by Joan Wolf
Diana stopped in the doorway. Miss Longwood was intent upon her reflection and didn’t notice who had come in. Diana slowly walked all the way into the room.
Miss Longwood turned, and when she saw Diana she jumped.
“My goodness,” she said with a forced laugh. “You gave me a start, Miss Sherwood. I didn’t know anyone else was here.”
“I didn’t mean to startle you,” Diana said. “I’m sorry.”
The two women stared at each other. Jessica was wearing a white dress, which went nicely with her shining black hair. She had a voluptuous figure, which contrasted to Diana’s elegant slimness. She was looking at Diana warily, as if she were an animal who couldn’t be trusted.
Diana said lightly, “The slip of my dress ripped and I came in here to pin it up. Mr. Westover stepped on it. He is not the most adept of dancers.”
“I know,” Jessica replied. “I have often had my feet stepped on while I was dancing with him.”
“He makes up in enthusiasm what he lacks in skill,” Diana said. She took a pin out of her reticule and went to sit in one of the chairs so she could fix her skirt.
Miss Longwood said, “Lord Rumford is not here tonight.”
Diana didn’t look up from her skirt. “So I noticed.”
“Do you know where he is?”
Diana shook her head. She had put the pin in and now she smoothed the dress and let it fall. She glanced up at Miss Longwood and was surprised to see a look of great animosity on the other girl’s face. She smoothed it away when she saw Diana looking, but the hostility lingered in her light brown eyes.
Good heavens, Diana thought with a shock of recognition. I wonder if the Longwoods could be responsible for those ugly rumors.
She ran her tongue around her lips to moisten them. “Lord Rumford does not confide his every movement to me,” she said.
The other girl pressed her lips together. “I heard that you went on an excursion to Richmond Park with him. Is that true?”
“Do you know, I really don’t think that what I do is any of your business,” Diana said pleasantly. She got to her feet.
“You’re nobody,” Miss Longwood said fiercely. “Do you hear me? Nobody. If you think that Lord Rumford is going to marry you, you’re wrong. He comes from one of the best families in the country. He’s hardly going to marry the granddaughter of a country squire.”
“Well, that’s up to Lord Rumford, isn’t it?” Diana said. She walked past the girl at the mirror and over to the door. “It’s been interesting talking to you, Miss Longwood,” she said, and left the room, closing the door firmly behind her.
She felt herself shaking as she walked down the corridor.
The venom she had seen in Miss Longwood’s face! It was scary to think that she could provoke such hatred in another person.
It was the Longwoods who started those rumors, she thought. It had to have been. They were afraid they were going to lose Rumford, and they tried to discredit me.
She stopped at the entrance to the ballroom and drew a deep breath, trying to compose herself. She looked around for her mother and saw, out of the side of her eyes, Alex standing talking to Lord Rumford.
Diana could feel herself pale and she surreptitiously pinched her cheeks before she went to join Lady Standish and her mother, both of whom were standing by the punch bowl with Sir Gilbert Merton. Sir Gilbert smiled at her as she came up to them. “I was just telling your mother that Caleb missed Freddie today in the park,” he said.
“I know. I feel very badly that he only got out into the garden today. I promise faithfully that I will take him to the park tomorrow.”
Sir Gilbert looked at Mrs. Sherwood. “You ladies must have been very busy. You’re usually very faithful about walking Freddie.”
Mrs. Sherwood replied easily, “I had an engagement, and Diana did not feel well enough to go out.”
Everyone looked at Diana.
“Are you all right, dear?” Lady Standish asked. “I didn’t know you weren’t feeling well this afternoon.”
“I’m fine,” Diana said.
As she was speaking, Alex and Lord Rumford began to cross the room, which was filled with couples waiting for the next dance to begin. Lord Rumford smiled as he joined their group. “How is everyone this evening?” he asked in his mild, pleasant voice.
“We are all very well,” Lady Standish said. She glanced quickly at Diana, then back to Rumford. She was clearly anxious to see what Rumford would do.
“Lord Rumford has been kind enough to invite us all on a visit to his sister’s home in Kent,” Alex said. “It sounds like a good idea to me. I think it will do us good to get out into the country for a few days.”
There was a moment of stunned silence. Then Lady Standish said, “That is very kind of Lady Moulton, Lord Rumford.”
“She will be sending you a formal invitation tomorrow, ma’am,” the earl said. “I only mentioned it to Standish because I was anxious to know if you would be free.”
“When would she want us?” Lady Standish asked.
“Thursday through Saturday was the time mentioned, ma’am. I know you ladies have many things planned here in London, but if you could find the time to come for a visit, my sister would be very pleased.” He smiled at her. “The invitation includes your daughter as well as Mrs. and Miss Sherwood. And Standish, of course.”
Lady Standish said, “Will there be other guests, Lord Rumford?”
“My sister mentioned inviting a few other people. I don’t know who they are.”
Lady Standish looked at Diana, then back to Rumford. “I believe my daughter may have an engagement with Lord Dorset on Friday.”
“We’ll invite Lord Dorset, as well,” Lord Rumford responded promptly.
Lady Standish smiled. “When I receive Lady Moulton’s invitation, I will be pleased to accept, my lord. It was very kind of her to think of us. My son is right. A few days in the country will be very pleasant.”
Rumford looked pleased.
A waltz had been playing for over a minute and now Lord Rumford said to Diana, “Would you give me the pleasure of this dance, Miss Sherwood?”
“Of course,” Diana said, and took his arm. She hoped that Miss Longwood was watching.
As soon as they were out of earshot, Lady Standish turned to Mrs. Sherwood, her eyes bright with triumph. “She’s got him, Louisa! He wouldn’t be having his sister invite her on a visit if he wasn’t serious.” She snapped her fingers. “That is what all those rumors are worth. Precisely nothing. Rumford is well and truly caught.”
Mrs. Sherwood was watching her daughter as she danced. “I just wish he was a little younger,” she said.
“Nonsense,” Lady Standish said forcefully. “A mature and stable man who will be good to her is just what Diana needs. Youthful passion blazes hot and then it dies away. The kind of relationship that Rumford will offer Diana is the kind that makes for a solid, satisfying marriage.”
Alex heard what his mother said as he, too, watched Diana circle the floor with the Earl of Rumford. She had a trick of seeming to capture all the light in the room, he thought.
How could he bear it if she actually decided to marry Rumford? He turned away from the dance floor. It was too painful to see her in the arms of another man. He went into the card room, where he spent the remainder of the evening playing whist. When he got home, he went into the library, called for a bottle of port, and got drunk enough that he actually slept through the night.
Eighteen
Lady Moulton’s invitation arrived the following morning, and Sally heard about it over the breakfast table. Her mother was jubilant and Diana looked excited, so she was reluctant to tell them that she didn’t want to go. In fact, she couldn’t tell them she didn’t want to go. If she said she wanted to stay in London because there was a chance of her seeing the Duke of Sinclair, her mother would probably bundle her up and take her back to Standish Court until she got over her foolish tendre for a notorious rake.
&
nbsp; She soothed herself with the thought that she would be seeing him that afternoon, at the meeting of the Committee to Save Climbing Boys. He had said he would attend, and the rest of the committee was very excited at the prospect of gaining such a high-born member.
Oh well. If she had to miss the chance of seeing him for a few days in order to further Diana’s romance, she would do it. Sinclair hardly ever came to the balls she went to anyhow. She was more likely to see him at the opera, which he appeared to love, as he was there every time she went. Lately Sally had developed a great fondness for the opera. This had not aroused any suspicion in her mother as everyone knew Sally was an excellent musician.
The committee meeting was in a small house off of Oxford Street and the duke picked up Sally and drove her there himself. No one realized she was being escorted by the duke as the family was all out of the house when he arrived.
Sinclair sat quietly for the first part of the meeting, listening as different members spoke to him passionately about their cause. Sally watched his face as stories were told of the horrors climbing boys endured, and he looked grave and concerned, although he said little.
Finally, Mr. Anisman, a member of the House of Commons, said bluntly, “What is your feeling about all of this, Your Grace? You have been kind enough to join us today. Dare we hope that we can count on your support?”
The duke’s green eyes slowly scanned the group and came to rest on Sally’s face. She looked back, her blue eyes full of hope. Surely he could not have been unmoved by some of these horrible stories.
He said, still looking at her, “I am against the practice of sending small boys into chimneys to clean them. And I admire the zeal which this group evinces in trying to right this grievous wrong. But I hope you realize that it is going to be extremely difficult to get an act banning climbing boys through Parliament.”
Sally’s heart sank. She glanced at the other members and was surprised to see that they did not look upset by such a statement. She looked back at the duke and said passionately, “How can that be? How is it possible for a civilized society to allow such a practice to continue to exist?”
The duke’s perfectly sculpted face did not move, and when he spoke his voice was dispassionate.
“You must understand the temper of the times, Lady Sarah. There is great and growing discontent—political, economic and industrial—in this country, and the government’s way of handling it has been to pass a succession of severe Acts of Suppression. The example of the French Revolution still hangs over the rulers of England, from Lord Liverpool, the prime minister, to lords, lieutenants, and commanding officers, to land-owning magnates and magistrates and wealthy employers. The thrust of this government is to discourage protesters and reformers of every sort—and that includes the Committee to Save Climbing Boys.”
“Then you’re telling us that we’re wasting our time,” one of the men said in a flat voice.
“No, I am not saying that. I am just warning you that you face an uphill battle in this particular fight.”
“It would help if we had a highly placed member of the House of Lords on our side, Your Grace,” another man said. “The more people there are to speak up for these unfortunate children, the better our chance of success.”
“For what it is worth, you have my support,” the duke said. “I have spoken in the past about the situation of climbing boys and I shall continue to do so in the future. In the meanwhile, I think it would behoove us to look into some of these chimney sweep operations. Perhaps we can better conditions for these children while we are waiting to get the practice completely outlawed.”
A murmur of interest went around the room.
“How can we better conditions for them if they are still forced to climb chimneys?” Sally said, her voice as passionate as it had been before.
“We can see that they are adequately fed and have proper shelter,” the duke replied. He looked at Sally and for the first time there was sympathy in his eyes. “I understand your indignation, Lady Sarah. And I share it. But climbing boys are not going to be outlawed tomorrow. Isn’t it better to do what we can even if we cannot have what we want? Not every climbing boy is going to be lucky enough to be plucked out of his miserable life and sent to live at Standish Court. I am not saying that we should not continue to fight for legislation, but I think we should also try to regulate the industry as best we can.”
The meeting had gone on around Sally as she brooded about what Sinclair had said. When the meeting was over, and they were finally alone together in his curricle, she said, “I know that you’re right about trying to make things better for the children, but I simply cannot fathom how anyone could vote against banning such a devilish practice. It just doesn’t make sense. It’s not…human.”
“I will not disagree with you,” he said, “but there is a great deal of fear in the government just now. There have been too many social disturbances recently—the Luddites, for example. The government feels itself to be under siege.”
“My family have always been Whigs,” Sally said defiantly. “We would never support Lord Liverpool and his Tory Acts of Suppression.”
The duke turned his horses onto Oxford Street. “My family have always been Tories,” he said. “I broke with a long line of Sinclairs when I declared myself a Whig.”
She turned to him. “Good for you, Your Grace!”
He shrugged. “It doesn’t mean much, I’m afraid. The Whigs are a totally disorganized opposition these days, Lady Sarah. There are factions within factions within factions. I’m afraid we’re in no position to mount an attack upon Lord Liverpool’s citadel.”
They were driving down Oxford Street, and now a single horse and loaded wagon came out from one of the side streets and pulled in front of them. Abruptly, the horse fell to his knees, stopping the wagon. The duke managed to pull his team to a halt just a few feet from the vehicle in front of them.
The fallen horse didn’t try to get up and the driver raised his whip and began to beat it, cursing loudly as his arm came down.
“Stop! Stop hitting him!” Sally called frantically, and scooted toward the side of the curricle so she could climb down.
“Stay where you are, Lady Sarah,” the duke commanded in a voice that ensured instant obedience. He looked at her, then wrapped his reins, told his horses to stand and jumped down from his side of the carriage. His face wore a look of resignation.
The man stopped beating his horse as the duke approached, glaring at the aristocrat belligerently.
The duke said, “This animal is incapable of pulling a load of so many bricks. There is no point in hitting him for something he clearly cannot do.”
“He kin do it,” the man replied, scowling. “He’s just lazy.”
Now that the beating had stopped, the horse scrambled to regain its feet. The duke looked at the animal, which was showing all its ribs as well as its hip bones. “Perhaps if you fed him, he could pull it, but in the condition he is in, he cannot.”
“He has to,” the man said. “I have t’ deliver these here bricks or I don’t get paid.”
While the men were talking, Sally had climbed down from the curricle. She came up to them now and demanded of the man, “Why are you hitting that poor animal? It’s cruel.”
The man’s narrow jaw set. “He’s my horse and I kin do with him what I want ter. You nobs should worry about yer own horses and leave mine alone.”
Sally looked pleadingly at the duke. “We can’t leave this animal with such a person. He’ll end up killing it. It’s already being starved, poor thing.”
The duke looked grim. “Neglected and abused horses are killed every day in London, Lady Sarah.”
She lifted her chin. “That may be so, but we haven’t seen them. We’ve seen this one, and we have to help.”
She was absolutely determined.
“What do you suggest we do?” he asked interestedly.
“I’ll buy him,” Sally said.
“He ain’t fer sa
le,” the man said promptly. “I won’t have no livelihood if I don’t have a horse.”
“You aren’t feeding him!” Sally flashed. “How can you expect him to work for you if he isn’t fed?”
“I feed him what I can afford,” the man returned. “I don’t look too fat neither, do I?”
In fact, the man was skeleton-thin under his shabby brown rags.
Sally’s brow furrowed with worry. She looked up at the duke, clearly expecting him to do something.
He looked back at her and sighed. Then he turned to the man. “What kind of job do you do?”
“I deliver things for people. I’m supposed to be delivering these here bricks, but the bloody horse keeps fallin’ down.”
As they were talking, traffic had been building up around them in Oxford Street. The three of them were the object of many curious stares as people veered around the two carriages to get by.
The duke said, “I’ll hire a pair of horses for you to hitch to the wagon so you can deliver your bricks—what is your name?”
“Blake, m’ lord. Colin Blake.”
“Very well, Colin Blake. The pair of horses will be here in an hour. In the meanwhile, I am going to unhitch this sad animal and take him home with me. You may call upon me tomorrow morning at eleven and we will discuss the conditions under which you may retrieve your horse. I am the Duke of Sinclair and my home is Sinclair House in Berkeley Square. I will leave instructions with my servants that you are to be admitted.”
Colin’s eyes nearly popped out of his head when he heard these words.
“A dook?” he said.
“Yes. A duke. I’m sure we will be able to work out an arrangement that will be satisfactory to you, Colin. In the meanwhile, you can unhitch your horse for me.”
Colin stared suspiciously from the duke to Sally then back again to the duke. “How do I know if yer tellin’ me the truth? How do I know yer a dook?”
“He is, Mr. Blake,” Sally said earnestly. “You can trust him, truly you can.”
