The Suitor List

by Shirley Marks

  While dancing, Lord Paul continued his overt flirting that he had started at supper. It had been quite a feat, since he sat near the opposite end of the room from her. But his smoldering eyes that made one feel as if a fire had ignited inside, and the touch of his gloved hand while sharing a dance, proved almost more than Charlotte could resist. And apparently, contact with her affected Lord Paul in a similar manner.

  "You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen," he murmured in her ear while close to her during the dance.

  Charlotte glanced at Augusta and her partner Sir Samuel Pruitt, as they were the second couple in their foursome. Her elder sister did not seem to have heard Lord Paul's declaration.

  "I am afraid I have forever lost my heart to you," Lord Paul uttered on the breath of a sigh before they parted for the final bow. "I must see you alone," he pleaded when the set had ended and he was leading her back to the edge of the dance floor.

  "Alone? How can I-I suppose I could slip away .. She glanced at his dark, hungry eyes and replied, "If you could manage to-in ten minutes-find the Music Room. Go down this corridor and turn-"

  Lord Paul nodded. "I know where it is." If he did not stop, it was entirely likely his head might fall from his shoulders.

  "You must not be alarmed if you hear me stumble, for I am a bit clumsy and it will be dark, but rest assured I shall find you. Now we must part" Charlotte cast her gaze downward. She should not be making such arrangements. "We must step away from one another and no one should suspect that we have behaved in any type of inappropriate manner."

  Oh, she did feel wicked.

  "Richard, have you seen Char-Char?" Augusta had the good fortune to come upon him standing among the guests and she could secure his assistance in finding her wayward sibling.

  "Were you not standing next to her in the last dance only moments ago?" Being taller, Richard could easily look above the crowd to spy the blond-haired Charlotte. "Where could she have gone?"

  "I cannot imagine." How could Augusta have lost track of her sister so quickly?

  "Richard, what are you doing?" Miss Skeffington joined in the conversation.

  "I am trying to locate Lady Charlotte, pet" His head bobbed around, weaving to and fro as he continued his search.

  "Oh. I see," Miss Skeffington remarked rather curtly.

  By the obvious coolness of her tone, Augusta wondered what objection she could have regarding her sister.

  "I do not see why you need locate her. I cannot like her, Richard," Miss Skeffington continued. "She is all that is false. , '

  "What do you mean?" Augusta thought it was quite rude for Miss Skeffington to speak ill of her beloved Charlotte before her own family.

  I mean no disrespect, Lady Augusta. I will admit that she is a diamond of the first water-a diamond beyond compare, even" By Miss Skeffington's remorseless tone, Augusta could tell she had no intention of apologizing. "I cannot believe that anyone possessing that amount of beauty could possibly be both thoughtful and accommodating. One normally finds ladies with those positive qualities quite ... How shall I put it kindly? They are perhaps on the vain side and think well of themselves, very well, indeed."

  Augusta felt her anger rise. How dare she speak about Charlotte in such a manner! Her fiance may have close ties to the Worth sisters and speak freely about them at times, but that largess did not extend to Miss Skeffington-especially before her marriage.

  "Oh, but I must disagree," Richard interceded before Augusta had a chance to vent. "Lady Charlotte is every bit the divine angel she appears. There is not a soul she does not think of before herself. She is everything that is generous and kind."

  "Then where has she gone off to without notice?" Miss Skeffington replied in an effort to sound curious. "I hope she has not stolen one of your beaux."

  Augusta displayed her superior deportment and manners by not responding.

  "It seems she has quite disappeared." Miss Skeffington gestured, turning up her palms in surrender.

  "She cannot have disappeared," Richard remarked and glanced at Augusta, who successfully restrained herself. "Charlotte must be somewhere."

  Charlotte waited in the Music Room. The time, one minute until midnight.

  A soft rustle of fabric indicated someone moving about in the back of the room.

  Charlotte had done precisely as her father had asked, following his instructions to the letter. Her heart beat in a tempo that would have been too rapid to play on the pianoforte or harp that sat at the front of the room.

  A dull thump sounded from the right.

  There was no entrapment involved. What Charlotte had done was simply given the gentlemen what they had asked for. However, the outcome might not be what they expected.

  A scrape from a piece of furniture pierced the air before a strike flared, bringing much needed light to the Music Room. The single source of illumination wasn't enough to see anyone but the person seated, lighting the candle.

  "Welcome to my gathering, gentlemen" The Duke of Faraday lit a second, then a third taper. Finally the last two, making five in all, revealed all the parties in attendance. "Please come closer, if you will."

  Charlotte stood next to her aunt and together they flanked the Duke sitting at a small round table. The three gentlemen, Lord Perkins, Sir Thomas Granville, and Lord Paul Bancroft, reluctantly inched forward.

  Lord Carlton, the fourth gentleman, was missing from their number. He had pressed her hand as he led her into supper, insisting they must meet alone, and she had instructed him to enter through the glass doors leading from the back garden.

  "Unfortunately, for you this is a farewell party," His Grace informed them. "You three are each in the regrettable position of approaching my daughter Charlotte for what I would consider a most inappropriate meeting."

  The gentlemen looked very uncomfortable, shifting their weight from foot to foot, glancing about the room as if looking for a quick escape, and clearing their throats as if they could find their voices to refute the accusation.

  "Without assassination to your characters, I shall merely say that the three of you have proven yourselves to be unsuitable, and I will ask you to leave Faraday Hall immediately." "

  With an expression of compliance, Lord Perkins replied, "If I may, Your Grace, I shall take my leave at first light."

  I mean immediately, my lord," Faraday insisted in a clear and forceful expression, a tone which Charlotte knew meant he was not to be disobeyed.

  "But, Your Grace, it is the middle of the night," Sir Thomas protested.

  "Let me be clear about this." The Duke stood, and Charlotte took a small step back, bracing herself, should her father choose to exhibit his anger. "I do not wish to see any of you at my breakfast table tomorrow morning."

  "Ladies, Your Grace" Lord Paul dropped into an immediate bow and left. Sir Thomas and Lord Perkins followed his example and took their leave.

  Their final leave.

  Even after attending the ball until the early morning hours the night before, Charlotte was up and about before nine. She had breakfast in the privacy of her own room, and when she finally left, it was for the express purpose of seeking Muriel.

  After checking Muriel's bedchamber and the Specula Alta, Charlotte thought for certain her sister would be in the Librarium. The small second-floor library was a place where, as children, they had spent many hours together, studying with their governess and Frederick's tutors before he reached the age when he could attend Eton.

  As Charlotte understood it, Muriel could still be found in the Librarium, where she took comfort in being surrounded by her books. She usually sat in the far corner, where the sunlight poured in over her right shoulder, with her back against the rear bookcase that contained all her favorites.

  Charlotte knew at once her search for Muriel had come to an end upon entering the Librarium and seeing an open book held at head level.

  "There were three of them last night, Moo," Charlotte reported. "Papa asked them to leave that very i
nstant. He would not allow them to wait until daybreak."

  The book lowered and a young, slender lad with straight hair, wearing spectacles, stared back at her. He stood, in fright, Charlotte guessed by the suddenness of his action, when he realized she had entered the room.

  "Oh, I do beg your pardon" Charlotte felt very bad that she had disturbed him. "I thought you were my sister."

  "Moo?" his voice cracked, as was common with a boy of his years.

  "Her name is Muriel. Lady Muriel. Moo's a family nickname." Charlotte smiled. The young man must have been twelve or thirteen and stood no taller than her shoulder. "Who are you?"

  "Sherwin Lloyd, my lady" He inclined his head just slightly, removed his glasses, and blinked back at her. "My brother James is here to-"

  "Your brother is ... Lord Marsdon, is he not?"

  "Yes, that's right." He folded his spectacles and slipped them into his jacket pocket.

  "I had the pleasure of making his acquaintance last night at the ball. I believe I danced with him. Were you also present?" Charlotte did not recall seeing him.

  "No, I ... I.." He tugged at his jacket, straightening the left side first, then the right.

  He was far too shy even to admit he had not attended.

  "You should have, you know."

  "I couldn't possibly. I hope it is all right that I am here"

  Young Mr. Lloyd sounded quite nervous and his prominent Adam's apple moved when he tried to swallow. "I was told that I could-"

  "I beg you to please remain." Charlotte smiled, trying to put him at ease. "You are exactly where you should be"

  "Here you are, Char-Char. Who is that you are talking to?" Muriel silenced when she saw the young man in her room with Charlotte.

  Charlotte thought Muriel, upon spotting Mr. Lloyd in her domain, might have felt a bit territorial.

  "Muriel, this is Lord Marsdon's younger brother, Mr. Sherwin Lloyd." Charlotte was happy to make the introduction. "Mr. Lloyd, my sister, Lady Muriel."

  "Lady Muriel." He inclined his head, making her acquaintance. He shifted the book in his arms, adjusting his hold. His index finger held the place where he'd stopped reading.

  "I have news for you," Charlotte whispered, then glanced to Mr. Lloyd. "I'll wait for you in your bedchamber." She looked from one to the other. "Perhaps you two should talk. It seems you have at least one thing in common-books" Then she left.

  "Books!" Muriel groused. "She says it as if they were all the same. What are you reading there?" She indicated the book in his arms.

  It so happened that Mr. Lloyd was reading her book. Muriel wanted to know exactly what subject he found interesting in her study.

  "Ah . . " He cleared his throat and turned the tome to see its cover. "The second volume of Publius Vergilius Maro's Aeneid."

  "That edition is not translated. You read Latin?" She ventured carefully, feeling excitement bubble up inside her.

  "Yes, and Greek. My main course of study at Eton is Classics." His voice sounded stronger now.

  "You attend Eton?" How Muriel envied him. This young man was about her age, and if she'd had the freedom to attend Eton, they might have been classmates.

  "I've just finished my first year."

  "My brother is a third year. Fredrick, Earl of Brent."

  "I'm afraid I don't know of him." He shook his head.

  "I've been writing to Headmaster Keate. Here's his latest reply." Muriel tapped the sealed missive she held and raised her chin in defiance. "I'm petitioning to have female students admitted."

  She knew the majority believed her request was futile, that the school should remain all male as it had for hundreds of years.

  "No!" he said, more in astonishment than disapproval. "Have you had any luck swaying their opinion?"

  "No, but I'm not about to give up. There is no reason why girls should not attend. They need formal education just as much as boys."

  "I heartily agree," he replied with stern conviction.

  It gratified Muriel to have someone, albeit one no more than a lad himself, not even as tall as she, share her opinion.

  "I sat in on Freddie's Latin instruction when he was at home. I study the best I can now, but my father will not allow me the benefit of my own tutor." Muriel stiffened. "He does not wish to encourage me to follow what he considers male pursuits."

  "I do not think acquisition of knowledge is foolish." He laid the book on the table and stepped forward to better address her.

  "Thank you" Even the opinion of a stranger, a new acquaintance, caused Muriel to feel vindicated.

  "Latin is quite fascinating." He somehow lost that air of awkwardness he had so firmly possessed when she first entered.

  "I think so too." Muriel smiled at him. Young Mr. Lloyd was a fair companion ... for a boy.

  "To read Aeneid in its native text is a phenomenal feat. Some think Homer's Odyssey is a much better story. Odyssey is, of course, a longer journey, whereas Aeneid is only twelve volumes." He moved along the table, coming closer to her.

  "But Odyssey is written in Greek. I can only dream of studying that language. As it is, I'm afraid I've only had minimal instruction in Latin. I find the Romans' way of life, their advancements, fascinating. Everything about them is so interesting." Muriel stepped into the room toward the window, toward him.

  "I know of a tutor, he's in London" Mr. Lloyd pulled a stub of pencil and a bit of paper from his pocket and leaned toward the table to write. "If you are ever in Town, you should look him up"

  Mr. Lloyd held out the slip of paper to Muriel. Another two steps brought her to the window that overlooked the parterre. She took the tutor's name and address he held out to her: Signor Biondi, 4 Tavistock Road. She realized that this was something quite precious.

  "Thank you" Muriel could not meet his gaze and thought herself a goose.

  He took in her tightly bound dark hair and conservative attire. Perhaps he was a bit intimidated by her, thinking she was much older than he. She glanced out the window, where a group of gentlemen guests congregated.

  Mr. Lloyd followed her example. "Besides having cheroots, what do you suppose that is about?"

  Muriel drew her opera glasses from her pocket and brought them to her eyes. The suitors, most but not all, were lounging about the marble benches blowing clouds.

  "They appear quite amiable to one another even though they are in competition for Lady Augusta" Mr. Lloyd's voice seemed to constrict. "I don't think I could pretend friendliness, especially with that sort of company."

  "What do you mean?" Muriel drew the glasses from her eyes to glare at him. "I'm sure you'd rub along with them quite well."

  "No, I'm far too shy-especially when it comes to females-especially talking to females." He sounded nervous uttering the word.

  "I am a female, Mr. Lloyd!" Muriel took exception to his doubt of her sex. She once again brought the glasses to her eyes and continued to study the men below.

  "I beg your pardon, Lady M-Muriel," he stammered. "You are d-different fr-from other-"

  "Please don't address me as Lady. It makes me sound so old"

  His gaze darted away from her and he looked out the window, watching the gentlemen below. "I wonder what they could possibly be saying."

  "Your brother is asking Sir Nicholas of his odds at engaging my sister's interest," Muriel told Mr. Lloyd without thinking how inappropriate their topic might have been.

  "Odds? As in wagering?"

  "Exactly." Muriel concentrated on the precise reply. "Sir Nicholas gives him fifteen to one and tells your brother Lady Augusta thinks him no better than any of his contemporaries. He might have an advantage if he could show his superiority by besting the young lady in a battle of wits, because she does show a preference for verbal dueling."

  Even without the benefit of magnification, Mr. Lloyd could see the reaction as the surrounding men laughed in good humor.

  "Your brother says he'd not place a wager while on the Duke's property, because if they are discovered
, they'll not have a chance to explain their actions before being expelled. Sir Warren is impressed with your brother and says he'll stake a quid on your brother's matrimonial future."

  Lord Tremaine and Sir Warren Cantrell had moved forward, blocking Muriel's view of Lord Marsdon's reply. A roar of laughter followed.

  "They're making bets on who wins Lady Augusta's hand? How can you know that's what they are saying?" Young Mr. Lloyd appeared affronted at the conversation and, it seemed, he refused to believe it.

  "I observe them speaking, how they form the words with their mouths. I watch them and I know what they are saying."

  "Is it possible?" Mr. Lloyd stared at Muriel. "Can you really do such a thing?"

  "Not only can I do it, Mr. Lloyd, but I do it well. Why don't you join the gentlemen below and have a word with your brother and see if that is not what nefarious activity they have chosen to occupy their time."

  Mr. Lloyd straightened and it seemed he was plucking up the nerve to do just as she suggested.

  "My father will certainly give birth to a bovine if he should learn of this. Gusta isn't going to be pleased either." Muriel kept watch, studying the other men who gathered around for what appeared to be more betting.

  "I don't see why she should be. It's appalling, reprehensible behavior."

  Muriel pocketed her opera glasses, concluding her eavesdropping. "If you will excuse me, my sister Charlotte is waiting to speak to me." Muriel left, pleased that she had made the acquaintance of Mr. Sherwin Lloyd. She believed that, for once, this young man might appreciate her books as much as she did.

  Augusta had risen to a wonderful morning and shared a fairly sedate breakfast with only seven gentlemen in attendance, exactly enough to fill every seat at the table without crowding. She did not know how she managed to successfully leave with one gentleman without making the other six feel left out.

  Lord William Felgate escorted her down the corridor and into the foyer on their way to take a turn in the rear gardens. Perhaps she would show him the conservatory or the maze. Perhaps she would convince him they needed to drift along the water's edge of the pond.