,” said Lord Frobisher.
As the Frobishers left, Lord Darton arrived with his sister, Miss Barbara Darton, and another young lady, who was introduced as Miss Emma Jennings. Sarah liked Miss Jennings, thinking that she was a quiet, shy girl. She wondered why she had not met Miss Jennings earlier in the Season.
Lady Alverley and Miss Hanson engaged Miss Jennings in conversation. Margaret and Miss Darton at once put their heads together and exchanged whispering confidences.
Lord Darton continued to exchange pleasantries with Sarah, but his lordship seemed increasingly distracted. Sarah glanced consideringly at him. He was sitting at his ease beside her, but his gaze kept straying to Miss Jennings. His expression was oddly anxious.
“Lord Darton, is there anything wrong?” asked Sarah quietly.
His lordship started. He glanced at her, seeming to hesitate. Then he cleared his throat. “Not at all, Miss Sommers. Er--I wish to make known to you that I will shortly be entering an announcement into the newspapers. Miss Jennings has honored me by accepting my suit.”
Sarah was surprised, but she greeted his pronouncement politely. “I wish you and Miss Jennings very well, my lord.”
Lord Darton glumly nodded. In a burst of candor, he confessed, “Miss Jennings is the daughter of a respectable, very well-to-do cloth merchant.”
“I thought that I had not met Miss Jennings before. She has lived very quietly up to now, of course,” said Sarah. “I like her, Lord Darton. She is quiet and shy and I thought her prettily behaved. It is a wonder that she is not overawed by her exalted company, but I think she is handling my grandmother and Miss Hanson very well.”
Lord Darton threw another glance toward his betrothed. With a surprised inflection in his voice, he said, “Yes, I suppose that she is.” He suddenly smiled and there was a grateful expression on his face. He caught up Sarah’s hand and briefly pressed her fingers. “Thank you, Miss Sommers. Your opinion means much to me.”
Sarah turned off his compliment. Lord Darton’s voice and expression were almost embarrassingly grateful. His lordship had obviously been suffering from agonies of uncertainty over the way his betrothed would be received. Sarah was glad that she had been able to reassure him, at least about her own views.
As Lord Darton retrieved his betrothed and his sister in order to say good-bye, his eyes again met Sarah’s. He bowed over her hand. “Good-bye, Miss Sommers.”
Sarah realized that not only would Lord Darton no longer form part of their court, but hereafter when they met, it would be as distant acquaintances. He had chosen another path and the lady who was on his arm would trod it with him.
After the Dartons and Miss Jennings had left, Margaret said, “Barbara was telling me the most extraordinary thing. Lord Darton and Miss Jennings are to be wed in a few weeks.”
“I own, I am astonished that the wedding is to be so soon, but I suppose that Lord Darton’s affairs are rather more urgent than I had heard,” said Lady Alverley.
“Miss Jennings is the daughter of a cloth merchant,” said Margaret.
“Apparently Lord Darton did not feel that his chances were good in winning an heiress from his own social order,” said Miss Hanson in a regretful voice.
Sarah thought it was time to offer her own opinion. “For my part, I thought that Miss Jennings was quite nice. Her manners were unexceptional and she presented a very neat appearance.”
“Indeed, I was pleasantly surprised. I learned from Miss Jennings that she attended a rather exclusive school for girls. No doubt that explains her outward gentility,” said Lady Alverley.
“How is it that it is acceptable for Lord Darton to marry a lady whose birth is so far beneath him? Yet it is not acceptable for me or Sarah to consider anyone who is of our own social order, but who is not blessed with all the advantages of position?” asked Margaret intensely.
Sarah leveled a long thoughtful glance at her sister. She had not forgotten whom Margaret had stolen out of the town house to attend a masquerade with, nor had she missed Margaret’s acknowledgment of Captain Jeffries’s bow from the pits. Decidedly, Margaret seemed to be forming a marked partiality for Captain Jeffries and that was what had precipitated her sister’s question now.
Sarah understood her sister’s confusion. Their grandmother had made very plain her views on what she considered to be an eligible parti and Captain Jeffries had been firmly barred from that group. Of course, Sarah thought it only fair to remind herself that Margaret had also formed a strong friendship with the Lawrences. Mr. Lawrence had also been pronounced by Lady Alverley to be an ineligible. It must seem to be an injustice, indeed, that Lord Darton had done what she and Margaret were forbidden to do. Not that it was in the least likely that either of them would marry to disoblige themselves, but nevertheless it was a hard lesson for Margaret’s tender, kind heart.
“Wealth counts for something in this world, Margaret,” said Lady Alverley bluntly. “A gentleman can have every advantage of birth and position, like Lord Darton, and not have a feather to fly with. His lordship has bowed to necessity and he has made a wise choice. Though Miss Jennings is beneath him in birth, she brings a fresh infusion of much needed financial stability to an old and distinguished family. In short, it is a very respectable match,” said Lady Alverley.
“Then an acceptable match is one in which at least one of the parties profits?” asked Margaret.
“Vulgarly put, but accurate enough, Margaret,” said Lady Alverley repressively.
“I detest it! Such hypocrisy. We are all like prime bits of blood held up at auction,” exclaimed Margaret.
“Margaret, I will not tolerate such vulgar parlance. Prime bits of blood, indeed! I suppose that I need not inquire too far in where you have culled that phrase. It is the fault of that rakish set that you are so fond of,” said Lady Alverley. “I almost wish that I had never introduced you to Mrs. Jeffries.”
Margaret jumped up, spots of color coming into her cheeks. “I know what I am to make of that! You object to my dearest friends!”
Lady Alverley stared at her youngest granddaughter in astonishment and disapproval. “What means this sudden heat of yours, my dear?”
“The air has gotten close, Grandmama. I feel it myself,” said Sarah hastily. “I shall go with my sister for a walk in the hall. Do you wish to accompany us, Miss Hanson?”
“Of course, if her ladyship permits,” said Miss Hanson, glancing at Lady Alverley.
Lady Alverley waved her hand, her expression irritated. “Yes, do go with them, Marie. Perhaps a few minutes of walking will soothe Margaret’s megrims. That is what comes of attending these tragedies. One’s emotions tend to run higher than the usual.”
As Sarah and Margaret left the box, Miss Hanson dawdled behind to adjust her shawl. Margaret seized the moment of privacy to whisper fiercely, “Whyever did you invite Miss Hanson? I don’t want her around me!”
“Our grandmother would not have given us permission to leave the box without a chaperone,” said Sarah. She had linked her arm with her sister’s and she urged Margaret down the hall. Miss Hanson was left behind, but Sarah saw in a swift glance cast over her shoulder that she seemed content merely to have them within sight. She put her head close to Margaret’s as they walked. It was an awkward place for a private conversation, but there was little choice. “What is wrong with you, Margaret?”
“Nothing! Ev
erything! Oh, Sarah, I don’t know what to do!” said Margaret in an anguished voice.
Sarah glanced up into her face in alarm. “My dear! You must tell me, so I can help.”
“No one can help me,” said Margaret, biting her lip. There were tears sparkling in her eyes and a bleakness in her expression that Sarah had never seen before.
“Margaret—”
“Hush! Here is Miss Hanson,” said Margaret quickly. She blinked back the tears and put on a credible smile. “Yes, Miss Hanson? Did you want something?”
“I believe it is time that we turn around and return to our box, Margaret, Sarah. You will not wish to miss the beginning of the next act,” said Miss Hanson, anxiously consulting a watch she had hanging on a ribbon at her waist.
Sarah did not care a single snap of her fingers about the play. She was far more concerned about her sister. She knew that Margaret had no interest in the performance, either, for there remained a shadowed expression in her eyes which had nothing to do with Shakespeare’s Macbeth. It was only Miss Hanson who was so desirous of returning to the box.
“Pray allow us five minutes more. Miss Hanson. It cannot matter that greatly, for the torches must still go down and the curtain be raised,” said Sarah.
“I am afraid that I must insist, Sarah,” said Miss Hanson with a prim expression. “I would be behind in my duties if I sanctioned this loitering in the public hall.”
Margaret turned aside sharply, as though she could not bear the constraints that Miss Hanson represented. Sarah felt for her and rounded on their chaperone. “You must see that Margaret has not fully recovered from the closeness of the box, Miss Hanson. If you do not care to wait, then I shall be happy to remain behind with her while you return to the box.”
“You must know that I cannot do that, Sarah! Lady Alverley would have my head if I were to abandon you two here,” said Miss Hanson with an appalled expression.
