Lady Lavinia's Match

by Mary Nichols

  ‘James,’ Frances murmured. ‘I think this has gone far enough.’

  ‘So do I.’ He stepped forward. ‘Wake her up, Wincote. Wake them all up.’

  ‘Why, my Lord Corringham, do you suppose I was about to put her ladyship under a spell?’ he answered, unruffled. ‘You surely do not believe that is possible?’

  ‘Of course not. But it is wrong to take away a person’s will and make them do things they would never otherwise do. They will all be mortified when they realise what you have done to them. I am surprised at Lady Rattenshaw allowing it.’

  ‘Easy, old friend,’ Sir Percy said. ‘The lady cannot hear you and defend herself.’ He turned to Edmund. ‘Bring ’em round, Wincote, you have proved your point. And return her ladyship’s pendant to her.’

  Edmund turned and spoke to his volunteers. ‘You will wake at the count of three and you will remember nothing of what has passed.’ He counted to three slowly and one by one his victims stirred themselves, looked about them and then laughed uneasily, as the audience applauded. ‘What happened?’ they asked, almost in unison.

  James took Lavinia’s arm and almost dragged her back to the Duchess. ‘James, you are hurting me. What is all the fuss about?’

  ‘That sort of thing could be dangerous if done by someone unskilled,’ he said. ‘Heaven knows what it would do to an impressionable mind.’

  ‘Are you implying I have a weak mind, my lord?’

  ‘No, but you know what he wanted you to do? He wanted you to fall in love with the first person you saw on awakening, just like the characters in A Midsummer Night’s Dream.’

  ‘That’s rubbish. He never even spoke to me.’ She paused. ‘He didn’t, did he?’

  The Duchess smiled. ‘He did, my dear. He made Mr Willoughby get down on his hands and knees and bray like a donkey and he made his friend imitate a chicken…’

  ‘And me? I do not remember who was the first person I saw when I came to my senses.’

  ‘Me, you noddicock,’ James said, grinning suddenly. ‘It was me.’

  She breathed a sigh of relief. ‘Oh, that’s all right, then.’ She looked at him in consternation when he began to laugh. ‘I fail to see the cause of your merriment, my lord.’

  But he would not enlighten her.

  Chapter Seven

  James was still smiling as he and Sir Percy left together and walked in the direction of White’s club.

  ‘It is all very well for you to laugh, Corringham,’ Percy said. ‘But with a gift like that he could do anything, get someone to commit murder even.’

  ‘Oh, I doubt that, but he can evidently make a lady surrender her valuables without a qualm and it occurred to me…’ He paused, shaking his head as if to deny the thought. ‘No, the idea is outlandish, he never would.’

  ‘You were thinking Lady Graham’s necklace?’

  ‘So you thought of it too?’

  ‘Yes, but he would surely not be such a jack-at-warts as to demonstrate how he did it to a room full of people.’

  ‘I would not put anything past him. I think he wanted to prove his ascendancy over me. Or Vinny. Picking that particular rhyme for her to say, as if she would fall in love with him as soon as she opened her eyes!’

  ‘I thought that particular situation had already come to pass.’

  ‘By heaven, I hope not! But he was making it very plain what his expectations are. It was almost as good as an announcement. If we are not careful, Lavinia will fall into agreeing with it without even realising what is happening to her.’

  ‘And you, I collect, have only her happiness at heart.’

  ‘Of course,’ he said, noticing the slight tone of irony in his friend’s voice. ‘Can you doubt it?’

  ‘Enough to let her go?’

  He hesitated only a second before answering, ‘If that is her wish, but I would need to be very sure that it was, not just some sleight of hand on his part.’ He did not add that it would break his heart to do it.

  ‘Then leave it to me, m’boy.’

  ‘So you said before. But what have you done, apart from introducing the gentleman to Lady Rattenshaw?’

  ‘All going to plan, my friend. He is already confiding in her. He has told her his grandfather’s affairs are still not concluded and the lawyers are holding up his inheritance which he insists will be considerable. He has borrowed a hundred guineas from her with some desperate tale about being called out if he does not pay some trifling debt of honour.’

  ‘So that was how he managed to pay me,’ James murmured. Wincote had sent the money to settle his wager round to Corringham House only two days earlier.

  ‘Yes, but if he did take Lady Graham’s necklace, he would not have had to borrow so paltry a sum, would he?’

  ‘True,’ James said. Percy did not know the diamonds had been fake and James was not such a tattler as to reveal the fact.

  ‘Perhaps we are maligning the poor fellow.’ Sir Percy laughed suddenly. ‘He has been telling the lady all manner of fanciful tales and when he said he could mesmerise people, she prevailed upon him to demonstrate it. She thought it might make people think.’

  ‘She was right as far as I am concerned,’ James said. But it was not so much of Edmund’s strange powers he was thinking, but of Lavinia’s last remark when he told her he was the first one she saw when she opened her eyes. ‘So, that’s all right, then.’ Could he, dare he, hope?

  ‘Mind you,’ Percy went on. “‘Love looks not with the eyes but with the mind, And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind.’”

  James laughed. ‘I did not think you were paying that much attention when we rehearsed. I’ll wager a yellow boy you cannot manage the next three lines.’

  “‘Nor hath Love’s mind of any judgement taste, And therefore is Love said to be a child, because in choice he is so oft beguiled.’”

  ‘Well said.’ James dug his purse from his coat pocket and handed over a guinea. ‘There is no end to your talent, is there?’

  ‘I have been schooling Mari…Lady Rattenshaw in Helena’s lines.’

  ‘It is true, though, isn’t it? Love is easily beguiled,’ James said gloomily. ‘Especially with the help of Dr Mesmer.’

  ‘Oh, I do not think Lady Lavinia is as foolish as that, Corringham. But if she is blind, we shall open her eyes.’

  ‘How?’

  Sir Percy smiled and tapped the side of his nose with a bony finger. ‘Wait and see.’

  And with that he had to be content. But he could not forget how easily Wincote had pocketed Lady Rattenshaw’s jewellery. If he could do that to a mature lady, what could he do to an impressionable young girl who imagined herself in love? If the rakeshame relieved Lavinia of her valuables, it would be disagreeable and inconvenient, though not disastrous, but if he stole her heart, which was infinitely more precious, especially to him—what then?

  Knowing most of the men were going to be attending the Queen’s trial every day once it began, Lavinia decided to step up the frequency of rehearsals, to throw herself into directing the play and learn her own lines so that she did not have time to think. Thinking confused her. Had Lord Wincote managed to take over her mind? Was he able to manipulate her will? James had said he could not do it, if she did not wish it, so did that mean she did wish it? Did she want to be subject to someone else’s will? Was that what being in love really meant?

  Or had she had become so immersed in A Midsummer Night’s Dream, she was beginning to believe in the magic juice which made people fall in love with the first thing they saw when they woke? It was all very silly, she chided herself, Lord Wincote had been seeking to amuse Lady Rattenshaw’s guests, no more than that. Mama had disapproved and James had put a stop to it, though he had made sure he was the first person she saw when she woke. And, though she knew it was nonsensical, she was glad of that. James she could trust.

  She wondered how Lord Wincote would behave towards her when they next met. Would he be angry because he had been made to feel diminished in front of all
their friends? Would he refuse to attend rehearsals, withdraw from the play? It was so advanced now, the effect of anyone withdrawing would be catastrophic. She wished Lancelot Greatorex would come, but so far there had been no news of the players and she began to wonder if he had meant it when he said he would be in London at the end of the Season.

  Quite apart from needing his professional help with the direction, she needed his troupe to take the parts of the entertainers, which she had not rehearsed at all. If he did not come she would have to leave that side of the story out, as she had told the Duchess she would do. It would spoil it and the audience would think they had been cheated. And the antagonism between James and Lord Wincote did not help. If she did not know him better, she might think that James was jealous. And that was so inconceivable it was comical.

  But when they congregated for the next rehearsal, Lord Wincote was as enthusiastic about the play as ever. He treated her with scrupulous courtesy, smiled a great deal and, when they had a break for refreshment, talked about his home in Cumberland and how glad he would be to be back there, riding round his estate and putting in hand the refurbishment. ‘It must be fit for a queen,’ he said, then laughed. ‘Not Caroline, of course, but my own dear queen of my heart.’

  ‘My lord, you presume—’

  He took her hand and raised it to his lips. ‘No, my lady, I presume nothing. I await your decision with patience and hope.’ And though he looked deep into her eyes, making her shudder, he did not try to hold her gaze and she began to think she must have imagined the strange power he had. The trouble was inside her, in her own emotions which she did not understand.

  And there was James. He had never pretended to be an actor and was taking part only to please her, but he had been good at the beginning; it was only lately he had started reciting his lines without any feeling, as if he would be glad to have it all over and done with. He seemed to be keeping his distance from her and she could not understand why. They had not quarrelled, had not even teased each other as they were wont to do.

  She used a quiet moment to study him. Dressed neatly, but not flamboyantly, in a frock coat of Bath cloth, nankeen trousers and a white cravat tied in one of the less complicated knots, he was, on the surface, his usual urbane self but she knew him well, and was certain something was troubling him.

  She watched as Sir Percy, who had turned out to be surprisingly good as Theseus, Duke of Athens, exhorted Hermia to obey her father and marry Demetrius. However, she spoke her lines of refusal flatly, unable to conjure up the depth of emotion they deserved. She should be putting herself in Hermia’s shoes, feeling all her anguish as she declared she would rather die, but how could she, when her mind was on other things?

  James, as Demetrius, begged her: ‘Relent, sweet Hermia.’ And, turning to Edmund: ‘And, Lysander, yield thy crazed title to my certain right.’

  Edmund, line perfect, seemed truly passionate in his response as he pleaded his case to Hermia’s father, imbuing Lysander’s words with an undercurrent of meaning: he was, he said, as well endowed as Demetrius, his fortunes equal and besides, he had the lady’s love. It all seemed so close to real life, a tussle between two men over one woman. Lord Wincote evidently saw James as a rival, which was foolish of him.

  James’s interest was avuncular, more protective than lover-like, but he did not like or trust Lord Wincote. Or had she become so involved with the characters in the play that she was imagining conflict where none existed? Was James troubled about something else entirely? Perhaps he was in some scrape or other, but why had he not felt able to confide in her? He always had in the past.

  When the rehearsal ended, and everyone began to disperse, she put her hand on his sleeve to detain him. ‘James, a word.’

  He stood obediently in the hall and waited until everyone had gone. ‘What is it, Vinny, my performance not up to scratch?’ He kept his voice light, though it did not deceive her for a minute.

  ‘Since you ask, I do not believe it is. I know you are only taking part to please me, but you are so wooden it’s as if you would rather be anywhere but here.’

  ‘My dear, I would not come if that were the case. And you have no call to accuse me of being wooden. You were positively fossilised. You know you were.’

  ‘Then it is because I am concerned about you.’

  ‘About me? Now I would have expected you to find a more interesting subject for your concern than an old bachelor like me.’

  ‘Old bachelor! Oh, James.’ She laughed and then stopped abruptly. ‘James, what is wrong?’

  ‘Wrong, m’dear?’ he said, affecting nonchalance. ‘What could possibly be wrong?’

  ‘I do not know. You are not yourself.’

  ‘Then I do not know who else I could be.’ He looked in a mirror placed near the door and studied his face, turning it this way and that and tweaking his perfectly tied cravat. ‘Yes, that is James Corringham, no mistaking that physiog.’

  ‘James, don’t be such a gudgeon. I am serious. Do you think I do not know when all is not well with you?’

  ‘You, my dear Lavinia, are burdened with an overactive imagination. I am perfectly well.’

  ‘You are not still brooding over Lord Wincote’s demonstration of animal magnetism, are you?’

  ‘Now, why should I do that?’ The effort to appear unaffected was taking its toll; it was all he could do not to take her in his arms, shake some sense into her and then kiss her soundly and thoroughly.

  ‘You were afraid of what he could do to me.’

  ‘Did I say that?’ he asked mildly.

  ‘You implied it.’

  ‘Heat of the moment, my dear. I know you are far too sensible to allow yourself to be used in that way.’ He saw her eyes widen in surprise and smiled. ‘But it is a powerful weapon, you must admit. You saw what he did to Benedict Willoughby and his friend.’

  ‘No. You forget, I was asleep and saw nothing, but it has done no lasting harm. They are laughing about it now. And Lord Wincote knows you and Mama disapproved so he will not attempt anything like it again. Do give him the benefit of the doubt, James.’

  ‘That is exactly what I am doing.’ He retrieved his hat from the table below the mirror and clamped it on his head, tilting it at a rakish angle. ‘And enough rope to hang himself.’ Then he added quickly, ‘Will you be going to the fireworks on Tuesday?’

  The fireworks had been arranged to take place in Vauxhall Gardens on the first of August to celebrate the coronation of George IV. It had been billed as the event of the year, when the ordinary people of London who would not be in the Abbey to witness the coronation, could have their own festivities. The organisers, having expended a great deal of money on the pyrotechnics, had decided to set them off, notwithstanding there was to be no coronation.

  ‘Yes, I expect so,’ she said, knowing he had changed the subject because he did not like being interrogated. He was a grown man and well able to take care of himself, she had no right to quiz him. ‘All our friends are going.’

  ‘Do you have an escort? Silly question. Of course you have.’

  There was most decidedly something wrong with him; he was almost distracted. ‘As it happens, I am going with Mama and Papa. Jack is going to be allowed to accompany us as a special treat and I have promised to help look after him.’

  ‘Then I shall look forward to seeing you there.’ He took her hand and raised it to his lips. ‘Until then.’ And he was gone before she had a chance to ask him what he meant by ‘enough rope to hang himself’.

  Tuesday evening was still warm after another hot day and she chose a muslin dress, light as thistledown in a pale jonquil colour. It had small puffed sleeves, a wide boat-shaped neck and a deep frill at the hem which was just high enough to show off the tops of her kid shoes. A silk fringed shawl was draped over her shoulders in case it turned cool when darkness fell.

  Lavinia travelled in the Loscoe carriage with the Duke and Duchess and Jack. It should not have been a long journey; however, the crowds on
Westminster Bridge held the traffic up for at least an hour before the coachman dare push the horses forward, and then only at a walk. They arrived at last and, having paid the entrance fee, were soon strolling along the footpaths, admiring the clipped hedges, shady groves of trees, the rose arbours and the statuary which stood in green arbours. Somewhere, in the background, an orchestra played.

  The Duke and Duchess walked arm in arm, their heads slightly inclined towards each other, enjoying the rare treat of being able to relax together. They were joined by the Grahams and Willoughbys amongst others until they became quite an animated party, revelling in the feeling of being in the countryside, with the river gently lapping its banks close at hand.

  Lavinia turned to find Lord Wincote had fallen into step beside her. He was superbly clad in a dark grey coat and matching pantaloons in a fine grey wool, tucked into highly polished hessians. He was wearing a tall curly-brimmed hat with a silver buckle on the band, which he took off as he bowed to her. ‘Your servant, my lady.’

  Lavinia’s heart began to beat a little faster, though she spoke calmly enough. ‘Lord Wincote, I did not know you had arrived. How are you?’

  ‘In excellent fettle, my lady. And you?’

  ‘I am well.’ It was a silly conversation considering they had seen each other at rehearsal only two days before and as neither could find anything else to say, they fell silent as they made their way towards the open space which had been set aside for the firework display. They were soon joined by James and Sir Percy with Lady Rattenshaw. Jack skipped along ahead of them, chanting, ‘Queenie, Queenie Caroline, washed her hair in turpentine…’

  ‘Jack, stop that at once,’ the Duke snapped. ‘Is it not enough we are bombarded on all sides with placards and broadsheets without teaching the children to be disrespectful?’ he said. ‘Where did he learn it?’

  ‘Duncan taught it to me,’ the boy said.