Babe

by Joan Smith

  “Certainly he did. You should call him Lord Clivedon, by the by. Brassy manners will not do on Mecklenberg Square. You want to show him proper respect. I was surprised to hear such good sense from him. I was afraid he would expect me to drag you off to drums and gay revels, but he knew better. Clivedon is a little loose in his own amusements, there is no denying. But then, men are more free than ladies; always have been and always will be. Eat your crust, Mabel,” she added, sparing an eye for her other charge. “It will curl your hair.” This caused the old witch to emit a nasty laugh.

  Feeling sorry for the sister, Barbara mentioned the annoyance of straight hair.

  Lady Graham frowned at her having uttered a word on her own initiative, and again took over the conversation. “Sunday of course we shall do no more than go to church, but Monday I mean to take you to Burlington House to see the Elgin Marbles.”

  “I have seen the Elgin Marbles, Lady Graham,” Barbara said in a firm voice.

  “I saw them as well, when Elgin had them at his own place in Park Street, but they are much better displayed now, I hear. That great sculptured slab from the Temple of Nike was off in a corner where the work could not be appreciated. Take your sketch pad along, Lady Barbara. It will be an educational afternoon, to appreciate the Hellenic touch in sculpture.”

  Barbara said nothing. By Monday, she trusted, Clivedon would be home from the party, and if he thought she was to spend the Season in this manner, he would have something to learn. She went to Bullock’s Museum to view Napoleon’s carriage that afternoon, and in the evening she dozed through a very inferior rendition of Elizabethan madrigals. The audience was composed of ladies and gentlemen who looked nearly as old as the music. She doubted half of them were awake to hear it. Heads nodded on shoulders, and the snores were louder than the lyre. Both Lady Graham and Miss Mabel sat at attention, their noses quivering with the unwonted excitement. As Barbara was tired, she tolerated the dull evening without uttering a single word of complaint, though she was slow to rise to appreciation on the scale of her hostess.

  Church was attended on Sunday morning. Not the chapel royal, but a little out-of-the-way building in Somers Town, the building smelling of new bricks and mortar and the sermon of brimstone. The black coats of the men and black bombazine gowns of the ladies both smelled of camphor. Lady Barbara realized she had fallen amongst Dissenters, and racked it up in her account against her foe.

  Lady Graham did not approve of any frivolity such as museums and music on the Sabbath. There were Bible readings after each of the three meals, and there was a “period of contemplation” from two to four, for the meals, of course, were served at country hours. The guest spent not a moment contemplating the hereafter, the subject suggested by her hostess. She contemplated instead revenge on her guardian.

  After her quiet weekend, she was well rested up to take him on. It was only the anticipation of it the next day that kept her from coming to cuffs with the chief mandarin when she scolded Miss Mabel for dropping a spot of gravy on the tablecloth, as though she were a child. She would not satisfy him to have Lady Graham report any misconduct on her part. She volunteered to play a few hymns on the old clavichord in the corner that evening, but the idea was vetoed. Music should not intrude on the Sabbath, except possibly in a church, and even there, it was suggested, it had a whiff of papacy about it.

  It was not yet nine when Lady Graham began to yawn into her tiered sleeves and her sister to eye the lamps, preparatory to extinguishing them. The striking of the long-case clock in the corner would be the cue to lay aside their books of sermons. Not even netting or knitting was allowed on the Sabbath. At one minute before nine, the door-knocker sounded. “Who on earth could be calling at this hour of the night?” Mabel wondered. One would think it were midnight at least.

  “Clivedon, of course, ninny,” her sister informed her. “No one else we know would consider a call in the middle of the night eligible. I am remarkably glad he sent you to me, Lady Barbara. I was afraid, when Lady Withers spoke to me of the plan, he meant to send you to her, and she is a sad, runabout creature. You would not want to stay with her. It would ruin your chances for a good match, meeting nothing but rakes and rattles.” Barbara listened, wondering which of the few octogenarians she had been introduced to her cousin was lining up for her. “Ah, Clivedon,” the dame continued, assessing her caller’s bow as he came in.

  “Good evening, ladies. Sorry to importune you at such a farouche hour. I was driving past on my way home from my visit and, as your lights were still on, I hoped I caught you before retiring.”

  “We were about to retire,” he was told, while Barbara figured that if he was on his way home from Kent, he had not been passing by, but had come several miles out of his way.

  “I shan’t detain you a moment. Merely I wanted to inquire how Lady Barbara is getting on.” He glanced at her, a fleeting look only, but long enough for her to glimpse the laughter in his eyes, before he turned back to the hostess. “You are to be congratulated, ma’am. She looks improved already. I can see you have followed my wishes and not let her stay up till all hours.”

  “I must confess we didn’t get into our beds till after ten last night,” Lady Graham admitted. “But we attended the late service this morning to catch up on our rest. Lady Barbara got her ten hours, and will have eleven this night.”

  “Excellent.” He smiled, looking about for a comfortable seat and finding none. The one sofa held the mandarins, while Lady Barbara sat on a hard-backed, unpadded seat that gave a view from the window. She had been sitting there since before darkness had fallen, looking into a perfectly empty road. He took a matching chair beside her.

  “I hope you enjoyed the house party at Oak Bay, Clivedon,” she said. “I didn’t realize, when you left us, where you were going, or I would have wished you a happy visit.”

  “I have already spoken to you about that, Lady Barbara,” Lady Graham intervened. “About treating Lord Clivedon with respect.”

  “I hope I show no disrespect to apologize, ma’am,” Barbara said, wondering what freakish nonsense she was to hear now.

  “You called him Clivedon! Watch your manners, missie. Lord Clivedon is what you should call your elders.”

  As Clivedon showed definite signs of displeasure at this allusion to his age, Barbara was not tardy to make the desired change, and use it at every chance. But the chief mandarin had soon taken control of the conversation again. “One would be sure of a good time at Oak Bay. The Haddons are not such loose-livers as most one meets. They would not be keeping you up till all hours, and expecting you to dance and gamble. I am very happy to see you settling down with Lady Angela, Clivedon. Bring her to call on me one day.”

  He inclined his head in obedience, without the least intention of obliging the lady, then turned hack to Barbara.

  “I hope you enjoyed the museum?”

  “Fascinating.”

  “There were a great many bucks lurking about,” Lady Graham told him. “I am not at all sure we ought to have gone unaccompanied, but no harm came of it. I gave them a hard stare, and they didn’t pester Barbara. I kept Mabel on one side of her and myself on the other. The concert was more to our taste.”

  “To your taste as well, Lady Barbara?” he inquired solicitously.

  “Delightful,” she answered, in a pinched voice. “I quite look forward to the trip to Burlington House to see the marbles tomorrow as well. Do you come with us, Lord Clivedon?” There was a menacing spark glowing deep in her eyes. “There is a matter I most particularly wish to discuss with you.”

  “What matter is that?”

  With a quick look towards the ladies she answered, “Financial. It is rather important. May I expect to see you tomorrow?”

  “Ho, Clivedon will keep a sharp eye on your money, miss. Don’t worry your head about that. He handles all my investments for me. An excellent manager.”

  “Thank you,” Clivedon said modestly. “I would be delighted to see the marbles again,
but unfortunately I am otherwise engaged in the afternoon. I could come in the morning for an hour. Shall we say eleven, to allow you time to get your rest? That does not conflict with your plans, Lady Graham?” he asked politely.

  “We had certainly not planned two outings in one day. We shall be here in the morning.”

  “Eleven is fine with me. I look forward to it,” Barbara told him, with a level eye and a certain intonation in her voice that caused him to smile.

  “So do I look forward to it. I really must go now. Pray forgive the late call. Ladies.” With a bow, he was off, and as the clock had struck nine during his visit, there was no delay in getting the two lamps extinguished and getting up the stairs to bed, with the aid of one candle between the three of them.

  A second early night was not so easily lulled into sleep as a first. At ten, Barbara was still awake, and at eleven she was aware that she would not close an eye for several hours. She had ample time to work herself into a temper. Some traces of it were still with her when Clivedon called the next morning at eleven. But till she was in his curricle she uttered not a word the mandarins could object to.

  Before she said a thing, Clivedon turned to her with a rallying smile. “Do you know, you amaze me,” he said simply. “I couldn’t believe my eyes, to see you sitting with a book on your knees, and not throwing it at that woman’s head. I was sure I would find the bird had flown the coop when I stopped last night. I had already changed my team preparatory to dashing off to find you. When you didn’t even point out that Mecklenberg Square is not en route from Kent to Grosvenor Square, I was afraid they had broken your spirit. What possessed you to knuckle under so easily?”

  She hardly knew what to make of this speech. “You realize full well you have placed me in an intolerable situation, in other words, and I should like to know why you have done it, Lord Clivedon.”

  “Lord me no lords, if you please. I will be happy to explain. When a young lady has managed to tarnish her reputation, it requires some outstanding show of virtue to recover its luster. I hope a Season with Lady Graham may prove effective, with, of course, Mabel to guard your sinister side. Sinister in the heraldic sense, that is. Your left side is all I meant. In any case, this will be either the makings or ruin of you. If you mean to abandon yourself to a life of dissipation, you might as well do it quickly and have done. While you live in limbo, your relatives all worry about you. If, on the other hand, you reform, then we shall all rejoice and trot out the fatted calf, in the usual way of greeting a reformed profligate son—or daughter. Which is it to be, Lady Barbara?”

  “I am not a profligate, thank you very much for the description. Neither am I an eighty-year-old relict, to be consigned to Mecklenberg Square and Bible readings three times a day. I have borne it for forty-eight hours, which is about forty-seven and a half more than you could do, and my patience is at an end. I want you to send me somewhere else. Anywhere else. This is too much.”

  “I confess I chose the most upstanding of my relatives to test you. You did better than I had any reason to expect. Consider it an ordeal by fire—endure it a little longer and I shall let you go to Lady Withers. It is the measles after all, confirmed beyond a doubt now. Before too long it will be safe for you to go there. Agreed?”

  “You cannot have been listening, Clivedon. I said my patience is at an end now. I will not eat another soft pudding or another crust to curl my hair; I will not be chided like a schoolgirl, and I will not go to bed at nine o’clock. Don’t think you’re going to make a Miss Mabel Mouse out of me!”

  “Dear girl, no one tries to make dross from gold.”

  “Compliments are cheap, and ineffective. I will not stay another day. It is up to you whether you wish to be saddled with a female of undoubtedly tarnished reputation, as opposed to the ambiguous patina I seem to wear at the moment. Don’t think I mean to back down. I don’t. I hold cards of invitation to a ball at Farrow’s tonight and a rout at Lady Sefton’s the next. I have been invited to a picnic at Richmond Park—”

  “You are apt to miss that date. Richmond Park, if I recall aright, is easily forgotten by you.”

  “I can’t imagine what you are talking about,” she answered, glancing off to the left to wave at a passing acquaintance, to conceal the flush she felt creeping up her neck. Two years, and he still remembered!

  She waited to hear what he would say about it, but the subject was dropped like a hot coal. “As it happens, I plan to attend Sefton’s rout and the Farrows’ ball myself. I shall take you.”

  This was the sort of time she had envisioned, and her lips turned up softly at the corners. “Will Lady Angela permit it?” she asked boldly.

  “I am hardly in a position to ask her permission for anything, I trust she will not object to your coming along with us.”

  “I shan’t mind having her along either, to keep me nice and proper. Lady Graham has a high opinion of her, I can tell you. If ever you wish to trim her into line after the wedding, send her to Lady Graham. They will deal famously.”

  “We do not speak of a wedding yet, and it is in any case unlikely in the extreme she would ever require trimming into line.”

  “No, waking up is more like it.”

  He got astride his high horse at this remark and asked, “What was it about your money you wished to discuss?”

  “I want you to arrange funds for me. I owe Mademoiselle Celeste twenty guineas for bonnets, and as I mean to buy a new one this week as well, I ought to pay her something on my account.”

  “Don’t worry about your accounts. I have taken care of all that. As to a new bonnet, however, that will be impossible. I have already told you I have cut off your accounts. There is nothing wrong with the bonnet you are wearing. You don’t require a new one.”

  “Do you intend overseeing my wardrobe as well as my accounts? Next you will be selecting my gowns.”

  “Censoring, not selecting. I had Agnes go through your trunks before they were sent to Lady Graham’s place. Those we disapprove of are not amongst your things. You didn’t miss the half-dozen we considered unbecoming to an unmarried lady?”

  “You went through my personal effects! Rummaged through my trunks! Upon my word—”

  “No, no, you misunderstand the matter. Agnes did the rummaging, and selected for my perusal those gowns she thought too low-cut. Only the things you will be wearing in public. If you wish to outfit yourself in black lace in your boudoir, I haven’t a word to say about it.”

  “My peignoirs are none of your business!”

  “Yes, I have just said so.”

  “You shouldn’t have been looking at them, then.”

  “I had no intention of doing so, but my sister considered it such an odd thing to find that she brought it with the gowns to show me. Hardly an object one would think to see in a maiden’s closet, but in that of a lightskirt.”

  “You would know more about that than I. It happens the peignoir was a gift.”

  His hands tensed on the reins, causing the horses to jolt. “If you are accepting such gifts as that from men . . .’ he said, in an awful voice, and seemed unable to go on.

  “Frenchmen have very different ideas on what is suitable to give a niece for a gift. My great-uncle Montaigne, who is seventy-five, gave it to me in Paris.”

  “You would do well to be rid of it,” he said, in a somewhat mollified tone.

  “Perhaps Lady Graham would like it,” she answered blithely. “May I know what gowns . . . Clivedon, if you have taken my new green Italian silk!”

  “It was the first to go. Green never did suit those blue eyes, Barbara. And it wouldn’t make a jacket for Lady Graham either.”

  “I mean to wear it to Sefton’s rout!”

  “Did you? Might I suggest the blue jaconet instead. For a rout party, a muslin will do, and it is highly garnished and low-cut enough to be obviously not an afternoon gown, despite its having been worn for one.”

  “Where are my gowns? What have you done with them? If you’ve
burned them, I’ll – I’ll get an edict against you.”

  “You mean a warrant for my arrest, I expect. The gowns are not burned. They will do well enough for a married lady, or a confirmed profligate, as the case may be,” he told her. “Where would you like to go for this drive, by the way? Bond Street? – No, it will only call to mind your lack of funds, and I am already bored with that subject. Let’s make it Hyde Park.”

  “I don’t care where you take me, so long as it isn’t Burlington House.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of stealing the thunder from Lady Graham’s treat.”

  “You are hateful! You’ve dreamed up the dullest possible things for me to do, while you—”

  “No waltzing or gambling at Oak Bay,” he reminded her, with a fleeting smile. “Don’t overestimate my week-end’s gaiety.”

  “I bet Lady Angela gave you a hand with my timetable.”

  “I take the entire credit for myself. No, to be fair, the concert of ancient music was not my idea. I had suggested the lecture of the Philosophical Society, but your hostess felt there would be unsavory literary types lurking there. Never mind, you will have a chance to waltz tonight and complain to all your beaux what a tyrant I am.”

  It was all that kept her from doing something utterly foolish. She looked forward to going to parties with Clivedon—it would set her higher than she had recently been perching, and she was curious too to see how he behaved with Lady Angela.

  “Getting over your sulks?” he asked. “Come, this is your last chance till tonight for any decent conversation or show of temper. Better take advantage of me. It is what I meant to say.”

  “It’s impossible to talk to you.”

  “How do you know? You never tried. Oh, you’ve flirted with me in the past and lectured me in the present, but we have never talked. Now, as your guardian, I should like to know a little more about you. What is it you enjoy to do? What sort of people and music and books do you like?”

  “I like to waltz, to go to parties and be gay. I like amusing, lively people and music and books. Who does not?”