Danse de la Folie (26 page)

“Congratulations,” Lucretia exclaimed, shaking his hand. “I
am ever so delighted for our good friend Miss Harlowe. I wish you very happy,
and I apologize for this uncomfortable situation. I am laughed at everywhere
for being so shy and modest that people forget I am in the room.”

Lord Wilburfolde had no idea how to answer that, and so he
bowed again.

“Pray be seated,” Lucretia said winsomely. “If I may for
this moment appropriate to myself the duties of hostess. Did I hear dear Miss
Harlowe without?”

“Yes,” he responded. “We are just returned from a tour of
the Houses of Parliament.”

“Oh, how very interesting,” Lucretia exclaimed.

“So it might have been, but for Miss Harlowe being taken
with a sudden headache. We had to return after only an hour and eighteen
minutes.” He consulted his pocket watch, then tucked it back into his
waistcoat. “I believe it is these late nights that are to blame,” he said. “I
am concerned. I do not remember her ever racketing about town so much in the
past, when I visited the metropolis. But she is exerting herself beyond her
strength. It must be her effort to entertain her visitor.”

“Catherine?” Lucretia exclaimed, surprised.

“You are acquainted with the lady?” Lord Wilburfolde asked.

“Oh yes indeed. We are neighbors, that is, our estates share
a common border in the country.”

“Please forgive me,” he said. “I do not intend any slight
upon the lady in question, it is merely that I fear Miss Harlowe overtaxes
herself.”

Lucretia made a little business of smoothing her skirt over
her knees, making certain that her flounces revealed no more than an inch of
the toes of her little slippers. She had been meditating a comment about the
prospective walk that she charitably had suggested for Catherine’s enjoyment,
for she did not like to miss an opportunity to imply close acquaintance with
the sister of a marquess. It sounded well in company, and she could also laugh
over the effort it would make for her little feet to keep up with her friend’s
great strides, for it was always important to draw a gentleman’s attention away
from the purely happenstance arrangement of features that was so tritely termed
“beauty.”

Men were such simple creatures! As well, for she knew they
also valued the contrast of frailty and daintiness to their great selves. They
only needed reminding of it.

But here was a new, more interesting prospect. Did this Lord
Wilburfolde disapprove of Catherine’s visit? Lucretia did not believe for one
moment that Mr. Devereaux took the least interest in Catherine Decourcey, when
he had half London at his feet. But it did not suit Lucretia at all to see
Catherine invited everywhere instead of seeking Lucretia’s advice and
patronage. The sooner Catherine went home to St. Tarval, the sooner everything
would go comfortably back to the way it ought to be.

“I am very, very sorry if Catherine’s visit has occasioned
distress for Miss Harlowe. I know she does not
intend
so.” Lucretia kept her voice soft and sweet, and cast down
her eyes in pretty bashfulness, hoping the gentleman would say more.

“It is just that I find them engaged every evening until far
later than the rational being ought to be up, and too many days have been given
over to frivolous concerns, such as shopping, when Miss Harlowe ought to be
resting and husbanding her resources. Then, my mother and I had prepared, with
no thought to the hours spent in doing so, a list of improving activities to
make best use of our time in the metropolis. To this date, however, we have
barely covered five of them, and Miss Harlowe, who I know has little liking for
London, seems determined to remain here at the cost of her health.”

Lucretia did not believe for a moment that Miss Harlowe was
making herself sick while enjoying the Season, but here was a chance to curtail
Catherine’s unconscionably long visit. It would be foolish, even wasteful, to
ignore what so clearly would be the best for everyone.

“Lady Catherine quite understandably wishes to make a
wealthy marriage,” Lucretia whispered. “It is not doing my duty by my sex if I
were to cast aspersions on so proper an ambition. However, it seems a shame
that someone as young as Miss Harlowe is called upon to serve in such a
capacity. She is so kind and generous to overtax herself in this way, but it
makes me hope that she will be able to rest once the visit of our mutual friend
comes to a close.”

“I find we are in complete agreement,” Lord Wilburfolde
said, eyeing the young lady complacently. This Miss Bouldeston was sympathetic
as well as modest.

They were both thus very pleased with themselves, and their
company, when Kitty rejoined them in her walking dress, bonnet and gloves in
hand.

“There you are, Catherine,” Lucretia greeted her in her
sweetest tones. “I must say, you look prettier every time I see you. Good day,
Lord Wilburfolde. I am delighted that we have met.”

“As am I,” he said, bowing the ladies out of the room.

Once they reached the street, Lucretia decided to capitalize
on the success of the day. “I intended to simply enjoy the walk, but I would be
failing my duty as a friend, not to mention perhaps one day a
closer
connection, if I did not venture
to give you a little hint, Catherine,” she said.

“Have I done something wrong?” Kitty asked, cold pouring
through her nerves. This was too much like Tunbridge Wells all over again. “Miss
Harlowe promised to let me know if I transgress against the rules of society.”

“Miss Harlowe is very kind. One might say that she is kind
almost to a fault, and of course the betrothed lady can be forgiven for having
other cares to think about besides a guest who is not conversant, or as the
French say,
au fait
with society. You
must remember that I have been coming to London for four years, giving me
experience with the niceties of etiquette. You might not remember why I am
quite known everywhere for dressing in rose—”

Kitty suppressed an inward sigh, having heard this anecdote
repeatedly.

“—but my very first year in London, when I was introduced to
Mr. Brummel, he made a little observance about how someone as young and dainty
as I should not wear white, as she might vanish altogether, and when he
suggested a brighter shade, such as rose...”

Without any context, Kitty had accepted the anecdote at face
value. Now, having heard Mr. Brummel’s
mots
repeated—and overhearing from the distance of the next line over on Almack’s
ballroom floor the gentleman’s tone of irony—she wondered if Lucretia had taken
for admiration what had been intended as satirical.

Lucretia was enjoying this moment exceedingly—
this
was the treat that she had intended
to give Catherine by inviting her before the season began. Town bronze was the
idiom used by the
haut monde
. Now to
give Catherine a reason to call her visit short.

“For example, someone not acquainted with you, and not as
well-intentioned, might be forgiven for assuming when you so precipitously
introduced yourself into a private conversation between Lady Chadwick and Mr.
Devereaux, that you were attempting to introduce yourself to the gentleman’s
notice.
Nothing
could be so fatal to
your chances of attaching someone eligible than to gain a reputation for being
forward.”

Kitty looked at the ground to hide her hot face. So it
had
looked bad, then. No wonder Mr.
Devereaux had taken himself off in such haste. “I must thank you for the hint,
Lucretia,” she said in a suffocated voice.

Lucretia reached out to touch Kitty’s wrist with two fingers
in a nicely judged gesture of sympathy. “There now. I
dreaded
saying anything, for you must know that anything unpleasant
is foreign to my nature. We shall say no more about it. Pray, how is your dear
brother? You must miss him quite as dreadfully as I do. When is he expecting to
see you home? I know how happy that will make him. You will be able to tell him
about Lady Taviscott’s ball tonight, for of course you must be invited.
Everyone of any importance will be there, and I know the Chadwicks are of the
first consideration, which requires people to invite you as well... “

o0o

Clarissa lay upon her bed, pressing her fingertips over her
eyes, which were resolutely closed.

If only she could find the words to circumvent Lord
Wilburfolde’s well-meant attempts to guide her life into the direction laid out
by his mother! He seemed incapable of understanding that Clarissa was not of a
sickly nature, and she could never tell him that he was the cause of her
headaches. Or, to be strictly honest, he contributed to the cause.

She knew her own shortcomings were to blame. If only he did
not bring out the worst in her nature! Every mention of that wretched letter of
his mother’s strengthened her determination not to answer it, for she knew what
her reward would be: more of the same. But she did not have the courage to tell
him that. Again, a shortcoming.

She finally fell asleep, and woke much refreshed, to the
news that Lord Wilburfolde had finally gone. Amelia bounced in to ask what she
was wearing to Lady Taviscott’s ball — she did not want to make them the jest
of the room by appearing in exactly the same color.

Clarissa bethought herself that no one would notice one gown
from another, but Amelia was that age when dress is all-conquering. “Which of
your gowns did you favor?”

“The India muslin with the cameos at each shoulder,” Amelia
replied promptly. “And Lady Kitty is going to wear the white with the gold
underskirt, which Mama and I are agreed goes capitally with her black hair.”

“Then I will wear my sea-green gauze,” Clarissa said. “Nothing
could be simpler.”

Her mood improved with the recollection that her betrothed
had accepted an invitation from a cousin to hear a lecture on temperance. With
a mild expectation of enjoyment, she climbed into the coach with the others.

Lady Taviscott had apparently invited the entire town. Her
enormous ballroom was filled with people when the Chadwick party arrived.

Clarissa was surprised to see her cousin arriving just ahead
of them. She did not remember seeing Cousin Philip at so many balls. Once she’d
made her curtsey to their hostess, Clarissa started in his direction to greet
him, but halted when she observed Miss Bouldeston crossing the room to
intercept him, Sophia Fordham at her elbow. The two determinedly engaged the gentleman
in conversation, preventing his moving into the ballroom. Clarissa stayed with
her family as they slowly navigated the press of new arrivals proceeding with
excruciating slowness through the second door.

Lord Chadwick promptly departed for the card room, and James
was lost in the crowd; Lady Chadwick sighed, and began to look about her for somewhere
to sit.

Cousin Philip stepped up to make his bow to Lady Chadwick
and offer to conduct her to a chair. She agreed with obvious thanks, and he
turned to pay his respects to the rest of the family, as Amelia gazed around in
search of someone she knew.

Clarissa was surprised to see Kitty behaving with stiff
rectitude, but then her cousin, Amelia, Kitty, and everything else including
her wits flew out of her head when she looked across the ballroom at the new
arrival framed in the doorway.

Tall, elegantly attired from his black hair to his new
dancing shoes, was Carlisle Decourcey, the Marquess of St. Tarval.

“Did you like my surprise?” James turned to his family to
perform the introductions.

Clarissa was too stunned to speak. The world had begun to
sparkle oddly.

A quiet voice came through it all, “Are you quite well, Miss
Harlowe?”

It was
he
—Kitty’s
brother. She couldn’t seem to find her knees to curtsey, or the words to utter
a polite greeting. But he didn’t seem to expect an answer as he guided her to
the nearest chair.

She roused herself enough to say, “I will be well, a moment
only. It is just the heat in here.”

He did not pester her with questions, each prefaced by a
my mother says
. She knew it was
unfair—that Lord Wilburfolde meant the best—yet the contrast could not have
been more devastating, and her eyes stung.

But no one was watching, or bothering her. The gentleman had
turned obligingly away, permitting her to recover her poise.

Meanwhile, Kitty was exclaiming happily, “Ned! You, too?
What a wonderful surprise! How does this come about?”

“It was all my doing,” James said modestly, and at a cough,
he said hastily, “Well, actually, Arden, here, played a small hand in the
affair.” He tipped his chin as Lord Arden edged past a stout gentleman, who was
attempting to speak across James to the people in the adjacent chairs.

James said jokingly, “I should make you all known to one
another, if you promise not to challenge one another to a duel, at least not
here, for I promised Lady Taviscott that there would be no pistols drawn on her
ballroom floor.”

“I will introduce myself, rattle.” Lord Arden bowed, and
said to Kitty, “A few days ago, we chanced to be in Grosvenor Street when your
brothers were just going into your family’s house. We knew it had been shut up
these several years, so you can imagine our curiosity when a pair in overcoats
shouldered the door open.”

“I laid a wager it was thieves,” James admitted. “But how
were we to know?”

“So we walked over and introduced ourselves,” Lord Arden
went on.

St. Tarval turned to Kitty. “Though Arden will probably get
a peal rung over him by the rest of the family, he told us how to go about
getting the house opened up again.”

“We even unearthed the old porter,” James added. “And he
brought his wife to turn the place out. Lord, the dust! Then I remembered this
party, and thought it might be a capital joke to bring you here as a surprise.
There
you get no credit, Arden, for I
braved the lioness’s den myself in order to procure them an invitation.” He
finished in triumph.