Evie was of more robust constitution, even though her employment prospects were just as subject to the whims of Miss Violet Barantine. She had been engaged to impart the polished manners of the beau monde to the daughter of a jewel merchant, and escort her into those fringes of society which would accept her. Despite the large salary, complete with a generous dress allowance, she would be rather relieved if her young charge should take a pet and dispense with her services, for there was little pleasure to be had as companion and chaperon to a flighty girl like Violet. At eighteen years of age, with a mother long dead and an over-indulgent father, Violet had been for so long the sun around whom the household revolved that she knew no other way.
The carriage arrived, waited, departed. Violet appeared at the top of the stairs waving two bonnets.
“Evie? The chip straw or the velvet? What do you think?”
“When you asked me at breakfast, I suggested the silk as being the most appropriate, and I see no reason to change my opinion.”
“But black silk is so lowering, Evie. It makes me look so sallow and ill.”
“Black is a depressing colour, it is true, but you would not wish to appear disrespectful of your papa, not so soon after his death. The chip straw is a little too frivolous for town wear, dear, and the velvet makes you look far older than your years, whereas the silk bonnet is perfectly styled to enhance the shape of your face.”
“So it is! I look very well in it, do I not? Mrs Carrington said so too, and she knows about such matters, for her bonnets are worn by all the most fashionable ladies of the ton. The silk, then.”
She whisked away to her room, and the hall lapsed into silence. The carriage returned, waited again, departed. Green checked his pocket watch for the fourteenth time. Mrs Bowdler paced. Evie sat motionless, hands resting in her lap. The carriage returned, waited. Violet appeared at the top of the stairs.
“Evie? I am not sure about this pelisse. What do you think?”
Evie rose to her feet. “We have an appointment, Violet, and it would be very bad form to keep the gentlemen waiting. You may go and change if you wish, and I will see Mr Camberwell and Mr Baxter on your behalf.”
She walked steadily towards the door, but Violet flew down the stairs and reached it before her. “Just button my gloves, will you?”
“You have two lady’s maids for the purpose, Violet, who would be most offended if I should usurp such a task from them.”
Miss Lidderdale and Miss Coleman had followed their mistress down the stairs, albeit at a more decorous pace. After a politely worded dispute as to which of them should have the honour of buttoning the gloves, they settled on one apiece, so that Violet was soon perfectly attired to venture forth. With a final adjustment of the curls artfully framing her face, a last tug at the sleeves of the expertly constructed pelisse, and the lace veil set in place, the two maids stepped back, satisfied. Green sprang forward to open the door and Violet passed through without a glance.
As she followed her charge, Evie murmured, “Thank you, Green.”
“Oh yes, thank you, Green,” Violet said, turning to him with her most entrancing smile.
“My privilege to serve so charming a mistress,” Green murmured.
She dimpled even more. Henry, her personal footman, held open the carriage door. She entered it, Evie followed, Henry jumped up behind and they rolled off, almost exactly on the hour. Evie breathed a sigh of relief. Another effort to cajole Violet into rational behaviour successfully accomplished, and without undue delay. A good morning’s work.
“Will young Mr Baxter be there today?” Violet said plaintively. Tedious business meetings were lightened considerably for her by the presence of a personable young man to admire her. They all did admire her, naturally. Even in mourning, with her father barely a month dead, Miss Violet Barantine was a sight to gladden the heart of any man, and Violet was young enough to enjoy her fledgling power over gentlemen.
“I cannot say,” Evie said. “I know only of Mr Camberwell and Mr Baxter, your trustees.”
“Will there be ratafia cakes? Last time there were ratafia cakes.”
“Too many cakes are ruinous for a lady’s complexion,” Evie said.
“But I might have just one? That would not be ruinous, would it?”
Evie conceded that a single cake might not be sufficient to destroy Violet’s looks entirely.
But when they were shown into the sumptuously appointed office of Mr Camberwell, attorney at law, they found themselves facing a larger group than expected. Mr Baxter, Violet’s financial adviser and a joint trustee of her fortune with Mr Camberwell, was well known to them, and the eager face of the young Mr Baxter was there too. But who were the other two gentlemen?
“Miss Parfitt, Miss Barantine, allow me to present to you another colleague from the legal profession, Mr Willerton-Forbes, and this is Captain Edgerton, formerly of the East India Company.”
Mr Willerton-Forbes was a dapper man, too fashionable for a lawyer. Captain Edgerton was a more flamboyant dresser, who took one look at Violet and immediately executed a flourishing bow, before stepping forward to hold a seat for her. She responded in her usual manner, with a tinkling laugh, a slight blush and a smile in acknowledgement of his admiration. It was very cleverly done, Evie could not deny, and must be convincingly innocent in those who did not know Violet well.
“There is good news, Miss Barantine,” Mr Camberwell said, beaming at her with as much paternal fervour as if she were his own daughter. “I shall leave Mr Willerton-Forbes to tell you of it.”
The lawyer cleared his throat. “Indeed, indeed! Good news of a most unexpected nature, Miss Barantine. The tragedy of the sinking of the Brig Minerva off the Cornish coast, which has so painfully deprived you of your sole remaining parent, has attracted sympathy from many people. One of them has been greatly affected by the great loss of life, and has set aside a sum of money — a rather large sum of money — to compensate all those who survived the disaster, and the next of kin of those who were so unfortunately lost to the world.”
Violet blinked at him.
“The sum allotted,” Mr Willerton-Forbes said, “is one thousand pounds to each person so affected, to be dispensed in whatever manner is most convenient.”
“Is that not good news, Miss Barantine?” Mr Camberwell said. “Is it not splendid news? Not such as to recompense you for the sad loss of your dear father, but is it not a splendid gesture by this unknown person?”
“A thousand pounds? That is not very much. I am worth a hundred thousand pounds,” Violet said robustly. “At least!”
“Oh, true, it is but a drop in the ocean,” Mr Camberwell said hastily. “But still, an extra thousand pounds will be—”
“What about my guardian?” Violet said. “When you read Papa’s will to me, it said that Mr Newbold was to be my guardian, but he drowned too. So what is to happen now? Am I not to have a guardian?”
“You must have a guardian, Miss Barantine. There must be someone set over you to determine where you live and — should you wish to marry — to give approval, for otherwise you would have to wait until you are of age, you know.”
“Oh no, I intend to be married long before then. What a shocking thing to be still unmarried at one and twenty.”
Evie smiled, well aware that she herself was regarded as an old maid by her young charge, and therefore much to be pitied, being still unmarried at the advanced age of nine and twenty.
Captain Edgerton put in smoothly, “I am sure that will not be your fate, Miss Barantine.”
Violet dimpled at him, with the delicate blush and lowered eyes with which she received every compliment. “Mr Camberwell, you could be my guardian, could you not? Or Mr Baxter?”
“That would not be wise, Miss Barantine. We are the trustees of your fortune, and it is frowned upon rather for the guardianship of your fortune and your person to reside in the same gentleman.”
“Then what is to be done? What happens when the lease of the hou
se ends? Must I move? Evie tells me that my guardian would determine such matters, but if I have no guardian—”
Mr Camberwell and Mr Baxter exchanged glances. “You need not worry about that, Miss Barantine,” Mr Camberwell said soothingly. “Everything will be arranged, in time, and you may leave everything to us.”
“But who will it be? I should not like to be in the hands of someone I dislike, or some dreadfully stuffy person. How will he be chosen? May I have no say in it?” Violet pouted prettily. “That does not seem fair!”
“Such matters are not for young ladies to determine. Since you have no living relations, a guardian will be appointed for you by the Court of Chancery. Naturally, Mr Baxter and I, as your trustees, will make a recommendation, but the court will decide what is best for you.”
Mr Willerton-Forbes coughed. “If I may elaborate a little, for the benefit of Miss Barantine, gentlemen?” Mr Camberwell nodded, unable to refuse such an eminent lawyer, although he was clearly not happy about it. “In law, as you are above the age of fourteen, you may choose a guardian for yourself. The court may not agree with you, but generally if a respectable and suitable person should apply to the court to be appointed as your guardian, there will not be any dissent.”
Violet’s face lit up. “I may choose for myself?”
“In law, you may.”
“Then I choose Mr Eliot Armitage.”
There was a stunned silence. Evie could not think of a less suitable guardian for a flighty girl of eighteen, but she trusted the gentlemen to scotch the idea. However, her faith in them was misplaced.
“I do not know the gentleman,” Mr Baxter said plaintively. “Is he a previously unknown relation, Miss Barantine?”
“No, but is that important? Respectable and suitable, that gentleman said, and Mr Armitage is certainly that, is he not, Evie? Why, we met him at Lady Frampton’s, who is of the first stare of fashion, so he must be so.”
“And that is the only occasion upon which we have met him,” Evie said crisply. “He is a single man of some fortune, I was told, who is invited everywhere, but as to whether he is a suitable person to be your guardian, it is difficult to say.”
Certainly difficult to say with Violet in the room, but Evie was almost thirty and need not be protected from the realities of masculine life. When she had enquired of the other chaperons about Mr Armitage, they had whispered words that needed no explanation. Lady Frampton herself had added bracingly, “He is rich enough not to prey on heiresses, so you need not be concerned for your charge’s fortune. Only for her heart. Eliot is…” She sighed nostalgically. “…quite devastating to female sensibilities. You should permit him one set of dances, no more.”
And so Evie had, and Violet had made no demur, but ever since that evening she had talked of nothing but Mr Armitage, and at every evening engagement she had wondered hopefully if he would be there, before her father’s death had brought such outings to a halt temporarily. He was not the first charming young man for whom she had developed a tendre, and Evie had hoped that this infatuation would go the way of the rest and be rapidly replaced by a new interest, but if he were to become her guardian, who knew how it would end?
“Shall I make some enquiries around the clubs?” Captain Edgerton said. “See what is known about him… his… erm, family circumstances, that sort of thing?”
“That would be most helpful,” Mr Camberwell said with obvious relief. “Mr Baxter and I… it is more difficult…”
“Of course, of course! Two gentlemen of your standing in society asking about a man wholly unknown to you would attract some most unwelcome comment, whereas I have some acquaintances of whom the most discreet enquiries may be made. This is just the sort of delicate little undertaking I enjoy.”
“That is settled, then,” Evie said briskly, rather hoping that Violet’s fancy would have shifted before the idea could come to fruition. “Have you made any progress in locating the title to the late Mr Barantine’s business, Mr Camberwell?”
“Not as yet, Miss Parfitt, but we are optimistic. Our splendid Royal Navy is currently engaged in retrieving everything that may be retrieved from the wreck of the Brig Minerva, and once Mr Barantine’s… ah, effects are returned to us, we hope to find the title amongst them.”
“He carried the title to his business on his person?” Mr Willerton-Forbes said. “That is rather singular.”
“Indeed, but Mr Barantine had little faith in the conventional means of security for documents, such as safes,” Mr Camberwell said. “He liked to carry all his most important documents with him at all times, in a specially constructed waterproof container.”
“What about my diamonds?” Violet said. “Papa was bringing home a fortune in diamonds, and I was to have the largest of them. He promised me.”
“They will be found amongst his effects, I make no doubt,” Mr Camberwell said. “As soon as everything arrives from Cornwall, you may choose your diamond, Miss Barantine.”
Violet smiled, satisfied.
~~~~~
Several days after this meeting, Evie was in the study at Bruton Street writing to her aunt, when Green informed her that Mr Willerton-Forbes and Captain Edgerton wished to speak with her. She laid aside her pen, and stood to receive the two gentlemen.
“How very kind in you to see us at such short notice,” Mr Willerton-Forbes said. “Miss Barantine is not at home today?”
“She is busy upstairs with fittings for some additions to her wardrobe,” Evie said with a smile. “If, as I suspect, you wish to talk to me about Mr Armitage, then that is a matter best accomplished without Violet’s presence, I feel.”
“Indeed it is,” Mr Willerton-Forbes said. “Captain Edgerton has been pursuing his enquiries with some success. Captain?”
“Miss Parfitt, you said that Mr Armitage is a single man of fortune who is invited everywhere, and I have heard nothing to contradict that. He is thirty years old, he lives in Grosvenor Square and there is an estate in Essex, where his parents still live. His father is very elderly now and never leaves the house. He has four sisters, all older than he is and all very well married, one to a baron, and one to a baronet. All perfectly respectable and sober.”
“But?” Evie said with a smile. “I feel sure that you are about to reveal a flaw.”
Captain Edgerton rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Mr Armitage is a gentleman who holds the female sex in great admiration, Miss Parfitt.”
“You mean that he is a libertine?” she said. Mr Willerton-Forbes started, and the captain began to protest, but Evie laughed. “Gentlemen, I am not some green girl fresh from the schoolroom. I am nine and twenty years old, and know something of the world. Mr Armitage is a known rake, and I was warned to keep Violet protected against his wiles, as best I could. He is hardly a suitable person to have guardianship of a girl of eighteen.”
“As to that, the court would perhaps see only a man of fortune from a respectable family,” Mr Willerton-Forbes said cautiously. “He is of an age to be a responsible guardian. No, the question is whether he would accept such a charge. He is a man who… hmm, likes to enjoy himself, let us say. It is by no means certain that he would wish to undertake such a responsibility.”
“It might hinder his pursuit of pleasure, you mean?” Evie said, amused. “Indeed. He sounds like a frivolous sort of man, although when I met him, he appeared to be the model of propriety.”
“In public, I believe it is so,” Captain Edgerton said. “However, my informants tell me that his house at Grosvenor Square is the scene of parties of a certain type. Of interest to young gentlemen, if you understand me, Miss Parfitt.”
“Will you speak plainly, Captain? I should not like to put Violet into the hands of a man who regularly drinks to excess, or who might introduce her into unsavoury society. That would be very dangerous.”
“I have heard nothing of that nature. His bachelor parties are very discreet, the gentlemen drawn from the cream of society — the sons of the best families in England. He
keeps that side of his life entirely separate from his other activities. He is, as you have already been advised, invited everywhere. Almack’s, Carlton House, all the most notable occasions of the season. Miss Barantine could hardly have chosen better, for as her guardian, Mr Armitage will be able to introduce her into a most superior level of society.”
Evie chewed her lip thoughtfully. “Even so…”
“Miss Parfitt,” Mr Willerton-Forbes said, “May I enquire as to the reason Miss Barantine wishes Mr Armitage to become her guardian?”
“Oh, she wishes to marry him, of course. She is besotted with him at this moment. Next month, there will be someone else, and the month after that… but at present, he is the object of her marital ambitions, and I should not wish the poor man to be forced into marriage against his will. Violet is… quite ruthless in her pursuits, I regret to say.”
“Then guardianship would offer him the greatest protection,” Mr Willerton-Forbes said, eyes twinkling. “For a guardian to marry his underage ward would be most improper, and the courts would take a dim view of the matter, too. However, this may all be moot, for the very idea may horrify him. Shall I suggest that Mr Camberwell to make an approach to the gentleman?”
“Yes, please do,” Evie said. “The sooner the matter is settled one way or the other, the better.”
But a few days later, Mr Camberwell visited with surprising news. Mr Armitage would be delighted and honoured to become Miss Barantine’s guardian.
The other news was less welcome. Violet’s father’s remains had been returned to London for burial, together with his personal effects recovered from the Brig Minerva. Neither the title documents for his business, nor the hoard of diamonds, were amongst them.
END OF SAMPLE CHAPTER of The Orphan
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The Warborough Family
The Buckley and Dulnain Families
The Painter Page 32
