Danse de la Folie (21 page)

As Kitty had nothing to say about persons not known to her,
Lucretia went on, “It was certainly in compliment to Lady Chadwick, but you may
mention that he danced with you, and watch the green eyes at Almack’s. I have
told you that he is a great catch, though he is known to regard our poor sex
with scorn, in the generality. Here we are.”

Kitty was relieved to discover the discreet windows of the
shop before them, with lampoons posted in the front window. A small crowd had
gathered around one of Gilroy’s latest; from the coarse laughter and commentary
of the onlookers, it was something vulgar about the wife of Napoleon Bonaparte.

Kitty walked inside, and here her emotions underwent a vast
change. So many books! So many imaginations and voices! Perchance her own might
be added to those shelves, handsomely bound and with gilt lettering. As she
examined the newest publications laid out on a table, she wondered if any were
written by a young lady waiting at home in hopes of earning a fortune to rescue
her family.

Clarissa’s voice recalled her attention. She knew several of
the people already in the shop. Kitty had met Miss Pennington at Amelia’s ball,
and so there was a gathering, and mutual compliments offered.

When the fashionably dressed Miss Pennington finished
praising Kitty’s and Amelia’s gowns, Lucretia said, “But you have not finished
telling us how you enjoyed your
very
first
ball, Catherine.”

Her voice seemed curiously penetrating. It certainly caused
a silence. Kitty said, “It was very fine,” and then, belatedly, “Are you
acquainted with Miss Pennington, Lucretia? May I make you known to one another?”

Lucretia touched her fingertips to her lips. “My dear, you
forget that
I
am not newly arrived
from the country. But of course you mean well by us, so I will pretend that
Miss Pennington and I were not introduced at Lady Sefton’s ball last year. How
do you do, Miss Pennington?”

Miss Pennington bowed, and said, “I believe we have met, and
apologize for not remembering.”

Lucretia bridled. “Oh, you are forgiven. It is the curse of
those of us so modest and shy, never to be noticed. You have no idea how lucky
you are, Catherine! Come Lucasta, let us not be dawdling in front of the books
forever, it is quite unfair to the others here.”

Lucretia drew her protesting sister aside: Lucasta wanted to
look at a book she had been dying to read, if only Lucretia wouldn’t maul her
about. Whispering fiercely, the sisters walked down an aisle, leaving Kitty looking
in worry at Miss Pennington’s pursed mouth and stiff posture, wondering how
she’d managed to step wrong.

But hard on that thought Miss Pennington smiled, saying in a
friendly tone, “Pray give Miss Amelia my regards, Lady Catherine, and tell her
that my sister is quite counting upon her company at her own come-out three
days hence...”

And so several days sped by, each with its walks, rides, and
parties. Twice Lady Chadwick entertained. Once she invited the Bouldestons, and
the favor was returned. Kitty found herself involved in a constant round of
select concerts, soirees, dinners, and impromptu dances as well as balls. She
began to notice that though occasionally she saw Lucretia at the larger
parties, the Bouldestons rarely seemed to count among the guests at the smaller
affairs.

Rain set in. On the fourth morning after three very wet days,
the young ladies were longing to get out. Kitty had been invited by Miss Melissa
Atherton, sister of Lord Badgerwood, to join a party of friends bent on hunting
for bargains at the Pantheon Bazaar.

Clarissa had long known Melissa, whose house lay directly
across the street. It was not the sort of outing she sought, but she had been
gratified by the way Kitty turned to her with hope widening her expressive eyes,
clearly wanting her to accept the invitation as well. But Clarissa had been
engaged to visit the British Museum with her betrothed.

Clarissa would have preferred the relative space and air of
the park, but was not going to get it while in his company, for Lord
Wilburfolde was convinced by his mother that the source of all illness lurked
outdoors. Clarissa longed to lose herself in the verdure just coming into
bloom.

She had agreed Lord Wilburfolde’s proposed outing in a
spirit of anger, of self-punishment, partly for not having yet answered that officious
letter of his mother’s, but also for permitting her mind to stray to Kitty’s
brother after Kitty received letters from home. Speculation, she had discovered
too late, hurts just as much as hope.

The hurt was still there, but the anger had cooled, leaving
her aware that no one had put her into this position but herself. By night she
worried at mad schemes—throwing him over, weathering the storm of comment and
shame—by day she would brace herself, thinking,
I cannot expose my family to the inevitable talk. Surely marriage will
not be so very terrible. The Wilburfoldes are a respected family in our parish
...
But an hour in his company never failed to give her a headache, because every
word he spoke, every action, was a reminder of what life with Lady Wilburfolde would
be like.

A good woman would liberate him from his mother’s control, a
strong woman. Clarissa knew herself to be neither, but even if she had been,
should one liberate someone who gives every appearance of contentment within
his cage?

At the end of a long day, the young ladies met again in the
front parlor. Kitty was sharing her finds with Amelia and Eliza.

Clarissa, taking off her bonnet, said, “Did you find
anything of interest?”

“Only some fresh ribbons, some new feathers, and these pearl
rosettes that look quite real, don’t you think? I thought I might put them on
my old traveling bonnet, which I cannot bear to part with, but which I know
looks sadly shabby. I was very careful with my purchases, which is boring, I
know. The fun came in watching Miss Atherton, who bought all manner of things.”

“Melissa will buy anything if she is convinced it is a
bargain,” Clarissa said, pressing her fingertips to her temples. “I expect most
of her purchases will be judged hideous once she got them home, and will be
given straight to the maids.”

Kitty laughed. “I hope they might find a use for strings of
red beads, and Egyptian scarabs.” Her manner altered to polite concern. “Did
you find the Museum interesting?”

Clarissa dropped her hands, lest her headache be noticed,
exclaimed upon, and unwanted nostrums offered. She knew the cause.

So what to say? She had found it interesting, or would have,
had not Edmund considered it necessary to read aloud to her the cards labeling
each exhibit, as if she could not read them herself, after which he would
inform her what his mother would expect her to think. Lady Wilburfolde had
opinions on everything, quite remarkable for a woman who kept to her room most
days, never opening a window. The sights had reawakened the desire to board a
ship for distant vistas, but all Clarissa said was, “Very instructive.”

The next morning, accompanied by Amelia, they went out for a
ride, Kitty taking Lady Chadwick’s well-mannered hack. The ground was still too
muddy for walking, but everywhere they encountered other riders, and a variety
of carriages. Everyone in town had been taken by the same wish for the fresh
air—or for the sight of others in want of air.

When they reached the park, Clarissa experienced a strong
impulse to gallop. She knew it for a wish to escape to the countryside. As it
was, they scarcely went ten feet before encountering acquaintances who all
seemed to have something to say to Kitty, Amelia, or both.

From the opposite direction came a dashing curricle drawn by
a magnificent pair of matched bays. Clarissa recognized the equipage—and there
was Cousin Philip driving, with the elegant young Colonel Lord Petersham riding
beside him.

Kitty had begun by noticing the fine horses, then the
phaeton. Her attention was drawn to the driver who handled the high-bred horses
with such apparent ease, and she experienced a rush of interest, a flurry of
heartbeats when she recognized Mr. Devereaux’s broad-shouldered silhouette in the
many-caped driving coat.

Looked at from the safety of a distance, he really was as
handsome as everyone said. She could not look away, she had to take in every
detail of the beaver worn at the correct angle on his dark hair, the way it
somehow emphasized the strength of the bones in his face, the smooth gloves so
assured on the reins, and the hint of a flawlessly fitted riding coat within
the greatcoat when he lifted his arm to check a start from the leader. When her
gaze lifted again, it was to encounter his own, and she quickly looked down at
her own hand on the reins, embarrassed at the hot tide of color she could not
prevent flooding her face.

She hoped her bonnet hid it. He was handsome, that was true,
but her foremost emotion now was a sharp bond of sympathy with all the females
said to be languishing over him.

She did
not
wish
to be one of them.

Amelia, however, was more forthright. Not that she desired
to marry Mr. Devereaux. He was too intimidating for that, besides being nearly
ten years older than she was—an eternity—but she knew how important he was in
the social world, and so she beckoned to him imperiously with her whip. She
knew he would not snub her, being family; her objective was to not only to be
seen talking to him, but to secure an introduction to Lord Petersham, who was
rarely known to show interest in debutantes.

The curricle was obligingly pulled up, the introductions
made. Amelia then exerted every nerve to keep the gentleman in conversation.

While that was going on, Mr. Devereaux asked after the
family, and when Clarissa had given a slight, polite reply, he said, “I trust
you still find amusement in town, Lady Catherine?”

Kitty glanced at Amelia, who was just now affecting
fashionable ennui, which accorded oddly with her flushed face and triumphant
glances. She hid the impulse to laugh, and said, “I do indeed, sir.”

“... and tomorrow we are to make our debut at Almack’s,”
Amelia was saying with a languishing sigh. “Everyone says it is the greatest
bore.”

“Then you are greatly to be pitied,” Lord Petersham murmured
so dulcetly that Amelia was not aware of satire. Besides, she had caught sight
of that odious Lucasta Bouldeston, whom she already detested, and so she went
on to illustrate just how bored she expected to be.

When she paused for breath, Mr. Devereaux said, “You will be
making your debut there as well, Lady Catherine?”

“Yes,” Kitty said.

“I trust you will not find it too boring.”

“How could anyone find dancing—” Kitty began, then
remembered that Lucretia had called Almack’s
The Marriage Mart
. What bachelor who has been pursued for years
would want to go there if he did not deem it his duty?

Kitty broke off in confusion and Amelia, who had been
impatiently waiting to take over the conversation again, began a castigation of
the poor refreshments to be expected at Almack’s, ending with what she hoped
was the assurance of town-bronze, “Oh, Lady Kitty,
he
is never seen there.”

Mr. Devereaux bowed to Amelia. “I am only there when I may
be assured a dance with three charming young ladies.”

Kitty merely nodded, accepting the words as polite nothings,
but Amelia was more forthright. “Then you may be certain I shall save a dance
for you, sir.”

The horses were restive; the gentlemen excused themselves
with polite tips of their hats, and the two parties separated.

“Mama must have prevailed upon him,” Amelia said
triumphantly. “Capital! If he does appear and dance with us, then it will make
Lucasta look no-how—” She caught a look of embarrassment in Clarissa’s face
before she glanced away, and recollected herself. “Well. I apologize, Lady
Kitty, for I know she is a friend of yours. If she would not say such
horrid
things—no, Clarissa, I will be
silent.”

o0o

“Oh, my dear Clarissa,” Mrs. Latchmore said as their coach
jostled in the long line toward the plain Palladian-style front of Almack’s. “It
is a pity our dear Lord Wilburfolde was claimed by relations this very night.
You are so good to be dedicating yourself to your sister and guest when you
must wish to be at his side.”

Clarissa was puzzled to know how to answer that, and the
other two were looking at their hands as if their futures lay written on their
gloves. She was saved by another jolt, and the rattle of the door.

“You could alight here,” Thomas the footman declared. “The
flagway is swept.”

Before Mrs. Latchmore could protest about their gowns,
Clarissa said, “We are capable of walking another ten feet. It is a fine night.”

Amelia was as eager as Kitty to see the inside of the famous
assembly at last, and was far more forthright about being first to walk inside,
once they had left their wraps. She raised her fan and plied it nervously as
she scanned the knots of early arrivals for anyone she might know.

Kitty looked around more slowly, and when Clarissa
whispered, “Are you impressed?” Kitty glanced into her face, detected the hint
of satire, and smothered a smile behind her hand.

“I thought it would be grander,” she admitted.

“It is not termed the Marriage Mart for the excellence of
the architecture,” Clarissa observed dryly as Mrs. Latchmore fussed and fretted
about the best place to sit.

Kitty’s scrutiny shifted to the crowd, which seemed so far
to comprise young ladies in light-colored gowns, dotted here and there by a
blue coat.

‘The Marriage Mart.’ It was a vulgar notion, but not inapt because
of the quick, darted looks, the sudden smiles and trilling laughs, voices in
sharp tones, or languishing, raised slightly to catch and hold the attention.
Kitty could not prevent her mind from offering the comparison of peaches and
apples and pears on display for sale. She knew that such a thought was as
vulgar as the appellation, and further, here she was adding to their number,
her own gaze having swept the room in expectation of partners.