Crossed Quills

by Carola Dunn

  “And mine,” Millie insisted. “Wynn said I have to agree as well, don’t forget. Who is she, Wynn? Is it someone I shall like? Is she—”

  “Come along, Millicent,” said Debenham. “Come to my den and tell me all about your presentation gown. Again.” With a martyred face, he swept her ruthlessly from the room.

  “Deuced lucky you are, my dear,” said Wynn, “to catch a capital fellow like George.”

  “Pray never tell him so, Wynn. He is under the impression he caught me. Now, what is all this mystification about?”

  “The Lisles.”

  “You have been to see them already? How is my dear Pippa?”

  “Very well,” Wynn said impatiently. “At least, she seemed in the pink of health and no one mentioned any dread disease. She sent her best regards, or whatever it is females send each other.”

  “Thank you for conveying her greeting so elegantly! What of your mission? Were they able to introduce you to Proteus?”

  “Prometheus, Bina, Prometheus. Yes and no.”

  Bina laughed. “My dear brother, this shilly-shallying will never do if you wish to make a good impression with your speech. Come, let us have a round tale.”

  “You started all that nonsense about Miss Lisle’s health!” Wynn grumbled. “She, incidentally, was most reluctant even to put my case to Prometheus. Her mother persuaded her to allow the gentleman to make up his own mind.”

  “And he said ‘yes and no’?”

  “He said yes, but as payment he wishes me to introduce the younger Lisle girl to the Ton. Both girls, actually, only Miss Lisle was not merely reluctant but strongly averse to a second Season.”

  “Poor Pippa had a miserable time of her first, I fear. But, Wynn, a gentleman cannot sponsor ladies. Do I, by any chance, see where this is leading?”

  “I expect so,” Wynn admitted. “I would never make the mistake of regarding you as a widgeon just because you don’t know Prometheus from Proteus. Will you do it, Bina?”

  “Let me make sure I comprehend the full depths of your deviousness,” Albinia said cautiously. “You wish me to sponsor Kitty Lisle. No difficulty there. Invitations to a few parties, introductions to a few hostesses, easily done. Is she pretty?”

  Wynn grinned. “Ask Chubby. He’s heels over head for the chit.”

  “Mr Chubb went with you?” She held up her hands. “No, no more red herrings, I beg of you! If I am not mistaken, you believe Mrs Lisle would be an acceptable substitute for Aunt Prendergast. “

  “Would she not? I cannot imagine anyone disliking her, but no doubt you saw more of her during Miss Lisle’s Season than I did in two short days.”

  “Oh, as to that, I liked her very well. She was very kind to me when Mama could not cope. But it is a question of whether the world, the starchiest part of the world, will regard her as a suitable...chaperon’s chaperon!” Bina’s smooth forehead wrinkled in thought. Her brother held his breath. “A respectable, well-bred widow of a certain age....Wynn, I cannot see why she should not be acceptable.”

  Wynn breathed again. “To you, to the world, what of George? He is not acquainted with the Lisles, is he? Or barely. Mrs Lisle would have to live in the house to be of any use to you.”

  “George will be only too delighted to welcome anyone who obviates the need to receive his aunt,” Bina said dryly. “When I tell him she was kind to me, he will greet her with raptures. Or if he does not, I shall want to know why. But Pippa and Miss Kitty will have to stay, too, of course. I hope Millie’s nose will not be put out of joint. Is Kitty pretty? Your opinion, now, not Mr Chubb’s.”

  “Very pretty,” said Wynn, pausing before he added, “and as dark as her sister.”

  “Aha! Millie will be glad to hear it. And is she as amiable as Pippa?”

  “Much more so. I don’t wish to malign your friend, Bina, but I should say she can be prickly upon occasion.”

  Bina smiled, a reminiscent smile. “Yes, Pippa was never a commonplace, compliant sort of girl. I shall have to make sure she has an agreeable experience this time. Pray invite them, Wynn, and leave George and Millicent to me. This is going to be such fun!”

  * * * *

  This is going to be simply dreadful, Pippa thought, gazing unhappily out of the carriage window. As well as suffering through at least a few balls and routs for Mama’s sake, she was going to have to struggle to keep her alter ego secret from Lord Selworth while helping him with his speech. If he resided with the Debenhams in Town, it was a doomed struggle.

  Even the pleasant prospect of seeing Albinia again was marred by a sense of obligation. However kindly she tried to convey her need of Mama’s chaperonage, her offer of accommodation was the height of generosity. As for her husband, he must be very fond indeed to allow three strangers in his home for a stay of several months, and to go so far as to send this comfortable carriage to fetch them.

  “Mama, I cannot believe we ought to have accepted the Debenhams’ invitation,” Pippa said for the dozenth time.

  Mrs Lisle shook her head, smiling. “I should not have dreamt of angling for such hospitality, still less of making it a part of Prometheus’s conditions. However, as it was freely offered, I have no hesitation in accepting. With no rent to pay, there will be much more money to dress you two properly. Not to mention the advantages of having an address in the best part of Town.”

  “I think it is simply splendid of Mrs Debenham,” said Kitty, “but Miss Warren does seem to believe Mama’s presence is necessary to them. And she is happy to share her Season with me, as far as I can make out!” She took from her reticule the crossed and recrossed letter Millicent Warren had sent along with her sister’s invitation.

  While Kitty and Mrs Lisle pored again over the indecipherable scribble, Pippa reflected upon the disadvantages of living with two practical optimists. Mama and her sister simply did not understand Pippa’s concerns. Though capable of dealing with adversity, both accepted good fortune without a second thought, never fretting about the dark cloud behind every silver lining.

  Put thus, it sounded ridiculous, Pippa admonished herself. She really must learn to take the smooth with the rough, not to cross her bridges before she came to them—while continuing not to count her chickens before they hatched. And to avoid clichés like the plague.

  Her chief worry, she realized, was lest she fail Lord Selworth. A speech was very different from an article, Papa had taught her, but he had always written his own. By the time she took over the greater part of the labour of writing his articles, he was too ill to make speeches. Suppose, after all Lord Selworth’s and his sister’s kindness, she proved incompetent to improve on his own efforts?

  Cross that bridge if and when you come to it, she reminded herself.

  “Mama,” cried Kitty, “do look at those celandines, how they shine in the sun. I should like a ball gown that colour.”

  “White and pastels, my love, for a girl making her début, though perhaps a satin underdress would be acceptable. Mrs Debenham will know. But Pippa would look very well in a bright shade of yellow, I fancy. What do you think, Pippa?”

  Pippa glanced out at the hedge-bank, golden-yellow with the shiny little flowers. “Perhaps, Mama,” she said cautiously, but a surge of hope took her by surprise.

  She had forgotten she was no longer condemned to the pale colours which suited her so ill—made her look ill, in fact. In vivid shades, and without the need to skimp quite so much on fabrics, maybe she could show Lord Selworth she was not altogether an antidote.

  Rouge? she pondered. If she was practically on the shelf, surely she was old enough to try rouge, just a little bit, carefully applied. She must consult Bina.

  Kitty tapped her arm. “You are lost in a brown study again,” she said with a smile. “I asked you what Mr Debenham is like. Mama has no more than the haziest recollection of him, but you were Mrs Debenham’s best friend so you must recall the gentleman she married.”

  “I did not see a great deal of him. For the most part he mo
ved in circles we did not aspire to. The Debenhams are a very old and well respected Kent family, I collect, connected to the nobility by marriage though not titled. Once Bina had caught his eye, she was invited to the houses of the best hostesses.”

  “But what was he like?”

  “Tall, dark, and handsome, like the hero of a romance.”

  “Oh, handsome! I do not care about his looks, only his character. He sent his carriage and is to let us stay at his house, so he is kind and generous, but so is Mr Postlethwaite.”

  Pippa laughed. “As like as cheese and chalk—both can be cut and crumbled! Generous he may be, but I suspect his kindness has more in it of indulgence for his wife. As I recall, he impressed me as being decidedly high in the instep, frequently satirical, and not a little cynical.”

  “Then he must positively dote on Mrs Debenham,” Kitty marvelled. “He must have fallen desperately in love with her to marry her before her brother became a lord. And she has reformed his character. Oh, excessively romantic!”

  “Such high flights,” Mrs Lisle reproved with a smile. “I daresay desperation had nothing to do with it, simply they found they should suit, a far sounder basis for marriage.”

  “I expect Bina does suit him very well,” Pippa concurred. “Like the two of you, she is calm and cheerful, and no doubt bears with his crotchets to admiration. However, I may be slandering him! Remember, I did not know him well.”

  “You are too prosaic, I vow,” Kitty exclaimed. “I am sure it is a love-match. Never fear, though, Mama, I shall not require a tall, dark, handsome gentleman who loves me desperately. I shall be quite satisfied to find someone who suits.”

  “As long as he indulges your every whim?” Pippa teased.

  “Kitty is by far too sensible to take odd whims into her head,” said their mother. “Yet I would not have you suppose suitability precludes love. My dearest wish is for each of you to find a gentleman with whom she can be as happy as I was with your dear papa.”

  Pippa vowed to do everything within her power to make sure her sister found happiness. For herself she had no such hope. She could never be contented with a husband who did not respect and appreciate her talents, nor with one who did not share her beliefs. Where was she to find another paragon like Papa?

  Lord Selworth—no. Though his political philosophy was in harmony with hers, she had every reason to assume he shared the world’s view of clever females. That one of the Lisle ladies might be Prometheus had not so much as crossed his mind, because the sole purpose for the existence of females was to look decorative.

  And to bear children, whispered a small voice in Pippa’s head. Feeling a warmth stealing up her cheeks, she turned her face to the window.

  Country-born and -bred, Pippa was not entirely ignorant of the significance of the marriage bed. Would the intimacies which seemed so distasteful when considered in connection with Mr Postlethwaite appear less so with respect to Lord Selworth?

  Pippa put her hands to her hot cheeks. That was a subject she ought not—must not—did not wish to pursue.

  Fortunately, her leisure for reflection was at an end, their journey nearly so. Kitty had a thousand questions as the the carriage passed the Tyburn turnpike and continued along Oxford Street. She gazed all agog at the busy shops, their lamp-lit windows displaying china, silks, watches, fans, pyramids of fruit or crystal flasks of different coloured spirits. Pedestrians thronged the broad, flagged pavements; along the centre of the street stood a row of carriages which yet left space enough for two coaches to pass on either side.

  “Is it not splendid?” cried Kitty. “Shall we shop here, Mama?”

  “Sometimes, I expect. It is less expensive than Bond Street or Pall Mall. The cheapest places are further east, however. We shall have no shillings to waste.”

  Kitty’s face fell. “No, I know, but I may visit these shops, just to look?”

  “Of course, my love. And you need not fear that lower cost necessarily means lower quality. Shops in fashionable districts charge more because their customers can afford it and do not mind paying for the convenience.”

  “And because their rents are higher,” Pippa pointed out, to be fair. As the carriage turned right into Davies Street, she continued, “Now this is Mayfair, is it not, Mama?”

  Kitty once more glued her nose to the window. “The houses are quite smart,” she said doubtfully, “and tall, but so very narrow. I cannot see how Mrs Debenham will fit us all in.”

  “Let us hope the Debenhams’ is one of the larger houses,” Mrs Lisle said, “though if we have to sleep in the garrets, I, for one, shall not complain.”

  “Nor I,” said Pippa, “but the servants may if they are driven out of their beds to lie on the kitchen floor.”

  The carriage rolled on down the south-west side of Berkley Square, where the houses were grand enough to impress Kitty. At the bottom of the square they turned right into Charles Street, and pulled up before the largest house on the north side.

  Kitty breathed an ecstatic sigh and exclaimed, “Oh, splendid! I should not mind sleeping on the kitchen floor, I vow! Their kitchen must be grander than my bedchamber at home.”

  Pippa smiled, but absently. The elegance of pillars and pilasters, pediments and cornices, elaborate fanlight and ornate wrought iron, dismayed her. Though aware that her friend had married well, she had continued to think of her in the setting where she had known her.

  Albinia’s letters, full of the dry, yet gently tolerant humour which had attracted Pippa to her, had not reflected her altered circumstances. She had become a wealthy, fashionable wife and mother, whereas Pippa remained an impecunious, unimportant spinster, now verging on old-maidship.

  Bina must surely have changed to suit her new position. The easy friendship between them was in the past, and Pippa could only resolve sadly not to presume upon it.

  Chapter 6

  The starchy butler, pink and black marble-floored hall, and handsome staircase further increased Kitty’s rapture, and Pippa’s misgivings.

  “I know I shall enjoy myself excessively,” Kitty whispered as they followed the butler and their mother up the stairs. “Dearest Pippa, thank you again for consenting to—”

  “Hush, not a word. Pray recollect, it is Mama and our good friend Prometheus who have provided this opportunity.”

  “I shall not say a word,” Kitty promised, “even if Miss Warren and I become as close friends as you and Mrs Debenham. You have not told her?”

  Pippa shook her head, her finger to her lips. The butler opened a door and announced, “Mrs Lisle, Miss Lisle, Miss Catherine Lisle, madam.”

  He stepped aside. Mrs Lisle glanced back at her daughters with a smile, then moved forward into the room. Peering past her, Pippa held her breath. Would Albinia greet them with condescension, and make it plain she had invited them for her brother’s sake? Would she stare at their shabby clothes, forgetting she had once scraped and saved?

  How Pippa wished she had not come! It was not being an object of disdain she minded, it was the loss of the precious friendship, nurtured in absence, withering in the harsh light of reality.

  “Mrs Lisle, how utterly delightful to see you again!” Albinia Debenham swept forward with a rustle of silks, and took both Mrs Lisle’s hands in hers. “And how very kind of you to agree to lend us countenance, my sister and me. Allow me to present Millicent.”

  As Miss Warren made her curtsy and enthusiastically seconded her sister’s gratitude, Albinia turned to Pippa and without further ado enveloped her in a hug.

  “Dear, dear Pippa, how I have longed for this moment. What times we shall have together, just wait and see.” Blue eyes sparkling, holding Pippa’s hand, she turned to Kitty. “And you are Miss Catherine, of course. Yes, I see the resemblance. Welcome, my dear.”

  Pippa did not hear Kitty’s response. She was overwhelmed with shame for having misjudged Bina. If only she were like Mama and Kitty, always expecting the best of people. Though they might sometimes be disappointed
, they suffered neither anxiety before, nor pangs of guilt afterwards.

  “Struck dumb, Pippa?” Bina said. Glancing at Miss Warren, she raised her eyes to heaven with a look of comical despair. Her sister was still chattering away to Mrs Lisle about someone called Aunt Prendergast. “I cannot blame you,” Bina continued. “You will soon learn to interrupt. Millie, pray come and make the acquaintance of Miss Lisle and Miss Catherine.”

  “Kitty, please, Mrs Debenham. How do you do, Miss Warren?” Kitty’s eyes sparkled with amusement as the full force of Millicent’s verbiage flooded over her.

  “Do call me Millie. We are going to be the greatest friends. It is above anything that you are come to stay! Coming out with a friend will be much more fun, do you not agree? And so very lucky you are dark and I am fair. We shall make quite a sensation, I am sure, though we must be careful to coordinate our colours. My favourite colour is blue, but Bina says we’ll have to wear white for grand balls because—”

  “My mother told me the same,” Kitty interrupted firmly, “and pale colours in general.”

  “Come up to my chamber and I shall show you the gowns I already have. Bina says she and Miss Lisle used to—”

  “Bina says, first show Miss Lisle and Miss Kitty to their chamber, if you please. They will want to put off their bonnets and pelisses. Pippa, Miss Kitty, I hope you will not mind sharing a chamber.”

  Pippa found her tongue at last. “Not in the least. “

  “When I first saw the size of London houses,” Kitty said gaily, “I quite expected we should have to sleep in the garrets, if not on the kitchen floor.”

  “Not quite so bad,” Bina said with a smile, “though even the best Town houses are wretchedly small compared to the country. Mrs Lisle, will you come with me?”

  They all went up another pair of stairs, then Bina led Mrs Lisle to the back of the house while Pippa and Kitty followed Millicent to the front. Millie chattered the whole way.

  “At the rectory I shared a chamber with Bina until she grew up and married, then my next sister moved in with me, but when Wynn’s great-uncle died and we removed to Kymford we each got a chamber of our own. I asked Bina if you might share with me now, only she thought you would like to be with your sister. She said I would never get a wink of sleep if I had someone to talk to all night, and nor would you. I know I talk a lot, and it is not the least use telling me to stop, because once I have started I cannot, but you must just interrupt when you feel like it. Everyone does. Miss Lisle, pray interrupt when you will. Here is your chamber and mine is next door so as soon as you have put off your bonnet—”