Arabella (3 page)

'How fortunate we are!' Arabella said to her sister as the door closed behind the buxom Mrs Boswell.  'I had hoped – but this house exceeds my expectations.'

'Yes, indeed it is a fine house,' Nan said but seemed doubtful.

'What is worrying you, sister?'

'I had not thought our cousin would have quite such…loose morals,' Nan replied.  'I believed she was a lady of good character and received everywhere.'

'I am sure that she is,' Arabella said.  'I dare say she is as proper and mealy mouthed as any country Goodwife in company.  She wanted to be open with us for our own sakes, and I am glad that she was.  You should not despise her for taking a protector after her last husband died, Nan.  I daresay Lord Randall left her little but debts for he was an unlucky gambler.'

'For that – no, I do not blame her.  I think it necessary in her circumstances,' Nan said.  'But to risk everything with the other…when she admitted that he is an adventurer and a rogue.'

'Lord Sylvester…' Arabella dimpled as she gave her sister a sly look.  'But he is so very handsome, Nan.  I understood why our cousin was tempted by him.  Almost any woman would find him pleasing, do you not think so?'
             

'I did not trust him,' Nan retorted.  'And I would advise you to stay well clear of him.'  Her eyes went over her sister.  'You have let your neckerchief slip again, Arabella.  It is no wonder that men will stare at you so.'

'In London every lady of youth and beauty wears her dress so,' Arabella said and pouted at her reflection in the delicate little dressing mirror.  'I see no harm in it.'

'You did not care for the manners of the gentleman at that inn.'

'He was not a gentleman,' Arabella retorted.  'Had he any manners at all he would have stepped aside at once.'

'Had you covered yourself modestly he would not have insulted you by offering to buy your favours.'

'You are mistaken,' Arabella said.  'I have met others of his ilk – and it would not matter if I wore a Nun's habit.  He would ravish any woman he desired as soon as look at her!'

Arabella's eyes simmered with anger as she recalled the incident.  It had remained with her for the rest of the journey, which had taken another two days because their carriage had suffered a broken pole.  She had wanted to wipe the insolent sneer from the stranger's lips, but something had held her back.  Had she slapped him, he would most likely have slapped her in return.

'Well, we must hope that we do not meet that particular gentleman again,' Nan said.  'I dare say we shall not, for he was an important man.  I saw the crest on his coach and I inquired his name of the innkeeper.  He told me he believed the gentleman was a marquis, though he did not know his title.'

'I do not care if he is a royal duke,' Arabella declared.  'I hate him and shall ignore him if we ever meet in company.'

'If you should meet him you should greet him politely but distantly,' Nan advised.  'Since we shall both be dressed differently before we are taken into company, we must hope that he does not know us.'

'I shall know him!' Arabella muttered.

Her mind was made up that she would show this arrogant gentleman if ever she were in a position to do so.  It would please her to take a horsewhip to him – or to encourage someone else to do it for her.

For a few minutes her mind played with the idea of a gallant suitor defending her honour – a suitor who looked very like Lord Sylvester.  How wonderful it would be if he could be persuaded to offer for her.  A sigh escaped her as she remembered her cousin's warning.  Lord Sylvester had very little money and must marry well himself.

She doubted that either her cousin or her father would approve of such a match for her.  Sir Edmund had told her privately that he had high hopes of her.

'Nan will do well to catch a wealthy merchant,' Sir Edmund had told his favourite daughter.  'But nothing less than a lord will do for you, Bella.  Just make sure he is besotted enough to refuse you nothing – for your poor father's sake.'

'I shall do my best for you,' Arabella had promised.  She was fond of her father and did not care to see him so worn down with worry – but that was before she had set eyes on Lord Sylvester.

Despite knowing that she must try to catch a rich husband, Arabella's thoughts would not dismiss the face of the man she had met in Lady Mary's boudoir that evening.  She continued to think of him throughout dinner, dreaming pleasantly of finding herself in his arms – though just before she woke the next day he was replaced in her mind by the arrogant gentleman they had met on the road.

She would think of him no more!  Arabella scolded herself as she dressed that morning.  And she would try not to think of Lord Sylvester either.  Perhaps she would meet other attractive young men who would make her heart race with excitement soon.

Arabella was impatient for their visit to begin properly, but Lady Mary was determined that her cousins should be dressed fashionably before entering society as her protégés.

'You must make a good impression immediately,' she told them and spent some time each morning instructing them how to behave.  'You are quality.  Hold your heads high and behave as if you own the world.  Your fortune is a private matter.  You may leave the discussion of such trifles to me.  As for you, uncle – I should prefer it if you took yourself back to the country.  Unless you mean to purchase new clothes?'

'I've no money to waste on fripperies,' Sir Edmund replied. 'It is my intention to trust my daughters to your care, ma'am.  I shall depart as soon as the horses are rested.'

He took his leave of Arabella on the third day, a suspicion of tears in his eyes as he looked at her in the new striped green silk gown she was wearing.

'I vow it is painful to part from you, Bella.  Were it not for my foolishness after your mother died…' He sighed deeply.  'Choose wisely, my daughter.  I would wish you happy.'

'Of course,' she said and kissed him.  'I am determined to marry a lord and pay all your debts.'

'And if Bella does not, I shall,' Nan told him as it was her turn to be kissed.  'Take care of yourself, Father.'

'I shall come to town for your weddings,' he promised them before going down the front steps to his waiting carriage.

'I doubt if he will,' Nan remarked to Arabella when they turned to go back into the house.  'Does it not seem to you that he grows thinner with every day?  I believe he is ill.'

'Oh, do not say so,' Arabella cried.  'It is merely the worry of his debts.'

'Mayhap you are right.  We must pay them for him, sister.  At least then he may end his days in peace.'

Arabella nodded, her throat tight.  She had scarcely recovered from her grief over her mother's death.  To lose her father would be almost unbearable.  She wondered that Nan could speak of it so lightly!

However, Nan seemed to have dismissed all thought of her father as soon as he had departed.  She spent every moment she could with their cousin practising her society manners.

'I am determined to find a suitable husband as quickly as I can,' she told Arabella when she complained that they never seemed to have a moment to spare.  'Lady Mary is generous, but I would prefer to be mistress of my own house.'

'Well, you will not have to wait long before you meet some gentlemen,' Arabella said.  'Cousin Mary is taking us to Vauxhall this evening.'

She wondered if they might perhaps see Lord Sylvester there.  He had seemed to like her when she was dressed in her simple country gown.  What would he think when she appeared in her fine new clothes?

CHAPTER TWO

'I heard that Sylvester went down heavily at the tables again last night,' Jack Meadows remarked as he lounged in the wing chair opposite milord's impressive mahogany partner's desk.  Roxbourne was writing a letter and appeared not to have heard him.  'They say his creditors are growing restless.'

              'Yes, I had heard the rumour,' Gervase replied as he first sanded and then sealed his message.  'However, there is also a rumour that he has hopes of some wealthy cit's daughter.  They will not move against him while there is a chance of payment.'

             
'If he marries money your chance will be gone,' Jack observed.

             
'I have waited this long, I can wait a little longer,' Gervase replied.  'If the coward would meet me I should kill him, but he refuses to be insulted.  No matter what I say to him, he merely shrugs it off with a laugh.'

             
'Sylvester knows your reputation, Gervase.  He is too careful to be caught in that trap – and he does not dream that you know he was responsible for what happened to Helen.  He thinks himself safe over that one.'

             
'I would call him out for it,' Gervase said.  'But the scandal was hushed up at the time and I shall not sully her memory now.  Let her rest in peace.  Sylvester will pay – if not with his life then with the manner of its living.  We shall see how he enjoys being in a debtor's prison.  I have bought most of his debts.'

             
'Then why not have him arrested at once?'

             
'I prefer that he should stew in his own mess for a while longer,' Gervase replied and his eyes were the colour of wet slate.  'As yet I have not been able to persuade him to sit down with me at the tables.  I mean to humiliate him before I deliver the final blow.  He shall suffer in equal measure as she did.'

             
'It would be kinder to have a footpad cut his throat.'

             
'But far less satisfying – though I thank you for the suggestion, Jack.  I may yet do so should I fail to exact full payment by other means.'

             
'God!  You're a cold devil,' Jack said and shuddered.  'I shall know what to expect if I cross you.'

             
'Oh, I should challenge
you
to a duel and shoot you dead,' Gervase replied and grinned, the wintry expression disappearing.  'After all, I owe you my life.  A trifling thing to be sure, but of some worth to me.'

             
Jack's gaze narrowed.  'I am never quite sure whether or not you are jesting, Gervase.'

             
'You should know that I never jest.'  Gervase raised his brows.  'Out of funds again?'

             
'No – as a matter of fact I've hit a winning streak,' Jack said and suppressed the shiver that ran through him.  He believed Roxbourne might be capable of anything if pushed too far.  'I was wondering if you intended to visit Vauxhall this evening?  Lady Eliza is back from the country.  I believe it is her intention to be there with a party of friends.'

             
'Indeed?'  Gervase yawned.  '
That
was months ago, my dear fellow.  I believe I shall seek fresh diversions this summer.'

             
'Then you will not mind if I take your place with her?'

             
'Do as you please.  I am not sure she is worth the trouble – a cool beauty, Jack.  I prefer a more passionate nature.'

             
'Like the wench you saw on the road?'

             
Gervase laughed.  'I must admit I have thought of her a few times.  Do you imagine she has caught her rich merchant yet?'

             
'It is scarce a week!  Give her time.'

             
'I dare say she will not need much time,' Gervase replied.  'Yes, Jack, I shall accompany you this evening if only for want of more entertaining diversions.  I vow I am bored.  I need a challenge… some new venture to occupy my mind.'

             
'You are a restless soul, Gervase.  You should have stayed in the army.'

             
'I thought I might travel,' Gervase replied.  'Not the grand tour.  I dare say that would be as tedious as London has become of late.'

             
'You do not think of the American colonies?'

             
'I have thought of trying my hand there,' Gervase admitted.  'As you said, I am a restless spirit.  If it were not that I must settle with Sylvester, I think I should have gone before this.  It is a country where a man can breathe, Jack.  There is less corruption and hypocrisy, and the air is not fouled by both filth and despair as are the streets of London.'

             
'The colonists are a load of savages,' Jack declared, 'and I do not speak just of the native Indians.  Look at the way they reacted to the Stamp Act.  They just refuse to behave like civilised men. Think twice before you burn your boats, Gervase!'

             
'Perhaps they object to being taxed without seeing the benefit of their money.  We have placed many restrictions on the colonists for too long.  It is little wonder that they resort to illicit trade with the French.'

             
'Now that might suit you,' Jack said.  'Smuggling to and from the West Indies.  I could see you doing that, Gervase!'

             
'Yes, I imagine it might be diverting,' Gervase said a glint of amusement in his eyes.  And I could always return here if I wished.  'But do not worry, Jack.  I have not yet made up my mind to leave England.  And before I do anything I must finish this business of Sylvester.'

             
'You will not rest easy unless you do,' Jack agreed.  'And by then you will likely have found something to divert you here in London.'

             
'Would that I could,' Gervase said.  'But I grow tired of apparent virtue and hidden vices, Jack.  Those in positions of power prate of the evils of gin and yet they do nothing to stop its sale, and the poor sink deeper into depravation.  Every coffee house has its extoller of the virtues of ridding the city of drunkenness and debauchery, but talk is cheap and the gentlemen who speak loudest of decency and the law patronise the bawdy house on their way home to their wives.'

             
'As we all do on occasion,' Jack pointed out but Gervase shook his head.  'Come, admit that this attack of conscience is merely because you are bored.'

             
'Yes, perhaps you are right,' Gervase agreed, smiling ruefully.  'And I must not bore you with my own preaching of virtue, must I?  Come, let us take a stroll to St James and see if we can find a game of chance to while away the afternoon…'

             
'We might obtain one of Harris's lists and see if there are any new nuns on the market.' Jack suggested and laughed as milord pulled a face.  'I have always found his recommendations reliable for steering one clear of a dose of the clap.'

             
'I doubt they are as genuine as you might imagine,' Gervase remarked wryly.  'The man is no more than a pimp and as ruthless as any of his calling.  A wench might be sold as virgin four times in a week and still be considered fresh in most bawdy houses.'

             
'You are too particular,' Jack said.  'Though I must admit I would prefer an assignation with Lady Eliza.'

             
'You would do far better to save your energies for this evening,' Gervase said with a wry smile.  'If cards do not appeal shall we spend an hour or so with the foils?  I believe you are getting fat, Jack.  You need some exercise.'

             
Jack grinned at this obvious provocation, but decided to go along with his friend's suggestion.  Gervase was right, London could prove vastly dull on a wet afternoon.

'There, my dears, I told you it would clear by the evening, did I not?  Lady Mary had entered the sisters' bedchamber to inspect their toilettes before they left for Vauxhall.  'The sun broke through the clouds half an hour ago, and though it is still a little cool I am persuaded that it will stay fine for us.'

              'How do we look, ma'am?'

Arabella felt a thrill of excitement as she twirled in front of the dressing mirror, straining to see all of her gown.  It was fashioned of a striped green silk over a petticoat of silver, the bodice fitted tightly to her shapely waist with sleeves that ended at the elbow in a froth of lace.  Around her throat she wore a black ribbon and a single fine pearl mounted in silver; it had belonged to her mother and was one of the few items of value that Sir Edmund had refused to sell.  Her only other ornament was a paste comb in her hair, which had been piled high on her head and allowed to fall in a simple ringlet on her shoulder.

'I think we shall not powder your hair this evening,' Lady Mary had decided earlier when they had discussed their toilette at some length.  'You have exceptionally attractive hair, Arabella, and I think it should be worn au naturel for the time being.'

             
Lady Mary's own hair was hidden beneath an elaborate head that had been dressed for her by Monsieur Fouquet. A celebrated French coiffeurer who attended only the favoured few.

             
'I refuse
absolumente
to dress the heads of ugly women,' he had declared as he fussed over Lady Mary earlier.  '
Me
I can only work with beauty.'

             
Monsieur Fouquet had cast a covetous eye at Arabella, but he had not been allowed to indulge his artistry beyond a few simple curls and a glossy ringlet.

             
'I could do such wonders with her,' he had sighed to Lady Mary, but she remained adamant.

             
'My cousin is a young girl and must appear as such in company,' she insisted.  'I do not wish her to seem too sophisticated at first.' And now she nodded her approval as she saw Arabella dressed for the evening.  'Yes, it is as I thought, you look charming, my dear – and Nan, you are very pretty, too.  That yellow becomes you well.'

             
'I think Nan looks beautiful,' Arabella said loyally as she saw a slight frown on her sister's face.  'Nan had just as many suitors as I at home, ma'am – but she would not marry because Mother wanted to bring us to London together.'

             
'Of course Nan looks well enough,' their cousin said.  'I have said that I am sure we shall achieve something suitable for her.'

             
'Oh, I dare say I shall find someone,' Nan said, pretending not to care that her cousin so obviously considered Arabella's chances to be superior to her own.  'A comfortable home in the country will be all I shall require.'

             
'Oh, I want to live in town,' Arabella said, and then looked impatiently at her cousin.  'May we not leave now, ma'am?'

             
'We are waiting for…' Lady Mary smiled as she heard the doorknocker.  'That must be Sir John now.  I asked him if he would be kind enough to escort us this evening.  Come, my dears, we shall go down and greet him.'

             
As she left the room, Arabella touched her sister's arm.  'It is unfair of Cousin Mary to infer that you are not as attractive as I am, Nan.  I think you are lovely, and that gown looks wonderful on you.'

             
'But she is right,' Nan assured her with a smile.  'I have always known you were the beauty of the family, Arabella – but I do not mind.  I dare say some gentlemen might prefer my quieter manners.'

             
'Oh, indeed they would if they knew us both,' Arabella agreed for she had sensed her sister's hurt and wanted to heal any breach before it became too wide.  'I talk far too much, and I haven't half your good sense.'

             
'Now that
is
the truth,' Nan said and laughed, her good humour restored.  'Come – we should not keep Sir John waiting.  I am anxious to see what our cousin's friend looks like.'

             
Sir John Fortescue was a plump gentleman in his middle years, quite pleasant in looks other than the extra flesh he carried, which Arabella thought unhealthy.  To her he looked as though he might be carried off with a fit of apoplexy at any moment, for his face had a high colour and he wheezed a little as he walked. He also creaked when he got up or sat down, and since she was the one chosen to sit next to him in the coach, she found it a little cramped beside him and feared he might sit on her gown and crease it.

             
However, his manners were impeccable and he took care not to disturb her toilette, smiling at her apologetically as she settled beside him.

             
'I fear my bulk leaves little room for you, Miss Arabella, but I shall be still and your pretty gown shall not suffer, m'dear.'  He smiled at her, his eyes resting for a moment on the décolletage of her gown, which was even more revealing than the one Nan had complained of as immodest.  'May I be forgiven for saying that I think you quite the prettiest little thing I have seen in an age?'