Constant Heart (15 page)

And I had started it.

The women circled around Lady de Winter, and from her place at their center she would direct her comments to me. The others would listen when I answered, but still few cared to converse. I had followed Lady de Winter’s advice. I had heeded her suggestion. My face was the palest in the Presence Chamber. But still there was needed something more. And apparently she knew it too, for soon we received an invitation to sup at My Lord and Lady de Winter’s. Perhaps it would be this, then, that would finally cause the court to accept me.

15

I
took great care in choosing what to wear. I wanted a gown that would glow and sparkle by candlelight. Nothing too dark. Nothing too dull. I decided upon silver tissue, knowing that the threads would give back the light. For my sleeves, silver tissue embroidered with gold. For jewels, I forsook diamonds, rubies, and emeralds, knowing they would not cast the smallest gleam. I wanted the glow of pearls. The sempstress spent hours attaching them to sleeves and gown and fixing a length of silver tinsel around the hem of my skirt.

Lord de Winter had a French cook and so we feasted first on a stewed broth. Then, a boiled pig, a capon and bacon, a roast of beef and all of its sauces. And next, a roasted lamb and baked venison with a tart. Several pasties, another tart, and a gingerbread packed in gold leaf completed the meal.

When supper was over, instead of separating, male and female, we all retired to a smaller room. We seated ourselves in chairs that formed a circle in the middle of the chamber, first a man and then a woman, every person seated next to his own spouse.

Lady de Winter announced the evening’s entertainments to be a round of clever questions. Each person was to propose one, and she would choose the most amusing. But before she could say anything further, Lord de Winter stood, red of face, in all his corpulence, and bowed toward her. “Might I propose that by virtue of their sex, the ladies be first among us to offer their diversions?”

“Certainly, you may. Well said!”

Lord de Winter regained his seat as his lady wife’s eyes settled on the woman to her right. “My dear?”

The woman rose before she spoke. “Seeing that the flower is chief among plants and that each one casts its own charming spell, I would know which flower and which attributes of that flower each one would assign to their beloved.”

A viscount seated across the circle from her stood and bowed. “A good question, but shall we not all be punished if we do not assign some variety of rose, the queen of flowers, each one of us to his beloved? I fear your neat question might become a neater trap.”

Lady de Winter frowned. “I did not guess you to be wearing women’s weeds this eve, Lord Pinnock. ’Tis the ladies who will do the proposing.”

Admonished, but not appearing unduly upset, the viscount took to his seat.

“And you, Lady Pinnock? Since your lord speaks so plainly?”

“A question of vanities, My Lady de Winter. And upon which object or trait the vanity of each one is fixed. Confession being good for the soul, the question is therefore one of self-improvement.”

“Here, here.” Beside me, a gentleman rose and bowed. “I pronounce myself to be most vain of my lady wife.”

The woman beside him simpered and then stood and curtsied.

“And me, of my lord’s praise.”

“How delightful,” Lady de Winter said, looking not very pleased. “I can see we will find no great self-improvement here.

Lady Blodwell?”

“I would know which virtue is best loved in each one’s beloved.

And then, in each case, which vice is most tolerable.”

“A very clever question indeed. Lady Lytham?”

It seemed to me that the talk tended toward flattery when what was wanted was a discussion of real merit. “I would learn my lordships’ thoughts on Her Majesty’s peace for the Polonians and the Moldavians and how it has impacted trade.”

The air among us immediately dulled and seemed to lose its sparkle as if I had suggested some new plan to drain the fens. Beside me, my lord the earl shifted and crossed his legs in a direction away from me.

Lady de Winter’s lips pressed into a scowl for the briefest instant before she appeared to rally herself and smiled. “For this evening I most like Lady Blodwell’s question on virtues and vices. And do be warned: vain flattery will only lead us to Lady Pinnock’s question on vanity.”

Lord de Winter cleared his throat and came to his feet once more.

“Might I suggest that since the ladies have taxed themselves in creating this evening’s amusements, that the men give their replies first?”

“This seems good to me but with one alteration: the man will reply first and then his lady.” Lady de Winter extended a hand toward her husband. “My lord?”

“Of all virtues, I find myself most taken with cleverness. For it makes up for any lack in other attributes and serves us more the older we become. Of all vices, I find faintness of heart to be most tolerable, for it is the attribute most marked in women.”

The supper’s wine had created a pleasant warmth in my belly and a numbing buzz within my head. A game of questions. How delightful. The evening’s diversions brought back memories from previous years. Memories of other evenings spent here in this very room. Evenings in which Elinor had flirted shamelessly with some of this night’s same guests.

I tried to shake those buzzing thoughts from my head, tried to fix my ears on the words of those around me.

It was Lord Pinnock’s turn to answer the question. “In my opinion, unaffected beauty is a virtue all love when discovered. And prevarication the most tolerable of vices. We only prevaricate when we do not wish to hurt those we love.”

He should know. I am certain he lied to his wife quite regularly as he sought solace from her unsightly visage in the arms of his mistress, Lady Blodwell.

I chanced a glance in that lady’s direction. Her paint could not divulge a blush, even if candlelight would reveal it, but her eyes were fastened on the form of Lady Pinnock. That lady, however, was as unaware as a mouse in a falcon’s sights.

I stifled a belch.

Lady Pinnock dissimulated so well that she failed to answer the question entirely. On to Lord Blodwell.

He fixed his eyes upon me as he spoke. “The virtue I find most pleasing in she I love is a generous spirit.”

He could not be talking about his wife, for she was known to be not only parsimonious, but also a scandalmonger. I had not known him to have formed an alliance elsewhere, but he must have.

I would have to find out with whom. I shifted in the chair. Hid a yawn behind a hand.

“As far as vice, I would have to say once more . . . a generous spirit.”

As the rest of the room laughed, Lady Blodwell frowned. And once the words had made sense of themselves, the message became very clear. At least to me.

Elinor’s generosity had been widely praised, in circles other than mine. And if her vice had wounded me, quite clearly it had benefited him.

The varlet!

The question had proceeded around the circle at a dignified rate, each one giving an answer and explaining, in increasing length, how they had arrived at it. And then, the question came to my lord.

He rose. “As for virtue, I must state my preference for a constant heart. And as for vice, beauty.” He bowed and began to regain his seat.

But several men took to their feet at his reply. “Beauty? But surely, Lytham, all men would consider beauty a virtue!”

The earl stood and bowed in their direction. “Show me a beautiful woman with a constant heart and I will consider altering my opinion. As I see it, a beautiful woman at least gives one’s eyes a pleasant face on which to fix as she plunges a dagger into your back.”

My cheeks flamed as if they had been slapped. And in the guttering candlelight, I saw glances shifting toward me and then, quickly, away from me. I had been ignored by the earl, overlooked, and dismissed, but never before had I actually been insulted.

It was my turn to speak and I knew not what to say.

But the affront prodded my thoughts and the slight gave voice to my grievances. If he was trying to send me some sort of message, then I would send him one too. I could not keep myself from looking at the earl as I spoke. “I might have also chosen constancy as my virtue, but I discover my thoughts to have shifted. As a virtue, I much prefer flattery, for even when it speaks dishonestly, for the most part it speaks gallantly. And as a vice, I shall say honesty. Though it may pronounce worthy judgment, it has a blade which cuts deep. Though in time the wound may heal, I believe a scar will always remain.”

Though I took to my seat immediately after I had spoken, it took some time for me to realize the girl was speaking. And then it took longer still to comprehend her words. And it was then I knew complete humiliation. For in seeking to keep Elinor’s transgressions from haunting me, in seeking to answer Blodwell’s taunt, I had succeeded only in wounding the one who sat beside me. Without prevarication. Without cause. Truly, I was the worst of clotpoles.

Lady de Winter clapped her hands and gestured to a servant. He answered by bringing round a box and urging us each to take from it a sheet.

“It is a new part-song that I would have sung. Here! Come away from your chairs and stand together as Lord de Winter plays the lute.”

In the ensuing disorder that arose in arranging ourselves for a song, I found myself standing at the edge of the group, far from my lord, who was on the other side. I hoped to have left the episode behind me, but I did not. In between the words of the song, I heard words spoken in gossip.

“Do you think he meant
her
?”

“Who else could he have meant?”

“Well . . . then he is less a gentleman than I had thought. To have aired such views . . . and to do it in her hearing . . . !”

I lifted my head and voice in song even as I told myself that the only person the earl had dishonored that evening was himself.

As we took our leave that evening, Lady de Winter pulled me off to one side. “You are hopeless, girl! No one wants to talk of treaties.

Things less taxing are what is needed in polite company . . . though I have to say you answered Lytham’s insult admirably. And that will do you more good than you know. Now . . .” She crooked a finger toward a servant, who bowed and then offered her a book. She took it and placed it in my hands. “Read this before you speak to me again.