Evelyn Richardson (8 page)

Frances answered as best she could, filling in the two years since her father's death. The appearance of Kitty followed by a heavily laden footman recalled her to her surroundings. Presenting Kitty, she bid the comte adieu, begging him to call on them in Brook Street at his earliest convenience. She wondered if he would be at Lady Richardson's ball, and hoped that she would have another friendly face and intelligent conversation to look forward to.

Frances did not like to ask, but the irrepressible Kitty suffered no such qualms. Extending a small white hand and dimpling up at him with her most enchanting smile, she inquired, “Do you go to Lady Richardson's tonight? I am looking forward to it ever so much, as it's to be my first one.'' The comte assured both of them that he would not miss it for the world, and begged a dance from each of them.

“If your card becomes crowded. Mademoiselle Kitty, naturellement you will cross out my name and leave me to the dowagers, but if you become weary of inarticulate adoration, overblown compliments, or infatuated young bucks, I am at your service.” His eyes twinkled. “Now, let me escort you to your carriage.”

As Lady Frances mounted the steps back at Brook Street, she met Bertie Montgomery on the steps, exquisitely attired in a plum-colored coat, jonquil waistcoat, and fawn pantaloons, bearing a delicately shaded nosegay. “Bertie, how lovely to see you!” She smiled, realizing for the second time that day that she knew more people in London than she had imagined.

“Hallo, Fanny,” he replied, presenting his offering. Her surprise and delight were ample reward for a harrowing afternoon. Bertie had spent the better part of his day trying to deduce what color gown Frances was likely to wear to the ball that evening. Fortunately, he was on excellent terms with Lady Streatham, he hastened to call at Bruton Street, where she was most happy to furnish him with the name of the modiste whose creation was to grace Lady Frances at Lady Richardson's that night. An even quicker visit to Bond Street established the color of her gown and allowed him to select an exquisite combination designed to enhance without overpowering her toilette.

It was more regard for an old playmate than obedience to Mainwaring's wishes that had then sent him posthaste to Brook Street to present it and enroll himself among her partners for the ball. Bertie had no idea how or why Lord Mainwaring had arrived at the conclusion that Lady Frances Cresswell was a prude, but he was determined that such a misguided opinion should not be allowed to take hold in his friend's head, much less spread elsewhere. In fact, by helping both Frances and Mainwaring, he was giving himself the pleasure of dancing with a partner whose grace could be counted on to put his own considerable skill in the best light. Moreover, he could rely on her not to flirt with him or try to interest him in some pudding-faced daughter. It was an admirable situation. He could enjoy himself while indulging in the luxury of feeling exceedingly virtuous.        '

As Bertie sauntered off down Brook Street, having presented his posy and made his request. Lady Frances realized that she was well and truly committed to this ball. Even before crossing the threshold, she had no fewer man three partners. With the exception of Lord Mainwaring, they were all calculated to inspire confidence in even the most anxious of females. It came as a slight shock to discover that she was actually looking forward to the evening.

Chapter Nine

An elegant dinner at Lord and Lady Streatham's was a prelude to the ball. Arriving slightly later than she had planned after gratifying Cassie's and Freddie's request to see her in her finery. Lady Frances found the others already assembled. In addition to the family there were a few close friends of the Streathams', but she was acquainted with most of the company. Lady Streatham had tactfully placed Frances next to her husband, knowing that two such serious landlords could find much to discuss concerning the problems and particularities of their respective estates. Though Lord Streatham did not particularly enjoy London society, preferring the more relaxed atmosphere of country entertaining, he was a genial host and excellent conversationalist who welcomed the opportunity to discuss something other than the latest scandal of Byron's or the fashion in bonnets. Sensing a kindred spirit. Lady Frances relaxed and allowed herself to be drawn into a completely unfashionable discussion of the proposed Corn Laws and their undoubted disastrous effects on the farmers. It was thus that Lord Mainwaring, glancing around the table, had leisure to study Frances when she was most at her ease. Bertie Montgomery's revelations concerning her had surprised him and sparked his interest—not that he found her in the least attractive, but he prided himself on his ability to assess people accurately at his first meeting, and it piqued him not a little to be told he was wrong. Grudgingly he admitted to himself that her animated face and graceful gestures were not those of a prude, nor was her attire. The dove-gray silk, ornamented only by a flounce at the hem, was a perfect foil for the magnificent baroque pearls that had been the pride of Cresswell women for generations. Her hair, though simply done, shone a rich gold, which, coupled with her honey coloring and dark brows, made her appear less insipid than most blonds of the pink-and-white variety. The pearls and the silk gave a luster to her skin and made her eyes under their thick dark lashes more intensely hazel. The tasteful simplicity of her costume gave her an air of quiet elegance which, if not at the height of fashion, was not that of a prude.

However, snatches of her conversation confirmed his opinion of her as a bluestocking. He smiled with inward satisfaction as he caught the latest, “. . . the poor harvest I expect this year will drive up the price of corn and make the lot of the small farmer more difficult unless something is done to stop the Corn Laws, which make it impossible to buy cheap foreign corn, or eliminate the burden of taxes . . .”

His dislike of blue women did not stop him from voicing his total disagreement. “And how do you propose, ma'am, to finance the debt which we have incurred during this costly campaign against France, if you eliminate the tax? Besides, the Corn Laws were proposed to help your poor farmer.”

Startled by the entrance of another party into her tête-à-tête, and stung by the condescension in Lord Mainwaring's tone, Frances raised an eyebrow and responded coolly, “I am referring to the small farmer, sir. Of course I'm not such a nodcock as to think we can completely do away with taxation. I meant merely that it must be redistributed to release the poor farmer who is suffering from the added burden of expensive grain. You don't seriously consider that it is the small farmer, who must devote much of his land to pasturage, that benefits from these Corn Laws, do you?”

Thus challenged, Mainwaring forgot that he would be wasting his well-considered arguments on a there slip of a girl and replied with some heat, “No, but I am more concerned with our fledgling industries—our gunmakers and steelworkers. Your farmers still have-a market for their produce, but what will the gunsmith or foundry worker do with the decline in his market? Or would you tax him instead of the farmer?”

“Of course not!” Frances could not keep her annoyance at being viewed as a naive girl out of her voice. “But I would rearrange taxation so that those who can pay it are taxed. The American colonies spoke out against such an arbitrary and ill-conceived system, and so ought we.”

“So we have a Jacobin in our midst!” he taunted.

“No, sir, you do not. I am not against a system of taxation. I merely ask for one that has been well-thought-out, not one that has been rushed through Parliament in response to the interests of a small group of people. But I do admire the Americans for one thing, and that is their originality in devising an entirely new political system based on soundly reasoned principles. It takes creativity and great courage to do so. However much we, and perhaps they too, may regret the separation between us, one must give them credit for it.”

At this point Lord Streatham deemed it prudent to intervene. “Come now, both of you give over. You both talk a good deal of sense, but this is not the place to do so. You must empty your heads so that you can mind your steps later in the ballroom and render your conversation light enough to allay the suspicions of even the most fashionable members of the ton. It wouldn't do to think at a ball, you know,” he added, shaking his head and quizzing them both. “I can see, Frances, that you must dance first with me so that I can get you off your high horse and to the weather, Kitty's chances of success this Season, or something equally likely to make you sound benignly insipid.” Frances laughed, and recognizing the justice of his remark, accepted his offer with pleasure.

Lady Richardson's ball had already been dubbed a “dreadful squeeze” by the time Kitty, Frances, and the Streathams ascended the wide marble staircase to the brightly lighted ballroom above. For an instant Frances felt a knot in the pit of her stomach as the music, elegant dresses, sparkling jewels, and hundreds of chandeliers brought back memories of another Season, but this vanished as Lord Streatham, who, guessing her disquiet, patted her arm as he took her and his wife into the throng. Not allowing her to chance to do more than glance at the beautifully dressed women, masses of candles, and banks of flowers, he swept her onto the floor into a set that was just forming. Though neither he nor Frances was enamored of the social scene, Lord Streatham and she were both graceful enough that they enjoyed the exercise of dancing, and Frances, who loved music as well, soon forget herself completely as she gave herself up to the pleasure of executing the steps in time to it. Thus she appeared at her best—graceful and unself-conscious— to those dowagers and dandies who were scrutinizing every face new to the London scene. Not being a “diamond of the first water,'' nor decked out in the first stare of fashion, she did not attract a great deal of attention, but that which she did attract was approving.

Frances hardly had a moment to look around for Kitty before Bertie Montgomery came to claim his dance. Having ascertained from Lady Streatham that Frances waltzed, and having assured himself from her performance that she would do him credit as a partner, he resolved to demonstrate to anyone interested in observing that Lady Frances Cresswell showed to advantage in the ballroom. While he guided her expertly around it, he kept up a running commentary on the famous and infamous members of the ton to be seen there that evening. Did she see the elegant gentleman in the corner haughtily surveying the scene through a gold quizzing glass? That was Lord Petersham, tea connoisseur of the most exquisite sensibility and possessor of a different snuffbox for every day of the year. Mr. “Poodle”' Byng, minus his omnipresent canine companion, thank heaven, was to be seen in the alcove chatting with Lord Alvanley. Now, Alvanley had his own peculiarity, being so fond of cold apricot tarts that he ordered a fresh one prepared daily and set on his side table so that he could indulge his fancy whenever it came upon him.

Frances had heard outrageous tales of extravagance, but, from her rational perspective, had put them down to the natural wish on the part of the local gentry to depict London as the scene of every absurdity and folly. Truly, it seemed they were not far wrong. The amusement in her eyes deepened as every whirl of the waltz faced them toward yet another person who had tried to win the fickle interest of society by carrying some personal fetish to an extreme. “And you, Bertie, I can see you are on the best of terms with all of them. What are you noted for?”

“Nothing at all,” he replied airily.

“Well, I mink it must be for your nicety in dress, for you do look quite fine, you know.”

Bertie turned quite pink with pleasure and said he supposed he might be known as a fellow who possessed the happy knack of choosing and keeping a good valet and tailor.

“As well as possessing exquisite manners and a warm heart,” she added, smiling.

He again flushed vividly but said simply, “I would do anything for a true friend of mine.”

When the waltz ended, he restored to her to Lady Streatham and went in search of refreshment for both of them after their exertions. “Enjoying yourself, my dear?” Lady Elizabeth queried, noting with pleasure the flush in Frances' cheeks and a distinct sparkle in her eyes. Frances, however, merely nodded while her companion continued. “Mainwaring asked me to secure your next waltz with him if he were not here to claim it when you finished with Bertie.” She glanced toward the end of the ballroom, where his lordship was escorting Lady Jersey to a gay-looking group of people.

“Oh, no!” Her ladyship looked surprised at Frances' vehemence. Then Frances explained candidly, “I don't think that's advisable in the least. He and I always seem to be dagger-drawing.”

Lady Elizabeth dismissed this unworthy thought. “That's as may be, but his reputation as a severe critic of the female sex is well-known, and it will do you no end of good socially to be seen as his partner for the waltz.'' Bowing to unanswerably superior social wisdom. Lady Frances acquiesced.

The truth of the matter was that earlier Lady Elizabeth had seen Mainwaring propping his broad shoulders against a wall as he eyed the assembled throng sardonically. He had just finished telling himself that, having done his duty and danced with Kitty, he was free to go in search of diversion more to his taste, when Lady Streatham strolled by. He was fond of his cousin, so he had invited her to stand up with him. “How the devil did you get Streatham to accompany you to London?”

“Brute force,” she confided ruefully. “And he possesses naturally fatherly instincts which have been roused both on Kitty's and on Frances' behalf.”

“Frances!” his lordship echoed in astonishment.

“Yes.” Lady Elizabeth explained: “She had a most dreadful time of it with that silly Lady Bingley. And who would not have been bored to distraction by that set? So she has come to think of herself as a misfit. Well not a misfit exactly, but certainly as someone who doesn't quite belong. It was only her great fondness for Kitty that brought her. I'm sure she would be happier by far in the country.”