A Certain Magic

by Mary Balogh

  Mary was on her best behavior the following afternoon and far more goodnatured than usual. She was cheered by the prospect of being driven about London in the curricle of a gentleman whom her sister had described as very fashionable and her older brother as top-of-the-trees.

  They went to the Tower on that first day and looked at the crown jewels and the armory and at the wild animals.

  “Though there are not too many of them left,” Mr. Westhaven explained. “What they lack in numbers they make up for in ferocity, of course.” And he went on to give a lurid account of occasions when the bars of the cages had been gnawed through by the ferocious animals and all the spectators had been gobbled up.

  “Pooh,” Mary said, “those people were foolish not to run as soon as the animals started to bite at the bars.”

  “But when they are really in a fierce mood,” he said, “they can snap their bars in the twinkling of an eye. I don’t quite like the look of the gleam in the lion’s eye, do you, Allie?”

  “How silly you are,” Mary said. But Alice was amused to note that her hand had crept into Piers’ clasp. The lion looked rather as if it were about to nod off to sleep, she thought.

  “They always rest before they attack,” Mr. Westhaven continued. “Just as the lion is doing now. And the bear. The elephant, of course, can remove the bars of his cage merely by wrapping his trunk about them. It would be most interesting to see, don’t you think, Allie?”

  “I think perhaps we should move on to see the birds,” Alice said, “before Mary’s knees buckle under her.”

  “Oh,” the child said scornfully, “I know Mr. Westhaven is just funning us, Aunt Alice.”

  “Oh, here it comes,” he said as the lion exerted itself to lift its head and yawn. “Hold on to me, ladies.” And he wrapped an arm about each and hugged them to him, while Mary gave a little shriek.

  “Piers!” Alice said, pushing him away and straightening her bonnet. “You are worse than any child. Poor Mary will have hysterics.”

  But Mary, looking prettier and more animated than Alice had ever seen her, was giggling up at Piers and telling him again how silly he was. And he was laughing at both of them, his arm still about Mary. An elderly gentleman who was standing a short distance away with a lady was smiling with some amusement at them.

  Alice turned sharply away and moved over to the cages of the birds. She had felt all her insides somersaulting. The old gentleman had undoubtedly seen them as a family. They must look like a family.

  And Piers would be such a good father. He was giving every appearance of enjoying the afternoon, not merely enduring the tedium of having to spend it in company with a child. He had made Mary forget all her peevishness and her aches and pains. The girl had become a child enjoying an outing.

  He might have had a nine-year-old daughter now. Just two years younger than Mary. He might have been taking her about London and. exerting himself to amuse her. And she might have had a ten-year-old son. Nicholas. She might have been showing him London. Instead they were both childless, both widowed, entertaining someone else’s child.

  She swallowed twice in quick succession.

  “Did I offend you, Allie?” A hand squeezed her shoulder from behind. “I should not have grabbed you like that. It was not good for your dignity, was it? Forgive me, please. You know I am a careless fellow.”

  “No,” she said, reaching up quickly and patting his fingers with her own. “It was not that, Piers. Quite the contrary. Mary is not your responsibility, and yet you have given up an afternoon to her amusement.” She turned to look at her niece, who was still standing before the elephant’s cage.

  He bent down to look into her face, his hands clasped behind him. “Neither is she your responsibility,” he said. “But she exists and is a child and has a right to some pleasure. And so we have given her pleasure. What is it, Allie?”

  She smiled bleakly and shrugged. “Nothing,” she said. “I just suddenly had the thought that you might have been here with your daughter or I with Nicholas. That is all. A flash of self-pity.” She smiled more firmly.

  “But we are not,” he said gently. “We are here with your niece and each other. I’m sorry, Allie. Now, once every bird has been gazed at and remarked upon, I shall escort you both out to my curricle again and take you to Gunter’s for ices.” Mary had come up to them by that point, “That is, if you are good girls, of course. Only tea and cream cakes if you are not.”

  They were both judged worthy of ices a half hour later, though Mary a announced when hers was half devoured that her mama would never allow her to have one for fear of drawing on a chill.

  “It will have to be our secret, then,” Piers said. “I won’t tell if you don’t, Mary. And we shall ask your aunt to raise her right hand and swear not to tell. Come along, Allie, let’s see it.”

  She took the oath with great solemnity.

  “But listen, Mary,” he said gravely, “don’t you dare catch a chill within the next month.”

  Mary giggled and promised.

  “Now,” he said, “shall we twist your aunt’s arm and persuade her to join us at Astley’s Amphitheater tomorrow afternoon?”

  “Oh, yes, please!” Mary squealed. “Please, Aunt I daresay Papa will not let me go alone with Mr. Westhaven.”

  “I daresay he will not,” Alice agreed. She looked at their grinning companion. “Are you quite sure, Piers? You must have a great many more important things to do.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “Not a single one,” he said.

  And so they spent another carefree afternoon together the next day, though they were forced to take Piers’ closed carriage as rain threatened to fall.

  Mary sat across from them on the return journey and lapsed into silence after having spent all of ten minutes reliving the equestrian wonders she had seen. She looked from one to the other of them.

  “Are you going to marry Aunt Alice?” she asked Piers.

  Alice wished fervently that it were possible to control one’s blushes.

  “No,” he said at her side. “I don’t believe your Aunt Alice would be very flattered at the idea, Mary.”

  “I don’t see why not,” Mary said. “Uncle Webster has been dead a very long time, and I would like to have you for an uncle.”

  “That is high praise indeed,” he said. “I shall keep it in mind. Now, I have not turned my head to look, but I will wager that your aunt’s face is as crimson as the bow at your chin. Am I right?” Her turned a laughing face to Alice’s.

  “Mary,” she said, knowing that the coolness of her voice was utterly belied by the color of her face, “that is not the sort of thing you speak of in public, you know. It is not at all ladylike.”

  “It is never considered genteel to put another lady to the blush,” Piers said, amused eyes steady on Alice’s face. “Even when she looks very pretty doing it, Mary.”

  Fortunately for Alice’s peace of mind, he turned his head at that moment to wink at Mary.

  ***

  Mr. Westhaven was pleased with the party he had arranged for Vauxhall. It should be quite easy to avoid the appearance of having committed himself irrevocably to Miss Borden. Since Vauxhall was an open-air pleasure garden attended by all and sundry, Mr. Bosley had agreed to be one of the party, which included also Lady Margam, Miss Borden, Alice, Sir Clayton Lansing (he had not intended to invite that particular gentleman, but had felt obliged to do so when Lansing had mentioned that Miss Borden had told him about it), Amanda and Jarvis Carpenter, Mr. King, and Miss Marks.

  “I am vastly pleased that Bosley has agreed to be one of the party,” he told Alice. “You will like him, Allie.”

  “Will I?” she said. “I must confess to a curiosity to converse with him, having heard so much about him.”

  “You will find him genial and jovial,” he said. “And yet I swear, Allie, he would sell his grandmother if there were profit in it.”

  “A delightful character,” she said.

  “One in a millio
n,” he said cheerfully.

  She was to have her curiosity satisfied early in the evening, Alice discovered. Piers had decided that they would approach the gardens in the slow and cumbersome manner—by boat across the River Thames. It was also, of course, the most enchanting approach to Vauxhall. Mr. Bosley seated himself beside her in the boat, while Sir Clayton frowned and sat with Lady Margam. And he offered her his arm when they set foot on land again.

  “If you do not consider it an impertinence for me to expect such a thing, Mrs. Penhallow,” he said, “me being only in trade, you know, and some of the gentry considering that I must therefore have the plague.” He laughed heartily at his own humor.

  “Thank you, sir,” she said. “I am very thankful for your arm.”

  “It is civil of you to say so, I am sure, ma’am,” he said. “I have made something of a fortune for myself, it is true, but it is a notion of the gentry, I know, that they can be as poor as church mice, but it is still beneath their dignity to set their hands to some honest work. And how well set up was the late Mr. Penhallow, may I ask?”

  Alice almost choked and turned an amused eye in Piers’ direction. But his head was bent to hear something Amanda was saying.

  “Thank you, sir,” she said. “He left me with a competence.”

  “And his property went to...?” He raised inquiring eyebrows.

  “To his cousin, sir,” she said.

  “Ah, how sad for you,” he said. “There were no children, ma’am?”

  He patted her hand and clucked his tongue in sympathy. “But then you are young enough and lovely enough to attract yourself a handsome lord, if you choose,” he said. “Or perhaps you will turn your eye next time to a man who can offer you a fortune and no titles.” He laughed heartily.

  Gracious, Alice thought, startled, was the man flirting with her? This time she did catch Piers’ eye and he winked at her.

  Mr. Bosley seated her beside him in the box Piers had reserved for the evening and even replaced her hand on his arm when he had taken his own chair.

  “We will dance later, Mrs. Penhallow,” he said genially, “when the orchestra strikes up with a country dance I know the steps to. I suppose you dance quadrilles and minuets and waltzes and all those. I do not. I hope you do not mind sitting for a while.”

  “Certainly not, sir,” she said with some amusement. “The gardens and the lights are so enchanting.”

  “It is just to be hoped that those clouds do not bring rain until very much later,” he said, “or even a storm. It has been hot enough today.”

  Alice murmured assent and sat back prepared to be entertained. Mr. Bosley told her all about his business and his many assets, for all the world as if he were making an offer to her papa, she thought.

  ”It is as well to let the young people frolic,” he said affably after a few minutes when Piers was dancing with Miss Borden, Amanda with Mr. King, and Jarvis with Henrietta Marks. “It looks good to see young people happy together, does it not, Mrs. Penhallow?”

  She thought how Piers would enjoy hearing his dancing described as frolicking and himself as one of the young people. But it did strike her suddenly that perhaps Mr. Bosley’s interest in entertaining her was more a ruse to keep her away from Piers than a personal interest in her. Had he heard that they were friends? That they had spent some time together in the previous few weeks? Somehow the idea did not seem at all improbable now that she had met the man.

  It was a suspicion that was further confirmed when Piers asked her to dance awhile later and Mr. Bosley immediately got to his feet and declared that she had promised the dance to him. It was a waltz.

  She followed him to the dancing area with some amusement.

  But it was not after all to be a thoroughly enjoyable evening. The gardens were all she had ever dreamed they would be and more. The boxes were gaily decorated, the orchestra played lively music, the food was every bit as good as it was famed to be, and the colored lanterns gave a magical glow to the many trees and to the figures of the revelers below.

  But her only escape from Mr. Bosley was with Sir Clayton, who led her onto the dance floor, also for a waltz, tried to hold her too close, and then suggested a walk along the lantern-lit paths. Before they returned to their box a half hour later, she had been forced to fend off yet another kiss and marriage proposal.

  It was all very irritating, she thought, as they settled for supper. Yet when she tried to analyze the underlying causes of her irritation, she came up with two answers that only made her feel worse.

  The weather was very close. There was not a breath of a breeze. There was a storm coming. She could feel it. It was giving her something of a headache. And the evening would be spoiled. The rain would probably come before the fireworks display. Hence her irritation.

  The other cause was far more disturbing. She had had no private word with Piers all evening and had not danced with him even once. They were in surely the most enchanted spot in all of London, and the orchestra had played several waltzes. Yet not one of them had she danced with Piers. The fact irritated her.

  And disturbed her a great deal when she had analyzed it. The sooner she returned to Bath, the sooner she could restore a measure of serenity to her mind.

  Chapter 9

  IT was an evening Mr. Westhaven wished at an end even as he exerted himself to make sure all his guests were occupied and enjoying themselves. He had always enjoyed an evening at Vauxhall and was determined to make the most of this one. Having once set his mind on returning to the country, though, he found himself resenting every day that kept him from making the journey. He intended to set out the next day.

  In the meanwhile Bosley seemed to have decided to make Allie the object of his gallantry. Piers was not at all surprised. She looked particularly fine in a dress of deep rose, her dark hair piled high, with curls at her neck and temples. And of course, she was far too well-bred to show any disgust at being singled out for attention by a mere cit. Indeed, he could see that she was amused by the situation, as he had known she would be. He had known Allie would appreciate Bosley’s personality.

  He danced with all his lady guests with the exception of Alice. She was being too jealously guarded by Bosley, and later was borne off by Lansing. He would have worried about her when the two of them disappeared along one of the paths, away from the dancing area. But he knew Alice had too much sense to consent to step off the main thoroughfare. He would wager, though, that Lansing would try to steal a kiss anyway.

  By the time they all gathered in the box for supper, Piers was congratulating himself on the success of the evening and on his own success in singling out none of the ladies for marked attention. The only thing that threatened to spoil the evening—and he had no control over that—was the weather. It looked as if a storm might come up before the fireworks display. But he had had the carriages brought around over the bridge. They would not have far to run if the rain came down before they were ready to leave.

  It was Mr. Bosley who suggested the walk. It would be a pleasant way to help their supper on its way down, he explained. But when Piers turned to claim Alice’s company, it was to find her hand already resting on Bosley’s portly arm. And even as he turned to Lady Margam, he found a little hand creeping beneath his arm and two large eyes peeping imploringly up at him for a brief moment.

  “Miss Borden, “ he said, “would you care to walk with me?”

  They all set out along the widest and most brightly lit path. The air was close and still, although a breeze was beginning to sway the upper branches.

  “It will be raining within a half hour, “ Lady Margam said. “We had better not go too far.”

  “We will turn back as soon as the wind reaches us,” Sir Clayton assured her.

  “The trouble with ladies,” Mr. Bosley said, “is that they are always afraid of having their hair blown about and of getting their dresses wet. There are plenty of places to shelter in the gardens.”

  “But not for an hour or more wh
ile a storm blows itself out, brother,” Lady Margam said.

  Mr. Bosley smiled genially down at Alice. “That depends entirely on the company one is in,” he said.

  Good Lord, Piers thought hilariously, Bosley really was flirting with Allie. He was going to have to watch to see that the man did not draw her down any of the less frequented paths. Perhaps she was going to have an offer of that fishy fortune after all. He pursed his lips and tried to catch her eye. But she was looking up to the treetops, her lips parted. She looked enchanted.

  “I do beg your pardon,” Cassandra was murmuring at his side, “but I thought Sir Clayton was about to offer me his arm. I am afraid of him.”

  “Afraid?” he said. “Because the man has such good taste?”

  “I am shy,” she said. “I do not know what to talk about with other gentlemen. I feel comfortable with you. I do beg your pardon.”

  “I am honored to have your company.” he said. “ I am sorry. Am I walking too fast for you?”

  “Just a little,” she said apologetically. “I am wearing new slippers.”

  “Then we will stroll in a more leisurely fashion,” he said, slowing his steps so that they fell to the back of the group.

  The storm was going to come up far faster than they had anticipated, he noticed a mere few minutes later. The air grew chill, and the branches began to sway above their heads with loud, swishing sounds. The lanterns moved in the trees and the colored lights they cast swayed about, making even more of an enchanted land of the world below them. He must suggest that they turn back.