The Forthright Lady Gillian, The Fickle Fortune-Hunter

by Amanda Scott

  “A musical evening sounds boring,” Theo said with a sigh, “but perhaps if Crawley is there, it will not be so bad.”

  “Oh, no, dearest, for everyone in Town will be there.”

  “Everyone who is anyone, you mean?”

  “Yes, of course,” Felicia agreed. She realized at once that she ought not to speak so, and added, “Do not think I am being snobbish, my dear. I am merely being practical. It is of the utmost importance that you meet as many members of the beau monde as possible before the opening of Almack’s Assembly Rooms, just after Easter, if you are to be a success. Aunt Augusta will have no difficulty obtaining vouchers for us, but it is important to make a good impression before then, for me as well as for you, since I have not been much in company these past two years.”

  “Well, I do not much care whether I make a good impression,” Theo said, tossing her head. “I am sure I have never made a bad one. Nor have you. You worry too much, Felicia.”

  “Perhaps,” Felicia agreed, rising, “but you do not want to vex Madame Bernille, lest she should rig you out in a gown with weakened seams to get even. Only think how you would feel if your dress collapsed around your ankles at Devonshire House.”

  Fortunately, Madame Bernille had their gowns ready for them, and Theo’s required only a little narrowing at the waist, which the good lady did on the spot. Felicia’s gray muslin gown fitted her to perfection, the only alteration being a pink satin sash that Theo demanded on her behalf to replace the lavender one.

  “You look as if you were in mourning with that purple sash,” Theo said with a grimace, “and I can tell you right now that if Aunt Augusta condemns that gown, you have only yourself to blame, for I begged you to have the primrose muslin instead, or the Pomona green, and so I shall tell her.”

  But Lady Augusta, when she arrived to dine with them that evening, magnificently garbed in crimson sarcenet, had only compliments for Felicia. “I declare, I was that tempted to insist that you allow me to accompany you to your modiste, my dear, but I ought to have known better than to think you would rig yourself out in one of those dreadfully thin white muslins that have recently become all the rage. Bad enough three years ago, when you had to wear white in your first and only Season, but there is no rule that says you must do so in your second, and you were wise to select a gown that so perfectly matches your eyes. I like that touch of pink, too. Very dashing!”

  Felicia saw Theo regarding their aunt in astonishment. Smiling, she said, “Theo disagrees with you, Aunt. She made me change the ribbons from lavender to pink, declaring that I looked as if I were in mourning with the other.”

  “She was quite right, too,” Lady Augusta said, nodding for once in approval of Theo, and adding, “Some begrudge others what they cannot enjoy themselves, Theodosia. Not that the lavender would not have become her, for it would, but you were wise to insist upon the pink. Now, if everyone else is ready, shall we go in to dinner? I declare, I am quite famished. Oh, there you are, Henry,” she said as Lord Adlam appeared in the doorway and stood blinking at her almost as though he were trying to recall her identity. “Is Selena going to join us?”

  “Lying down on her bed,” Lord Adlam said shortly. “Migraine, I believe Harroby said it was.”

  “Well, she will make herself truly ill if she does not eat,” Lady Augusta said. “You must order a tray sent up to her room.”

  “Won’t touch it,” Adlam said, turning toward the dining-room door and clearly assuming the topic was closed.

  “But you must insist,” Lady Augusta protested, following him. “Tell him, Felicity! A body don’t function without food.”

  “Yours must function well enough,” Adlam said, glancing at her over his shoulder but making, Felicia noted uncomfortably, not the least gesture of politeness toward her aunt. “Never guess by that scrawny figure of yours that you eat at all.”

  To cover Lady Augusta’s gasp of indignation and, hopefully, to forestall all-out war between two persons who rarely took the trouble to be kind to each other, Felicia said hastily, “We have arranged with Sir Richard Vyne to paint Theo’s portrait, Papa. He means to begin in the morning.”

  Adlam smiled at his younger daughter as they all took their seats and the servants began to serve the food. “Ought to think it a privilege to be allowed to paint such a rare piece as you are, my dear. Where are you off to tonight in all your finery?”

  “Devonshire House,” Theo said with a grimace. “We are to attend a musical evening there, Papa, which sounds dreadfully dull, do you not agree?”

  Lord Adlam’s pale eyes took on a reminiscent gleam. “Quite thought Georgiana had given up entertaining,” he said. “Dashed if she wasn’t the prettiest girl I ever saw. Your mama was a fairy princess, Theo, but Georgiana Spencer was all fire and light. Used to wear that flaming hair of hers unpowdered, so a man could see her across any room in London. And what a figure! Put all the tabbies in an uproar because she thumbed her nose at their rules and then caught herself a duke before she turned seventeen. Set the whole town by the ears, she did.”

  Theo sighed. “Like the Gunning sisters. It was so romantic in the old days, not like today, when one is expected to go to boring musical evenings merely because there are not yet any balls or parties to attend. She is quite old now, is she not?”

  Lord Adlam look astonished. “Old? Good gracious, she is six years younger than I am, and the Gunnings were long before our time, so I don’t know what they were like. But had Georgiana been a collector’s piece, I’d have paid any price for her.”

  Lady Augusta said sharply, “Utter nonsense. You needn’t think her life has been a fairy tale, Theodosia, for it hasn’t. She married a man as opposite to herself as anyone could be. Where Georgiana was a giddy and emotional young girl, William Cavendish was a cold fish bored with life. She tried to teach him her enthusiasm for music, but I doubt if you will see him tonight, for she never succeeded.”

  “There were worse things than that to interfere with her happiness,” Lord Adlam said tartly.

  “Not things we need discuss in present company,” Lady Augusta retorted, silencing him.

  But Theo said, “As if I did not know about the most scandalous ménage à trois in London! The Duke and Duchess of Devonshire have had Lady Elizabeth Foster living with them for years, and both still claim her as their very best friend and her children as orphans taken in out of charity. Still, I should like very much to be all the rage, just as Duchess Georgiana once was.”

  Lady Augusta retorted, “Georgie was not merely all the rage. She was notorious, and while men often mistake notoriety for fame, it is not at all the same.”

  Observing her sister’s appreciative grin, Felicia knew their aunt was doing little to alter her opinion of the Duchess of Devonshire, but the conversation did help reconcile Theo to the visit to Devonshire House. The appearance of the house itself, with its sumptuous Kent reception rooms, its spacious torchlit gardens, and the high stone wall guarding it from the lesser folk in Piccadilly, made her eyes widen in appreciation. Their first view of the duchess was another matter.

  Georgiana stood leaning on her cane beside the younger, prettier, and healthy-looking Lady Elizabeth Foster, who drew first one guest, then another to her attention with the air of a kindly nursemaid whose charge was rather backward. The Duchess of Devonshire, in her forty-fourth year, retained little of the beauty that had graced her earlier years; but though her figure was corpulent, her complexion course, her neck immense, and the patch over her blind eye unfortunately rather noticeable, her smile was still one that lighted the room and made her guests feel as if they had been embraced. When Lady Augusta presented her nieces, Georgiana greeted them with delight in a surprisingly youthful voice.

  “Felicia, I remember you well. We met several years ago, I believe, but I have seen nothing of you since. Shame on you, Augusta! You ought to have had her to visit you often.”

  “Well, and so I would have done if she had only agreed to come to me,” said La
dy Augusta roundly, “so I’ll listen to none of your scolds, Georgiana. There is much to be said for the fact that my nieces have not yet achieved so much familiarity with life amongst the beau monde as to have learned contempt for it.”

  “Oh, goodness,” Georgiana said with a chuckle, “they will be very out of the way, then. Do you intend to be an enthusiast, Theodosia? When I was young, I certainly was, but everyone around me pretended to be bored all the time.”

  “Not everyone,” Lady Elizabeth Foster said, smiling.

  “Oh, not the men,” the duchess agreed.

  Felicia could tell by Theo’s expression that she had not made up her mind whether to like the duchess, but the younger girl clearly saw where their interests lay, for she smiled and said, “I don’t pretend much, your grace. I say what I think.”

  “She generally don’t think at all is what she means to say,” Lady Augusta said sourly, “but that will do her no harm in your eyes, I suppose. You were never one to look before you leapt.”

  “No, I was not,” the duchess replied. With a gimlet air she looked Theo over carefully with her good eye and sighed. “You are much prettier than I ever was, you know.”

  Seeing Theo flush deeply and realizing that her generally outspoken sister was for once at a loss for words, Felicia said gently, “I am sure that cannot be, ma’am, for we have heard that you were the queen of them all.”

  “Well, I can tell you that I was nothing of the sort, and Bess and Augusta would agree if I were not standing here beside them. Not beautiful the way you mean, at all events, but the best way to prove that is to show you. Augusta tells me, Theodosia, that you are to have your portrait painted by Sir Richard Vyne, so I daresay you would like to see his work and compare it to that of other fashionable portrait artists.”

  Lady Elizabeth said quickly, “I do not think you ought to tax your strength, Georgiana, by wandering about.”

  “Oh, piffle, Bess, I shan’t die of it, you know. I’m good for years yet, and I shall enjoy showing off my lost beauty. You stay here and greet our remaining guests, if you will. Augusta and the girls will look after me perfectly well.” Not until they were well away did she let out a sigh of relief and say, “There now, we have escaped. A dear friend, Bess is, but she and Devonshire would wrap me in cotton wool and never let me stir. To be truthful, I hate receiving, knowing that every next guest merely wants to see how much old Georgie has deteriorated since the last time he laid eyes on her. I shall enjoy our little excursion much more than pandering to their curiosity. Come this way. We’ll begin in the dining room, for the ones I particularly want to show you are there. There are pictures all over the house, of course, for there is no proper picture gallery here.”

  They followed her through a magnificent series of state rooms, adorned with splendidly decorated and gilded ceilings, entablatures, doorcases, and carved marble fireplaces, all with the bold architectural relief typical of William Kent’s work. Every room was hung with paintings, so many that once Felicia found herself wondering if there really were any walls behind them. In the dining room Georgiana stopped before a painting of a rather plain woman, playing with a red-headed baby whose bare toes peeped out from beneath its long white dress. The woman was dressed informally with her hair unpowdered, and sat on a settee. The baby had its hands raised over its head and looked about to burst into laughter at any minute.

  “That was painted by Sir Joshua Reynolds the year after my daughter Georgiana was born,” the duchess said. “There is an earlier one by Gainsborough, there on the wall to your left, and the one alongside it was painted by your Sir Richard, Theodosia.”

  “He is not my Sir Richard.”

  “Theodosia, try for some proper conduct!”

  The duchess laughed. “Do not scold her, Augusta. I ought not to have phrased it like that. I simply meant it was a Vyne.” She looked at it critically. “I admit, that portrait is quite my favorite one. Vyne is the best of today’s three great portrait artists, you know, and looking at that, one can see why he beats Hoppner and Tom Lawrence all hollow.”

  Felicia smiled at the painting and saw that the other ladies were smiling, too. The duchess, caught at her writing desk, was looking over her shoulder at the artist with a delightful mixture of mischief and guilt. Though she was clearly older in that portrait than in the other two, Vyne had caught her charm and personality much more clearly than the other artists had, and Felicia saw instantly why men had once thought her beautiful.

  “Do you see what I mean?” the duchess demanded. “I was not a beauty at all, certainly not one to compete with Theodosia.”

  Lady Augusta said severely, “Beauty is as beauty does, Georgiana. Your charm is worth a good deal more.”

  A familiar masculine voice behind them said, “Their skill was not sufficient to capture your beauty, Duchess. Mine was.”

  Felicia turned with the others and saw Sir Richard, Lord Crawley, and a third man, plumper and with lighter hair than the first two, approaching them. Crawley, shooting her yet another of his odd measuring looks, suddenly smiled, and the room seemed instantly warmer and, despite its size, rather crowded.

  Vyne was saying, “Why, that blind old fool Reynolds did a better job of capturing the baby’s chuckles than her mama’s delight in playing with her, which I am convinced must have been perfectly clear to him. He just couldn’t catch it on canvas.”

  The duchess said genially, “I quite forgot I had invited you tonight, Dickon. Indeed, I appear to have invited quite a number of persons to whom I do not recall sending invitations. How do you do, Crawley. And you are Langshire’s nephew, Dawlish, are you not?” she said to the third gentleman. “Allow me to present you to Lady Augusta Hardy, Miss Adlam, and Miss Theodosia Adlam. Do not tell me the music has begun and frightened you all away,” she added when the gentlemen had made their bows.

  Felicia, feeling Lord Crawley’s keen gaze upon her again, fixed her attention upon Vyne, who said in a tone gentler than she had heard him use before, “I could not resist showing Crawley and Dawlish around, particularly since they have not been in the house before and had no more wish than I did to sit chatting with Crawley’s mama and sister and their group of cronies. This is by far the best collection of pictures in London, after all.”

  Crawley said, “I am honored to have had the pleasure of seeing them, ma’am. But you are shivering, Miss Adlam. Did you bring a shawl? May I send a footman to fetch it for you?”

  Felicia started. She had indeed been feeling chilly in her muslin, and her wrap had been left in the ladies’ withdrawing room before they had been received by the duchess. She looked at Crawley, found him smiling warmly at her, and said, “I did not bring a shawl. I suppose I ought to have done so.”

  “Certainly you should have,” he said.

  “Fiddlesticks,” Theo said in a tone sharp enough to warn her sister, at least, that she did not like any of the gentlemen paying heed to someone else. “We shall be quite warm enough once the music begins and we are seated with all those other people. Truly, I did not know so many had already come to Town.”

  “Nor did I,” said the duchess. “I told Bess this was to be a small, select group, but she must have added more names to my list. Oh, and here she is now, come to collect me I daresay. Yes, dearest, here we are, still looking at pictures. Is Madame Fournier ready to begin? A remarkably talented opera singer,” she added in an aside to Lady Augusta. “She will please you very much, I am certain.”

  “They are all ready,” Lady Elizabeth said gently, “but they cannot begin until you return.”

  Felicia heard Vyne say in an undertone, “Then stay here, Duchess, for I doubt Fournier will please me so much. Is she not the scrawny one who sent the Prince of Wales running from Covent Garden a week since? Said she reminded him of a screeching cat.”

  Dawlish said thoughtfully, “Might have been the Italian one instead. Squawks like a chicken, that one does. Doubt her grace would ask a screeching cat to sing for her friends, Dickon.”
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  “Prinny has an excellent ear for music,” the duchess said, “but he does not always appreciate a true soprano, you know.”

  The men looked at one another in such a way that Felicia was forced to stifle an urge to laugh, for the thought that had leapt unbidden into her mind was not one she could repeat in polite company. One simply could not say that the prince had long since shown an appreciation for well-endowed females, sopranos or otherwise, that had nothing to do with their singing talents.

  Even as that thought crossed her mind, however, Crawley said, “Prinny’s appreciation is scarcely founded upon the range of a lady’s singing voice. Had either the Frenchwoman or the Italian been better padded in certain places, and a trifle older, I daresay things might have been different at Covent Garden.”

  Lady Augusta looked disapproving, but the duchess laughed merrily, and Felicia struggled to contain her own amusement.

  “I believe you have contracted a cough, Miss Adlam,” Crawley said. “You must go at once to the music room, where it is sure to be warmer.” He held out his arm in a compelling way, and not wanting to look at him for fear that unseemly merriment would overcome her customary composure, she responded to the gesture only when Vyne performed the same office for the duchess. She was certain that Crawley ought to have escorted Lady Elizabeth, but she had not the least desire to draw more notice to herself by saying so.

  When they reached the music room, Crawley presented the Adlam sisters to his mother, her friends Lady Westfall, Lady Dacres, and a plump woman who proved to be Lady Dacres’s sister, Mrs. Falworthy. They also met Miss Belinda Crawley, her friend Rosa Westfall, and another young lady, Miss Caroline Oakley.