Patricia Veryan - [Sanguinet Saga 07] - Married Past Redemption (2 page)

For a moment there was an awful silence, Mrs. Van Lindsay
regarding her youngest child in outraged disbelief; Lisette, pale and
awestruck, gazing at her sister, and Judith, aghast at her own daring,
now suddenly all great eyes and terror, so that for the first time her
mama was brought to the realization that her youngest was beginning to
show signs of the family looks. Slightly mollified by that hopeful
thought, she demanded, "Open your mouth at once, Miss Insolence!"

Trembling, Judith obeyed.

Mrs. Van Lindsay peered inside and drew back with an
exclamation of disgust. "Purple! Good God! Are you run quite mad? On
top of having the temerity to address your mother with all the abandon
of a
bourgeoisie,
you must stuff your stomach
with rubbish! Do not
ever
let me discover you to
have been so thoughtless again! If you start throwing out as many spots
as a dog has fleas, your poor parents will very likely find themselves
with
another
daughter they cannot fire off, year
after year!"

At this dreadful denunciation, Judith burst into tears, and
Lisette found it necessary to turn away, a hand pressed to her mouth.
Mrs. Van Lindsay advised Judith to repair to her own room at once where
she could entertain herself by writing, "I will not Curdle my Insides
with Rubbish" two hundred times.

Judith fled, shattered. When the door closed behind her, Mrs.
Van Lindsay crossed to put a consoling arm about Lisette's shoulders
and draw her down beside her on the bed. Kindness was the one quality
well calculated to break the floodgates, and Lisette's grief
overflowed. Holding her through the storm and in her dignified fashion
attempting to comfort her, Mrs. Van Lindsay at length drew a
handkerchief from her pocket and began gently to dry the wet cheeks.
"Hush now, child," she said. "I comprehend that your affections were
deeply engaged. How wretched of Leith to jilt you! And of all people,
for that disgusting Strand woman! Quite insupportable. I wonder if
Timothy should come home and call him out."

"Oh, no—no. Mama!" quavered Lisette. "Truly, there was never
anything between Colonel Leith and me, save… save friendship.
Only—after Mia Buchanan married Hawkhurst, he seemed to—to turn to me.
And I did hope"—A sob hiccuped again, and she could not go on.

"It was a sad disappointment, for I'll own I myself had
fancied Leith's attentions fixed on you. Although, whatever he has
done, he is very much the gentleman and he never did address your
father in the matter, so I suppose— Had he not been recalled to active
duty for that wretched Waterloo— Still, there are plenty more eligible
bachelors in town, and you are an uncommonly fine-looking girl, you
know."

Deeply grateful for so rare a display of affection, Lisette
stammered out her thanks. "I cannot tell you, Mama, how—how sorry I am
to have brought you such disappointment. D-does Papa hope—I mean—is it
vital
that I marry well?"

Mrs. Van Lindsay did not immediately answer. After her fashion
she was fond of both her husband and her daughter and, despite a rather
vexed feeling they both had failed her, had no wish to hurt either. "I
am persuaded you must be aware, child," she said slowly, "that our
finest families are not necessarily those blessed with great wealth."

"Oh, Mama! Are we
quite
in the basket?"

Shocked, her mother cried, "There is scarce the need for such
crude expressions! If you mean to suggest that our financial situation
is—er—not good"—she sighed, her shoulders drooped suddenly, and she
muttered in distracted tones—"you would be quite correct. Our situation
is near desperate—I'll not dissemble. Never in my youth did I dream
that a Bayes-Copeland could come to such straits. How much longer we
can continue to keep up this house and pay the servants, I dare not
guess. Norman
must
go to University. And Timothy
should have bought his promotion long ago…"

Horrified by this display, Lisette was emboldened to clasp her
mother's clawlike hand. "Oh, poor Mama! How dreadful for you. I do not
wish to marry, but if anyone acceptable should offer, I hope I know my
duty to my family."

"Good girl." Mrs. Van Lindsay squeezed her daughter's fingers
briefly, pulled back her shoulders, and stood. "But we must not allow
ourselves to be maudlin over the matter. We shall come about, I am
assured. As a matter of fact, there is someone—" She closed her lips
over the rest of that rather premature remark and turned to the door.
"No more darning, child." With her hand on the doorknob she added, "If
you feel you must sew, however, the flounce on my magenta silk evening
gown is quite sadly torn, and—" She had opened the door and now
stopped, one hand flung aloft, her head tilted, birdlike, as she
listened intently. "Your papa is at his pacing again! He must have
finished his speech and will be practicing it on Powers. Oh! My poor
carpets!" and with a flash of skirts she was gone.

Lisette smiled faintly as she envisioned the scene in the
drawing room when her volatile Papa was caught at his depredations once
more. Her smile soon faded, however. "As a matter of fact, there is
someone—" Whatever had Mama been about to say?

Lisette awoke to the sounds of strife.
She pushed back the faded bedcurtains and was blinded by early morning
sunlight. She thought, A nice day, thank goodness, and stepped into her
furred slippers. Another rageful shriek, followed by shouts of boyish
laughter, rent the air. Judith and Norman. Again! Lisette hurried into
the hall casting a fearful glance towards the front of the house, but
as yet the doors to the front bedchambers remained tightly closed.

His cherubic face alight with mirth and mischief, Norman shot
past her and began to pound down the stairs. Lisette leaned over the
railing and hissed, "What have you done?" then jumped aside, a shoe
barely missing her as it hurtled after her brother's retreating form.

Judith, armed with another shoe and a slipper, launched them
one after the other, while screaming animadversions upon her brother's
character. Her zeal and indignation were dimmed only by the arrival on
the scene of Mrs. Van Lindsay, clad in cap and wrapper, whose demands
for an explanation of "this disgraceful behaviour" were echoed by her
life's companion, who hove into view wearing a bright red dressing gown
and with his thinning brown hair all on end—as Judith later giggled to
Lisette—"like the bristles of a worn brush."

To be rudely awakened for any cause upset Humphrey Van
Lindsay, and to be rudely awakened before nine o'clock in the morning
had thrown him into a passion. He was a large man with a larger voice,
given to making hasty judgments and adhering to them with bulldog
tenacity, so that there were many" who considered him to merit a
brilliant future in politics. There were others, of course, who
considered him to be a loud-mouthed idiot and an intolerable snob. The
latter charge, at least, was justified. Humphrey was almost as
conscious of social position as was his spouse and considered that in
wedding Philippa Bayes-Copeland he had pulled off the coup of the
century (an opinion she shared). She was the only person who could
manoeuvre him, which she did with firmness and regularity, and being
well suited they enjoyed a reasonably happy marriage, despite their
precarious monetary situation. There was little evidence of connubial
bliss at the moment, however, for between Mrs. Van Lindsay's strident
demands for an explanation, Judith's decision that her safest course
was to launch into hysterics, and Humphrey's bellowing rage, the scene
more nearly resembled bedlam.

Experienced in such fiascos, Lisette said two magical words:
"The servants!" At once, the elder Van Lindsays stifled their rancour.
They all adjourned to Judith's bedroom and closed the door.

"Will you stop, Judith?" Philippa enquired. "Or must I slap
you?"

Thus appealed to, Judith lowered her shrieks a few decibels to
spasmodic sobs, between which she opined that her brother was a hideous
brute, a sadistic savage, and the greatest beast in nature. "Look," she
wept, holding up a much folded piece of tissue paper. "Only look what
he d-did! It is a pattern of Ruth MacKay's new party dress. Elinor
copied it for me, and—and Norman met her last evening and
p-prom-promised to give it me. But—look!
Look!"

Snorting his wrath, her sire opened the pattern. This took a
few minutes and seemed to involve an inordinate amount of paper. "Good…
gad!" he breathed, holding up what must only be a garment for a giant.
"Surely, this is the wrong size, Judith?"

His daughter uttered a new shriek of rageful chagrin and cast
herself on the bed. Over her recumbent form, the eyes of her sister and
her mama met, alight with guilty laughter. Recovering herself, Philippa
snatched the paper from her spouse's hands. "Of course it is not her
size, Mr. Van Linsday!"

Humphrey had seen the twinkle in her eyes, and mirth crept
into his own.

"Er—oh!" he said. "I see the light. Copied it, did he?"

"And enlarged it, Papa," Lisette nodded, stroking her sister's
tangled hair comfortingly.

"Yes. I can—ah, tell he's spread it out a bit," he chortled.

"By a good four sizes!" said Mrs. Van Lindsay.

"Four!" howled the maligned Judith. "
Forty
,
more like! I am
not
that fat, Papa! I am
not
!"

"Norman," said Mrs. Van Lindsay sternly, "must be spoken to,
sir."

"Quite so. Yes, I'll—ah—see if I can find the lad…" And
Humphrey deserted the scene in favour of his bedchamber, whence soon
emanated gales of laughter.

Mrs. Van Lindsay proceeded to make it clear to her stricken
offspring that while she did not approve of Norman's teasing, Judith
should perhaps consider that the model he had been attempting to
construct in the bottle might well have meant as much to him as did the
dress pattern to Judith. "One thing," she murmured to Lisette, as she
walked to the door, "it has put your father into a very good humour,
which is more than I'd hoped for when first I heard that uproar!"

Mr. Humphrey's good humour endured, and later that morning,
when Lisette was summoned to the drawing room, she found him awaiting
her, his broad features wreathed in smiles. "How pretty you look,
child," he beamed. "Come and chat with your papa for a few moments."

Lisette sat obediently, but whatever he had in mind he
evidently hesitated to broach, for during the next ten minutes he spoke
only of commonplaces, asked her twice if she was happy, and commenting
three times on the charm of "that pink gown." Refraining from pointing
out that her muslin was peach-coloured, not pink, Lisette began to be
uneasy. Papa was nervous, which must mean he had something unpleasant
to say. She was mildly relieved when Powers appeared and announced that
Mr. Garvey was belowstairs. Lisette prepared to leave, but her father
requested that the caller be shown up, adding as the butler took his
lugubrious countenance from sight, "This is a happy coincidence,
m'dear. Mr. Garvey has been plaguing me for an introduction. Now's as
good a time as any, eh?"

"Is the gentleman Mr.
James
Garvey,
Papa? The Regent's friend?"

Humphrey chuckled. "Clever little puss. You know I do not
usually cultivate the Carlton House set. You're right, but James is a
good enough man. He can trace his house back almost as far as our own.
Came into a considerable fortune some years ago, when his father went
to his reward. James has been in Europe for several months, but I make
no doubt you will recall having seen him at this or that occasion, for
he is very—Ah, good morning, good morning, my dear fellow!" Humphrey
rose and walked to extend a hand to his guest. "You chose a fortunate
moment, James," he said heartily. "M'daughter and I were enjoying a
cose. Lisette, I present Mr. James Garvey. James, this is my middle
daughter. You know Beatrice, I believe. Don't think you've met our
Lisette."

Lisette made her curtsey to a dapper gentleman of about five
and thirty. He was not above average height, but well proportioned, and
with a head of thickly curling dark hair that was gracefully bowed
before her. She thought, as he straightened, that he was quite the
dandy, for his shirt points were very high, his cravat a masterpiece,
and his blue jacket extremely well cut. A green and blue brocaded
waistcoat complemented the jacket neatly, and his pearl-grey
inexpressibles were beyond reproach. Two fobs and a seal hung at his
trim waist, and a large sapphire flashed on one hand. Unbidden, the
recollection darted into her mind that Tristram Leith had never worn
fobs or seals, the only jewellery she had ever seen him affect being
his heavy gold signet ring…

Her gaze drifting back to the visitor's face, she encountered
a stunned look in his fine green eyes. He murmured in a bewildered
manner, "Jove, sir! You said your daughter was lovely, but—I never
dreamt—" He faltered into silence.

Lisette blushed and was both pleased and puzzled, for she had
the distinct impression it was not at all what he had intended to say.
She lowered her eyes, paying little heed to the polite pleasantry of
her father's response. When she looked up, Mr. Garvey had recovered his
air of sophisticated assurance. His admiration was obvious, but he
displayed it now with a light-hearted effusiveness that was a balm to
her bruised spirit. She was, he said, as pretty and sparkling as this
beautiful morning. She would, did she venture outside, quite put the
sunlight to shame with her radiance. Lisette was startled, and slanted
a glance at her papa, who would have flown into a rage had she told him
one of her beaux had made such bold remarks on first acquaintance, but
Mr. Van Lindsay seemed no whit put out.

Mr. Garvey was aware of her reaction, however, and at once
addressed himself to her parent. "My groom is walking my horses this
very moment, sir. Have I your leave to ask that your daughter accompany
me on a short drive?"