A Sister's Secret (27 page)

‘I see,’ murmured Captain Burnside, ‘depending on how one regards Cumberland, no one yet knows who will be the fortunate lady and who the unfortunate.’

‘There are two ladies involved?’ said Mr Wingrove, relishing his slice of game pie. ‘Then I should say both are unfortunate in catching his eye in the first place. Who are they, Mrs Humphreys?’

Cecilia, who knew they were Caroline and Annabelle, said, ‘Oh, one should not name names that relate only to a rumour.’

‘Well, Cumberland ain’t such a bad fellow,’ said Robert cheerfully.

‘I count him a little short on manners,’ said Mr Wingrove, and changed the subject by remarking, not for the first time, that the King’s unfortunate illness almost certainly related to his mental decline. Demurely, Annabelle offered again the American opinion that the King had gone off his head at the shock of losing his colonies. Caroline thought that rather tactless, but Mr Wingrove took it in good part and began a dissertation on the pros and cons. Since this seemed to bring an air of boredom to Annabelle, Captain Burnside took her up in a conversation of their own. Cecilia, after a while, broke in sweetly on them to ask him exactly how long he had known Caroline, at which Caroline came out of a
reverie to glance quickly at the captain. He was smiling unconcernedly.

‘How long have I known Her American Ladyship?’ he said. ‘All my life, I fancy, if you could say my life began seven years ago, when I first met her. That was the effect she had on me, for she was fresh from the Americas, d’you see, and came to my eyes like the first magnolia blossom of spring. Smitten but overlooked, I languished.’

Annabelle laughed.

Caroline said, ‘Quite untrue.’

‘He was not smitten?’ enquired Annabelle.

‘He did not languish,’ said Caroline, ‘for his interests fully occupied him. He always had his eye on some poor innocent or other.’

‘It’s true I didn’t carry a languishing look on my person,’ said the captain, ‘for it ain’t the thing a gentleman should do. But I do recollect contemplating suicide when I heard she had promised herself to Lord Percival. Suicide seemed the only sure way to consoling oblivion.’

Caroline’s laugh was involuntary. ‘Either you made a deplorable hash of it,’ she said, ‘or you had second thoughts. Or it truly never entered your head at all.’

‘I plead guilty to second thoughts,’ smiled Captain Burnside. ‘But there it is: my life seemed to begin with Caroline’s arrival in England seven years ago, Mrs Humphreys, although I’m now recovered from my heartbreak.’

‘We are all relieved, I dare say,’ said Mr Wingrove equably.

‘Captain Burnside, did you and I meet in those days?’ asked Cecilia. ‘I cannot myself clearly recall, but I suppose we must have.’

‘I am sure you did,’ said Caroline, and could not resist the temptation to add, ‘He was in and out of every London
house, leaving a trail of sighing innocents behind him, and was often at Great Wivenden, where he was much given to the pursuit of Clarence’s prettiest maidservants.’

‘So was Clarence himself,’ said Robert, then coughed at his tactlessness.

‘You were at the wedding, Captain Burnside?’ smiled Cecilia.

‘Alas, no,’ he said. ‘Caroline pressed me, but how could I have endured seeing her bind herself to another man? I buried myself in regimental headquarters for days.’

‘Oh, dear,’ said Cecilia. ‘Were you also a close friend of Clarence’s?’

‘An acquaintance,’ said the captain, lying easily.

Cecilia pressed further questions with an air of smiling innocence, and since he answered all of them with casual ambiguity, and since Caroline made no further comments, she felt herself on sure ground in inferring they were not old friends but new. But if so, why should they want to pretend otherwise?

On the return to the ballroom, Cecilia said aside to Caroline, ‘Come, darling, do tell me exactly why that exciting man is staying with you.’

‘Captain Burnside?’ said Caroline. ‘Exciting?’

‘I vow him so. Come, is he your guest because the two of you have an amorous understanding?’

‘Cecilia, how absurd. Myself and Captain Burnside?’ Caroline could think of nothing more impossible. ‘We have no understanding of that kind at all. I am charitably accommodating him while he finds himself a suitable apartment, for his regiment is expecting to be in England for some time.’

‘Ah,’ murmured Cecilia, ‘perhaps he favours Annabelle, for he’s dancing close attendance on her, and giving her sweet cause to blush at times.’

‘Really?’ said Caroline, cool towards Cecilia for once.

They entered the ballroom, and the festive nature of the occasion was born again. Caroline and Annabelle had both occasionally stood up with gentlemen of their acquaintance during the first half, and there were promises to keep with other gentlemen during the second half. It was apparent to any observer that the American sisters, particularly Caroline, had acquired many admirers. But Annabelle had promised the first post-supper dance to Captain Burnside, and they joined many other ladies and gentlemen in the pavane. This was the stateliest of dances, and something of a courtly procession that was the customary opening to the second half of a ball.

Annabelle, wholly given to the joys of the night, invested her stately glide with unsuppressed animation. Captain Burnside smiled as she improvised steps of her own.

‘You’re a sweet girl,’ he said, ‘if dangerously excitable.’

‘Charles, I protest. I am of all things sensible, or I should not have broken my engagement to a man I did not love.’

‘Well, it’s a pleasure to see you in such enjoyment.’

‘Oh, I declare London balls wholly blissful,’ said Annabelle.

‘But d’you not find London a little stifling after the lush openness of the Carolinas?’ he asked.

‘Oh, the Carolinas offer everything to gentlemen,’ she said, ‘but it’s London that offers everything to ladies.’

‘Not everything that is offered should be accepted.’

‘I’m not so simple that I’m unaware of that,’ said Annabelle, executing a graceful dip and then floating forward on his arm. ‘I have resisted the Duke of Cumberland. Oh, and there is more than London: there is Caroline’s estate at Great Wivenden. It is sweetly
and softly beautiful there, and one does not droop in overbearing heat.’

‘Cumberland now, what did he say to you?’

Annabelle glided and curtseyed to him. He bowed and took her by the hand, and they stepped on in the colourful promenade.

‘Oh, he declared himself incurably attached to me, but said nothing of how that would advantage me. Truly, he is a mesmerizing man and an exciting prince, but I don’t wish to be merely his fancy. There were other people in the conservatory, and they at once left when Cumberland arrived with me. I trembled, Charles.’

‘Very wise,’ said the captain.

Annabelle dipped and gurgled. ‘Charles, you are surely the most amusing man. How can it be wise to tremble?’

‘Why, it showed Cumberland you would scream if he attempted to loosen your bodice and avail himself of that which you would naturally wish to deny him.’

Amid the stateliness, Annabelle blushed fiery red. ‘Charles! Oh, I declare! You are a shameless embarrassment!’

‘Sweet girl, never lack to tremble or to show parted lips ready to scream, for Cumberland’s devilishly short on niceties, and only a loud scream or two will pull him up.’

‘All the same, I vow you devilish yourself to speak so of my bodice,’ breathed Annabelle, ‘for it surely was dreadfully disconcerting. And the duke was quite gentlemanly, offering to drive us all home in his coach. I said how kind that was, but that you were taking Caroline and me in her carriage. He laughed and asked if you knew how to handle a pair.’

Captain Burnside laughed himself at that.

As the evening progressed, Caroline and Annabelle danced with various gentlemen to whom they were
promised for certain promenades. In between, Caroline alternated with Robert and Mr Wingrove, while Annabelle was attended exclusively by Captain Burnside, who was playing his role to perfection. Annabelle declared to her sister that he was a delicious man.

‘Your opinion is shared by Lady Chesterfield’s precocious niece,’ said Caroline, ‘but really, it is all of flamboyant, attaching himself excessively to you and paying not a single compliment to Cecilia, who has been sociable enough to join us.’

‘Oh my, you’re vexed,’ said Annabelle. ‘There, I will tell him he simply must partner Cecilia, that she is dying to stand up with him.’

‘No, that is not the thing at all,’ said Caroline, but Annabelle insisted on claiming the captain’s receptive ear, with the result that he partnered Cecilia in a most popular dance, a minuet. Conversing with him during a slow movement, she asked him what he was doing in London, away from his regiment, and was the fact that he was staying with Caroline indicative of a romantic attachment?

‘I’ve extended leave,’ said the captain airily, ‘and couldn’t for the life of me resist Caroline’s offer of hospitality. If she ain’t the most gracious and beautiful woman in London, then who is? Which ain’t to say you don’t make a magnificent picture yourself, dear lady, for so you do.’

Cecilia, her fulsome figure sheathed in crimson silk, accepted the compliment with the smile of a woman who knew it to be no more than the truth, for was not her figure a pleasure to the most majestic man in the land, Cumberland himself?

Gracefully, she went through the most complicated steps of the minuet with Captain Burnside before saying, ‘In your admiration of Clarence’s widow, are you confiding to me that you have hopes concerning her?’

‘Assure you,’ he said, ‘my only hopes are that she won’t turn me out before I’ve found a place of my own, for I’m living like a king. And ain’t it true that it’s Mr Wingrove who has promising expectations?’

Dear me, thought Cecilia, here is the most evasive gentleman I have ever encountered, for he sidesteps every question. I have gained nothing from either him or Caroline.

‘Ah, is it Annabelle you favour, then?’ she smiled.

‘A sweet girl,’ said the captain, ‘but I ain’t set on trying to outrival gentlemen of higher estate.’

Cecilia thought he had been trying to do that most of the evening, but she refrained from saying so.

The minuet over, scores of jewelled fans came into play as ladies cooled their flushed faces, giving the impression they had attracted the attentions of a multitude of colourful butterflies. Everyone awaited the finale, a prolonged cotillion. Mr Wingrove began to extol the merits of such a finale. Caroline came to her feet and drifted aside, standing to fan herself and to observe Cumberland saying goodnight to his hosts, Lord and Lady Chesterfield. She was at least grateful that he had not pressed his unwelcome self on her tonight. Indeed, he had given the impression that his interest had abruptly ended. It was typical of him to leave before the finale. It enabled him to avoid being caught up in the melee as everyone left at the same time. A melee to Cumberland was a mob, a rabble.

Mr Wingrove was at her elbow. She felt he meant, quite naturally, to establish his claim for the last cotillion. If she had gone aside in order to avoid this, she must reproach herself for such unkindness. He began a preamble to what was obviously going to be the rhetorical question of a privileged escort, then turned his head as Annabelle
called to him. She smiled and beckoned. He excused himself to Caroline, and she watched him rejoin her sister. Captain Burnside seemed to have disappeared.

‘Your Ladyship?’ murmured the captain from her blind side. She jumped.

‘You startled me,’ she said.

‘So sorry.’ The captain looked suitably apologetic. ‘But Cumberland’s departed, d’you see, and without carrying off Annabelle. She being safe, therefore, I thought … ah, I’m not sure, considering circumstances, that I ain’t being importunate.’

‘If you will tell me what you are about, sir, I will give you my opinion.’

‘Well, marm—’

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ she said, and shook her fan at him.

‘Well, Lady Caroline, concerning the final promenade, I fancy Mr Wingrove is already fretting to get back to you, and I ain’t sure how long Annabelle can detain him.’

Caroline stared at him. He made an observation of her hair.

‘Captain Burnside, Annabelle is detaining Mr Wingrove at your request?’

‘I ain’t going to deny it, for I can’t. Now, though we’ve come to this friendly term in our relationship, I’d not want to take the privileges of friendship for granted, you understand.’

‘Favour me, please, by coming to the point,’ said Caroline, noting that Mr Wingrove had risen from Annabelle’s side.

‘I ain’t sure, of course, whether or not Mr Wingrove hasn’t already—’

‘Oh, fiddle-de-dee,’ she breathed in open impatience, ‘I am astonished you cannot speak up.’

‘Caroline?’ Mr Wingrove was back. ‘I thought the cotillion should not be missed, not by any of us.’

‘No, it should not and must not,’ said Caroline, ‘for it will cap a most magnificent ball. We must all participate. Captain Burnside has offered me his arm, and Robert, of course, will stand up with Cecilia. So if you have engaged to advance with Annabelle, I shan’t mind in the least. You have been so agreeable all evening.’

‘Ah,’ said Mr Wingrove, a little taken aback. But gentlemanly and correct to the last, he made no quibble and attached himself for the finale to Annabelle, who had gurgled with delight when Captain Burnside confided to her that he would like to outdo Caroline’s faultless and estimable gentleman friend.

‘Oh, but poor Mr Wingrove,’ she had said, ‘he is so very agreeable – ah, isn’t he?’

‘Faith, he is, sweet Annabelle, and my fondest hope is that he’ll enjoy a very agreeable future.’

The cotillion marking the end of the ball was danced with great elan, becoming a spectacle of perpetual motion, wherein a multitude of whirling colours produced ever-changing patterns. Young ladies were in exaltation, for only at such a ball and in such a dance could they be so free-limbed and extrovert without being reproved for a loss of ladylike gentility and deportment. Led by the gentlemen, they pirouetted as if delight attended on their limbs. Gowns and petticoats swirled like foamy clouds dancing amid rainbows, and delicate, gauzy pantaloons flirted around silken-clad legs. If ladies’ legs were destined to disappear during the Victorian era, no man was unaware of their existence when George III’s son was Prince of Wales.