Lady Elizabeth's Comet (30 page)

"Good heavens." I felt quite blank. "Who is Georgina Carr?"

Bevis said eagerly, "Georgy is the dearest little thing, Liz..."

"I daresay, but who is she?"

Bevis flushed. "My colonel's niece. I met her at Brighton. It ain't a great match.
Dunarvon is bound to kick up a dust. He was set on you or Lady Mary Weston."

Dumbfounded, I gaped at him again.

He said with resentment, "Dash it, Liz, Molly Weston squints!"

"I see," I said coldly. "Molly squints in general and I squint through telescopes. How
inconvenient."

Bevis's face was a masque of dismay. "It wasn't like that, Liz. You know it wasn't. I
wore the willow for you for years, but...you did say we shouldn't suit." His blue eyes pleaded
with me.

I collected my wits and contrived to say in kinder tones, "I was right. If you're sure of
Miss Carr, Bevis, then I wish you very happy." Nevertheless, my pride had suffered a blow.
Which was irrational of me, all things considered.

Bevis said unhappily, "I ain't sure of anything but I mean to have her, whatever
Dunarvon may say. She's a lady and pretty as she can stare and my mother likes her."

All of a sudden I was overcome with a strong desire to fall into laughter. I fought it with
some difficulty. "But do
you
like her, Bevis?"

"Oh, Liz..." There followed an inarticulate and convincing series of phrases describing
Miss Carr's beauty, wit, and spirit. I was persuaded.

I smiled at him, teazing. "I believe you're bowled out, my lord."

He looked suspicious. "If you're going to make a May-game of this..."

"I? A May-game? I should say not. I'd like to meet Miss Carr."

Bevis's suspicions were not allayed. "To what end?" he demanded, grim.

At that I burst into laughter. "Oh, Bevis, you clunch, do you think I'd eat the child?"

He said stiffly, "She's not a green girl. She's four-and-twenty."

In spite of myself, I was gratified. "Then I trust she'll have the wit to appreciate your
merits. Indeed, Bevis, I wish you happy."

"Thank you," Bevis muttered. "Thing is, I don't wish you unhappy, Liz."

I was touched and not sure what to say. I was also once more aware of Clanross's
presence. He had given up on the window and was leafing through a book on the occasional table
beside it with a dogged air.
Views of Salop,
by A Peripatetic Lady.

I forced my attention back to the matter at hand. "It's high time you were settled, Bevis,"
I said gently. "If Miss Carr suits you, then I'll dance at your wedding. Happily."

Bevis's face shone with relief. "You're a trump, Liz. If you mean it..."

I was rescued from further need to convince him by Anne's entrance. She greeted both
men with her usual grace, but she darted me at least one questioning look before engaging Bevis
in polite chitchat. I smiled at her blandly. I was grateful to Clanross for acting the gooseberry,
though I suspected his presence had been intended to stiffen Bevis's backbone. Whatever his
motive, I sensed his dislike of the role.

As he and Bevis took their leave, I tried to convey my thanks to Clanross with a
speaking glance. Whatever the poets may suggest, the language of the eyes is subject to
misinterpretation. He left looking troubled and confused.

I
was confused. It relieved my mind to know Bevis was not heartbroken, and I
believed his affections to be engaged. How long they would remain engaged was a question. Or
perhaps not. It didn't suit my pride to be supplanted by somebody's niece.

Beneath these feelings ran a deep sense of regret that Clanross had been called upon to
witness the scene. If he had fancied me still in love with Bevis, wouldn't he have expected me to
fall into a swoon or burst into tears or, knowing my character, rail at Bevis like a fishwife? I was
both afraid and hopeful that he had sensed my relief. Abruptly I found myself wishing I need not
await his speech in the Lords. I longed to run safely to ground at Brecon. To do so would have
been an egregious act of cowardice. While I'm capable of showing the white feather, I will not do
it before an audience.

In those days I was keenly aware of Miss Bluestone's scrutiny. She saw a great deal. At
least she said little. Anne was put off the scent by false leads--Bella and Bevis distracted her, or
surely she would have seen my preoccupation with Clanross. She is ordinarily perceptive.

I daresay her mind was on politics. As the day of Clanross's maiden effort drew nearer,
it became clear that he and Featherstonehaugh were in profound disagreement. I could not show
much interest without betraying my partiality, so I kept mum.

On the great day, Anne, Alice, Miss Bluestone, the twins, and I crowded into
Featherstonehaugh's carriage. No press of onlookers impeded our way. Debates in the Lords are
not notorious for arousing publick enthusiasm. Featherstonehaugh was able to meet us early
enough to settle us comfortably in the gallery. He looked glum. The girls were wide-eyed--Jean a
little flushed, Maggie pale with excitement. I wondered what Miss Bluestone had been telling
them by way of preparation. They had never heard our father speak.

I had. I sat through the day's leftover business remembering Papa. How lordly he had
always looked. His style of speaking derived from the models of his youth--carefully wrought,
ornate periods, allusions in graceful Latin, massive chains of deduction, sudden illuminating
historical parallels. There had been no doubt of that Lord Clanross's opinion.

As I watched Thomas Conway rise in my father's place and launch himself with a
minimum of prologue into his first address to his peers, I was far too caught up in my own
feelings to perceive directly what must have been obvious to everyone else. There would never
be any doubt of this Lord Clanross's opinion, either.

Clanross's voice is one of the pleasantest things about him. A middle-range baritone, he
is ordinarily softspoken, so that I was entranced and not a little amused to hear with what ease
his voice carried to the galleries. Probably that came of years of conveying orders to scared
subalterns in the field.

I basked for perhaps a minute in Clanross's golden syllables, oblivious of their content.
Glancing to my left, I caught sight of Anne's face and drew up sharp. What in the world?
What
he was saying began to register.

It was borne upon me that the object of my devotion was happily engaged in placing
himself smack in the midst of the most extreme of the Radicals--of either House. He was actually
opposing the Coercion Bill intended to pacify Ireland.

Every time a Coercion Bill came up it was ritually opposed by one of the Irish peers,
then passed by an overwhelming majority. Clanross was not an Irish peer and Anne was not the
only listener to be appalled. Never mind that what he said was reasonable. Never mind that it fit
within the constitutional frame. It was not the time to be extolling Habeas Corpus. Ireland,
sic erat perpetua,
was on the verge of open revolt.

Anne might have secret Whiggish leanings, but she had never aspired to shake hands
with Radicals like Leigh Hunt and Mr. Cobbett. Sir Francis Burdett did not move in her circles.
Even as I felt a twinge of sympathy for her discomfort, I was aware of a larger sensation of
delight. Clanross had well and truly set the cat among the pigeons. I stifled a chuckle.

I ventured a peek at Featherstonehaugh. He, too, looked glum, but there was about him
the air of a man who has just heroically swallowed his scruples. He would support Clanross's
stand. Clanross dispensed the patronage. Abruptly, my amusement died.

Did Clanross know what he was doing? I squirmed in my seat. There was something
alien, something vaguely ungentlemanly, in forcing an Idea upon Featherstonehaugh. He was a
goodhearted man, an amiable husband and father, and a skillful political agent. Papa had valued
his skills and taken his opinions for granted. What could Clanross gain by humiliating
Featherstonehaugh?

I stared at Clanross's lean, blue-clad figure, trying to understand what he was saying,
trying to read the restrained gestures and composed voice. The very restraint that would prevent
him from being taken as a model of eloquence convinced me that he spoke his mind. He dealt
rather abstractly with the idea of the Union and whether or not it was to mean an honest
extension of the constitution to include Irishmen as well as Englishmen. He did not, he said,
believe that one could expect reverence for the rule of law from people who had experienced
only the rule of force. It was all very logical.

Beside me, Maggie, bored, began to shift in her place. Jean was not bored. She listened,
mouth slightly open, eyes narrowed, drinking in every word. Miss Bluestone was frowning.

Clanross spoke for a mere half hour, very crisp. Presently, the ritual Irish peer--looking
gratified but startled to find himself with so unexpected an ally--commenced his ritual remarks.
Rumblings and twitching from their lordships indicated that they were waiting to pounce.

"Let's leave," Anne hissed as the Irish baron subsided and the government spokesman,
clearing his throat portentously, rose to reply.

I pretended not to hear.

The government lord was indicating that Clanross was an unlicked cub, in somewhat
more elegant language, and did the noble lord realise the yearly cost of agrarian lawlessness in
Ireland?

"Twenty-seven pounds, four, and sixpence on my Meath estate last year," Clanross shot
back. "I don't see that this bill will necessarily lessen the cost."

The government lord indicated that Lord Clanross was pleased to be facetious.

Anne kept making discreet gathering noises, like a hen calling her brood. Miss
Bluestone, who sat beside Maggie, began to look about for her reticule. I craned round her
impatiently.

I heard Clanross say, politely, that he had been addressing himself to the principle of
Coercion, but he was quite happy to deal in the costs if his lordship preferred to shift the ground
of discussion.

His lordship waffled. He did not mean to air the publick costs. It was private losses that
had exercised the authors of the Bill, as everybody knew very well.

Anne was rising to leave. I did not mean to create a disturbance so I had no choice but to
follow suit. I did so very slowly. Surely, Dunarvon did not wish to speak!

He did. He was going to back Clanross on the issue of costs. How wonderfully
funny.

We began to file out, like a tribe of North American aboriginals on the warpath. I could
hear Dunarvon's crotchety rumble as he cited the expense of keeping a line regiment on garrison
duty in Dublin. That produced an indignant rejoinder from another government spokesman. In its
ponderous, lordly way, the debate was heating up.

Dragging my heels, I cast a last longing look at the arena. Clanross was listening with
grave attention, head cocked. Dunarvon had swollen several sizes. The Irish lord looked dazed,
and the lord president showed signs of restlessness. He would squash this small rebellion soon. I
did not doubt that the measure would pass. Very likely Clanross knew it would, but he had
forced a moment of real discussion. In the Lords!

All the way home Alice kept up a flow of innocuous platitudes, which appeared to
soothe the twins. She had probably not taken in ten words of the speech. Miss Bluestone was
frankly brooding, Anne grimly silent. We lurched and rumbled into Cavendish Square in the
sullen twilight.

As we descended from the carriage and climbed the shallow steps to my sister's
townhouse, Jean whispered to me, "I think it was splendid, whatever Anne may say."

I gave her a conspiratorial wink. Jean grinned at me, relieved, and I caught Miss
Bluestone watching us. Her brow cleared magically. I almost laughed aloud. Whatever Miss
Bluestone might think about Ireland--and her thoughts would be judicious--she saved her
anxieties for her charges. Clearly, she had feared Jean's disillusion, or mine.

By the simple expedient of retiring to my room as soon as we entered the house, I
postponed Anne's explosion until I was dressing for dinner.

She burst in on me as Dobbins twitched the last of M. LeFleche's piled curls into
place.

"That man! I shall never hold up my head again!"

I signalled Dobbins to leave us.

Anne was the picture of dramatic defiance, eyes brilliant, cheeks flushed becomingly,
bosom heaving. I admired her pose for a moment then said mildly, "You have only to present
yourself to the world as the new Mme. Roland and the trick is done. I believe Featherstonehaugh
would approve."

"He speaks of retiring to Denbighshire," Anne wailed. "Oh, Lisbet, I'll die." She burst
into sobs.

Featherstonehaugh's estate is in Denbighshire. The thought of either of them buried in
that remote corner of the kingdom was comic in the extreme, but I bit back my laughter and
comforted my sister as best I could. Presently, she grew calmer and sat up with a sniff from the
chaise upon which she had flung herself.

"I believe you approved the speech!"

"I thought it well delivered," I said cautiously.

"It was--it was--"

"It was perfectly consistent with what Clanross said at that dinner in May. He does not
believe martial law improves the people's temper. He said so then and he said so today. I fail to
understand your surprise."

"I'm not surprised," Anne muttered. "I just kept hoping Robert would make Clanross see
reason. No one opposes Coercion."

"You're wrong there. Many political writers disapprove the government of civil
populations by military law in peacetime."

"That may be true for England but everyone knows Ireland is different."

"And will go on being different so long as she is treated as a stepchild," I snapped.
"Precisely Clanross's point. Either the Union should be real and Irishmen should enjoy the
protection of English law or we should let the Union go. There's no longer any danger of
invasion."