A Magnificent Match

by Gayle Buck

  Megan gained a singular victory with her mother. When it was explained to Lady O’Connell that it would scarcely rebound to her credit for it to become known that her daughter had removed herself to the protection of Mrs. O’Connell’s house because she did not want to give up her dresser, Lady O’Connell managed to control her spleen. She could well imagine that Mrs. O’Connell would delight in making such a ridiculous story known all over London.

  Lady O’Connell abandoned her demand that the dresser be immediately turned off. Her ladyship even went so far as to try to cajole Simpkins back into her own service. The dresser po­litely declined. This so piqued Lady O’Connell’s temper that she thereafter uttered catty remarks about the dresser’s waning talents. Her ladyship laid the blame at her daughter’s door, for if it had not been for Megan’s effrontery in making use of Simpkins’s services in the first place, there would have been none of this unpleasantness.

  Lady O’Connell retaliated by adopting a distant and chilly civility toward Megan in the mistaken belief that she was pun­ishing her daughter. Her ladyship went about her own affairs, avoiding her daughter as much as possible. While she was out making her courtesy calls or taking tea with various of her friends or shopping, she assumed that Megan was languishing at the town house with only Mrs. Tyler for company.

  Of course, Lady O’Connell had no choice but to lend her countenance to Megan’s appearance at Lady Bishop’s soiree and Mrs. Hadcombe’s ball and supper. It was quite an incon­venience, but at least Mrs. Tyler was present, as well, and could be trusted to chaperone Megan properly so that she her­self was freed to enjoy the entertainments.

  Lady O’Connell begged off from Lady Stallcroft’s alfresco party and sent Mrs. Tyler in her stead. “For I know that you will not mind going, Gwyneth. It is more your style of thing,” she had said.

  “I do not mind in the least, my lady,” said Mrs. Tyler qui­etly.

  “I knew that you would oblige me,” said Lady O’Connell with a nod. “It is a pity that I am so engaged or otherwise I might see more of Megan. I trust that you are keeping her tol­erably well entertained.”

  “We enjoy one another’s company, my lady,” said Mrs. Tyler.

  Lady O’Connell had smiled and dismissed her cousin, thinking that, really, she must do something to reward Mrs. Tyler for her loyalty. The next instant she had forgotten the vague thought and was absorbed in choosing her toilette for that evening.

  Mrs. Tyler had gone away with the comfortable conviction that they might never have to confess to Lady O’Connell that they were remaining in London. As long as Lady O’Connell continued to go off and leave them to their own affairs, they would do very well. She and Megan had formed the habit of walking in the park each afternoon and it was amazing how much one was able to intermingle with society by taking one’s exercise. They also made morning calls on everyone who was kind enough to acknowledge them and soon became prime fa­vorites with several hostesses.

  Cards that came to the town house for Megan and her com­panion were discreetly tunneled directly into their hands by the obliging staff. Lady O’Connell never saw them and for a fortnight remained in happy ignorance of her daughter’s bur­geoning social life. Acquaintances were made aware that Miss O’Connell and Mrs. Tyler could be found at home only on cer­tain days, and those days were carefully chosen to coincide with Lady O’Connell’s own absences.

  Megan and Mrs. Tyler accepted those invitations that might conceivably be thought by Lady O’Connell to be too stuffy or too beneath her notice to attend. There was also Megan’s en­tree to Almack’s to put to good use. Lady O’Connell rarely attended the assemblies at the exclusive club. If she had done so that week, she would have seen her daughter enter the very cream of the ton and receive the nod from no less a personage than Countess Lieven for permission to waltz.

  As for the sort of entertainments which Lady O’Connell al­ways attended, Megan said nothing to her mother about them. She simply appeared at the functions with Mrs. Tyler and Mrs. O’Connell. Without argument or cajoling, Megan had made her debut.

  If it was wondered at that Megan was seen in her sister-in-law’s train rather than her mother’s, the question was dis­missed rather easily. Lady O’Connell’s character was well known. It was widely assumed that her ladyship preferred to leave her daughter’s come-out to Mrs. O’Connell’s manage­ment.

  “Depend upon it, Agatha did not wish to be tied down by the responsibility of bringing the girl out. That is why she is taking full advantage of Mrs. O’Connell’s good nature,” said Mrs. Hadcombe.

  “Oh, undoubtedly! Though I hardly think it is such a burden upon Sophronia O’Connell’s shoulders. Miss O’Connell has taken to society quite well,” said Lady Bishop, watching the young lady in question waltzing with a gallant gentleman. “I am very impressed with her poise and grace.”

  “Are you thinking of her for your son?” asked Mrs. Had­combe with a glance. “She hasn’t anything but a small portion, as I understand it.”

  “True, but I would prefer Miss O’Connell over that twitty Henrietta Beaseley. My word! What Eugene sees in her is beyond my comprehension. It is enough to send me into palpi­tations, I assure you,” said Lady Bishop.

  Mrs. Hadcombe laughed. It was well known that the Honor­able Mister Eugene Bishop was making up to that confirmed bluestocking, Miss Henrietta Beaseley. Of course, Mister Bishop was also of a scholarly bent; but that did not excuse his unfortunate passion for a lady who had the bad taste of actu­ally quoting Plato in company.

  Lady O’Connell came up to the two ladies. There was an agitated expression on her face. “My dears! I cannot begin to tell you of my mortification. It is enough that Sophronia is so lost to propriety as to bring Megan and Mrs. Tyler tonight. But Megan to dance the waltz! It is bizarre behavior, indeed! Whatever shall I do?”

  Mrs. Hadcombe stared. “My dear Agatha, what can you mean? Miss O’Connell’s manner is quite unexceptional, I as­sure you.”

  Lady O’Connell practically wrung her hands. “You do not understand! I never gave her permission to dance, nor indeed did I sanction this appearance tonight!”

  “Come, Agatha! These are the merest qualms of the nerves. Countess Lieven herself has conveyed her approval on your daughter. What more can you desire?” asked Lady Bishop, who had been at Almack’s with her son and seen the honor conferred on Miss O’Connell.

  “Countess Lieven!” Lady O’Connell looked from one to the other of her friends. Their surprised expressions were begin­ning to turn to curiosity. Her ladyship saw the danger of con­fiding too much and sharply turned about. Hastily, she said, “Oh well, then! What can I have to be anxious about?” She gave an unconvincing laugh.

  “You surprise me, Agatha. I had not thought you to be such an anxious parent,” said Lady Bishop, regarding her with an amused smile. “Surely Miss O’Connell’s debut into society is coming along just as it ought. Of course, she has had the ad­vantage of having been brought out already in St. Petersburg. That was wise of you, Agatha. It has given Miss O’Connell a confidence that I feel certain she might not have had other­wise.”

  Lady O’Connell felt herself momentarily bereft of speech. Her stunned mind grasped two facts, however. One was that she must speak to her daughter. The other, and far more im­portant at that moment, was that she must at all costs preserve her dignity. “I did not realize—that is, I am just so over­whelmed! One does not appreciate these things until one is faced with them.”

  “You are fortunate that you have Mrs. O’Connell to help you take her around,” said Mrs. Hadcombe. “I understand that she has introduced your daughter as widely as possible.”

  “Of course! Of course!” said Lady O’Connell, reflecting that was another lady that she very much wanted to have a word with. In fact, there was nothing to prevent her from tak­ing her daughter-in-law to task that very moment. “Pray ex­cuse me. I wish to—to consult with Sophronia on a certain matter. You will understand, I know!”

 
A few moments later, it could be observed that Lady O’Connell and Mrs. O’Connell were in the midst of a differ­ence of opinion. Lady O’Connell’s glacial expression was in direct contrast to Mrs. O’Connell’s heightened color.

  Mrs. Tyler was one of those who witnessed the ladies’ meeting, and that it was an unhappy one was all too obvious. “Oh, dear! I knew that it was too comfortable to last,” she murmured.

  “What was that you said, Mrs. Tyler?” asked Lady Mans­field.

  “I was just reminded of something that I wished to ask Megan. Pray excuse me, my lady,” said Mrs. Tyler, hastily taking her leave. She made her way at once over to Megan, who was just returning from the dance floor. Mrs. Tyler nod­ded to the gentleman who was escorting Megan back to her chair and as soon as he bowed himself off, she said, “Megan, there is trouble! Lady O’Connell and Sophronia are exchang­ing words.”

  Megan turned around and at once perceived the accuracy of Mrs. Tyler’s warning. “I shall go over at once. Poor Sophro­nia! I know that she is catching cold at my expense.”

  With Mrs. Tyler following her, Megan quickly went over to join her mother and sister-in-law. Before she ever reached them, she overheard enough to have her suspicions confirmed. Lady O’Connell was indeed accusing Mrs. O’Connell of over­stepping her bounds where Megan herself was concerned. She interrupted without ceremony. “Nonsense, Mother! Pray do not say another word against Sophronia. You are quite out, you know.”

  “Megan!” Mrs. O’Connell turned to her with relief. Her blue eyes were ablaze with anger. “I am so glad that you are here.”

  “Exactly where she should not be!” exclaimed Lady O’Connell. “I take extreme exception to—”

  “Mother, pray suspend this wrangling until we have de­parted. I cannot imagine that any of us wishes to make any more of a spectacle of ourselves than we already have,” said Megan.

  “I for one shall be happy to leave this unfortunate scene!” exclaimed Mrs. O’Connell. “I am sorry for you, Megan. But I shall not remain another instant in her ladyship’s presence, for fear of what I might say!” She swept away.

  “Well! I have never known such rude treatment at anyone’s hands,” said Lady O’Connell. She turned a rigid countenance to her daughter. “As for you, Megan, I should like an explana­tion, if you please!”

  “With my goodwill, Mother. However, I think not here,” said Megan, quite unflustered. “Gwyneth, let us collect our wraps. We will not be returning home in Sophronia’s carriage, of course. I hope you do not mind that we ride with you, Mother.”

  Lady O’Connell gobbled a furious rebuke. Her ladyship was not attended to either by her daughter or Mrs. Tyler, since those ladies actually had the effrontery to walk away from her in the most unfeeling way imaginable. Lady O’Connell had no choice but to follow hurriedly after them. She put as good a face on as possible as Megan and Mrs. Tyler took leave of their hostess, and added her own short and untruthful praises for the evening.

  However, once the carriage had been called and the ladies had embarked in it, the tirade broke over their heads. Megan preserved silence during the drive home. Lady O’Connell scolded and accused and complained all the way to the town house.

  Megan and Mrs. Tyler descended from the carriage. Lady O’Connell got out, exclaiming, “It is beyond anything when you do not stand still as I am speaking to you, Megan! Yes, and you also, Gwyneth. I am of half a mind of letting you go, for you have proven yourself to be unfit for your position!”

  Megan turned suddenly, her eyes blazing. “Do not dare to threaten Gwyneth!” While Lady O’Connell stared at her, quite taken aback, she said, “We shall discuss everything once we are inside, Mother!”

  The ladies were admitted to the town house by the porter. The manservant took one look at her ladyship’s face and pru­dently faded out of the hall. The butler met the ladies and asked if there was anything that they required.

  “Yes, Digby, we shall have tea in the drawing room,” said Megan, beginning to pull off her gloves.

  “You make yourself mightily free in my house, daughter!” said Lady O’Connell.

  Megan looked at her mother, slightly raising her brows. “Would you prefer something else, ma’am?”

  Lady O’Connell waved one hand dismissively. Very much on her dignity, she said, “Tea will do well enough, I suppose! Now let us go in, for I have a great many things to say to you, Megan. And to you, Gwyneth! Digby, the door!” The butler leaped forward to open the door.

  Megan and Mrs. Tyler followed her ladyship into the draw­ing room. The door was barely closed behind them when Lady O’Connell seized the opportunity to launch into a new tirade.

  “I think you should know that I am staying out the Season,” said Megan, raising her voice to be heard over her mother’s furious squall.

  Lady O’Connell was aghast. “What did you say? Why, you unconscionable girl! It is all a plot to cut up my peace! I do not know at all why you came back from Russia! I wish you had not!”

  “My lady!” exclaimed Mrs. Tyler reprovingly.

  “It is quite all right, Gwyneth. It is only what I expected,” said Megan. “The truth of the matter is that I came back be­cause Princess Kirov wanted me off her hands. She took offense when I turned down eleven offers for my hand.”

  “Oh, Megan,” said Mrs. Tyler, shading her eyes with one hand and sinking onto a settee.

  “Eleven offers?” Lady O’Connell stared in stupefaction at her daughter. “But I do not understand. Megan, why?”

  “None of them appealed to me,” said Megan on a small laugh.

  “Unnatural girl!” gasped Lady O’Connell.

  “I returned to England and have launched myself on a Sea­son with every expectation of successfully contracting an offer,” said Megan calmly.

  “I forbid it! I shall not allow you to wreck all my pleasure this Season. I shall not have you here in this house another hour! You are returning to Ireland this very night!” exclaimed Lady O’Connell, going to the bellpull and giving it a yank.

  “You may force me from the house, Mother, but not from London, for I shall go directly to Sophronia,” said Megan.

  “I shall cut off your pin money!” said Lady O’Connell.

  “You may do so, of course. But Sophronia has her own inde­pendence. And I trust that I would not be a large charge on her since I am already in possession of a very adequate wardrobe,” said Megan.

  “You are completely selfish and unfeeling,” complained Lady O’Connell. “Only think how it would look if you were to remain in London under Sophronia’s roof! I would be talked about by all the vulgar gossips.”

  “I do sympathize, Mother,” said Megan.

  “If that were true, you would instantly comply with my wishes!” said Lady O’Connell bitterly. “But instead, you have set yourself against me.”

  “Well, yes, that is true,” said Megan, a smile touching her face. “But I am only following your own directive to make the most of my opportunities. I have a full calendar of commit­ments and I have every intention of meeting them. It would be thought very strange indeed for me to leave just now.”

  “What are you talking about? You know no one! How can you have accepted any invitations?” said Lady O’Connell, at once diverted.

  “Megan is speaking the truth. She brought letters of intro­duction with her from Russia. Princess Kirov is known in all the best circles and her credit has been of immense value. That was why Countess Lieven gave Megan vouchers to Almack’s and any number of others have already solicited her presence to their entertainments,” said Mrs. Tyler. She gave a tiny smile at Lady O’Connell’s astounded expression. “I am also in de­mand, my lady. It is a heady experience, indeed. We are com­mitted for every evening for the next two months at least.”

  The door opened and the butler looked in. “You rang, my lady?”

  “Tea, Digby! And my smelling salts! At once, you dense man!” exclaimed Lady O’Connell, stumbling to the settee. “I am feeling very unwe
ll. My head is pounding. I am certain that I feel a spasm coming on.”

  “Perhaps you should call her maid to her, Digby,” said Megan quietly. The butler nodded and exited. Megan turned back to her mother. “I hope that you are better directly, ma’am. I think, once you have had an opportunity to adjust yourself to the notion, that you will become quite reconciled to having me here this Season.”

  “Go away!” begged Lady O’Connell. “Just go away!”

  “At once, ma’am,” said Megan. She and Mrs. Tyler left the drawing room. Behind them, they could hear Lady O’Connell begin to indulge in a mild fit of hysterics. As they climbed the stairs, a maid flew past them in the opposite direction with a bottle of smelling salts clutched in her hand.

  “We brushed through that fairly easily, I thought,” said Megan.

  “Indeed! It was not half so bad as I imagined,” agreed Mrs. Tyler.

  * * *

  Chapter 13

  Lady O’Connell was prostrated by the successive shocks of the night before and she kept to her bedroom all morning, rejecting even a cup of weak tea and toast with loathing.

  A gentleman’s card was carried into the sitting room, where Megan was keeping company with Mrs. Tyler. It was not an unusual occurrence now for admirers to send up their cards and Megan thought nothing of it. “Thank you, Digby,” she said.

  She glanced at the name on the card. Color flew into her cheeks.

  Mrs. Tyler noted the phenomenon with lively curiosity. “Why, who is it, Megan?”

  “It is Prince Kirov. He has come to London,” said Megan in a strangled voice. She did not seem to know what to do with the calling card, but stared at it as though she had difficulty bringing it into focus.

  “But how delightful! Digby, pray show the gentleman in. He is a friend from St. Petersburg,” said Mrs. Tyler.

  “No!” said Megan, turning sharply. But the butler was al­ready retreating. She looked almost wildly at Mrs. Tyler. Her usual self-possession was nowhere in evidence. “Gwyneth, how could you? What am I to say? I don’t know what to say!”