“But last night’s headache was a terribly awful one,” Ron said in defense of his mother. “Mamma’s suffering woke the whole house and there was nothing any of the servants could do to help her, so the physician had to be called out in the middle of the night.”
“Clary said she was in a raging temper,” Merry confided in an awed whisper. “And when that happens no one can go near Mamma for days. But in this house we don’t have to tiptoe at all,” she added with a beaming smile. “Uncle Salt lets us run about as much as we want.”
“But not in the public rooms,” Ron added seriously, “where just anybody can come and see Uncle Salt. And most particularly not on Tuesdays, when there’s all sorts of beggars sitting about wanting Uncle Salt to do things for them. Then we must be on our best behavior because we are Sinclairs and it wouldn’t do for a Sinclair to be seen to be common. But as most of the rooms in this house are empty there’s plenty of places to run about and play hide and go seek. That’s the arrangement we shook hands on with Uncle Salt, isn’t it, Merry?”
“Yes.”
Ron sighed. “But it’s the nursery for us tonight because Mamma couldn’t bear the disturbance at dinner after her raging temper last night. As it is, she could hardly stand up to make it into the carriage to come here.”
“But there’s so many people here today making much more of a disturbance than we ever would, so it’s hardly fair,” Merry complained.
With thirty guests sitting down to a huge dinner and intent on having a good time, Jane didn’t think it fair either. And if their mother could survive the continual thud of the tennis ball hitting the roof of the Gallery without reviving her headache of the night before, then why couldn’t she tolerate her two children eating their dinner surrounded by feasting adults? But far be it for her to interfere in a mother’s edicts. Yet Jane knew she wouldn’t be able to sit through such a dinner, least of all eat anything, with the thought of these two children eating alone in a cavernous, ill-lit and possibly freezing room, if the nursery was anything like the rest of the rooms in this house. She had eaten so many dinners cold and alone that it didn’t bear thinking about.
“My lady, the gentlemen have now joined the ladies in the Yellow Saloon,” Willis the under-butler informed Jane, squatting to peer under the table. “Would you care for me to help you out of there?”
“No!” the children said in unison, a pleading look at Jane.
The tutor and the governess dared to peer under the table either side of the under-butler, glowering at the two children with every expectation that they follow Jane out from under the table. But Jane saw the little faces crumple and she didn’t have the heart to ruin their game of hide and go seek.
“Thank you, but I shall remain here until his lordship discovers us,” Jane replied evenly. She looked deliberately at the tutor and the governess to ensure they were included in her edict. “And I would be pleased if you would forget we are here, or you will give the game away, and that would give his lordship an unfair advantage.”
The under-butler bowed his head in complete acceptance of this order but the tutor and governess had jaws swinging that, had they been able, would’ve dropped to the floor when Jane added to the blanked-faced Willis, “If you can manage it, and it isn’t too much bother, would you find space at the table for two more covers, next to me, of course.” She smiled at Ron and Merry. “It’s only fair all the Sinclairs be present at my first dinner, don’t you agree?”
With the children nodding their delight, the under-butler went away to do his bidding with perfect composure and the governess and tutor departed to await the first opportunity to inform Lady St. John of surprising developments.
It was not many minutes later that amongst the usual toing and froing to the table of soft-footed servant activity, the three under the table heard the measured tread and voices of two gentlemen in conversation. The gentlemen came further into the room. In fact, they strolled right up to where the three under the table were huddled. Merry took the unnecessary step of putting a chubby finger to her smiling lips to ensure her co-conspirators remained silent and hunched her shoulders in delight. Even Ron’s eyes lit up and he hugged his knees and wiggled his toes in his black polished shoes.
The two gentlemen in conversation came to stand close by the table. It was the Earl of Salt Hendon and Sir Antony Templestowe. Ron and Merry were in such an ecstasy of expectation of being discovered by their much loved uncles that they swiftly and silently pushed themselves further back along the length of the polished floor to hide amongst the tangle of chair legs, leaving Jane behind, with the possibility of being the first to be discovered. Yet, she couldn’t help but get caught up in the children’s excitement. That is until she heard whom the two men were discussing and then she was glad the children had scampered out of earshot.
She wished herself a hundred miles away.
~ ~ ~
“HER BROTHER is a fine fellow,” Sir Antony was saying. “And not a bad tennis player for someone who professes to have played only the odd game at Oxford. Are you certain I’ve not met his mother?”
“Absolutely,” was Salt’s clipped response.
“Odd. When she came swanning into the library yesterday, I was convinced I’d met her before. There’s something… Are you sure she’s never been to Salt Hall?”
“Tony. If you’re going to bore on about the vulgar Lady Despard I’ll sit you beside Jenny Dalrymple, who has the brain the size of a pea and about as much conversation.”
“Is that so?” Sir Antony laughed. “But what about that stocking and garter business down on the court?”
Salt put his wine glass on the table, just a foot away from where Jane sat huddled. “No doubt Diana thinks Jenny’s ideal mistress material. Just like Elizabeth before her and Susannah before that. No brains and all breasts.”
“Diana? Yes, I’d heard she took an interest…”
“A diplomatic understatement, dear fellow. Your sister is under the misguided belief that she has control over my life, in and out of the bedroom. What she doesn’t realize and never will is that I permit her good-natured interference only in matters I deem of little consequence.”
Sir Antony laughed again. Jane heard the nervousness in his voice. “Well you’ve definitely got her fooled, not to mention half of society. Diana plays the part of Countess of Salt Hendon by proxy to the hilt. May I ask why you let her get away with it?”
“It gives her something to do. She was born to be a political hostess. In fact, had she been born a man she would’ve made an excellent politician. Much more successful at wielding the political dagger than you ever could be.”
“Thank you very much!” Sir Antony said, offended.
“I mean that in the nicest possible way, Tony. You have a conscience and I trust you implicitly. That doesn’t bode well if you hope to claw your way to the top of the political manure pile here at home. But I will help you rise to ambassador precisely because of your shortcomings. We need more men like you in positions of influence and I will continue to do what I can to see this is realized.”
“Your faith in my abilities overwhelms me,” Sir Antony commented dryly. “Though I’m not sure your speech was entirely complimentary.”
“My dear Tony, my ancient pedigree entitles me a seat atop the political poop where I am best able to put your abilities to good use,” Salt drawled with exaggerated emphasis. “To state the obvious: an earldom and more wealth than I know what to do with gives me unlimited influence. I was being complimentary. You under value yourself.”
“But what of Diana?”
“If she were a man…” Salt replied, an edge to his voice and with the slightest of pauses before he continued in a more conversational tone. “She’s very good at organizing my social calendar, something that, quite frankly, bores me beyond belief. But you know as well as I that social calendars are a necessary evil for a man in my position. I will be forever grateful to her for taking on the task, though I did not ask it of he
r. But I’m not blind to her motivation. That she has overstepped the mark by taking on the role of procuress, I will stop—Oh? So you knew? God! Is nothing sacred?”
“For Diana? About you? Afraid not,” Sir Antony apologized.
Jane heard Salt huff his annoyance and watched him take a step closer to the table so that the toe of his shoe tickled the hem of her petticoats. She quickly gathered the silk layers closer, and in the process knocked a chair leg. The two children drew in quick breaths and Jane held hers, but when the Earl and Sir Antony continued talking, those under the table silently breathed easier.
“I’ve tolerated your sister’s interference in my life since the death of St. John because it has given her widowhood occupation and meaning,” Salt said flatly. “I had hoped that in time she would remarry. The fact that she has, as you so bluntly informed me at White’s, held out in the expectation that I would ask her to marry me, has made me realize that allowing her to organize my social engagements and play hostess at my party political dinners was an error of judgment. To be blunt,” he added on a sigh of admission, “I permitted your sister such license because it stopped her interfering in matters that are far more important in my life.”
“Such as your marriage?” Sir Antony asked too quickly and could’ve bitten off his own tongue. Why was it that he could be the consummate diplomat with others but with Salt he just blathered like schoolboy? He tried to make a recover. “If it’s any consolation, Diana’s taken the news better than I expected. Of course she pretended she already knew you were married and practically spat in my face for daring to tell her to be on her best behavior. I dare say having guests here today has helped temper her mood. That was a good tactical move on your part.”
Salt let out a long breath. He sounded tired. “Putting off the inevitable is what it was. I don’t want your sister to suffer any undue embarrassment or distress from my marriage. That I am married is enough of a shock for her to bear right now. When she learns how far I’ve sunk into the mire, she’ll be mortified.”
“Mire?”
“That Jane married me for Tom’s sake.”
Sir Antony blustered. “So her brother could inherit what was rightfully his, and finally put food on the table of his loyal factory workers who had gone without wages for three months? Do you believe that pap?”
Jane held her breath in the silence until the Earl said simply, “Yes. Yes, I do. It’s just too pathetic a circumstance to be invented. I’ll have a copy of Jacob Allenby’s will tomorrow, so I’ll find out exactly what hoops that lunatic merchant made his nephew and my wife jump through.”
“Makes her less the mercenary bride, then,” Sir Antony commented lightly. “She certainly doesn’t come across as the type, far from it.”
“Tony, whatever way you flavor it, the dose is still hard to swallow. And now I have a wife Diana can no longer act as my hostess. I am counting on your support to make your sister see reason. She must be eased out of her social commitments on my behalf and it must be done as gently and as expeditiously as possible, so that she doesn’t make a fool of herself and me in front of our friends and family. As it is, she’s in there dishing out the tea as if it’s her place to do so, and it’s not, it’s my wife’s.”
“So you’ve no intention of sending Lady Salt into the country?” Sir Antony asked, looking hard at his cousin. “You’re going to make your wife your wife?” and could have stood on his own foot for again allowing words to flow out without due thought. “What I mean is—”
“I know what you mean,” Salt answered wryly and picked up his wine glass. “Lady Salt will remain here until such time as I can take her to Salt Hall,” he stated and added, as if needing to justify himself because Sir Antony was looking at him curiously, “Parliament doesn’t rise until Easter, so I have no choice but to stay in London until then. Particularly with rumblings that Bute may resign any day; though I don’t see that happening for some time to come. He’ll hold out as long as he can. His Majesty will convince him to stay on. And because Lady Salt remains in London, my dear Tony, I will expect her to do her wifely duty.”
Wifely duty in the bedchamber was what he was thinking. Up until last night as he lay beside her in that ridiculous nightshirt, he had had every intention of bedding and then banishing Jane to Salt Hall as soon as he could make arrangements to have her and her new wardrobe packed up and bundled into his traveling coach. Then they had made love and now he didn’t know what he wanted to do with her, apart from get her into his bed again at the earliest opportunity.
“Do you think her capable of carry it off, being Countess of Salt Hendon, playing hostess at your dinners, accompanying you to balls and routs and the like?” Sir Antony asked, peering intently at the Earl, who was sipping from his glass and seemingly miles away with his thoughts. “From what I gleaned from her brother, your wife hasn’t stepped outside the confines of her little garden in Wiltshire in nigh on four years.” He coughed into his hand, embarrassed. “Jacob Allenby was very possessive. Kept her locked up. Feared attracting stray dogs. Not an unreasonable assumption. You must admit, she does have an unworldly quality about her, and that coupled with her undeniable beauty and gentleness, well that’s—”
“—an irresistible combination for stray dogs! I appreciate the warning.”
“Listen, Salt. I didn’t mean anything by it. To tell you a truth, I find her and her brother delightfully frank and unpretentious, which is a refreshing change when you and I breathe air thick with cynicism and flattery. Just think you should keep a wary eye on her, that’s all. Though how you are to do so when you have all those Parliamentary obligations…”
“Or appoint a guard dog to do it for me. Perhaps I’ll appoint you. In fact, consider it done.”
“Salt, be reasonable! You can’t make me.”
“Yes, I can. As you say, I have far too much to do, and you’ve nothing better to do while you’re in London. Bedford won’t send for you until I say so.” He put a hand on Sir Antony’s shoulder. “Besides, you’re the only man I can entrust to help Jane through the emotional wasteland that is Polite Society. Ah! Here’s Willis now. Have you seen Lady Salt? Lady St. John mentioned that my wife had wandered in here some time ago?”
“Lady Salt was here, my lord,” the under-butler said truthfully. “And it was some time ago…”
“And Master Ron and Miss Magna? Have you seen them?”
Merry’s burst of the giggles and Ron’s furious whispered hush saved the under-butler from any further distress. Salt dismissed him with a jerk of his head and turned to Sir Antony with a finger to his lips before saying casually,
“Not only has Lady Salt vanished but so too have those wretched brats, Ron and Merry. I ask you, Tony, were there two more annoying children in all of London?”
“Oh surely not only London?” suggested Sir Antony, playing right along and nodding when the Earl signaled at the table. “I’d go so far as to say that they would put the French to shame. I’ve seen French children. Mere harmless gnats by comparison to our Ron and Merry.”
There was another stifled giggle and another hush and scrape of a chair as Merry pushed her brother sideways for pulling a face at her. Jane tried to calm them both and they settled again. But Salt had heard them and seen the chair move near where Jane sat hunched, so thought he knew the children’s exact location.
“Gnats, you say, Tony?” Salt answered, shifting to the left and ready to pounce. “If French children are gnats,” he announced loudly as he ducked, lowered a shoulder and thrust a hand under the table and made a grab for a child, “then Ron and Merry St. John must be rats for taking up residence under my table. And lousy rats at that for being so easily caught! Come on out and receive justifiable punishment, rats!”
This pronouncement was accompanied by loud squeals of delight and much thrashing about and movement of furniture. Ron and Merry watched with delight as Jane was caught about the ankle. They were well out of Salt’s reach but still they scampered away to the other
side of the table with shouts that no rats by the names of Merry and Ron were to be had in this particular dining room.
Sir Antony joined in the fray, running around to the other side of the table to head off an escape, much to the fascination of the liveried servants and those curious guests who had spilled in from the Yellow Saloon at the sounds of chairs being knocked over, and much squealing and shouting.
“Two rats here, my lord!” Sir Antony shouted out, thrusting aside two chairs and going down on his haunches to peer under the table. “Egad! Two very big rats in residence indeed, and only a cat the size of a Tower Zoo lion would be able to catch ’em. Come out, rats! Come out before the lion of Grosvenor Square makes a meal of you both!”
There were more squeals of delight when Sir Antony made a lunge for Merry, who shrieked so loud Ron clapped his hands over his ears. Shielding his ears made him slow to escape and he managed to get himself caught by his Uncle Tony, who grabbed him by the sleeve of his velvet frock coat, only to have Merry pulling Ron by his right upturned cuff to try and break their uncle’s grip. But Sir Antony tugged harder and suddenly there was the ominous sound of ripping cloth as he tore a rent in the stitching at the shoulder of Ron’s frock coat. With nothing to hold on to, Sir Antony shot backwards and skidded on his backside across the polished wood floor. Ron was free and he and Merry laughed to see their uncle in such an undignified pose; stockinged legs in the air and sprawled out in the middle of the floor at the feet of the startled under-butler.
“Aha! Caught!” Salt announced with satisfaction and firmed his grip on his rat’s ankle, while looking over the top of the table between two elaborately decorated epergnes to see what all the fuss was about. More than a dozen guests and as many servants were gawking at the high jinks in his lordship’s dining room. “Tony? Tony, do you have the other rat?” he called out with a laugh as his rat kept wriggling and wasn’t about to give up the fight. “I hope so! Or my rat gets tickled to death until his fellow capitulates! Tony? Where are you? It may be a very long torture indeed,” he said with mock menace to his rat as he tightened his hold on a slim ankle, “if you, my dear rat, don’t let go of that chair leg and come quietly!”
Scandalous Brides Page 60
