by Joan Smith
"Is that the gentleman with her now?"
She seemed surprised that I did not know it. "Yes, Lord Ronald Etherington, a younger son of old Lord Britton. He owes every tradesman in London, and has had to retire to Bath to escape his creditors. It is public knowledge he is hanging out for a fortune. A word to the wise!"
"I shall warn Isabel."
Lady DeGrue strode into the next room to stir up the crowd. "Go to her now," Lady Forrest urged, and I went.
I arrived just as Lady DeGrue was distributing pieces of paper for some game. She had copied it out of a puzzle book, the object being for us to recognize in a set of clues a famous personage from history. We were to work in pairs, man and woman, to add a romantic spice.
Lord Ronald took a slip of paper and turned to speak to Isabel. Lady DeGrue forestalled him. "Sir Laurence is waiting for you, Isabel," she said.
Turning, I saw the elderly gentleman who had stood up with Isabel at the ball. Lady DeGrue presented him as Sir Laurence Edwards, a dear friend of the family. He was not elderly in the way Lady DeGrue was elderly. I judged him to be in his middle forties. He had quite a bit of gingery-colored hair, though it was thin at front. If the man had acted his age, he would have been a passable partner for one dance. What dismayed one about Sir Laurence was that he tried so desperately to look and act young. The dazzling yellow waistcoat belonged on a university student, as did the nip-waisted jacket and high shirt collars he wore with it. He capered, he talked and laughed loud. He used the cant terms of a young buck. One felt instinctively that he would drive too fa st.
"Miss Bonham, you are stuck with me." He laughed, deepening the wrinkles along his nose. "We shall set them all on their ears, by Jove. What a charming new hairdo. You look like an angel. I have been calling on you all week to show off my new rattler and prads. It wears me to a thread to hold them down to sixteen miles an hour."
Isabel looked an apology over her shoulder, where Lord Ronald was sulking into his high collar.
"We shall drive out tomorrow, eh?" Sir Laurence persisted. "I'll teach you to handle the ribbons."
"Oh, I do not drive," she exclaimed in horror.
"High time you learned. All the crack. An out and outer like yourself ought to set up a high perch phaeton. Tell her, Miss Nesbitt."
"Miss Nesbitt, perhaps you would accompany Lord Ronald," Lady DeGrue suggested.
No sooner had I reluctantly accepted than Lord Paton strolled into the room. He looked all around, nodding to various people, including myself. I smiled coolly and turned to Lord Ronald.
"I despise childish games," he said.
I found one thing in common with Lord Ronald. "I fear there is to be no dancing," I mentioned.
"I despise dancing."
"Ah. Tell me, Lord Ronald, am I correct in thinking you might care for poetry?"
He gave me a bold, dismissing look, but a glint of interest lit his sultry eyes. "It depends on what you mean by poetry. I have no use for flowers nodding by a lake, or violets blooming unseen."
He was playing at being Byron then. "Corsairs and banditti are more your style, I take it?"
"At least they live. What foolishness have we to solve?" he sulked, and opened the paper. "Oh, God, it is history. Next to religion, it is the dullest thing they could have come up with."
I read the paper and decided Henry the Eighth was who we had to be. "This monarch was hardly dull," I said, and handed the paper back to him. "And we have not only to solve it, but feed clues to the others."
"My aversion to the Tudors is exceeded only by my loathing for the Hanovers," he said comprehensively.
"All things look yellow to the jaundiced eye," I snipped.
Lord Ronald gave me a bored look. His glance slid to Isabel. Were it not for her, he would have left the party, and I sincerely wished he would. She was looking at him hopefully, while Sir Laurence rattled on about some drinking spree he had enjoyed recently.
"Let us get this game over with." Lord Ronald scowled.
Isabel looked at Sir Laurence. "The older guests are going to play cards, Sir Laurence," she said temptingly.
"Good for them. It will keep them out of mischief. Let the rest of us get on with this game."
Defeated, she said, "First we have to put the chairs in a ring so that everyone can see and hear."
"If we are moving the chairs, why do we not dance?" Lord Ronald demanded.
"Do you not despise dancing, milord?" I asked.
His eyes smoldered in Isabel's direction. "That depends on one's partner."
"Very true. A surly partner can take the pleasure out of anything."
Isabel overheard his suggestion of dancing and undertook to apologize. "We did not hire any musicians, Lord Ronald," she said. "We can hardly dance without music."
He sensed a reprieve from the games, which were apparently even more despised than dancing, and said, "Surely someone can play the piano."
"It would disturb the card players," I said firmly.
"Oh, no," Isabel countered. "They do not play in the Gold Saloon. The card parlor is quite set off. If only someone could play the piano."
Annie used to perform this function at home, but I did not like to tear her away from Arthur. The solution came from a surprising direction.
"My aunt plays the piano, in fact, she would prefer it to cards," Lord Paton announced. "Would Lady DeGrue mind, Isabel?"
"Not if you asked her," she said artlessly, smiling from ear to ear.
He bowed. "It will be my pleasure."
I could not but compare the manners of Paton and Lord Ronald. Paton might be a womanizer, but at least he was one of pleasant disposition. And it was not their fortune he was after either. Rather than just complain, he undertook to correct an unpleasant evening. I found Lord Ronald a most disagreeable fop, despite his handsome face.
He earned full credit for persistence, however. By the time Lady Forrest sat down at the pianoforte, he had gotten Isabel's hand for the country dance that was forming, despite his loathing for dance. This left me partnerless, but not for long. Sir Laurence chose me, as Isabel's friend, and someone he could talk to about her.
All his youthful airs left him when he was not trying to impress Isabel. "I cannot imagine why Lady DeGrue invited Etherington here," he grouched. "The man has the reputation of a rake, just the sort of handsome, well-born jackanapes to bowl Miss Bonham over. She is so innocent."
"We must drop her the clue he is not the thing."
"It will come better from you, Miss Nesbitt."
"Disparagement of a favored beau never comes well from anyone, but I shall tell her all the same."
I felt a little responsible, as I was the one who had cracked her shell. I doubted if Lord Ronald would have been bothered with Isabel, despite her fortune, if she had worn her old nunnish air.
It seemed the whole party was concerned over Isabel's quite obvious infatuation with Etherington. I noticed that Paton, too, was eyeing them askance, and as soon as the set was over, he went to claim her for the next dance. She looked one of her mute yet speaking apologies at me, and hurried Paton over to me as soon as the music stopped. I got hold of Sir Laurence's arm and nodded to Isabel. He was not tardy to claim her. He was no prize to be sure, but at least no one had condemned the man.
I assumed Lord Paton would ask me to stand up with him. He said, "It's warm in this small room. Shall we go next door and have a glass of orgeat, Miss Nesbitt?"
As Isabel was safely disposed for the next half hour, I went along, curious to hear what he would have to say. His first words were, "Lord Ronald—"
"I know. I mean to tell her at the first opportunity."
He looked at me with amusement shining in his dark eyes. "I see there is no moss growing under your feet. What the devil is he doing here?"
"Despising everything except Lord Byron."
"A poor model he has chosen. Or are you one of the poet's followers?"
I gave him a pert smile. "Why is
it you always suspect me of admiring the most outré personalities, Lord Paton? First William Godwin, now Lord Byron. I am not so debauched, I promise you."
"Very true. I apologize, Miss Nesbitt. Or should I say Emma? I seem to recall we had reached a first-name basis."
"Perhaps unadvisedly. Miss Nesbitt will do very well , Lord Paton. I dare say it was the nature of the outing, being caught in the rain and all, that caused us to fall into such quick intimacy."
He gave a disparaging smile. "Rain will often have that effect," he joked. "Had it been a snowstorm, we might have gone even farther, faster."
This remark was questionable enough, though unintentionally I think, that I decided to change the topic. "What literary works will you be featuring in the next issue of the Quarterly?”
"I am doing something on a fellow called Shelley. Do you still continue with your essays, Miss Nesbitt? I do not hear anyone speak to you of your work. If you wish to remain a tantalizing question mark, I shall not reveal you."
"You are thinking I lack the courage of my convictions, to hold such strong views and not speak of them amongst my friends."
"I did not say so. I think you are wise, if you mean to live in Bath. In London, perhaps, the population are worldly enough to tolerate a little deviance from the norm, but in Bath, you would be ostracized."
"That is exactly why I do not speak of it," I said, grateful for his opinion. Actually I had less interest in the subject than he imagined. It was my gothic novel that occupied me at that time. "In any case, I am working on something else at this moment."
"Indeed?" He looked interested. Was he imagining me at work on some serious tome? "What is it?" he asked.
I blushed a little and said, "Poetry," for I once again lacked the courage to tell the truth.
"Ah."
"Nature poetry," I added feebly.
"I had heard it was unprofitable, except in a few rare cases such as Wordsworth. That is more usually a pastime the well-to -do indulge in. I hope you will permit me to read it before it is published. The Quarterly reviews a deal of poetry." He wore a curious look, wondering at this occupation when I had claimed in my essay to be a pauper.
I had no explanation, and was not inventive enough to come up with one on the spot. I was not unhappy with my little white lie, however. Wasting my time on a genteel hobby seemed to raise me in Paton's esteem. He mentioned that Lady Forrest was planning a rout in the near future, and said he would deliver a card to Lampards Street. Calling with a card from his aunt was a totally different matter than delivering me to examine a lovenest. Something had sparked his proper interest, and I was busy to fan the spark.
"Your aunt has asked me to call one day. I feel I am in an equivocal position, Lord Paton. Somehow the notion seems to have got afoot that you and I are—" I stopped and gave a helpless look.
"Yes, I, too, have felt the discomfort of it. I dare say it is Lady DeGrue's doing. She could not conceive of our being together at Corsham without the propriety of an understanding between us, or at least an inclination in that direction. It makes it difficult for us to become better acquainted."
"Just so. I have tried to explain, but once she takes an idea in her head, it is like talking to a table or a chair."
He smiled with something more than simple politeness. "Otherwise, I would have called on you sooner," he said.
I try to be sensible, and behave with at least a modicum of worldliness. It was annoying in the extreme to realize that this speech caused my heart to speed up. I willed down the emotion and replied blandly, "Perhaps the best thing is for us not to become better acquainted. I am sure you have any number of friends in town by now, and I, too, am beginning to know a few people."
"Now, there is a facer for me!" He laughed. "I was a mere stopgap, a filler-in until you met someone you liked better. Well enough to swell a scene or two, as the bard says, but no leading character in Miss Nesbitt's life."
"Indeed I did not mean anything of the sort. Now you are putting words in my mouth, sir!"
"That would be carrying coals to Newcastle. You have no deficiency of words."
I felt bereft of a clever reply all the same, and sat like a jug.
"Cat got your tongue, Miss Nesbitt? Or is it the subject that displeases you? Nothing has been settled about how we may meet each other without giving rise to the prospect of an imminent announcement. We could accidentally meet in the Pump Room one day. I had hoped we might do so before now, but I have not seen you there. With Isabel and Miss Potter for insulation, that might escape the quizzes' curiosity, don't you think?"
"Very likely. One meets the whole world in the afternoon at the Pump Room."
"Afternoon! That explains it. I have been hanging about in the morning."
"Early afternoon," I added nonchalantly. "I work in the morning, you see."
"Then I shall change my schedule, and also work in the morning. It is a better time for it actually. Business before pleasure."
"If you can call drinking that horrid water a pleasure."
"The horrid water is the price we must pay for the pleasure of meeting our—friends."
He hesitated a telling moment over the choice of word, which struck me as significant, so of course I had to pretend not to notice it. "Why do we continue this puritanical notion that any simple pleasure must be paid for by a matching hardship, I wonder?"
"Simple? I trust that does not refer to your friend's mental capacity! I am no genius, but I am not accustomed to hearing myself called simple. People are so kind. They say it only behind my back," he added with mock pensiveness.
With a memory of his former duplicity, I said rather sharply, "I doubt if anyone who knows you calls you anything of the sort, Lord Paton."
"Thank you—I think? Have you something to add to that peculiar judgment, Miss Nesbitt? There is a certain gleam in your eye that hints at an urge suppressed."
"Whatever can you mean?" I asked, and kept on gleaming at him, perhaps unwisely.
I watched him as he watched me. He would soon figure out that I knew what he had been about during that trip to Corsham if I was not careful. The question was there. He looked first confused, then wary. He would think me little better than a trollop if I agreed to go on seeing him, knowing his first intention, so I had to talk the suspicion away.
"I mean you are uncommonly sly, to hoodwink the quizzes, and further our acquaintance without putting your bachelorhood at risk."
He seemed to accept this awkward explanation. "A man's bachelorhood is always at risk when he is with a clever, pretty lady. That is a compliment, Miss Nesbitt. Pray feel free to blush or simper, or display any maidenly emotion you feel that poor effort merits."
I made a coquettish moue. "Oh, pretty, that merits nothing but a pout. If you really thought me pretty, you would have said beautiful."
"We shall not follow this line of reasoning, or you'll be accusing me of thinking you simple. Clever, I dare say, is French for stupid. I should have called you a genius. Unfortunately, I am in the habit of saying what I mean. It is an error we critics fall into if we are not careful."
"I was judging you in your other mode. That is the problem."
He cocked his head aside and looked at me from the corner of his eyes. "And what mode is that?"
"The mode of flirt, sir. They do not confine themselves to the awful truth."
He laughed. "Good Lord, have I learned to flirt, after all these years? If one persists, you see, he can learn anything, providing he has a good teacher."
I felt licensed to toss my shoulders and pout some more at this charge. We parted on excellent terms. Lord Paton came back for another lesson in flirting during dinner.
"Do you think this is wise?" I asked quietly with a smile to show I was not serious. "The quizzes will be taking the notion there really is something between us."
It was exactly the idea that was being reinforced between Ladies Forrest and DeGrue. I saw them exchanging knowing looks
as Paton entertained me.
"We need expect no further punishment for the pleasure of our flirtation. This dinner is payment enough."
Dinner, which I forgot to mention, was a very inferior effort on Lady DeGrue's part. There was no lobster, no raised pies, but a few plates of cold meat and cheese which had been left uncovered for so long that they were all dry around the edges. The tea, needless to say, was as weak as water. I'm sure Lord Ronald despised the whole repast. He didn't eat a bite, and left immediately after. I noticed he had a private word with Isabel before leaving, and meant to learn what he said at the first opportunity.
Annie and I soon left as well. "I'll call on you tomorrow afternoon," Isabel said as we got our bonnets and pelisses. There were other ladies in the room, and we could not share any confidences.
"Let us go to the Pump Room," I suggested casually.
"No! To Crescent Gardens, at three-thirty."
My heart fell at this suggestion. Her naming a precise hour sounded like a pre-arrangement, and I felt in my bones it was Etherington's work. My concern for Isabel did not make me forget my appointment with Lord Paton at the Pump Room. I would have to talk her out of meeting Lord Ronald when she called tomorrow.
The drum was considered quite a success. Pepper was aux anges to get a toe into polite society, where he had been received better than he hoped. No one knew precisely what he published, and the simple act of publishing was no disadvantage. Annie was happy because he and I were happy. I felt I had firmed my position in society. Several ladies had invited me to call. It was becoming clear that I required a better address for I disliked to invite them to the top floor of Lampards Street. If only I were sure my gothic would sell, I would feel free to squander some of my savings in a move downtown, and the hiring of a servant.
With all the happenings of that night, the liveliest since coming to Bath, it was late when I went to bed, but I took a moment to jot a thought down in my diary. "My opinion of gentlemen has been both lowered and raised somewhat by tonight's doings with them. I met the sub-species, flirtus unscrupulus (lowered), and learned it is despised by proper gentlemen. More than one of them displayed very kind feelings toward the intended victim (raised). Gratified to discover this vestige of chivalry has survived."
