Lady Susan Plays the Game (30 page)

‘Don't be silly,' retorted Catherine Vernon, ‘we would certainly hear whatever she was playing in the rooms below.'

‘Well then, perhaps she loved playing less than her mother thought or, now that she is growing up, she likes it less than she did when a child. Or she might be reading. There are a lot of books in our library that can amuse her.' Charles Vernon expelled his breath. He was not easily going to shift his wife from her train of thought.

‘Well, hardly if she is the kind of girl who has been let run wild for the first fifteen years of her life. She's unlikely to be a great reader, is she?'

‘My dear,' replied her spouse, ‘she can't have been quite as wild as you suppose. My brother was a bookish man, a bit of a scholar really. And you yourself told me that you'd heard that Frederica spent much time with him in the country. It's unlikely he didn't convey to his only child some of his own love of books.'

‘In that case, Mr Vernon, what you suppose gives a lie to the character we have had from Lady Susan. It was the mother who told us the girl had run wild when young.'

‘Oh ho, I think you are letting your feelings for our sister-in-law influence you here.' He chuckled and patted his wife affectionately on the cheek.

‘Not a bit of it,' she said sharply, pulling away. ‘Mr Vernon, I have tried not to be unsympathetic to Lady Susan. You very well know that I have. But, really, when you see that poor child, it's hard not make some judgements. She is a pretty thing, or could be thought so if not constantly in the shadow of her mother.'

‘Lady Susan cannot help being a handsome woman, Catherine.'

‘No certainly, but she can help feeling not an ounce of affection for her daughter,' replied Mrs Vernon, her irritation at her husband starting to get the better of her.

‘Well, there you perhaps go too far,' he responded. ‘She is not a demonstrative mother I will grant you – as you are, my dear – and yet she was genuinely upset at her daughter's disappearance from school. You saw that as well as I. Surely as a mother you could understand her feelings. I believe you did.'

‘I don't know,' said his wife miserably, ‘I now think that vexation inspired her.'

‘You are harsh. Could you really say that your feelings now have nothing to do with your brother's admiration?' He patted his wife's cheek again, intending to be playful.

Catherine Vernon could not easily respond. ‘Oh Reginald,' she groaned. ‘They are more together than ever. I see them walking in the shrubbery and the lawns, sitting, whispering. They take advantage of every bit of mild weather to be out as much as they can – and alone.'

‘They wish to see the winter aconites,' said Charles Vernon, who liked his grounds admired. ‘Lady Susan told me so herself.'

‘I'm sure they do,' said his lady, ‘but it's more than that. They sit closely together, their heads nearly touching and I could vow that I see his hand sometimes approaching …' She stopped. ‘Oh, I don't know.'

‘No you don't, my dear. And should you always be watching them in this way? It cannot be good for you or them.'

‘Well I am sure I'm not the only one who is watching them. It can't be very inspiring for Frederica, who has just been reproached for acting in an unladylike way, to see her mother parading around the grounds on the arms of a man half her age.'

‘Not quite half,' said her husband as he climbed into bed.

‘Oh, I'm just making a point, Mr Vernon. But there are enough years between them to render the whole thing unseemly. I cannot understand Reginald's majestic forgetfulness of the woman's age and condition, I truly cannot.' Mrs Vernon lay rigidly beside her husband.

‘Well it's certainly surprising. But it is really not our business.'

‘I think it is, Mr Vernon. You know my father and mother's views on Reginald and what is right for him and you know their views on Lady Susan.'

‘Views which you yourself have greatly influenced.'

‘Not at all,' said his wife warmly. ‘They were quite of a mind without any prompting from me. They'd be crushed to find Reginald throwing himself away in such a manner.' She realised she'd not told her husband that she'd written to her mother; it wouldn't do to mention it now.

‘Really, Catherine, it has not come to that.'

‘No,' said his wife, ‘you are right there, and I am thinking of a way by which, perhaps, we might just avoid it.'

She had become wide-awake with the talk, but Charles Vernon hardly heard her last remark. He was slipping into sleep. Earlier in the day he'd finally persuaded Reginald to go hare coursing with him and they had set out with a couple of his best dogs. It was late in the season and there would not be many more opportunities, so they had followed the sport for as long as they could remain in the bracing air, then stayed to chat to the beaters. It had been a struggle to keep awake as long as he had.

Nothing concerning her brother escaped Mrs Vernon, not even the nervous glances of an awkward girl. Frederica followed Reginald with her eyes when he walked round a room and even overcame her usual diffidence by smiling at whatever remark he made at dinner – when she was allowed down.

Mrs Vernon didn't find this surprising. Her brother was a most desirable man, admirable in all ways save for his strange infatuation. If she were right, and young Frederica was, as one might expect, beginning to feel a fondness for him, then it must be a torment for
her to sit in the dressing room day after day and see him and her mother parading together through the window.

Mrs Vernon mused on the matter. Her niece was not the sort of girl Reginald would, in the ordinary course of events, look at seriously. After all a man like that could choose from all the world. Frederica was not accomplished – clearly the idea of her pianoforte playing was a pretext – and she seemed unwilling to sing or exhibit herself in the usual way of young marriageable girls. The few months at Madam Dacre's had done very little to finish her and prepare her for society. But she had a pensive quietness both ladylike and pleasing. She was, they'd discovered, a reader, for Barton had fetched from the library not only the few novels and magazines there but some books on botany and exploration which had surprised both her and Mr Vernon when they heard of it through Parker – they themselves had not had the leisure to look into them. At first Mrs Vernon thought these must be for Lady Susan, who seemed to have something pertinent to say on every subject raised, but further reflection disabused her of the idea.

If this were indeed the case, Frederica might have a mind better stocked than they'd been led to believe. Mrs Vernon would need to suggest her interests to Reginald, for he too, when a boy, had been fascinated by the natural world. Their mother had bought him an instrument to look at butterflies, possibly a microscope; it was left unused once he went to Oxford and met up with mocking friends. But she might work on this old interest, as well as – a little later on – hinting at the girl's growing fondness. That would pique his vanity. Young men usually responded to being admired first. When she'd been young, conduct books had taught that ladies should hide their feelings of preference until the gentleman made an offer. But she'd concluded from her own and her friends' experience that this demeanour was no way to catch a husband: men liked being singled out by pretty young girls.

Was it possible that Frederica could tempt Reginald away from her mother? It was a daring plan but it heartened Mrs Vernon even to think of it.

Lady Susan noticed that her sister-in-law's hostility, slightly diminished following her enthusiasm for Freddie, had burgeoned again in the wake of Reginald's public display and now her daughter's arrival. She must act before it developed and provoked Catherine Vernon
into making more open overtures to Frederica. She would seek out a moment to speak in private.

One arose when Reginald was again out shooting with Charles Vernon, and she and Catherine Vernon happened to be in the library together. Lady Susan was flicking through the
Advertiser,
gleaning a few points about estate management of game to appeal to Charles Vernon; Mrs Vernon came in to write a letter.

‘I am glad,' began Lady Susan, coming over to the other woman as soon as she was seated, ‘I am glad of this opportunity to speak a little to you alone.'

Mrs Vernon looked up questioningly.

‘I want to say how much I value your taking pains with dear Frederica.'

Mrs Vernon was about to demur but Lady Susan continued, ‘I know that you're so kind that you'll deny any obligation, but I want to assure you that I feel it. Your kindness to me and now to Frederica as well has been overpowering. I had heard many wonderful things of you even before I had the happiness of visiting you, but you've been so unfailingly generous that I want to tell you now how much what you have done has exceeded anything I could have expected … or deserved.'

Mrs Vernon could think of no suitable response to this. ‘I am glad you have felt welcome,' she replied.

‘Oh, more than that,' cried Lady Susan. ‘Much more. And I know that there were people who tried to poison your mind against me before I came.'

Mrs Vernon was about to protest politely when Lady Susan stopped her with a gentle gesture. ‘No, don't say anything. I know it, but it is now no matter. I mention it only to say that I doubly appreciate your kindness considering this circumstance. You could not have been more amiable and welcoming to me and my poor girl. Frederica may not be able to express herself well but I know that she as much as her mother feels deeply the extreme kindness.'

For a moment Mrs Vernon thought that her guest was going to embrace her. But instead Lady Susan moved away hurriedly.

‘I will go now, dear sister, but for what you have done for me and my girl, may God bless you.'

Lady Susan closed the door quietly behind her leaving her sister-in-law in the greatest astonishment. She sat on in the room alone for some minutes, trying to rearrange her thoughts. Surely the woman could not be sincere?

She rebuked herself for forming the question: of course she wasn't. She was false through and through and had no proper love for her daughter. It was all an act – and a clever one. Its purpose was clear: she was out to catch Catherine's foolish, foolish brother. At bottom she was no more than a fortune-hunter.

After more days had passed, Lady Susan decided she could relax her control of her daughter. Frederica seemed to have learnt her lesson and not be about to betray them both; meanwhile it was not pleasant to have the girl always in her room.

As a result, Mrs Vernon saw more of her niece than at the beginning of her stay. Altogether she seemed brighter than at the start. Catherine Vernon put this down to the Peruvian bark medicine she'd urged on her, as well as to the smaller amount of time closeted with her mother.

What especially pleased the aunt was Frederica's growing devotion to the nursery now she was more at liberty. She loved watching the girl speaking baby talk with little Charlie and holding him for the pleasure of seeing his tiny hand clasp her larger one. When she looked up in delight to the mother, Mrs Vernon's heart melted towards this affection for her darlings. Frederica also sat for long periods reading again and again the same story of
The Robins and their Family
to Arabella. Freddie might twist away from her when she embraced him but she gently coaxed him back: indeed he grew more placid and responsive when she persuaded him to play quietly with her and describe his tin soldiers. She didn't give him the special attention Lady Susan still occasionally provided but she seemed more genuinely fond of him.

One day Mrs Vernon arrived in the nursery to find Nanny watching and Charlie clapping his hands gleefully as Frederica danced with Arabella. The child had insisted and reluctantly Frederica had agreed. She had not minded when Arabella cried out ‘How clumsy you are!' since Arabella then had such delight in showing her how to do the steps properly.

‘My little cousin is more skilled than I,' said Frederica to Mrs Vernon. She enjoyed using the new word – it made her feel part of a family. The beautiful Emmelines and Adelines had always discovered loving and extended families at the end of their adventures.

To the pleasure of the nursery was added another for Mrs Vernon. While offering almost nothing herself, Frederica was a receptive listener to all her aunt had to say. Mrs Vernon spoke of her children, their births, their pretty ways as babies, their illnesses and
ailments, their cleverness and her different hopes for them. She spoke of her own childhood and her dear mother, the fields and downs around Parklands. Such attentiveness flattered Catherine Vernon, who consequently thought more and more of her plan for Reginald. When she considered rationally she doubted, but Frederica's soothing presence at least took her mind off what she feared. There must always be hope that a young man of spirit might one day see the advantages of youth and sweetness of temper and choose a daughter over a mother. Meanwhile she must guard against being too eager and mentioning Reginald too obviously.

Lady Susan noticed the progress of aunt and niece with amusement. On one occasion she overheard Frederica say to Mrs Vernon, ‘Mama's poor sister was cruelly murdered by the French. Mama manages so well but she must feel it terribly.' She didn't stay to hear what her sister-in-law would respond to this sentiment; the notion of Frederica trying to understand – worse explain – her mother was wonderful. She imagined the pair chatting over tea about her difficult home life: it was almost enough to make her let Reginald fondle her breasts in full view of every south-facing window in the house. ‘The impudence,' she exclaimed as Barton painted over a mark on her cheek with a little rouge.

She let her mind wander over the men she now had to control. Despite his impetuosity she thought fondly of Manwaring, the first of these. Her letter had halted his mad plans of disguise and clandestine meetings but the idea of them had brought him so forcefully before her that it was difficult to efface the image. A certain danger made love piquant and those blissful afternoons and night-time romps were some of her happiest memories.