Bad Miss Bennet

by Jean Burnett

  ‘We can speak of that later.’

  ‘I have heard that you are not impervious to female charms, Mr Getheridge.’ A strange expression swept over my companion’s face and he seized my arm once more, propelling me back into the house.

  ‘I must leave now, madam, but we must meet again. Come to my office at the bank. I believe we can discuss something to our mutual advantage.’ He wrote a few words on a card and pushed it into my hand before bowing and leaving rapidly. I saw him bidding farewell to Selena as a newly resuscitated Lord Finchbrook weaved his way unsteadily towards me.

  ‘Oh my fair companion,’ he called out, ‘lovely despoiler of my finances! Have you deserted me?’ He made me an elegant bow and then almost toppled sideways. I caught him by the arm and restored him to an upright position. Mindful of Mr Getheridge I decided to seize the moment.

  ‘Do you ever grace the assemblies at Almack’s, my lord?’ I enquired casually. Finchbrook gathered his scattered wits and brushed an imaginary crumb from his cuff.

  ‘I believe I have spent a tiresome hour or two at that establishment, madam. A tedious place full of simpering debutantes and their ghastly mothers – and no strong drink served, I recall.’ He gave me suddenly a clear-eyed glance and added, ‘I should not have thought it your kind of thing at all.’

  I clasped my hands together in a prayerful gesture and assured him that it was the place I most desired to be in all the world.

  ‘But you have not been given the seal of approval by the bulldogs at the gate!’ he guffawed, meaning Lady Jersey and the Countess Lieven, the dowagers who vetted young ladies for their suitability.

  ‘Alas, no’ I replied, ‘but perhaps your lordship could assist me in this matter?’

  ‘It is the least I can do after allowing you to win so much money from me.’

  ‘Your lordship’s logic is beyond reproach.’

  Unfortunately, at that moment Selena appeared and Finchbrook immediately forgot my very existence and began mooning over her in a quite revolting manner. She appeared not to notice as she whispered excitedly that she had just sold the Countess Godiva print for a third more than Miles had paid for it.

  ‘But surely he will notice its absence?’

  Selena brushed this aside. ‘He will forget about it when he realises that I can now pay his tailor’s bill. At the moment he can scarcely leave the house without being molested by his creditors.’

  I persuaded his lordship back to the card table and proceeded to win a trifling amount from him before he made his farewells.

  By this time most of our guests had begun to leave and my mood changed suddenly. Despite the money now stuffed into my reticule I felt curiously let down and chilled although the room was very warm. Perhaps I had overindulged with ices and champagne or allowed my hopes and dreams to interfere with reality.

  These speculations were so unlike my normal self that I feared I was lapsing into a fit of the dismals. I confided as much to Selena who was often a prey to such emotions herself, usually after an over indulgence in the ginevra. We counted our winnings which restored our spirits a little and allowed Miles to congratulate us. He, of course, had lost what little his wife had allowed him.

  Later, as I prepared for bed, I found Mr Getheridge’s card. Before falling asleep I pondered whether I would visit him at the bank as he had suggested. I also pondered whether I could afford not to keep the appointment. In my dreams I was waltzing at Almack’s in the embrace, not of a belted earl or duke, but of a large, hairy ape with twinkling eyes.

  ‘You are a beautiful stepper, dear lady,’ the ape assured me.

  My first thought when I awoke next morning was of the dance. As we drank our morning chocolate I announced to Selena that we must take lessons in waltzing immediately.

  ‘I had a dream about waltzing at Almack’s last night,’ I told her. ‘Everyone swirled around the room in their partner’s arms. It was beyond imagining.’

  ‘It is still considered somewhat improper in society,’ I understand,’ she demurred. My friend can be remarkably conservative sometimes.

  ‘It is becoming more popular by the day,’ I assured her. Selena was not convinced.

  ‘I have heard that Lord Byron disapproves of it,’ she said, cunningly referring to my great hero as a way of settling the matter.

  The mention of his name subdued me for a moment. I knew that my wild, poetic, dream lover was disgraced in society and it was rumoured that he would soon leave the country for an indefinite stay on the continent. Byron had been ejected from society and I could not gain admission. Our mutual afflictions gave me a warm feeling in the pit of my stomach.

  ‘Nevertheless, I am determined to learn this dance,’ I said. ‘The sensation is amazing and the rhythm exhilarating. We must find a teacher this very day.’ Selena gave in without a struggle and admitted that she knew of a certain Viennese dancing master, Herr Schiffenberger, who would serve admirably.

  ‘We can visit his studio this morning if you wish.’

  While we were discussing these arrangements Miles was peering out of the window searching for the presence of bailiffs and creditors when he gave a cry of surprise and announced that Lord Finchbrook had arrived in his stylish new equipage.

  His lordship burst into the room in a very effervescent manner showing remarkably few signs of the previous night’s drinking.

  ‘I beg you, Mrs Wickham, allow me to take you for a spin in the park.’ I knew he would have preferred to take my friend. He lingered over her hand, caressing it and touching it with his lips in the manner of a stoat savouring a rabbit.

  I agreed to accompany him but insisted that we return in time for our dancing lesson. His lordship looked ecstatic, ‘The prospect of a dancing lesson with two such delightful ladies overwhelms me with joy. I must insist on offering myself as a partner.’ I glanced at Selena and gave a slight shrug. If the man wished to cling like a leech we should make use of him. After I had perfected the steps of the waltz I would remind Finchbrook of his promise to help me gain entry to Almack’s. Selena was not impressed by my ambition.

  ‘Anyone can gain admission anywhere in London if they have sufficient effrontery and a drunken lord to accompany them,’ she sniffed. ‘The Duke of Wellington presents his actress friends to the Prince Regent at Brighton.’ She can be quite hurtful at times.

  I reminded her that I was not an actress and that certain of those women had married into the aristocracy. Selena sniffed again. ‘I have heard that the price of a mistress to the aristocracy is two thousand pounds per year and a down payment of eight hundred pounds – if you are an opera dancer.’ I thought of my meagre allowance from Darcy and wished that my thespian skills were worth such a fortune.

  ‘You are forgetting, my dear, that my own sister married one of the richest men in England despite having no dowry.’ In reply she smacked me with her reticule and said that I was a stupid minx for not doing likewise.

  Glancing across the room to where Miles was in animated conversation with Lord Finchbrook she smiled and said, ‘I think we have learned our lesson, have we not? Never be seduced by the glamour of a uniform unless the commanderin-chief is inside it.’

  When Lord Finchbrook handed me into his phaeton I observed that he was wearing a starched collar so high that it made turning his head an impossibility. As he was chiefly concerned with controlling the horses and staring straight ahead this was not a problem, but as far as conversation went it was disconcerting, if not ludicrous. He was forced to turn his upper body completely in order to look me in the face. It was like being interrogated by an amiable marionette. When I ventured to tease him about this he declared that his valet had taken lessons in the matter from Beau Brummell’s valet.

  ‘The only sin, dear lady, is to appear in the wrong clothing at any event.’

  Finchbrook insisted on referring to me as ‘the merry widow’. He pointed out the various members of the ton sweeping by in their carriages. Selena followed in a hired barouche with her maid. His l
ordship shook his head – carefully – saying that such a carriage did not cut it at all.

  Later, we presented ourselves at Herr Schiffenberger’s studio for our lesson in waltzing. It was obvious that our escort intended to spend the entire day with us.

  We turned our attention to mastering the dance aided by Schiffenberger’s assistant who tinkled out a tune on the pianoforte. It proved to be harder than I had anticipated. Not as complex as the cotillion or the quadrille but the rhythm was difficult to catch causing us to jerk up and down as if we were posting on a horse.

  ‘Von-two-tree, von-two-tree!’ sang out Herr Schiffenberger waving his arms encouragingly. ‘Make your circle,’ he commanded as we shuffled around. After we had fallen over our own feet several times Lord Finchbrook was so giddy from twirling that he was forced to lie prone on the floor for a few moments. The dancing master surveyed us sorrowfully, no doubt he was comparing us unfavourably with the serene waltzers of Vienna.

  ‘Svay into the rhythm, ladies,’ he implored. ‘Let us try again. Von-two-tree!’ Finchbrook clasped Selena enthusiastically to his breast and I followed, making do with an acned youth who claimed to be Schiffenberger’s nephew.

  If I closed my eyes I could just imagine myself in a gilded ballroom with violins playing a yearning melody. I am wearing satin and diamonds and a dark face comes close to mine … I opened my eyes suddenly to find the spotty youth regarding me with alarm. In my mind I could hear Darcy saying, ‘So this is how you waste my money.’

  ‘Von-two-tree!’ screamed Schiffenberger, sweating profusely. ‘Listen to ze music. You are off ze beat, madam.’ I was off ze beat in more ways than one.

  We left the studio and returned home to recover our strength and change for our next engagement. ‘I declare my shins are quite black and blue,’ Selena complained, ‘Lord Finchbrook’s boots found their mark several times.’

  ‘Never mind,’ I replied. ‘We will soon be able to grace any ball in town.’

  During the following weeks we occupied ourselves with daily chores, making expeditions to Soho to obtain cough medicine for Miles and triple distilled lavender water for Selena. Christmas and New Year passed and April approached but the weather continued as cold as ever with not the slightest sign of spring. I was forced to obtain more essence of mustard from Whitehead’s. I am a martyr to chilblains.

  The gloom was only lifted by an announcement in the Times that Millard’s East India warehouse in Cheapside was holding a cheap day. Selena and I set off to buy muslins and silks before our money disappeared.

  ‘I must spend before Miles has a chance to look for more etchings,’ she explained.

  When I searched for coins in my reticule I found Mr Getheridge’s card once more. This time I took a deep breath and vowed to visit the bank as he had suggested.

  It was becoming more and more difficult to go about the city in safety. The disastrous state of the economy meant that the poor had become more desperate and dangerous than ever. The risk of being attacked in the streets of St James’s was very real. To venture into other areas of the city without a suitable escort was madness.

  Miles complained that he could not take a stroll through Piccadilly or a turn or two in Bond Street without being set upon by rogues, ‘Especially if one flashed a little rhino.’ His wife replied tartly that it was fortunate, then, that he had little rhino to flash.

  I knew I could not go to Berners Street unescorted but I did not want Miles to know my business. Selena would keep my confidences but Miles would spread them all over town in days. Fortunately, my allowance from Darcy was paid into Mr Getheridge’s bank. I told Selena that I needed to discuss my finances, begging her for the use of the carriage and her maid as chaperone. She winked and smiled and wished me well.

  It was unusual but not unknown for a woman to visit a bank, but I was not surprised to see that I was the only female in sight. I left the maid in the foyer and told an obsequious clerk that I had an appointment with Mr Getheridge. I gave him the card on which I had scribbled my name. He showed me into an anteroom away from prying eyes and told me that Mr Getheridge would attend on me in a few minutes.

  I sat staring at the impressive plaque on the wall emblazoned with the name of Marsh, Sibbald and Co. in gold letters, trying to decide what answer I would give to the question I knew I would be asked.

  Eventually, the gentleman himself appeared looking more genial and ape-like than ever.

  ‘My dear Mrs Wickham, what a splendid surprise. You will take a dish of tea in my office, I trust?’ As he swept me into his office he whispered, ‘Is that dandiprat with you?’

  I looked puzzled. ‘Do you mean Lord Finchbrook, sir? I can assure you—’

  ‘No,’ he interrupted, ‘I mean that Miles fellow.’ I told him he was speaking ill of my friends who had offered me a roof over my head in the city. He laughed and said. ‘I am sure we can do better than that for you.’

  I swallowed hard and felt a shiver of apprehension. Darcy would surely cast me into the gutter if he could see me now. I looked up to find Getheridge smiling slyly at me as if he read my thoughts.

  ‘In love and war there is all to play for, my dear,’ he said gleefully rubbing his hands together.

  His office was very well appointed with an enormous mahogany wood desk laden with many gilt trimmed ledgers placed in rows upon it. Surprisingly, there was also a capacious chaise longue placed against one wall. Mr Getheridge led me to it and placed himself next to me patting my gloved hand reassuringly. I removed the gloves, the better to fiddle with them, and he immediately took two of my fingers and began stroking them.

  I had been in a number of perilous situations during the past three years but nothing as equivocal as this one. I reminded myself that I was a hapless widow needing to make her way in the world and that way inevitably would be through the affections of a wealthy man.

  I smiled in what I hoped was an alluring manner. ‘How reassuring to be in a banker’s office,’ I remarked. Mr Getheridge toyed with my left hand.

  ‘Lydia, Lydia.’ He rolled my name around on his tongue as if it were a delicate morsel. ‘What a charming name, my dear, and quite unusual these days.’

  ‘I believe I was named after Lydia Languish, an idealistic and wealthy character in Mr Sheridan’s play The Rivals. My father is of a literary bent. She cared nothing for money, like most people who have plenty,’ I replied. ‘I have always thought the name was singularly inappropriate for me.’

  Mr Getheridge raised his eyebrows. ‘You and I know the real value of money, Mrs Wickham. I wish that some of my clients, especially the nobility, possessed the same acumen.’

  ‘Nevertheless,’ I sighed, ‘money does not stick to me with any degree of enthusiasm.’

  Chapter Four

  There was a knock at the door and a bank employee entered with the tea things, arranging them with the greatest servility and carefully avoiding my eyes. When we were alone together Mr Getheridge whispered in my ear that he would be delighted to lavish benefits upon me and direct certain people to me who enjoyed gambling and were seldom successful in that regard.

  ‘Naturally, I would only select those clients I knew to be well in the funds,’ he added. ‘Of course,’ I murmured.

  ‘You could enjoy a second income, my dear.’ His expression indicated that he expected something in return, possibly a great deal. It all sounded like hard work to me. I took a deep breath. ‘What exactly would those benefits include?’ I asked. ‘I must tell you, sir, that my need is for a reliable, enhanced income, not nebulous gifts.’

  My companion gurgled a little through his tea. ‘Upon my word, Mrs Wickham, you come to the point in no uncertain terms.’ I gazed at him steadily as I sipped my tea assuring him that I knew the lie of the land very well as far as his lady companions were concerned – and the affairs of the bank. I exaggerated this last point of course. I knew very little about the workings of banks, but I suspected that it was highly irregular for the manager of such an establishment
to be breaching his clients’ confidentiality, or to be making immoral suggestions to young ladies in the bank’s offices.

  Mr Getheridge would not be drawn any further. ‘Let us talk at length in my box at Drury Lane,’ he insisted. ‘I shall call for you on Thursday evening, madam. And now I must return to business, pray allow me to show you out.’ Once in the foyer I approached a clerk who allowed me to withdraw a little cash from Darcy’s parsimonious allowance.

  When I arrived back at Curzon Street I found the mistress of the house eating a dish of fruit curds and reading The Maid of Moscow.

  ‘This is no time to be eating slops and reading romantic trash,’ I admonished her. ‘I am in need of urgent advice. I may be on the brink of making my fortune or of ruining my life.’ Selena looked alarmed for a moment and then collected herself.

  ‘I thought you had already done the latter by marrying Wickham.’

  ‘Yes, yes, in a manner of speaking, but at least I am still respectable.’ My friend’s expression denoted a degree of disbelief but she understood my general drift.

  I told her of my conversation with the banker and his dubious offer. Selena considered this for a moment, frowning horribly.

  ‘You know of his reputation with women, I trust?’ I nodded. ‘I believe he treats his mistresses lavishly. It is only his first wife who has been overlooked. As long as you avoid the pitfalls of matrimony you should do well.’

  ‘There is little likelihood of that,’ I pointed out, ‘since he has acquired another wife and family.’ Selena shrugged and returned to spooning curds into her mouth.

  ‘Then what is the problem?’ I thought for a moment and then reminded her of Getheridge’s offer to direct gaming clients my way. She put down her spoon and became more animated. ‘That could be a wonderful opportunity for us. We could operate the best syndicate in London.’

  ‘We?’ I echoed. ‘I thought the offer was made to me.’

  ‘Yes, but you will need assistants and premises,’ she reminded me. I sank down in to a chair and tried to identify the thing that was niggling away somewhere at the back of my mind.