by Joan Smith
"Am I to be cut off from any further partying tonight?" Pincombe asked. "Really that is a bit heavy, Cousin. I don't mind your using me to make him jealous, but it is the Season. It is only eleven o'clock. I had not planned to retire just yet."
"Could you not go to Brooke's, or one of your clubs?"
"I shall be requiring your services to find me a wife, if I am not allowed to go about and meet the new crop of debs," he scolded, but he agreed that for this one evening he would do as she wished.
Cecilia went to her bed at the unaccustomed hour of half past eleven. She was thoroughly annoyed with Lord Wickham. He had not seemed the least pleased to see her. He would not even have spoken if she hadn't made the first move. Yet he had felt something—there had been an unaccustomed awkwardness about him that did not indicate complete ease. She couldn't take his presence in town as a compliment to herself. He had said he meant to come for the Season. He had not mentioned coming quite so early, however...
She had made the first move, and if he didn't follow it up with a call at Hanover Square, she would dismiss him from her thoughts and find herself a different beau. The image in her mind was no longer Wellington against Boney, but the more elementary one of woman versus man.
She learned the next morning where Wickham had gone after leaving Lady Bracken's rout. Sir Nigel called and announced with a laughing eye, "Let me lay your fears and doubts to rest, Cousin. Your Lord Wickham did not hasten along to Saywell's do, to be seduced by Lady Gloria Kirkwell. He went to Brooke's. We had a charming game of faro. It cost me a monkey."
"Did he, indeed, go to Brooke's?" she inquired anxiously. "Then it does not seem he is that eager to find himself a bride."
"He is much more interested in fleecing me of my allowance."
"Did he actually seek you out or did you approach him?"
"He invited me to join him at his table. He seems to prefer my company to yours."
"I daresay he was only trying to discover whether you and I are involved."
"If that was his aim, he's the most desultory questioner I have ever come across. He didn't say a word about you."
She sniffed. "What did he speak of?"
"Cards, horses, the Elgin Marbles."
"Is that all?"
"Certainly not. He asked me to recommend a good barber. Seems a decent sort of fellow."
Cecilia lowered her brow and exclaimed, "If our positions were reversed, Nigel, I would have turned the opportunity to better advantage. I would have said something—"
"What could I say? You want to make him jealous by thinking we are romantically involved, yet to know that you would have him if he were warmer in his advances. That is a hard stunt to pull off. What ought I to have said? 'Miss Cummings and I are thinking of marriage. She is a most charming, lovely, rich girl. You might have her yourself, old chap, if you looked lively.' Tell me what I should have said, and I shall say it next time."
"Oh I'm unreasonable. I know it very well. Are all ladies in love so stupid, I wonder."
"I wouldn't know. None has ever been in love with me."
"I am feeling very dull and blue, Nigel. Take me to Bond Street. I shall buy a new bonnet to cheer myself."
Sir Nigel turned a sapient eye on her. "Yes, he is more likely to be on Bond Street than anywhere else—except perhaps at Somerset House, viewing the Marbles. He spoke of them with some interest."
"I cannot go there. He knows I know he is interested in them. It would look like chasing him."
Pincombe shook his head in wonder. "I had no idea landing a beau was so complicated. They ought to give a course in it at the ladies' seminaries."
"Like university, they only fill our heads with useless stuff and leave us to learn the really useful things on our own."
She got her bonnet and pelisse and they were off to Bond Street. Cecilia bought a charming high-poke bonnet with feather trim and came home uncheered. She had not seen him.
Chapter Fifteen
Over the next few days, it began to seem that Lord Wickham had come to London for the purpose of dangling after Sir Nigel Pincombe. As perverse fate would have it, Sir Nigel no sooner delivered Cecilia to Hanover Square with her new bonnet, than he met Wickham at Tattersall's.
"I'm thinking of going to Brooke's later this evening," Wickham said. "Perhaps you would care to join the party, Pincombe?"
Sir Nigel's emotions were mixed. He hadn't the least desire to waste an evening playing cards and losing money, but he felt some wish to help his cousin by becoming better acquainted with her quarry. "Thank you for the kind offer, sir. I cannot afford such costly dissipations, but perhaps we will meet at some do earlier in the evening. Which parties are you attending?"
"None. I've hired a box at Drury Lane. I have not completed my own party yet. Would you care to join me?" While Sir Nigel hastily conned the wisdom of this, Wickham continued, "I have one seat still empty."
One seat was obviously no good to him. If the invitation had been for a couple, he could have asked Cecilia. "I'm afraid that's not possible, Lord Wickham. But again, I thank you for the offer," he said very civilly.
"Another time, then."
"That would be splendid. I look forward to it. I'm promised to Harpers’ ball, and my friends will want to take in a rout or two first, no doubt. Seatons, and Wiggins—I fancy that is where the younger set will go." There, he had given Wickham Cecilia's complete evening itinerary, and if he hadn't the sense to make use of it—at least the ball after the theater—there was nothing more he could do.
They smiled, they bowed and parted. Sir Nigel flattered at the attention, which really seemed to have nothing to do with Cecilia, and Wickham feeling guilty at this stunt. If he discovered there was an understanding between Cecilia and Sir Nigel, he must desist. But if things were still up in the air, there was nothing ungentlemanly in trying to keep them apart a little. He had carefully planted his box at Drury Lane with Lady Gloria Kirkwell, an exceedingly pretty female friend, in the hope that Pincombe might obligingly tumble into love with her.
Having made his arrangements for the theater, he could not well desert his party and go to the routs instead, but he could drop in for a moment at Harpers’ ball after and did so.
Cecilia had heard her cousin's account of the chance meeting and knew Wickham would not be free till midnight. Her first chance of seeing him was at Harpers, and till then, the evening dragged abominably. If he didn't come, it was as good as saying he had no wish to see her. But if he came...
What she did not take into account was his coming with the rest of his party, including Lady Gloria Kirkwell. Cecilia was so annoyed that she refused to see him at all. Even when he and Lady Gloria joined her set for the quadrille, she hardly acknowledged that he was there. Her smile for Wickham was as chilly as a winter wind, but she was careful to show no spite to Lady Gloria.
To indicate her goodwill in the matter, she stopped after the dance and chatted a moment with the young lady, while Wickham stood beside them, trying to look indifferent. "Have you been in town long, Lady Gloria?" Cecilia inquired.
"We just arrived two days ago. I haven't talked to anyone yet. Who is the best coiffeur this year, and where can I find a decent modiste?"
"You must call tomorrow, and we'll have a good coze," Cecilia said, with a pleasant smile that hid all her jealous anger.
"May I come in the morning? I want to attend to my toilette as soon as possible. All the modistes will be up to their ears in work, and I must get the gown for my own ball started. I got the loveliest new Italian silk at Sanderson's. Everyone is going there this year."
Wickham was allowed to look bored at these female plans, but not to escape unscathed. "Do come in the morning. But your partner is finding our talk tedious," Cecilia said, just flickering a glance in Wickham's direction, without meeting his eyes. "Let us have pity on him and leave our plans for an elegant toilette till tomorrow." She waved her fingers gaily at Lady Gloria and spared a tight little smile for her partner.
&
nbsp; "Isn't she pretty," Lady Gloria sighed, as Cecilia hastened away.
"Very pretty. Are she and Pincombe a likely match?" he asked nonchalantly.
Lady Gloria looked dubious. "I really don't know. They have been close friends forever. She seems more attached to him this year than formerly. Perhaps she has decided to have him at last. She could do better from a material point of view, of course. The Duke of Denver was hot after her last year, but she refused him and was seen about town with Pincombe, so perhaps it will come to a match at last."
"Denver!" he exclaimed. "Why would she refuse such an eligible parti?"
"It is a mystery," Lady Gloria confessed. "She makes everyone else get married, but to my certain knowledge, the only gentleman she ever admitted having a tender for was Byron before he turned into a lecher. She must be a deep-dyed romantic at heart. I know she has the greatest aversion to marriages of convenience."
A deep-dyed romantic! And to her he made that wooden offer of a marriage of convenience! The more he heard, the more his heart was beguiled, and the more certain he became that she must despise him. Yet his mood did not turn from desperation to despair. The more desperate he felt, the more determined he became to repeat his offer in more attractive phrases.
Lady Gloria duly called on Miss Cummings the next morning at Hanover Square. Amongst a number of less interesting comments on bonnets and balls and beaux she said with a heavy sigh, "Five years we have been on the town, Miss Cummings. I am determined to make a match this year if I have to marry the rag and bone man."
Cecilia felt a spasm of alarm. "Why I thought you and Wickham were a match. I see you two about everywhere."
"I doubt I stand much chance with him, though I know he wants a wife to give him an heir, and perhaps he will settle for me in the end."
"Would you be satisfied with such a match, practically a marriage of convenience?"
Lady Gloria considered it a moment in silence. "It would be so very convenient that I doubt I would have the fortitude to say no. And one could very easily fall in love with Wickham, of course. Whether the feeling would ever be returned... However, the Season is young. Have you settled on Sir Nigel?"
"Oh no!" she exclaimed, and immediately regretted it. If Wickham was about to announce a match with Lady Gloria, she did not care much who she married, but she wanted very badly to marry someone. It would be too ignominious to sit on the shelf while he trod the aisle of St. George's in Hanover Square. "Well, to tell the truth, he hasn't asked me. Perhaps I would not say no."
"He is charming. I've always thought so," Lady Gloria said dutifully, but of course Sir Nigel was not so good a catch as Lord Wickham, of St. Martin's Abbey.
The conversation passed on to other matters, and in half an hour Lady Gloria departed with the name of all the top contributors to fashion tucked into her reticule. Cecilia sat on alone, thinking. It seemed that all Wickham wanted was a mother for his son, and Lady Gloria would do as well as Cecilia Cummings. The one grain of good she had discovered was that Wickham was apparently not interested in gaining a mistress, always a matter of concern. It seemed he meant to be faithful to his wife of convenience. His diversions were innocent almost to the point of dullness. And if he meant to be faithful, it would be possible for love to grow. At least he had not positively offered for Lady Gloria, so he was still fair game.
Cecilia pondered ways and means and places of being alone with him. She thought of Elgin's visit to the abbey. Wickham would be calling on the Elgins, probably without Lady Gloria, but when? She could hardly camp out on their doorstep in the hope of encountering him. And he might offer for Lady Gloria at any moment. Her chances for winning him might be limited to days, even hours. She felt a needle of anxiety stab her. She must do something, and quickly, and she hadn't even had the wits to discover where he would be that evening.
She rang for the tray of invitations and rooted eagerly through them, setting a few aside for further consideration. The name Elgin popped out at her from a card, and she lifted it from the stack. It was for a musical soiree, not the sort of place Wickham would take Gloria, but a do he might very well feel obliged to attend himself.
Over luncheon, her mother said, "Where are you off to this evening, my dear?" Mrs. Cummings was an older version of her daughter. From the vivacity of youth she had settled comfortably into her middle years. She liked company, but preferred the less bustling outings than routs now. Music was her particular preoccupation, and as Cecilia was by no means a deb, she did not scruple to let her manage her own private life. Cecilia made a good excuse for her to come to London each season. Her husband preferred staying home with his sheep.
"I thought I might attend Elgin's musical evening with you, Mama. You are going there, I collect?"
Her mother gaped in astonishment. "Indeed I am. You know how I love music. It will be just a small private concert: a piano, a violin, a violoncello, and a tenor. I do not suggest you come. You would despise it, but I hear Signer Bonomi is excellent."
"I should love of all things to hear Bonomi. I shall accompany you."
Her mother shook her head, undeceived by this passion for Bonomi. "Who are you finding a husband for this week, eh? That is what draws you to Elgin's quiet do. I don't know what all the young couples would do without you, but I wish you would find a match for yourself. Five years on the town, and you so pretty. Don't waste your time on the Elgins. Go out and dance and flirt and find yourself a husband. Lady Sommers is calling for me, so you will have the carriage if you need it. Or are you going out with young Nigel?" She knew Nigel to be an old favorite and had some hopes of a match forming.
"I have been using too much of Nigel's time. He will want to be chasing the debs. I shall attend Elgin's soiree."
Her mother sighed in resignation. "Whatever for? There will be nothing there but caps and gray heads."
"I met the Elgins when I was in Laycombe. I—I should like to see them again. Was I included in the invitation?"
"Yes, but I sent in only one acceptance. Not that it will matter, for I am not going for dinner, and another chair can always be squeezed into the music room. We will be three in the carriage. Lady Sommers and myself, so that is no problem. But I cannot imagine that you will enjoy yourself in the least."
"I shall accompany you."
Her mother looked worried at this freakish notion. "I hope you are not thinking of setting up a flirtation with Bonomi. He is extremely fat, Cecilia."
"It is his voice I am interested in, Mama."
Her mother gave her a knowing look. Tenors indeed! "I see what it is. You are planning to make some poor unsuspecting lad get married against his will, and need Lady Elgin's help. Very well then, you shall come with me."
Cecilia was by no means sure she would find her quarry there. And if she did not, it would be a dull scald. The caterwauling of Italian tenors was not her idea of music to the ears. But if he went, he would not be likely to have Lady Gloria or any other young lady with him. He might even suspect that she would be there. He had attended Harpers’ ball after Nigel told him she was going.
She wore the satin gown with rose lace overskirt she had worn to the first assembly in Laycombe, hoping to stir memories in Wickham's heart. He had flirted outrageously with her that evening. He had not spoken of dowries and heirs on that occasion. How did it come that he had flirted when he was not serious, and turned into a block of wood when he proposed? Her coiffure was arranged in the same tousled manner as before, with the little diamond star over the ear. She wore the same white kid gloves, and carried the same fan. Outside, she looked the same, but how her heart had changed.
The change was reflected in the feverish glitter of her eyes, and the warm flush of her cheeks as she entered the Elgin mansion. Her first object was to discover whether Wickham was there. Her eyes scouted the entrance hall in vain. Perhaps he was in the music room already. She would nip in while Mama spoke to Lady Elgin. If Wickham sat alone, she would sit beside him to exchange a few words. "What a surpris
e to see you here, Lord Wickham! I had no idea you were interested in singing."
The words were never spoken. Wickham was not there, nor did he come during the extremely aggravating hour of Italian caterwauling. For sixty minutes she sat forlornly, imagining him out waltzing with the beautiful Lady Gloria, perhaps even this instant making his offer. By the intermission, her head ached wretchedly, but she forced a smile and went out with her mother for a glass of wine. Every fiber of her being was on thorns to escape, to dart off to a more interesting party where she might run across Wickham. She could not ask Mrs. Sommers to oblige her, so she glanced around the throng for someone else who might be planning to skip the second half of the concert.
Her eyes peeled over all the caps and gray and bald heads in the refreshment parlor. A younger man or couple was what she required. Her eyes were drawn by a sandy-haired gentleman just slipping unobtrusively from the crowd. It was Mr. Larraby. He was an old friend, no real lover of music but a connection of Lord Elgin who had come to flatter him into writing an article for his journal.
"Mr. Larraby," she smiled. "I see you drifting toward the door. Is it possible I am in luck, and you are about to shab off from this dull do?"
"You've caught me dead to rights," he admitted, "but no need to announce it. I have made an appearance. That's enough to establish my good intentions. I am off to livelier dissipations. Can I give you a lift home?"
Home was no good. Although no longer a deb, Cecilia was not yet ancient enough to attend the balls alone. "Where are you going?" she asked.
"I promised the Millars I would look in on their party."
This would be an unexceptionable do, and if Wickham was not there, she could latch on to another party and continue her hunt with other friends. "Would you mind taking me with you?"
"I would be honored!" he answered readily.
"I'll just tell Mama and get my pelisse."
