Lady Rose's Education (8 page)

Lady Rose came downstairs with her figure and her hairdo somewhat reinflated. She went to the library and found the Countess and the Earl standing there. Lord Charles was also there, moping in the corner. He held a glass of something or other with two fingers and stared at it gloomily. Only a slight pink tinge on his cheeks proved that moments ago he had been exposed to the elements.

”I understand why you have asked the other gentleman for dinner, but why on earth have we invited Mr. Perry?” the Earl was just asking the Countess.

”He is a relation of yours, Richard, and it would seem unkind not to invite him at least once,” the Countess said. ”Good evening, Rose, good of you to join us,” she said, glancing at the grandfather clock meaningfully. Lady Rose only nodded.

”Did you hear his first sermon?” the Earl asked the Countess. He hardly ever went to church on Sundays, but he had felt he had to make a token visit, since the new vicar was a distant relative. ”I had to wonder whether I have brought a subversive in the village. He went on and on about the man, woman and animal's equal worth in the eyes of Lord.”

The Earl tapped at his glass angrily. ”Good grief,” he continued, ”let us analyse the claim. Is my life worth the same than the farmer Jack's, and in turn, is farmer Jack's life worth the same than a moth's? I do not think my insurance officer would agree.”

”It is possible the vicar was not talking of monetary value, my dear,” the Countess said. She never said ”my dear” without some ice in her voice. ”In any case, let us search for other topics of conversation during the dinner.”

She looked at the glass in her husband's hand.

”Remember to exercise some restraint, my dear.”

The Earl only looked at her furiously. Nellie appeared at the door.

”The guests are arriving, Your Lordship,” she said to the Earl.

”Good, good, bring them in,” the Earl said.

Besides already bad-mouthed Mr. Perry and the guests of honour, Lord Alderton and Mr. Cowley, the guests consisted of the Earl and Countess's two female relatives and a younger gentleman. In truth Lady Agatha and Lady Merton had only been invited to balance the numbers and provide feeble coverage to the scheme of getting Lady Rose in same room with suitable suitors.

The high-ranking young man was Lord Ashbury, the eldest son of Duke of Wharton. The fact that he would one day inherit the title of duke made him a most enticing candidate in the Countess's eyes. His stern, aristocratic countenance was also very much to her liking.

When all guests had been received in the library, the butler, Mr. Cartwright said the most welcome words, ”Ladies and Gentlemen, dinner is served”. The hosts and guests were gently herded into the dining room and their assigned seats.

The dining room table had been set gloriously, and Lady Rose admired it for a moment from the door. The white tablecloth looked as pristine as fresh snow, and the multiple rows of cutlery glistened in the candlelight. For a moment Lady Rose wondered whether her mother was correct after all. Was she not truly quite attached to the fine trimmings of her life?

She took her seat between Lord Ashbury and the vicar, Mr. Perry. Mr. Cowley had unhappily found himself lodged between Lady Agatha Roderick, the Countess's unmarried sister, and Lady Merton, widow of the Earl's late uncle George. The young gentleman threw longing looks towards Lady Rose and her neighbours.

Lady Rose waited her left-hand neighbour, Lord Ashbury, to strike up a conversation with her, as manners dictated. However, once the gentleman had helped her to her seat he seemed utterly absorbed in his own thoughts.

”I hope you had a pleasant journey here?” Lady Rose finally asked.

Lord Ashbury looked a little puzzled.

”I did, thank you,” he said.

”The weather is not too bad, at least if one forgets that it is supposed to be nearly summer,” Lady Rose remarked.

”No,” Lord Ashbury said and seemed to travel back into some remote lands in his head. ”Not too bad. The roads are quite dry.”

”Do you often visit London?” Lady Rose attempted once more.

”Indeed, I do not. I find it quite intolerable,” was the gentleman's curt answer.

Lady Rose let him go and looked around the table instead. It amused her to look at people talking. From the way they were leaning one could easily see whether they were happy with their neighbour or not.

”Doesn't Lady Rose look especially elegant tonight, Lord Ashbury?” the Countess suddenly asked. She said it so loud that the whole table could hear, and her transparency made Lady Rose's face colour deeply. ”Her new maid seems to have a special knack with hair, don't you agree? Lady Rose gets her beautiful hair-colour from me.”

Lord Ashbury darted a look at Lady Rose and looked uncomfortable.

”She looks very elegant, Countess,” he said with a nod. The listless remark was followed by a silence, which was in danger of turning awkward, when Mr. Perry cut it.

”Indeed, Countess, I would say that your daughter's head is almost as curly on the outside as it is on the inside.”

The Countess looked perplexed.

”Mr. Perry, what is the meaning of this strange statement?” she asked.

Mr. Perry turned faintly scarlet now that everyone's eyes were suddenly on him.

”I was only complimenting Lady Rose,” he said, ”though my compliment is as much for her intelligence than her looks. I am referring to those drawing of the human brain published in the newspapers recently. Have you not seen them? Apparently the brain looks uncannily like a morel mushroom.”

He beamed around the table as he spoke, but the explanation did not make the Countess's expression any more sympathetic. She turned her head sharply and spoke to one of her neighbours.

Lady Rose felt a wave of compassion for Mr. Perry, thus snubbed. She leaned towards him and whispered, ”I thank you for the compliment, but I think my mother would prefer to hear neither about human brain nor about morel mushrooms while we eat.”

He gave her a grateful smile and rearranged the serviette in his lap.

Lady Rose decided to keep the conversation going with the vicar. After all, she was good at seeing the positive. If this evening couldn't be about getting to know Mr. Cowley, she would make it an evening of self-improvement.

”I am sorry if I was rude this afternoon, Mr. Perry,” Lady Rose said. ”I was in a foul mood, but it was not anything to do with you, I assure you. The truth is that I
would
like to talk to someone about the hideous event.”

”Would you? In that case I am entirely at your disposal,” Mr. Perry said.

Lady Rose could see that his interest was sincere, but she wasn't sure where to begin. Her thoughts were interrupted by the first course, a bowl of watercress soup, which was put in front of her just then.

”As you can imagine,”, Lady Rose said, when the vicar had also received his soup, ”I had not seen anyone die before, not violently like that.”

Mr. Perry only nodded.

”You see, at first I was very shocked indeed, to see Elsie die like that. I felt the impact of it, had frightening dreams and wanted to burst to tears every time I thought of her. But then, as the days passed, I feel as though my feeling changed in tone. It has transformed into a rather beautiful melancholy, and it makes me feel terribly guilty.”

”Why do you say that?” Mr. Perry said.

”When I think about poor Elsie now, in my mind's eye I see an image of her as a kind of sleeping mermaid in the bottom of the river. Her face is calm and mossy green, her hair is made of weeds and her body is wrapped in a cloth that shines like a thousand silver scales.”

Lady Rose was surprised to hear the words coming out of her own mouth. She had not put these thoughts into words before, but it was a powerful feeling. She was expressing her emotions with a great precision.

”That is – a vivid image. You paint quite a picture, Lady Rose,” Mr. Perry said.

”It fills me with self-reproach. A young person died. How dare I feel such – aesthetic nostalgia?”

Mr. Perry looked at her sympathetically.

”It is perfectly natural to feel many kinds of emotions when encountering the awesome unknown that is death. I think it speaks well of you that it has occurred to you to question whether your sorrow is deep enough.”

He thought for a moment, adjusting his glasses.

”Also, she had only served at your house for a week or so, if I understood correctly? You did not have time to form any real connection with her. There must be other people, such as her family, who will grieve her on a more personal level.”

Lady Rose glanced at her father, whose eyes were glazing with boredom. Family loyalty stopped her from telling Mr. Perry, how little she wanted to be a true member of her class. Her father would have found the thought of mourning a servant ludicrous. When confronted with such a death he made the requisite gestures to show his respect but did not bother his heart.

The second footman was already collecting bowls from other guests, so they were both forced to spoon their soups with some speed. Lady Rose knew that she should turn the talk to some subject that was more suited for a dinner party, but she was tempted to get more things off her chest.

”Mr. Perry, I want to say one more thing. It is true what they say: witnessing such an event reminds one of the fragility of human life.”

”Yes, it is true. We are fragile. Fragile as butterflies.” His eye caught the candles on the table. ”Fragile as the fickle flame, easily blown out.”

Lady Rose wanted to do one better.

”Fragile as an egg in a careless child's spoon.”

”That is beautifully put, Lady Rose,” Mr. Perry said, looking amused. ”You are a poet.”

”I
do
read quite a bit of poetry. I have even tried scribbling something myself,” Lady Rose admitted, ”but words fail me. My poems are like rooms that are poorly furnished. Something is lacking.”

”Maybe you are overly critical towards your own work,” Mr. Perry said. ”Most of us are. If you would be willing to show me your writings sometimes, I would be very interested to take a look.”

He pulled back as a plate of venison stew was placed in front of him and continued, ”I am not an expert on literary matters, but I do think about language a great deal. I have my sermons to write, after all.”

Lady Rose leaned back in her chair. The air was thick with horseradish and wit, and she couldn't help but thoroughly enjoy herself. ”Indeed? Isn't that a kind offer.”

”I would be a gentle critic.”

”I should hope so, Mr. Perry.”

They ate for a while in silence. Lady Rose saw her mother looking at her reproachfully. She knew that the look was meant to tell her she had shamefully abandoned the gentleman on her left side.

She gazed longingly to the other side of the table and could hear Mr. Cowley remark to his neighbour, ”Lady Agatha, is this not a fine rump we're having?”

Unfortunately the comment caught the ear of the Countess as well. She gave Mr. Cowley a chilly look, unbeknownst to the gentleman himself. Lady Rose had to hide a smile behind her serviette.

The Countess rose her eyebrows to her daughter meaningfully. Lady Rose looked defiant and took a long swig from her wine glass. During the dinner a glass after glass was placed in front of the eaters, and the tacit rule was that they were not to have more than a few tiny sips from each.

”I'm afraid I have not been making appropriate dinner chitchat, Mr. Perry,” she said, turning again towards her neighbour. ”Our conversation has rather been tugging this way and that, like a wild horse.”

”As the best conversations do,” Mr. Perry said cheerfully.

”I feel quite unburdened, and I thank you.”

”No need, Lady Rose. You are welcome to come and talk to me any time,” Mr. Perry said. Lady Rose smiled at him and forced herself to give Lord Ashbury some attention.

”Are you enjoying the venison, Lord Ashbury?” she asked.

”Yes, I believe I am,” Lord Ashbury said.

Thankfully the Countess took this moment to make an announcement.

”I would like to share a piece of happy news with all of you,” she said to the whole table.

”Some time ago Lord Stowton,” she gave a little nod to her husband's direction, ”and myself received a letter from a fine gentleman and scholar, Lord Alderton, son of the Duke of Albany, asking for Lady Letitia's hand in marriage!”

The two in question were beaming and accepting the blessings from around the table with grace.

”I am very glad to inform you that the matter has indeed been resolved and the date set. They will be married early next year.”

”That is marvellous news! I can hardly believe it,” Lady Agatha chimed, and the other guests expressed similar emotion around the table. There was an eager consensus about the happy nature of the news, expressed through clinking of glasses and making of congratulatory toasts.