by M C Beaton
Mr. Davy’s eyes danced wickedly and he murmured, “Then we shall not tell him, madam. Now I have rented a handsome carriage and thought to take the air at two o’clock tomorrow.”
Mrs. Budge felt like Cleopatra. Her breath began to come and go quickly. “If you was to take me up just outside Lord Nelson’s old house down the street, then that would not be offending a certain gentleman.”
“And what do you think that was all about?” whispered Arabella to the earl. She leaned close to him and he could smell her perfume.
“I think everything is going splendidly,” he whispered back.
But Miss Tonks noticed that Sir Philip, closing the accounts book with a snap, had his pale eyes fastened on the couple in a speculative way. The old man’s brain was obviously working at a great rate.
“Sir Philip,” said Miss Tonks, “have you found any error?”
“No, I haven’t, mophead.”
“Don’t be rude,” said Miss Tonks with a new confidence given by the smart crop covered with a dainty lace cap. “You must admit I do the figures very neatly. And why are you so nasty about my hair?”
He crossed over to her and put his head on one side. “You look very well,” he said gruffly. “I’m old and I don’t like change of any kind.”
“No more do I,” said Miss Tonks, looking sadly at Mrs. Budge.
Sir Philip experienced a rare pang of conscience. He had no right to be so nasty to Miss Tonks when she had saved his life by shooting that highwayman on the Fosse in Warwickshire. And she had changed. No one could ever call her pretty, but Miss Tonks had a certain air of breeding and elegance which… He looked at Mrs. Budge and his brain snapped down on the thought. He was old and was entitled to a few pleasures. And who was this Mr. Davy who had sprung from nowhere?
“Oh, you have a pianoforte,” exclaimed Arabella. “Is that a new purchase?”
“Yes,” said Lady Fortescue. “Colonel Sandhurst bought it second-hand the other day in the fond hope that I would play to him; but it is years since I have played anything. Miss Tonks confesses to being a poor performer, and so it remains silent, which is probably just as well. It has obviously not been tuned this age and is sadly tinny.”
“What about you, Miss Carruthers?” asked the earl.
“I play very well,” said Arabella and then blushed. “I do not mean to brag, but it is the only thing I do well.”
“There are sheets of music on top of the piano, which came with it,” said the colonel eagerly.
Arabella crossed to the piano followed by the earl, who lit the candles in their brackets with a taper. “I will turn the music for you,” he said.
Suddenly nervous, for she was not used to an audience, Arabella chose a ballad and began to play. “I know that one,” said Sir Philip and began to sing in a surprisingly strong baritone. Miss Tonks joined in with a reedy soprano, and after an amused look back at them, the earl began to sing as well.
When that ballad was over, Mrs. Budge heaved herself to her feet. “My turn,” she said. “Do you know ‘Lizzie of the Strand’?”
“I am afraid not,” said Arabella, “but I can follow a tune very easily.”
So Mrs. Budge began to sing in a distinctly ginny voice.
“Sweet Lizzie walked along the Strand,
Tol rol, diddle dol,
Her garters in her hand,
For Captain James had had his way,
And—”
“And that’s enough of that!” Lady Fortescue’s voice cut across Mrs. Budge’s singing. “If you are going to sing like that, then I suggest you get to Billingsgate, where you belong.”
“Enough of your insults,” raged Sir Philip. “Apologize.”
“My turn,” said Mr. Davy, crossing to the piano. He riffled through the sheets of music. “Ah, this one.”
He began to sing “Sweet Maiden With Your Eyes Divine” in a clear tenor. Sir Philip slowly resumed his seat. The man was a brilliant performer. The angry emotions ebbed out of the room. Miss Tonks sat with her hands clasped and her eyes shining. The earl suddenly noticed how white and fine Arabella’s hands were and how long her eyelashes. He became more determined than ever to find some means of forcing Lady Carruthers to bring her out.
Mr. Davy finished his song by sinking down on one knee in front of Mrs. Budge to loud applause.
“You are wasted in the business world, sir,” commented Sir Philip. “You should have trodden the boards.”
“How silly you are,” said Miss Tonks quickly. “A gentleman like Mr. Davy a common actor! Fie for shame!”
Sir Philip shrugged dismissively and then turned to Mrs. Budge. “I suggest we retire.”
She hesitated a moment and then decided it would be best to humour Sir Philip by removing herself from Mr. Davy or she might not be able to escape to meet him on the morrow.
When they had gone, Mr. Davy looked ruefully around the company. “I apologize for my performance. I overdid it. It will not happen again. But Mrs. Budge is to come driving with me tomorrow afternoon, so I fear you will have the expense of renting a carriage.”
“Oh, excellent,” said Lady Fortescue. “How did you manage it? I heard nothing.”
“I saw you whispering in her ear,” said Arabella, amused. “And now to my problems. Lord Denby here persuaded a Mrs. Sinclair who was giving a musicale this evening to write to Mama and ask her to bring me, but she did not, as you can see. Nor does Mama know that I am wearing one of her gowns.”
“Does not the pretend courtship of Lord Denby persuade her to take you about?” asked Lady Fortescue.
“On the contrary,” said Arabella. “Mama is now convinced that Lord Denby is courting her.”
The door opened and Sir Philip walked back in again. “Mrs. Budge has a headache,” he said sourly and sat down. Mrs. Budge had decided that leaving with Sir Philip was enough but letting him in her bed that night was too much. She wanted to be alone and dream about Mr. Davy, or rather, Mr. Davy’s money. “What are you lot plotting?” asked Sir Philip suspiciously.
“We are wondering how to persuade Lady Carruthers to bring Arabella out,” said Miss Tonks.
Sir Philip looked at them thoughtfully and then said, “We’ll bring her out ourselves.”
“My dear sir!” Lady Fortescue.
“We are not accepted in society.” The colonel.
“We cannot chaperon her even if anyone invited us anywhere. She is with her mother.” Miss Tonks.
“No, wait a bit,” said Sir Philip, chewing his thumb. “It’s time we had some more publicity. We hold a subscription ball, charge the earth. No one values a cheap affair. Open up the dining-room, the hall and the coffee room. Chalk the floor, get the orchestra, flowers and Despard’s cooking. Raise money for our gallant troops. Charge so much per head that we can send a publicity-raising sum to the army and yet pay for everything including wear and tear. Think on’t. Patriotic duty to come. That’s what they’ll think.”
“But all that will happen,” pointed out Miss Tonks, “is that Arabella will be shut up in her room while her mother attends.”
Sir Philip grinned. “Not if you let me handle it.”
It was moments like this, thought Lady Fortescue, that one did feel a pang at cheating Sir Philip. It was just as well Miss Tonks had done the bookkeeping so cleverly, for the money paid out to Mr. Davy had to be hidden. In order to even the score, decided Lady Fortescue, the rest of them should force themselves to meet Mrs. Budge’s bills until such time as they got rid of her.
“I do not think it will work.” Colonel Sandhurst voiced his protest. He was jealous again of Sir Philip now that Sir Philip once more stood high in Lady Fortescue’s favour.
“We could set up a committee, Colonel,” said the earl. “My name will be on it and that of Miss Carruthers here. I shall praise Lady Carruthers over her daughter’s ingenuity and public spirit.”
Arabella’s eyes were shining. “It would be so wonderful. I could have my first ball gown and… and…” Her face
fell. “Alas, I do not know how to dance!”
“That is easily rectified,” cried Miss Tonks. “Cannot you play the pianoforte a little, Lady Fortescue?”
“Alas, no. I have forgot all I ever learned.”
“I can,” cried Sir Philip, delighted to be back in favour. “Take your partner, my lord.”
A few minutes were spent while they all moved back the furniture and rolled back the carpet. Sir Philip flipped up the tails of his coat and sat down on the piano stool and began to play a jaunty waltz.
The earl put an arm around Arabella’s slim waist. She blushed in miserable confusion. The blood seemed to be thumping in her ears, and although it was only a moment before she recovered, it seemed an age before she could hear the music and listen to his instructions. Miss Tonks sat and smiled indulgently. She thought they made such a handsome couple. Arabella gradually grew more confident. After the waltz was over, there were the intricacies of the quadrille to master and then the cotillion. She said she thought she would manage in the country dances, for she had learned those at the servants’ parties at home. “You need much more practice,” said the earl. “But let us leave that to another evening. Perhaps we should all sit down and discuss arrangements for this ball.”
This time Lady Fortescue rang the bell and when her personal servants, John and Betty, answered its summons, she asked them to put the carpet and furniture back. Sir Philip asked for iced champagne and then they settled down to drawing up a guest list… although the invited guests would be expected to pay for the honour of attending the ball.
Mr. Davy was enjoying himself as he had not enjoyed himself for some time. It was glorious to be so well-fed and well-dressed. It was like becoming part of a family and he had to remind himself sternly of what he owed these people, for the temptation to spin out the wooing of Mrs. Budge for as long as possible was very attractive.
The earl was enjoying himself. This was much better fun than attending some boring musicale. Arabella was glowing with beauty. She would no doubt marry very well, unless her mother proved to be mean over her dowry. Perhaps he could persuade Lady Carruthers that she would be better placed to play the young widow were her daughter married and off her hands.
He realized Lady Fortescue was addressing him. “Lord Denby, is it all settled? May we put your name at the head of the committee to give ourselves the necessary ton?”
“By all means,” he said politely. “More champagne, Miss Carruthers?”
“Please.” Arabella held out her glass. “I now feel I could dance very well.”
“Don’t become foxed. How is the list going, Sir Philip?”
“We’ve put down the cream,” said Sir Philip. “Now what about the Prince Regent?”
They all stared at him in surprise.
“Why not?” demanded Sir Philip. “He came here for dinner.”
“That was because of the reputation of our chef,” pointed out the colonel.
“Besides,” said Lady Fortescue, “His Majesty is in Brighton.”
“Brighton ain’t far,” said Sir Philip.
“Perhaps I could help there.” The earl looked around the room. “I could travel to Brighton and deliver an invitation in person. The prince is very keen on the army.”
Everyone, with the exception of Arabella, greeted this idea with enthusiasm. Arabella suddenly could not bear to think of him being absent from the hotel.
“So that’s settled,” cried Miss Tonks. “How exciting! And what a splendid evening. Quite like old times. I did not know you could play the piano.”
“Oh, I have my talents,” grinned Sir Philip. He crossed to the piano again and began to play. The champagne flowed. Sir Philip played. Miss Tonks sang in her reedy voice, looking so elated and happy that she achieved a sort of prettiness, and the earl, leaning forward to help himself to more champagne, brushed against Arabella’s shoulder and found himself restraining a sudden odd impulse to put an arm about her and give her a hug.
At last Lady Fortescue reminded the poor relations in an amused voice that they were in trade rather than society and had to be up early to go about their duties and so the party broke up.
The earl walked Arabella down to her room door. “I do not know when I have ever enjoyed myself so much as I have done this evening with these odd hoteliers,” he said, raising her hand to his lips.
Overcome with confusion, Arabella stammered out a hurried good-night.
She went into her sitting-room and pirouetted around the room, holding the hand he had just kissed against her cheek. She stopped suddenly, aware of being watched, and swung around.
Lady Carruthers was standing in the doorway of her bedroom, staring at her daughter as if she could not believe her eyes. Then she found her voice. “Just what are you doing, miss, wearing my gown? And where have you been?”
“I was talking to Letitia… to Miss Tonks… and… and the others.”
“Consorting with tradespeople! And in one of my best gowns.”
“But you must hear this, Mama. The hotel is to give a ball and bring me out!”
“Have you run mad? My daughter being brought out in a hotel?”
“But… but it is to be such a grand ball and—”
Lady Carruthers let out a piercing scream of rage which brought her maid and footman running.
Then she put one hand to her heaving bosom and declaimed, “You will take off that gown and give it to Alice here. You will not go near these hoteliers again. You will stay in your room as punishment and take your meals in your room. Alice, make sure you brush her hair down and leave it down.”
“But Lord Denby is to help with the ball.”
“Fiddle.”
“But it is true.”
“I will speak to Lord Denby on the morrow, GO TO YOUR ROOM.”
Arabella went into her room. The maid prepared her for bed, brushing her hair down her back and, after she was in her night-rail, taking away Lady Carruthers’s gown.
Arabella stared dismally at her reflection. She was once more restored in appearance to a school miss. But what was she to do?
***
Sir Philip, who had been sent out on what he considered to be quite an unnecessary errand by Lady Fortescue the next day, returned to the apartment next door to the hotel to find Mrs. Budge out. He was surprised. He was so used to seeing her vast figure either lying in bed, eating chocolates, or sitting in front of the fire, eating cakes.
He felt a slight twinge of relief. It had been such fun last night, all of them happy and very much together again. He had enjoyed Miss Tonks’ laughter and the admiration in Lady Fortescue’s eyes when he had proposed the ball. But he was an old man, and charms such as Mrs. Budge had to offer had not come his way in years and he was not yet ready to give them up. The fact that he was even contemplating giving them up was an improvement, or so Lady Fortescue would have thought.
Sir Philip went back out into Bond Street and headed for Limmer’s Hotel. He had nearly reached it when he saw Mrs. Budge being driven off in a smart curricle by Mr. Davy. He recognized her best bonnet and noticed she was flirting openly. All thoughts of getting rid of her sooner or later fled his mind before a burning wave of jealousy. Davy was the colonel’s friend. The colonel should have kept him in check. Be damned to them all and that ball, too. He would punish them all by refusing to help. And what was more, he would propose marriage to Mrs. Budge that very day!
***
Mr. Davy found Mrs. Budge an easier companion than he had expected. After an initial bout of nudging and flirting, she had fallen silent and thoughtful and then had become polite and almost like a lady. The fact was that when it came to anything to do with money, Mrs. Budge developed sensitivities she did not normally have. These had not been brought into play much with Sir Philip because it was the coarse and sexual side of Mrs. Budge which pleased him. But she had quickly grasped that Mr. Davy did not relish her openly flirting with him. Out of the corner of her eye, she admired the fine quality of the cloth of
his jacket. She remembered that diamond stickpin. Just one jewel like that would set her up for life! She had money in the bank, money which she had never told Sir Philip about, leading him to think instead that she was poor. Her little flat was modest in the extreme, only because she was a compulsive saver of money. Mr. Budge had been her fourth marriage. She had profited from each of her husbands’ deaths, retiring into quiet and modest living during each widowhood until she could feather her nest further. And so she let Mr. Davy do most of the talking, and being the actor he was, he was pleased to do so. He invented long and fictional stories about his wealth, about his ships which sailed from the Port of London to China, to the spice islands, to America, and Mrs. Budge listened avidly, editing out the poetic descriptions of countries and fastening on the essentials like ivory, gold, tea, coffee, spices, warehouses, and ships.
***
Lady Fortescue and the colonel were alarmed when an angry Sir Philip, who would not tell them why he was angry, said roundly that he was having nothing to do with the ball for Arabella.
He then went back to the apartment, and when Mrs. Budge returned he asked her to marry him but said nothing about having seen her out with Mr. Davy. Mrs. Budge sighed and placed one chubby hand on her bosom, and to his fury said she would think about it.
He went off to Limmer’s again to get drunk.
Meanwhile Lady Fortescue and the colonel had just told Miss Tonks about Sir Philip’s refusal to help when Jack, their footman, told them that Lady Carruthers wished to see them.
Lady Fortescue and the colonel went down to her apartment.
“What is this nonsense about holding a ball for Arabella?” demanded Lady Carruthers. She did not ask either of them to sit.
“We are fond of your daughter and thought it a pleasant idea,” said Lady Fortescue mildly.
“The idea does not please me. Arabella will marry all in good time and marry well. She cannot hope to attract the right type of person if she is to be sponsored by tradespeople.”
“I would not describe the Earl of Denby as being trade.” Lady Fortescue was very stiffly on her stiffs.
