Danse De La Folie

by Sherwood Smith

  Again, no one had anything to say to that, except to make polite noises. Kitty’s mood shifted to indignation. It was very clear that this household was about to embark on a lengthy stay in London, so that speech could only be understood as a kind of rebuke.

  Lady Wilburfolde eyed her untouched tea and macaroons as if they were spiders, then said, “The question was also raised yesterday regarding the nuptials themselves. I wish to settle this question while I have the health to deal with such matters.” She then turned toward Clarissa with stately deliberation. “I believe it is traditional for older and wiser heads to come to decisions, but I feel that a bride, when she has shown that she has earned so marked a tribute, ought to be consulted. Therefore, Clarissa, I desire you to make your wishes known.”

  Clarissa lifted her head. “Perhaps next spring?”

  Mrs. Latchmore gasped, for she had been speaking of a June wedding.

  Lady Wilburfolde nodded minutely. “I quite agree that persons of our order must not display an unseemly haste in nuptial arrangements. But may I remind you that you are no longer a girl. Five-and-twenty is not a youth of eighteen, and the Wilburfoldes historically do not breed like persons of the lower orders.”

  Mrs. Latchmore gasped. The girls giggled, hilarity instantly quenched when the imperious eye turned their way. Amelia turned her laughter into a cough, and begged pardon.

  Lady Wilburfolde ignored her. “It was quite fifteen years before Providence enabled me to present to my sainted Wilburfolde the fruit of our affections. If my health permits, I would be inclined toward a September wedding, as is traditional in the Wilburfolde family. It is a respectable half-year from now.”

  Clarissa looked around her, like (Kitty thought compassionately) a bird in a gilded cage. “Oh, but my sister Amelia—if she should—”

  The dark brows rose. “I should hope, Lady Chadwick, that you would not repeat the harum-scarum haste of your eldest daughter’s marriage last year. Weddings in summer. Extraordinary! And in any case, I believe that you must have precedence over a mere girl, Clarissa.” Lady Wilburfolde then trained her guns on Amelia. “If you are as pretty-behaved as your eldest sister, there is no reason why you should not contract an equally eligible situation. And there is something to be said for a Christmas wedding.”

  Amelia made polite noises, looking very much as if she had received a threat.

  Since no one vouchsafed an answer, Lady Wilburfolde rose in her stately manner. “Very well, then, it is all settled. Clarissa, you and I will closet ourselves upon your return from the metropolis, which I trust will be soon. I have only one last piece of business: the dress-party, before you leave. Would the week of the fourteenth be acceptable?”

  Lady Chadwick said, “Thank you, Lady Wilburfolde. The very thing.”

  “The fourteenth, then, if the weather is clement. I have not been in the way of entertaining since my widowhood, but I believe we may expect our neighbors of position to attend such an event at The Castle.” She added in Amelia’s direction. “Since you are to make your bow to Society, we will expect you among the guests.”

  Since all had risen, Amelia dropped a curtsey, then said with a scared look, “Should I go when I am not yet Out?”

  Lady Wilburfolde paused in her tread, and gave her a decided look of approval. “You are much less flighty than your sister Hortensia, it seems. A family party is quite acceptable for a girl in your situation. As for dancing, of course there will be no such thing. I believe my thoughts on dancing are quite well known, and as the season is Lent, there is no question.” She then turned her dragon gaze on Kitty. “As you are a guest in this house, we would be honored to extend the invitation to include you, Lady Catherine.”

  Kitty dropped a curtsey, as Lady Wilburfolde went on, “You must know that I am very well acquainted with both your grandmothers. Lady St. Tarval, your paternal grandmother, was an excellent woman. And I hold Lady Carlisle, and the Stithwalds, in high esteem, in spite of unfortunate events that it is better to pass over.”

  Kitty was forced to say, “I am unacquainted with that side of my family.”

  “A pity,” Lady Wilburfolde said, rather (Kitty thought later) as if someone had dropped a dead mouse in her lap.

  She took her departure. Lady Chadwick and her daughters all saw her out. Kitty stared at the door, her sympathies for Clarissa having intensified to vexation.

  Carlisle had always said, if something vexes you that you cannot fix, there is nothing left but to find the humor in it. Kitty was trying to find something amusing in that woman’s tyrannical statements, not to mention the unsubtle slight against her father, mother, and brothers, when she saw James approaching from the other end of the hall.

  As always, he was dressed in riding clothes. Kitty could not understand why a young man in fine riding boots would steal along as if he were walking on eggs. When James saw Kitty he gave a start, and his wide blue eyes rounded with alarm.

  “Is she gone yet?”

  “Who?”

  “The old Puritan. Eh, Lady Wilburfolde, that is.”

  Here at last was the humor. Kitty tried to suppress the urge to laugh as she said, “Your family is walking her to her carriage, I believe.”

  “To make certain she gets into it,” James commented. “I never thought Clarissa would get leg-shackled to him. Females are unaccountable.” With this piece of wisdom, he strode away, now confident that no dragons lay in wait.

  TWELVE

  “They what?”

  Lord Chadwick’s voice echoed up the stairwell. “No one told me that. By God, we’re off to London on the day after, then. We’ll not be tied up with them before September, when there is no help for it. At least then I’ll be up north, safe out of reach.”

  The news was welcomed with general relief by the entire family, saving only Mrs. Latchmore, denied of her chance to triumph over the neighborhood in having brought about the match. She had planned a series of select parties meant to show off the newly affianced couple before the journey to London. Kitty was secretly amused at Lord Chadwick’s selfishness, but grateful for its beneficent effect.

  She hid her reaction as well as her growing concern over Clarissa’s somber gaze when she thought nobody was looking. Delicacy forbade teasing hints or coy remarks or penetrating questions. Kitty had learned as much from observing Lucretia tormenting other girls in the parish with such teasing.

  But at the same time, she reasoned, it was not acting the part of a friend to pretend not to notice how unhappy Clarissa was. Her own family seemed unconcerned, or perhaps only unaware.

  Kitty determined she must do something about it. But what? She had no experience outside of novels on which to draw. And she knew there would be no convenient deathbed confessions, Greek banditti, or rakehell German dukes to intervene on Clarissa’s behalf.

  An unexpected opportunity occurred the day after Lord Chadwick’s announcement. As the servants threw themselves into readying the family’s things for the shift to London, Clarissa asked Kitty if she knew how to ride, and on being assured on this point, invited her to join her in an airing before breakfast.

  Kitty was given a pretty bay who was obviously friends with the young, prancing gray gelding Clarissa rode. Kitty was surprised to see Clarissa riding so spirited a horse, but a swift gallop across the fields behind the garden and down a shady lane made it clear that Clarissa was an excellent horsewoman.

  When they reined up, Clarissa’s wan cheeks had gained color, and there was a brighter look to her gaze as she looked about appreciatively at the copse of ancient ash, the craggy branches—dotted with green buds—overreaching the stream swollen with snow melt. The only sounds were their own, the rush and chuckle of the stream, and a few distant birds.

  “I do love to rise early, before anybody. It is so peaceful,” Clarissa said.

  “This is a very beautiful place,” Kitty said.

  “I was used to come here often when I was a child,” Clarissa admitted. “I could read without interrup
tion. I still sometimes come here, as far into autumn as the weather cooperates.”

  Her smile vanished as she looked about, and Kitty thought, You are remembering you must move away. Greatly daring, she ventured a question. “If you will pardon my intrusion, you do not look happy, and I might guess why.”

  Clarissa’s expression went remote, then she smiled. “I suppose every woman has been apprehensive about entering the married state.”

  “Apprehensive if it was not their choice,” Kitty said.

  “It was my choice.” Clarissa sighed. “It is as good an offer as I am likely to get, and the Wilburfoldes are neighbors. Though I do not really know Lord Wilburfolde, for he suffered delicate health when we were all young, and so was seldom from home, I am certain he is all he ought to be. I count myself luckier than most.”

  In the distance some children shouted, joined by barking dogs. The mood of confidence had broken. Kitty sensed it, and remembering how uncomfortable it could be to be pestered by questions by those who professed to have one’s best interests at heart, firmly closed her lips against the host of questions and exclamations she might have offered.

  o0o

  Dear Carlisle:

  We have been in London these three Days. I am actually here! You can have no Idea. So many people in so small a space, carts, horses, carriages. The Noise at night is nearly as much as daylight.

  But I do not complain. Clarissa and I have already been twice to Bond Street, and we have visited too many shops to count.

  But you will not care for that, I know. Let me continue where I left off in my last, before Lady Wilburfolde’s Dress Party.

  We were Welcomed in Great State by Lady W. in their Large, Overheated house, which, though called The Castle, is nothing so interesting, but merely a very large brick house. I think it quite undistinguished, and its situation horrid, squatting in a valley, where it is certain never to catch a breeze, not that any stray air is permitted inside. It was amazingly Stuffy, as Lady W. feels that open doors and windows are more dangerous than French grenadiers, and the place smelled of Medicine.

  A Toast of Watered Wine was offered in honor of the happy couple, after a long Speech. It is a shame that Ladies cannot run for Parliamentary seats, James said to me, after Lady W. had gone on for what seemed a thousand Ages. The toast was all the wine the gentlemen were to get, Lady W. feeling that spirits are prejudicial to the health. So everyone must drink Lemonade, and I wish I could have drawn a picture of Lord C. drinking this down.

  Lady W. had assembled everyone in an old-fashioned Circle, like our grandmother’s time. I was seated between a Squire, who was soon nodding in his Chair, and the Vicar, who was very kind, having (as he informed me) five Daughters of his own.

  But there was no Time for more than that, as Lady W. then took charge of the Conversation, and, as Lord C. said on the way home, Told us what we Thought about the Nuptials to come—and about the Weather, and the State of the Commonwealth. I was very relieved when she told us we were all Tired and sent us home.

  There is little to be said about the journey to London, which is very Large and old and Dirty, except for the Genteel section, in which there is a vast deal of Planning and Building going on.

  At first I tried to look for Grosvenor Street, where you said our old House is Located, but the streets are so many, and I am afraid to find myself Lost. When I asked Clarissa, she said it was only two streets from Brook Street, on the other side of Grosvenor Square. But then she said that her cousins the Devereaux family live in Grosvenor Street, so I was very glad I did not walk there. With my Luck I would run smack into Mr. Devereaux, though I still say it was Not my Fault that his sister told me she was being Abducted.

  I have a very pretty room with Blue hangings and Embroidered bolsters. Alice is very happy.

  We have had to leave off our warm Pelisses, as Clarissa says that nothing is as dowdy as being seen with a Warm Wrap. Oh, that puts me in mind. There are so many ways to get into a Scrape. We cannot walk into St. James’s Street, though it is quite open. Nor can we visit Bond Street when it is not Daylight.

  I conveyed your Thanks to Clarissa, who Colored up, and proclaimed it Naught. But requested me to send her greetings. So I do. Or, to be clever, Adieux.

  Your Kitty.

  Post Script. Everyone in the family calls me Lady Kitty, excepting Clarissa, who calls me Kitty, and Mrs. Latchmore, who persists in that dreadful Lady Catherine, but I must become accustomed, for that is what I shall hear in company. Yet I quite Sympathize with Miss Elizabeth Clothilde Rosamunda Devereaux with her plain Bess.

  Edward put the letter down, and looked up in query at his brother. Carlisle had been restive these past few days. Edward was puzzled. He thought he knew all his brother’s moods, but this was a new one. One would think they had traded places, for he had always been scolded by their grandmother for not sitting still, whereas Carlisle had been the quiet one, happy with his books until he understood their father’s situation. After that discovery he had conceived the idea of joining the Navy in hopes of prize money.

  Carlisle prowled around the dining room, pausing frequently at the window. What could he possibly see in the garden?

  “Carl?” Edward asked.

  St. Tarval struck his hand lightly across the back of a chair. “We will try it,” he said.

  “Try what?”

  “One more load. Cowman says he quite understands—he would not gainsay—but he said that the cutter is so fast, he had pinned his hopes on me. This is the biggest yet, but we are agreed it shall be the last.”

  “What about Dobbs?”

  Carlisle dropped into the chair. “This time, I shall take Dobbs aside and remind him that I still have influence in this area, and I might just have to invite Talkerton to set up an office in the village, the better to have access to the coast, if he doesn’t cooperate.”

  Edward laughed. “Oho!”

  Carlisle’s smile was wry, bringing their father unexpectedly to mind. “Let us see if that causes him to reflect on the wisdom of cheating us. Of course he will attempt to do us an ill turn afterward, and I shall permit him to think we will go on smuggling so that he may look forward to confounding us. But once we get rid of those barrels, we are done. Dobbs may put as many spies around the yacht as he wishes. In truth, I hope he may, for it will keep those loutish nephews of his well occupied until some enterprising lieutenant comes along and impresses them into the service.”

  “You may count upon me.” Edward handed Kitty’s letter back. “Are you going to tell Kit when you write back?”

  “No. I will not worry her. When I write, it is all home news, nothing to spoil her visit, or worse, cause her to come posting back to Tarval Hall, thinking she is duty bound to aid us. She will never get this chance again. Let it be unmarred from our end.”

  “Well, she certainly seems to be in high glee.” Edward flicked the pages. “Jupiter, if she doesn’t publish her novel after all! This one is longer than the last.” As Carlisle took the letter, Edward said, “At least it isn’t Tunbridge Wells all over again.”

  “No. I do not believe that Miss Harlowe would permit Kitty to make a guy of herself.” He stopped there.

  Edward eyed his brother. “You think there was something in it, the way the Bouldestons foisted themselves onto Miss Harlowe, after Kit got her invitation?”

  “I did think of that,” Carlisle admitted.

  “Won’t that give them a claim on her in town?”

  “I believe it will.” Carlisle stared down into the fire.

  Edward discovered a new idea, and gazed at him in amazement. “It’s Miss Harlowe. Isn’t it?”

  Carlisle glanced his way. “What matter if it was?”

  Edward grimaced. “Seems vastly unfair to me that Lucretia holds all the cards, but we’ve been over this ground before.”

  “So we have.”

  But Edward was going to go over it anyway. “You prate of honor, but how honorable is it for her to keep you danglin
g on a leash you two affixed six years ago, but she won’t have it announced? It’s because she’s up in town looking out something better. Tell me why that’s honorable.”

  “It may not be honorable, but it’s acceptable,” Carlisle responded. “If she fixes her interest with someone else, well and good.”

  “But if Lucretia is looking for someone else, then that means she don’t want you any more than you want her. Why don’t she break it off?”

  “I think she likes the idea of being married to a marquess, if nothing better comes along.”

  “And that makes it acceptable? I still say you should pick a quarrel with her. Lord knows she’s got a nasty temper.”

  Carlisle shook his head. “I can’t do anything dishonorable, not with Sir Henry being so generous. He could have called in Father’s debt any time these past ten years, but he hasn’t. And he could be forgiven having called it in, considering Father’s actions toward the family.”

  Edward sighed, remembering the ancient history their grandmother had had a tendency to bore on about. The old baronet and Grandfather St. Tarval had betrothed Philomena Bouldeston to their father when the two were in their cradles, and everyone had expected them to marry.

  But a month before he was to wed the elder Miss Bouldeston, their father had run off with their mother. Philomena had finally been married off to a William Kittredge, younger brother to a baronet. On old Sir Harold’s death, Riverside Abbey had fallen to a second cousin, Henry Bouldeston, who had married the younger sister, the present Lady Bouldeston, thus keeping what fortune there was in the family.

  Edward kicked at a log in the fireplace, sending a shower of sparks spiraling up the chimney. Philomena Bouldeston had often been held up as a pattern for female behavior to Kit by their grandmother, who had very much wanted the marriage. Edward had met Mrs. Kittredge one summer, when she’d come with her children to the Abbey. Edward said, with feeling, “I have to say, I am glad Papa never married Philomena Bouldeston that was. If I were her son, I’d hate myself.”