A Regency Charade (21 page)

By the way, Priss insists on coming along to help me settle in
—
these young upstarts, once they come of age, do enjoy treating their parents like doddering old fools
,
don’t they
?—
so she asks me to tell you that she will be near you for a full week before your house party. In that way, she says, she’ll be available to give you all sorts of assistance (when she’s not assisting her doddering old mother, of course) in your preparations before the others arrive for the festivities. Alec, of course, pretends to have fallen into the sullens over the fact that he and Priss will be parted for a few days, but in truth he’ll be busily occupied in entertaining his friend Garvin Danforth (who has extended his holiday so that he can attend your party) and, as I told my son-in-law, any couple, no matter how loving, can certainly endure a minor separation such as this
.

Alec and Priss agreed that the letter was a masterpiece of cunning subterfuge and congratulated the author on her talent for deception. But Alec, as he sent the letter on its way, made a fervent wish that this was the last stumbling block he’d have to overcome.

Priss and her mother (with the help of a houseful of servants, the drayman and his three assistants, Alec, Gar and an officious and managing Mr. Hornbeck) succeeded in dispatching their possessions and themselves to Derbyshire only eleven hours behind schedule. And a week later, an entourage of four carriages of assorted styles set out for Braeburn and a fortnight of country pleasure. The sun shone, the early November wind was brisk, and the spirits of the three gentlemen who climbed aboard the first carriage (a dignified and somewhat antiquated phaeton handed down to Ferdie from a wealthy uncle) were high despite the fact that each of them had reason to anticipate the coming festivities with mixed emotions.

The second carriage began the journey vacant, for it was intended for the use of the ladies of the party who were waiting at their respective residences to be taken up. The third vehicle carried the baggage and was already burdened with fifteen bulging boxes and bags. Bringing up the rear was Alec’s barouche-landau, in which sat two antagonistic passengers: Harry Kellam, ex-batman, and George Archibald Smoot,
Valet Extraordinaire
to Mr. Ferdinand Sellars. The valet, having taken one look at Kellam’s casual dress and shaggy moustache, had decided the fellow was beneath his touch; and Kellam, taking immediate note of Smoot’s mincing walk and the ruby ring which he wore on his index finger (which anyone with half an eye could see was paste), decided the fellow was a hypocritical fop (or, as he would have put it, a ‘bubblin’ sprag’). As a result, neither exchanged a word with the other but kept looking at each other with either surreptitious or blatant disgust.

When the procession stopped at Upper Brook Street to take up Miss Courdepass and her abigail, both Alec and Ferdie hopped out of their carriage to assist, for they had not yet met the lady and their curiosity had been piqued by Priss’s terse description of her. Ariadne Courdepass turned out to be a young lady of about twenty-five, with a not-unpleasing figure, a somewhat flat face, a retroussé nose, a remarkably pretty mouth and long, silky hair which she wore twisted into a long coil and wound around her head like a coronet. She carried on her arm a huge, wooden-handled workbag, and after she and her abigail had been helped aboard the second carriage, she extracted from the bag a piece of knitting at which she worked steadily almost without ceasing during the entire two-day journey.

Her portmanteau, trunk and three bandboxes having been stowed aboard the third carriage, the entourage set out for Clio Vicker’s residence. There they were kept waiting for more than half-an-hour, but when the lady at last emerged, her enchanting appearance won their immediate forgiveness. She was absolutely captivating in a blue velvet pelisse trimmed with matching satin welting, an enormous fur muff, and a remarkable bonnet with soft blue feathers which waved gracefully over the poke like little fingers trying to grasp at her red curls. All three gentlemen eagerly rushed to her assistance, handed her into the carriage and lingered, with many hearty quips and asides, over the introductions. A reproving cough from the street made them aware that Miss Vickers’ companion, a middle-aged and dour-faced lady who was much too dignified to be called an abigail, was waiting to be assisted aboard. This was promptly attended to, the great number of boxes and trunks which Miss Vickers had assembled for the trip were loaded into and on top of the baggage coach, and the procession lumbered off toward its destination to the north.

The journey was a merry one, with much exchanging of passengers between the first two carriages, much laughter, a headlong and dangerous race between them down a long hill, and other pastimes that inventive minds can devise to pass away the hours. When they stopped for the night at an inn a mile north of Market Harborough, Alec took the opportunity (while they were all together at dinner) to remind them not to reveal by word or expression while they were at Braeburn that there was anything at all amiss between his wife and himself. They all hastened to assure him of their support, Miss Courdepass remarking bluntly, her eyes all the while on her knitting, that as far as
she
was concerned, Alec and Priss
were
man and wife and that was all that she—or anyone else, for that matter—need know about it.

They arrived at Braeburn the following afternoon, to find the Earl, his face beaming, standing before the high oak doors of the house to welcome them. Just behind him, a strained, shy smile on her face, was Priss. Alec was the first to disembark, and he ran up the stone steps two at a time. After embracing the Earl warmly, he leaned down and kissed Priss’s cheek. “Hello, my dear,” he said heartily. “I’ve missed you.”

Clio Vickers, a blue-clad vision, ran up to her great-uncle the Earl and enveloped him in an enthusiastic embrace. Priss looked from Alec to her cousin and back again. “I’m
certain
you missed me, my dear,” she said with an almost imperceptible touch of venom and went off to greet the guests.

After the details of the arrival—the greetings, the unloading of the carriages and the dispersal of the baggage to the various bedrooms—had been attended to, the Earl herded them all into the library, where a lavish tea had been laid. It was then that Priss took the opportunity to whisper to Alec that she had to speak to him urgently. Alec promptly announced to the assemblage that, not having laid eyes on his lovely wife for a week, he trusted they would all excuse them if they took a few moments in private. With the Earl’s glowing approval, he put an arm about her waist and walked her from the room.

As soon as the library doors had closed behind them, he let her go. “What’s gone wrong?” he asked her at once. “Dash it, Priss, the old man looks so well, I can’t believe it’s the same fellow I saw here a month ago. If anything or anyone has put a spoke into the wheel, I’ll—”

“Hush, Alec. The problem may not be crucial. Come away from those doors. Let’s go into the morning room where we won’t be overheard.”

They crossed the hall and closed the door of the morning room quietly. But even in the safety and seclusion of their surroundings, Priss found it difficult to explain. “The Earl has made the most awkward arrangements, Alec. And I don’t know how to tell him they won’t do.”

“Arrangements? What arrangements?”

“For our … er … sleeping accommodations. He’s given us the large corner bedroom, you see.”

“Us?
Both
of us?”

She felt herself blushing. “Yes. You see, he remembered that, when we came home from our … honeymoon … that I’d said … I’d said …”

He grimaced. “You’d said that you didn’t like separate bedrooms! He
remembered
that?”

“Worse, he positively
dotes
on it. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if—” She put her hands up to her burning cheeks. “—if he
bragged
about it to his
cronies
! Alec, it’s a … a … gold and white
love nest
!”

Alec fought back a laugh. “You don’t mean it! Romantic old dog, isn’t he? Well, I don’t think we need concern ourselves too much. If you don’t mind sleeping in a gold and white love nest, I can always bed down with Ferdie.”

“But, Alec, Grandfather’s room is just down the hall! If you bedded down with Ferdie, he’d be
bound
to discover it!”

“Yes, confound it, I suppose that’s true.” He took a few turns around the room. “Hang it all, Priss, you’ve been here a week! Why couldn’t you have told him we’re … we’re not so … so full of youthful ardor anymore?”

She drew herself up angrily. “I might have known you would throw this all back at me! It’s truly wonderful how you manage to make everything
my
fault!”

“I’m sorry. You’re quite right—it isn’t your fault. I’m beginning to think I should never have suggested this ridiculous plot.”

She sighed. “No, it’s not ridiculous. You’ve
seen
how happy he is.”

“Yes, but I fail to see what we’re to do about this latest coil.”

“Neither do I. I did
try
, you know. A dozen times I started to say to him that we’ve grown accustomed to separate bedrooms in our … mature years—”

Alec broke into a laugh. “Did you truly try to say that?”

“Indeed I did. But I just couldn’t bring it to my tongue, for I was certain he’d see it as a rift between us. You do realize what your grandfather has in the back of his mind, don’t you?”

“No. What do you mean?”

“A great-grandchild, of course. I’m convinced that he believes that since the London environs did not yet produce one, the country air will. Hence all the sheer drapery and the gold cupids and the paintings of cherubs on the walls—”

His eyebrows rose in amused repugnance. “Good heavens, is it as bad as that?”

“Wait until you see for yourself.”

Alec saw it for himself when the company dispersed later that afternoon to dress for dinner. The bedroom was large and pleasant, with panelled walls and large casements, but the old Earl had had it decorated with too lavish a hand. An enormous bed dominated the room, its voluminous hangings (now pulled back and tied against each post) seeming to be wide enough to surround the bed several times over. The cornices which bridged the bedposts were arched, and at the high point of each arch, a gilded Cupid reclined, its bow and arrow at the ready. The gilt-edged headboard was painted to represent a blue sky on which floated a number of puffy little clouds bearing dimpled, pink cherubs on their backs. All the other furniture in the room, from the triangular basin-stand in the corner to the high, double chest of drawers at the right of the door was gilded, fretted, inlaid, festooned, splayed, stenciled, molded, rosetted, frogged and filigreed to such an extent that the entire effect was overpowering. For a long moment, Alec stared at the display with open-mouthed stupefaction. Then he sat down on the bed and gave way to such whoops of laughter that his wife, eyeing him askance from the doorway, feared he’d be heard all over the house. “Alec, hush!” she warned, checking to ascertain that the door had been properly closed. “You don’t want the world to hear you! And I don’t see anything to laugh about, in spite of this room’s being so ludicrously overdone. What are we to do?”

Alec wiped his streaming eyes, rose and looked about. “Where do those doors lead?” he asked. “I don’t remember much about this part of the house.”

“That one is my dressing room. It was once a guest bedroom—the little blue bedroom, remember?—but Grandfather converted it into a dressing room especially for me. Don’t go looking into it, for you’ll only go into whoops again. And
this
door leads to
your
dressing room. I suppose you may look there, for the furnishings are relatively unremarkable.”

He opened the door and peered inside. “I say, Priss, this may be the solution to our problem. It’s adequately large and has a door to the corridor. If you wouldn’t mind it, I could have Kellam set up a camp-cot in here.”

She came up behind him. “A camp-cot? But … shall you be able to sleep in such cramped quarters for an entire fortnight?”

“My dear girl, I’ve slept in much worse.” He looked down at her with a grin. “The question is, will
you
be able to sleep surrounded by all those Cupids?”

She gave him a small smile and walked away, but he could see she was still troubled. He followed after her, his forehead furrowed in concern. “This is asking a great deal of you, I know. The proximity of these living quarters … they’ll make for more intimacy than you had anticipated, is that what’s troubling you?”

“Well, you couldn’t
always
use that other door without being detected, any more than you could successfully have bunked with Ferdie. You’d have to come in here, and … it would be extremely awkward …”

“Yes, I suppose it would. Shall we call it off? Grandfather looks surprisingly hale—I can go to him now, if you like, and tell him the whole.”

She shook her head. “No. I suppose we can contrive somehow.”

“Good girl!” he said, relieved. “I shall not be a bother at all, I promise you. I shall go straight to my little
chambre
the moment we come in, and I shall not emerge until you knock and tell me it is permissable for me to do so.”

She shrugged in reluctant acquiescence. “Very well. Then you’d best go into your
chambre
right now, for if we don’t hurry and dress for dinner, we shall be scandalously late.”

Priss dressed in hurried distraction, for Alec’s presence so close by made her strangely uncomfortable. Then she dismissed the abigail the Earl had thoughtfully provided for her and examined herself critically in the tall mirror set into her dressing room door. She was not pleased with what she saw. Her gown, a rose-colored Tiffany silk which she’d chosen in the hope that the color would relieve her pallor, was pretty enough, she supposed, with its high, shirred waist which permitted the skirt to fall in soft folds and to swing gracefully when she moved. But it lacked dash, and she was certain that whatever Clio would have chosen to wear would by far outshine
her
choice.