by Amanda Scott
Theo grinned. “True, and I will, too. Don’t think for a moment that he will keep me out once he has begun to paint me.”
“We shall see. What are we doing tonight? I declare, my mind must be disintegrating, for I have quite forgot.”
“Aunt Augusta is taking us to Drury Lane,” Theo said, “to see Mrs. Jordan as Maria in The Country Girl. I would much rather see a comedy, but it is to be Mrs. Jordan’s first appearance of the Season, and Aunt said we must not miss it.”
“Since it is your first play, I think you will enjoy it.”
“Perhaps, but I shall like my first ball—at Lady Crofton’s house, next week—much more,” Theo said. “I shan’t like going to Queen’s House, however. I am sure it will be utterly boring.”
“Queen’s House?”
“Oh, of course, you cannot know about that, because the subject came up after you went out to fetch the key.”
“Tell me.”
“Sir Richard and Crawley began talking about Mr. Lawrence again, and Sir Richard asked if Crawley had seen the portrait Mr. Lawrence painted of Queen Charlotte.”
Felicia smiled. “I suppose Sir Richard criticized it.”
“No, he didn’t. In fact, he said it was remarkable and Mr. Lawrence’s best work to date, which quite makes one want to see it, does it not? But he decided we are all to go on Thursday, that date being most convenient for him. I said that I was not certain you would agree, but then he did not even ask you, so I’ll wager he thinks we will simply go when he wishes to go.”
“Very likely.” Having had more than enough of Sir Richard, Felicia said, “What do you mean to wear to the theater tonight?”
“One of my dreary white muslins, of course.”
“I do not know why you despise them so. They are extremely becoming to you. I never looked half so well in white as you do, or in any other color,” she added with a chuckle.
As Felicia had known she would, Theo immediately protested, assuring her that she could look very well indeed if she would but put off the drab colors she preferred and be more daring. “This gown would become you even more than it does me,” she said frankly. “I have been thinking about what Crawley said, and I cannot like a dress that is more like to be looked at than I am.”
Felicia laughed. “As that would never happen, my dear, I shan’t even bother to dispute the matter. I don’t like the dress on you, but only because you are too young to wear such high fashion. I won’t say you must never do so, however.”
“Well, you need not, because I have already decided to wear my pink muslin for the portrait instead,” Theo said. “It is much plainer, but the color is quite good.”
“Yes, it is one of the gowns I like best on you.” They discussed fashion for some minutes more before Felicia excused herself to attend to household matters. She realized an hour later that she had forgotten all about Freddy, and went to the schoolroom to inform Miss Ames of what had occurred.
She found the governess alone with Sara Ann, and having been informed that Tom had gone riding in Hyde Park with one of the grooms, soon discovered that Miss Ames already knew the pistol had been discharged and that Freddy had been in the bookroom at the time, and had drawn her own conclusions. Felicia therefore was able to keep her explanation brief.
When she finished, Miss Ames said firmly, “He deserves to be severely punished for such a trick, particularly after his prank last night. I hope you do not mean to let him off with no more than a scold and a day in his room.”
“He has been well punished,” Felicia said. “There is no need to do more. As for last night, Sara Ann has agreed that if Mary sleeps on a pallet in her room, she will not be frightened by anything Freddy might tell her. Is that not right, darling?”
Sara Ann nodded, but her eyes were wide, and she said, “Did you really punish him, Aunt Felicia? I am glad.”
Gently, Felicia said, “A lady does not find joy in someone else’s sorrow, Sara Ann.”
“Well, I am still glad,” the little girl said stoutly.
Felicia left it at that, since the sentiment was not at all difficult to understand, and went about her other duties.
Tom returned from his ride in high spirits and said with a congratulatory note in his voice that he was delighted to hear that young Freddy had finally come by his just deserts.
Felicia stared at him in dismay. “Good gracious, you have only just come in. How can you know anything about it?”
“The groom told me, of course,” the boy said. “I went out early this morning, just as soon as Mary came in to look after Sara Ann, as a matter of fact, so I missed the excitement. Bad luck, I thought, when I first heard there had been a shooting and that Freddy was in on it, but then Peters came out to tell his cousin—that’s the chap who serves me as a groom, you see—that Lord Crawley had really given it to Freddy. I mean to thank him just as soon as I meet him. That little varmint has been asking for a drubbing this month and more. Well done, I say!”
It took time, for Felicia to convince him that the less said about the incident the better it would be. After that there were the usual minor crises to fill her day, not least of which was her father’s sudden agitation upon discovering that Spain had formed the intention to declare war on Portugal.
“I cannot think why he is so taken up with the news in the Times,” she said that night as they sat in Lady Augusta’s box at the theater, waiting for the drama to begin. “He rarely concerns himself with anything other than his vases, coins, and wine, but now he can talk of nothing but whether Spain will declare war. I could understand such concern if he were fretting over the king’s health like everyone else, or the French, but not this.”
The elderly gentleman sitting with them for the simple reason that Lady Augusta insisted upon male escort to such events as the opera or the theater, leaned forward and said earnestly, “It is not at all out of the way for a gentleman to speak of military matters, Miss Adlam, and the fate of Portugal must be of concern to all of us. Its safety is vital to us.”
“I could murder you,” Theo informed Felicia roundly some hours later when they had said good night to their aunt and her talkative companion. “How could you have been so misguided as to make a gift to old Major Brinksby of a topic he could use to bore us through every interval of the night?”
Felicia chuckled ruefully, “I certainly did that, did I not? But you were no help, you know, when you insisted that Sir Hyde Parker must be a made-up name.”
Theo giggled. “That did set him off, but how was I to know that a man with such a name as that could be an admiral of the fleet? Even Aunt was bored, but she could find no better news with which to divert him than that she had again received duplicate cards of invitation—to Lady Sefton’s rout on Saturday and to Lady Crofton’s ball next week. Though it is odd that such a thing could happen three times, as it has, one cannot wonder that she did not succeed in diverting the major. The rout will be all chatter, of course, but at least the ball will not be boring. I quite look forward to it, Felicia.”
That last week of March passed quickly in a whirl of engagements, including, much to Felicia’s surprise since it was instigated by her sister, a lecture given at Somerset House by the president of the Royal Academy. Lady Augusta, pleased by Theo’s evident desire to attend cultural events, rashly suggested attending a concert of ancient music, but the suggestion was summarily rejected. After the lecture, Theo could think only of the Crofton ball.
But when they arrived at Lady Crofton’s huge mansion in Berkeley Square the following Wednesday evening, greatly to their astonishment, their entrance was barred at the door.
7
LADY AUGUSTA STARED IN outrage at the liveried porter who barred their way. He stared right back, looking down his nose at her in an extremely haughty fashion.
“Who do you think you are, to stop me?” she demanded.
“I am most dreadfully sorry, madam, but that is not a proper invitation card that you have shown to me.”
Felicia did not think he sounded sorry in the least. He sounded rather as if he were enjoying himself hugely. She glanced around, feeling very much exposed and wondering what the people coming up the steps behind them must be thinking.
Lady Augusta said crisply, “Of course that is a proper invitation card. Why, I have known Catherine Crofton these forty years and more. She has never given a party to which I was not invited. Indeed, so intent was she upon my coming to this one that she actually sent me two invitations.”
A stout little man wearing a wide-brimmed black felt hat emerged from behind the porter to say abruptly, “Two invitations, mum?” Imperiously he held out his hand to the porter. “Let me cast my gazers over that one, lad, if you please.”
Felicia stared in amazement with the others at the little man, who seemed entirely at home in the noble mansion despite being most peculiar in his dress for the occasion. Besides the broad-brimmed hat, he wore a very tight suit of yellow-green knee breeches, a canary yellow coat, and short gaiters. After a moment he doffed his hat, plopped it back on his head, and said to Lady Augusta, “You have not answered the question, mum. Was the other one just like this?”
“I do not know who you are to question me in such a manner upon Lady Crofton’s doorstep,” Lady Augusta said grandly, “but I believe the other one was exactly like that one.”
“I should be sorry if that were so,” he said, making her a profound leg. “John Townshend at your service, mum. Bow Street. Providing a bit of security for the countess, don’t you know, just as I do for the Prince of Wales. This card don’t bear her device, I’m afraid, as you can see if you will take a look-see.”
Lady Augusta looked at the card. “How very odd,” she said. “I never noticed that, but Catherine always uses engraved cards, with the Crofton crest in the top right corner. But I do not recall if the other card was engraved or plain like this one.”
“Then I am afraid—”
“There you are, Lady Augusta!” With an inexplicable sense of relief, Felicia turned at the familiar voice and saw Crawley hurrying toward them across the hall. He said with his charming smile, “It is quite all right, Townshend. One of the guests mentioned receiving two invitations, and Lady Crofton immediately sent for her guest list to give you. She did not do so before because she assumed—incorrectly as we see now—that knowing the difference between the forged cards and the correct ones would be enough. I can assure you that you will find Lady Augusta’s name on the list, along with those of her nieces.”
The names were found, and as they made their way up the grand stairway toward the ladies’ withdrawing room, to leave their wraps, Felicia watched with amusement while Crawley exerted what she thought must have been every ounce of his considerable charm to soothe her aunt’s ruffled feathers.
They gave their cloaks to the withdrawing-room attendant, and as they walked to the ballroom, Felicia heard her aunt say grimly to Crawley, “I do not see why that dreadful little man did not insist upon having a guest list from the outset. But then, even a fool is wise when it is too late to do him any good.”
“And he who is doubly deceived is doubly cautious.”
She looked at him, nodding wisely. “That is quite true, my lord, but do you mean to say that Catherine has had this dreadful prank played upon her before now?”
Felicia saw that he had the grace to look chagrined, but she did not miss the twinkle in his eye when he said, “Well, no, ma’am, not that I know about, at all events, but that maxim is a favorite of mine and seemed somehow to fit this situation.”
Lady Augusta fixed him with a basilisk eye. “I believe you are a rogue, sir. Do you dare to mock an old woman?”
“No, ma’am,” he answered promptly.
Swiftly Felicia moved nearer and said, “How did they come to think that there might be forgeries tonight, sir?”
He gave her a mocking look that told her he knew she had intervened to avoid hostilities, and said, “It has happened at other ton parties, evidently, so Townshend warned her ladyship that she might expect some tonight. He asked her to give a real invitation card to her porter to compare with those shown by her guests, just to see, you know, if such a thing did occur, but he was no doubt as surprised as anyone else when it did, for he believed in one case, at least, that ill feeling toward the host had prompted the business. The man in question is one of those shouting for Mr. Pitt’s resignation, you see.”
Theo said in a tone of exasperation, “Please, sir, no more war or politics. We have had a surfeit of both, I assure you, for not only has Papa been rattling on for days about possible war between Spain and Portugal and whether English wine merchants will be able to get their wines out of Lisbon, but Major Brinksby accompanied us to the theater last week and to the Royal Academy lecture as well. Not that anyone told me people are demanding Mr. Pitt’s resignation,” she added naively. “How very odd.”
“Not so odd when one considers his position on the Catholic question,” Crawley told her. When she curled her lip at him, he chuckled, and said, “Oh, very well, Miss Theo, no politics.” He grinned at Felicia, adding, “Your sister doesn’t approve, either.”
Felicia saw no need to respond either to the remark or the teasing look that accompanied it, and she turned to greet Lord Dawlish, who approached with Miss Crawley on his arm.
Crawley asked lightly what Belinda had done with Dacres. “Weren’t you with him when I left to go downstairs?”
Belinda flushed and said airily, “He is showing Miss Oakley the state apartments. They are open for the evening, of course, and she has not been here before. I have seen them a number of times, so I allowed Dawlish to bring me to find you.”
“Where is Mrs. Falworthy?” Crawley asked. “I have not seen her tonight, but if Miss Oakley is present, she must be here.”
“Mrs. Falworthy is indisposed, so Mama invited Caroline to come with us, as you would know had you taken the time to escort us here yourself, Ned dearest.” There was a twinkle in Belinda’s eyes now, but Felicia thought she discerned an edge in her tone, and wondered what Crawley might have done to provoke it.
He apparently had not heard anything amiss, however, for he laughed and tweaked one of his sister’s curls. “With three of you in the carriage, you needed every bit of room for yourselves. You’d have had none to spare for my long legs.”
“Perhaps not,” she admitted. “We had Lady Dacres, too, if you must know. But Dacres managed to accompany us, Ned. He said he could easily walk as fast as the carriage could make its way through the crowded streets.” She glanced away at the rapidly filling ballroom. “This is certainly a crush.”
“So Dacres accompanied you, did he?”
Felicia thought she heard satisfaction in his tone, and listened with growing fascination, especially since Belinda, having sounded as bored as ever Theo could, when she first mentioned Dacres, seemed a trifle anxious now as she replied, “Yes, he did, but I think it was only because Caroline was there. I am afraid he is making a dead set at her, Ned.”
Crawley sighed, turned as though to speak to Felicia, only to turn back when Lady Augusta said tartly, “Who is Miss Oakley if one may be so bold as to inquire? I recall meeting her at Devonshire House, but I do not know the family.”
“No, ma’am,” Belinda said. “She is a protégée of Dacres’s aunt, Mrs. Falworthy, who has agreed to introduce her to the beau monde. I believe Miss Oakley’s father is something in the City.”
“Good God,” Lady Augusta said. “A Cit’s daughter. What can Leah Falworthy be thinking of?”
“Not merely any Cit’s daughter,” declared Sir Richard Vyne, emerging through the growing crowd to join them. “Couldn’t help overhearing,” he added apologetically. “Know Oakley. He’s a patron of Tom Lawrence’s, fairly drips with filthy lucre. Dacres could do worse, Lady Augusta, I promise you.”
She shook her head. “But for Leah Falworthy—the sister, I remind you, of Fanny Dacres—to chaperon such a girl to parties like Georgiana’s and this one!
It simply will not do. One is judged by the company one keeps, you know.”
Crawley said, “But such things are frequently done, ma’am. Consider the Duchess of Devonshire and Banker Coutts’s daughter. The duchess took her everywhere, I’m told.”
“That was different,” Lady Augusta insisted. “Georgiana was forced to bring the Coutts girl out. Thomas Coutts had lent her the money to pay all her gambling debts, and she could not afford to repay him. Devonshire refused to do so,” she added grimly.
Vyne shrugged. “Still, it has been done, ma’am. They are forming sets for the first country dances, Miss Theodosia. May I hope you have not already promised your hand to someone else?”
“You may hope, but not prosper,” Theo said, raising her chin. “I have been promised to someone else for a week.”
He bowed and left them, and Lady Augusta said, “False confidence is the forerunner of misfortune, Theodosia, and self-conceit leads to self-destruction. You had best have a care with that man. He has a temper.”
“Well, I have one too, Aunt, and if he wanted me to save him a dance, he has had every opportunity to ask me long before now. I cannot think what a painter is doing at a ball, anyway.”
Dawlish said, “There is nothing particularly odd in Dickon’s being here, since Crofton is his cousin.”
Theo exclaimed in astonishment, and Felicia, glancing at Crawley, saw confirmation of the fact in his smile. She said, “I suppose we thought he must have got his title for painting the queen’s children, or for some other, similar accomplishment.”
Belinda laughed and said, “Oh, no, did you think he was an innkeeper’s son like Mr. Lawrence? He is nothing of the sort. It is why he will not take pupils as the others do. He paints to please himself, and does not much care what others think. Has he enraged you too, Miss Adlam? I own, he has frequently provoked me, but Ned tells me I am too easily aroused and that I must take better care to govern my sensibilities.”
“I have no cause to dislike him,” Felicia said, smiling.
