by M C Beaton
‘Exactly.’
‘Well,’ whispered Monsieur Blanc, ‘her footman told me that our Prince of Wales is madly in love with this Miss Pym, or so she chooses to call herself.’
Mrs Cambridge looked at him with her mouth open. Never since the Prince of Wales had become betrothed to Mrs Fitzherbert had such a delicious piece of scandal come to Brighton. ‘I will not breathe a word,’ she said.
‘And so,’ said Mrs Cambridge to a rapt audience of ladies over the tea-tray that evening, ‘what do you think of that?’
‘Where does she live?’ asked a faded little blonde.
‘In an apartment on the front promenade. Number two.’
‘We must leave cards,’ said another.
‘You had best let me go first,’ said Mrs Cambridge. ‘May be all a hum.’
Hannah was just dressing to go out the following day when Benjamin announced there was a Mrs Cambridge to see her.
Puzzled, Hannah told Benjamin to put the visitor in the drawing-room and tell her that she would be with her directly. Hannah finished dressing and then walked through to the drawing-room.
In a rustle of silks and a fluttering of feathers, Mrs Cambridge swept Hannah a court curtsy. Taken aback, Hannah returned the salute with a startled nod, rather like a shying horse.
‘I heard you had honoured our little resort with your presence, Miss … er … Pym.’
‘And who told you, ma’am?’ asked Hannah, waving a hand to indicate that Mrs Cambridge should sit down. ‘Lord Alistair Munro?’
‘No, no. Another person. But I am bound to secrecy. How do you like our watering-place?’
‘It is very beautiful,’ said Hannah, looking bewildered.
‘And what do you think of our most famous resident, the Prince of Wales?’
Hannah was a royalist to the tip of her fingers. She had never seen the prince but had seen some very flattering prints and engravings of him. ‘His Highness is a model of what all gentlemen should be,’ she said firmly. ‘Such handsome looks, such a regal bearing, such exquisite taste.’
‘Exactly what we all think of him,’ breathed Mrs Cambridge.
She stared at Hannah as if memorizing every detail.
Hannah shifted uncomfortably. ‘As it happens, Mrs Cambridge, I was just on the point of going out. I am paying a call on Lady Beatrice Marsham.’
Mrs Cambridge shot to her feet. ‘I shall not keep you. Shall we have the honour of your presence at Lord Southern’s ball?’
‘Yes, I shall be there.’
‘Splendid. May I presume to hope that we may become friends?’
Hannah was more bewildered than ever. ‘You may,’ she said. ‘And now I really must go.’
‘I shall not detain you any longer,’ said Mrs Cambridge and, to Hannah’s amazement, she rose and dropped another court curtsy and then backed from the room.
‘Well!’ exclaimed Hannah when she had gone. ‘Tell me, Benjamin, am I so far out of the world that I do not know how folks go on? I thought one only retreated like that before royalty.’
‘It’s the sea air, modom,’ said Benjamin, ignoring a stab of guilt, for he was sure the dressmaker had blabbed about Hannah being foreign royalty. ‘It addles people’s brains, or so I have read.’
‘And,’ said Mrs Cambridge a bare quarter of an hour later to her friends, who had been waiting in her drawing-room for her return from the call, ‘when I curtsied, she only replied with a common nod, just the way royalty goes on, you know. And her voice is so un-English, very clear and every word carefully enounced. And her regal bearing softened when she spoke of the prince. If only you could have seen and heard her.’
‘What does she look like?’ asked one.
Mrs Cambridge settled down to give a thorough description, and as she talked, Hannah’s crooked nose was straightened, her spare housekeeper’s figure showed all the signs of royal birth, her sandy hair grew brown, and her sallow skin ‘white as alabaster’. ‘And,’ went on Mrs Cambridge, ‘she was just leaving to call on Lady Beatrice Marsham. When did Lady Beatrice ever trouble to receive any lady? Mark my words, Lady Beatrice would only stoop to receive royalty. So there!’
‘Miss Pym,’ said Mrs Handford’s butler, ‘to see Lady Beatrice.’
Mrs Handford sat next to Lady Beatrice on a backless sofa in her drawing-room. She was a squat, powerful, pugnacious woman who looked remarkably like a bulldog guarding a juicy bone.
‘Lady Beatrice is not at home,’ said Mrs Handford.
Lady Beatrice held up her hand. ‘You had best allow this lady to come up,’ she said coldly. ‘Miss Pym raised a great commotion at the inn when your son abducted me. If she does not find me apparently safe and well, she may make a fuss.’
‘Geoffrey told me about some spinster yelling and fussing. Very well. Have her up, but remember what will happen to you if you make her suspicious.’
‘I know what will happen to me. My dear parents have told me that they will cut me off without a shilling if I do not marry Geoffrey. Geoffrey and you have hinted at dark things. You need have no fear. If you all wish to see me wed to another man whom I detest, that is your affair.’
Hannah came in and smiled tentatively at Lady Beatrice. Lady Beatrice rose gracefully, introduced her to Mrs Handford, and asked Hannah to sit down. She then sank down on the sofa beside Mrs Handford and said colourlessly, ‘How kind of you to call. How did you know my direction? It was not on the card I gave you.’
‘It was in the newspapers along with your engagement. May I offer my felicitations?’
Lady Beatrice nodded briefly. There was a long silence.
‘Staying long?’ barked Mrs Handford suddenly.
‘A few weeks,’ said Hannah, her eyes still on Lady Beatrice, who was sitting as still as a statue. ‘I have found pleasant lodgings where I can see the sea from my drawing-room. If your ladyship would care to call …?’
‘Too busy,’ snapped Mrs Handford. ‘Getting married soon.’
Hannah did not like it. She did not like it at all. There was a thin air of veiled menace emanating from the ugly Mrs Handford, and Lady Beatrice was so white and still. All her fears for Lady Beatrice came rushing back.
Hannah began to chatter about the weather, about the beneficial effects of sea air, about the fashionable crowd which thronged Brighton’s streets.
‘You should try sea bathing, Miss Pym,’ said Lady Beatrice.
‘I do not know how to swim,’ exclaimed Hannah.
‘That is not necessary. You get a bathing machine to take you out and the lady in charge will make sure you do not drown.’
‘Oh, I would like to try that,’ said Hannah, her eyes shining, and was relieved to see Lady Beatrice smile.
‘If you will excuse us,’ said Mrs Handford rudely, ‘we were just about to discuss the wedding arrangements.’
Hannah rose and took her leave.
Once outside, she confided her fears to Benjamin. ‘Rum go,’ said the footman. ‘Let’s go call on that Lord Alistair. He’ll know what to do.’
Lord Alistair was at home and pleased to receive Miss Pym. She asked him shyly if he still meant to take her to the ball and flushed with happiness when he said he did.
‘I have just been to call on Lady Beatrice,’ said Hannah.
‘She does have an odd taste in husbands, that lady,’ commented Lord Alistair drily. ‘I see she is engaged to Sir Geoffrey Handford. Handford is a bully and a brute.’
‘I did not meet him, but I met Mrs Handford,’ said Hannah. ‘She made me feel uneasy. Bless me, but I had this odd impression that she was guarding Lady Beatrice.’
‘I do not think for a moment there is anything amiss,’ said Lord Alistair easily. ‘Think on the character of Lady Beatrice. She is not a sweet virgin to be easily bullied. She is a widow in her late twenties. She is cold and hard and assured. She can drive better than most men. Her late husband, Blackstone, was, I admit, a degenerate fiend and would have broken the spirit of a meeker woman.’
‘Why did she marry this Blackstone?’
‘Her parents, the Earl and Countess of Debren, arranged it. Medieval couple. Give me the shudders. Live in a great moated castle in Warwickshire. The countess gave birth to Beatrice when she was in her forties and reputed to be long past child-bearing. Why Blackstone? That’s simple. He was the one prepared to pay the most to marry her. I saw her at her first Season. Different creature entirely, sweet and shy. Anyway, the earl and countess, not content with the marriage settlement, hoped to get their hands on some of the Blackstone fortune. But Harry Blackstone used to gamble thousands and thousands of guineas a night. I believe he left nothing but debts on his death. Now Geoffrey Handford is a rich nabob, made his killing in India. That’s the attraction. If Lady Beatrice doesn’t like Sir Geoffrey, that would be a pity were she a pleasant female. Friend of mine, Captain Jarret, became obsessed with her. She flirted with him quite shamelessly. Blackstone was never around to stop the flirtation, for he was always in the card-room or dead drunk. The captain asked her to run away with him, and she suddenly turned as cold as ice and told him haughtily that he was over-stepping the mark. Broke his heart.’
‘Hearts do not break, Lord Alistair,’ said Hannah. ‘Your friend was at fault for chasing after a married lady.’
‘You haven’t seen Lady Beatrice in action, Miss Pym. Quite dazzling. Gives a fellow a smile that promises him the world and more. Lady Beatrice is not worth your concern. Tell me instead about yourself.’
They passed a pleasant half-hour and Hannah finally left, feeling sure that, after all, she had been silly to pity or worry about Lady Beatrice.
When she returned home, she was startled to see a group of people at her gate. As she passed, the men raised their hats and the women curtsied.
‘What was that about?’ asked Hannah faintly when they were safely indoors.
‘Very simple people in these seaside places,’ said Benjamin quickly. ‘Like to pay their courtesies to a new face in town.’
‘How very odd,’ said Hannah Pym.
‘So that’s her,’ said Sir Geoffrey Handford to his friend, Mr Gully Parks. ‘Old fright, ain’t she? What did you say her name was?’
‘Pym. Miss Hannah Pym, or rather, that’s what she’s calling herself.’
‘And Prinny is spoony about that crooked-nosed bat?’
‘On the best authority, old chap. On the v-e-r-y best authority. You want to be Lord Thingummy, that’s your road. Butter her up and get her to pop a word in the royal ear.’
3
Vaulting ambition, which o’erleaps itself
And falls on the other.
William Shakespeare
Sir Geoffrey made his way home deep in thought. His ambition was to have a title – baron, viscount, earl or marquis. To this end, he had been cultivating friends of the Prince of Wales, and sending the prince handsome presents. So far, all he had received for his pains had been a slight nod from the prince at a ball.
He wandered into his mother’s drawing-room, still trying to work out a way to introduce himself to this Miss Pym.
‘I am glad you are home, Geoffrey,’ said his mother. ‘I’ve had a tiresome afternoon.’
‘Beatrice coming over nasty again?’
‘No, but cold and insolent as usual. She had a visitor.’
Sir Geoffrey’s face darkened. ‘She isn’t supposed to have any visitors. Where is she?’
‘Gone to sulk in her room.’
‘And why did you allow this visitor to see her?’
‘It was that female you told me about, you know, the one who set up the row at the inn. I handled her. Lady Beatrice knows what she’s supposed to do. Not by a flicker did she show that anything was amiss.’
‘What’s the name of this interfering busybody anyway?’
‘Miss Hannah Pym.’
Sir Geoffrey sat down suddenly. ‘Is she a middle-aged woman with a bent nose?’
‘Yes. You should know. You saw her at the inn.’
‘I didn’t pay her any heed. I was too concerned with getting Beatrice away. Let me tell you, sainted Mother, that this Miss Pym is not what she seems. Travelling by stage-coach must have been an effort on her part to arrive quietly in Brighton. It is said that she is Prinny’s latest amour: and not only that – of foreign royalty.’
‘Tish, and fiddlesticks. Who is spreading such rubbish?’
‘Letitia Cambridge.’
‘Mrs Cambridge. Good heavens above!’
‘Exactly.’
Mrs Cambridge was accounted among the cream of the ton.
‘Furthermore, Mrs Cambridge called on this Miss Pym, not really believing a word of the gossip, but came away perfectly convinced it was true. And you know how that bitch is too easy to damn people as parvenus and upstarts,’ said Sir Geoffrey with feeling, he and his mother having been at the receiving end of Mrs Cambridge’s high-handedness. ‘This could be the entrée I need. I’ve done everything I can to try to get Prinny’s ear, and nothing has worked.’
‘She asked Beatrice to call on her,’ said Mrs Handford.
‘Then Beatrice had better go. The sooner she forges a friendship with this Miss Pym, or whoever she is, the better.’
‘And then what? Beatrice will promptly tell her all about the marriage she is being forced into.’
‘No, I do not think she will. Her parents have already told her through me that if she does not wed me, they will cut her off without a shilling. There is nothing else she can do but obey me. In fact, I think we should risk turning her loose. She can go to that house she has rented and do what she likes. She cannot escape me – that is, unless she wishes to end up a pauper.’
Mrs Handford shifted her large bulk uneasily. ‘Do you really think her parents would go ahead and do such a thing?’
‘Oh, yes; they said they had brought her to heel over that marriage to Blackstone in the same way.’
‘But she was, what? Eighteen when she married him. She’s a hardened widow of twenty-eight now. Oh, I wish you had not been so dramatic, Geoffrey. There was no need to force her into your carriage at gunpoint. Would it not be better to promise her her freedom if she does all in her power to use her influence with Miss Pym? Surely a title means more to you than a chilly widow who hates you.’
‘No, Mama. I want her and that’s that. I admit I should not have chased her down the Brighton road, but I was mad with fury when I heard she had left London. I did not know then that her parents were going to do all in their power to force the marriage through. I did not get their letter until I arrived here. Let her go. She’ll accept this marriage with good grace, you’ll see.’
‘And what if some other man snatches her up in the meantime?’
‘No man will. Not now. Not with her reputation. She’s broken so many hearts that it’s become almost a point of honour not to even be seen dancing with her. She was at Derby’s ball two weeks ago and spent most of the evening with the wallflowers. A sad come-down for London’s beauty, who used to have ’em fighting over her on the ballroom floor. That’s why I’m confident she’ll end up looking forward to this marriage. I’m a handsome fellow.’
‘You are that,’ said his mother, gazing at him with affection. In that moment, both looked remarkably alike with their bulldog faces and long wide mouths that seemed to stretch from ear to ear.
‘Right! Fetch her in here and I’ll tell her what she’s got to do.’
A footman was summoned and told to fetch Lady Beatrice. ‘Make yourself scarce, Mama,’ said Sir Geoffrey. ‘May as well kick off with a little wooing.’
Lady Beatrice hesitated on the threshold when she saw that he was alone.
‘What is it?’ she demanded.
He looked at her, at her elegant figure and the beauty of her face, and his senses quickened. She would be magnificent as his wife. He looked forward to getting her in his bed. He was sure there were a few interesting tricks he could show her. That drunk, Blackstone, couldn’t have been much of a lover.
‘Come sit by me, my sweeting,’ he said.
Lady Beatrice took a few steps into the room. ‘I would rather stay here,’ she said, ‘in case you decide to hold a gun on me again.’
‘You must forgive me,’ he said, putting his hand on his heart. ‘I would not hurt you for the world.’
‘Then release me from this engagement.’
‘Always funning, ain’t you? How would you like to move to your own place?’
Lady Beatrice looked startled. ‘With all my heart.’
‘Well, and so you may. This very day, in fact. There is something I want you to do for me.’
‘That being?’
‘You know that Miss Pym?’
‘Of course.’
‘Did you know she was Prinny’s latest flirt?’
Lady Beatrice began to laugh. ‘Prinny’s …? You must be mad. She is a respectable English lady and, I believe, every bit the spinster she claims to be.’
‘Letitia Cambridge says she is of foreign royalty and Prinny dotes on her, and I want you to call on her and get her to put a word in Prinny’s ear about getting me a lordship or an earldom.’
Lady Beatrice opened her mouth to say that Mrs Cambridge was, and always had been, a silly gossip. But then she quickly realized that her freedom, or temporary freedom, from the terrible Handfords somehow depended on her cultivating a friendship with Miss Pym.
She affected surprise. ‘Well, I never would have believed such a thing. Now you come to mention it, she did have a certain regal bearing and I was most surprised to find her travelling on the stage.’
‘Probably hoped to slip quietly into Brighton. Will you do it?’
‘Yes, if you will let me leave this evening.’
‘And you will promise not to tell her about your parents’ forcing you to accept me? For, you know, I have only to break off the engagement and tell them it was all your fault for them to turn you out in the street.’
‘I will do what you wish,’ said Lady Beatrice. ‘Tell me, Sir Geoffrey, why on earth do you want to marry me?’
