The Determined Bachelor (16 page)

“But surely we shall have the pleasure of seeing you on Thursdays?” demanded the young woman, quite at a loss for which tack to pursue.

“If you mean, do I intend going to Almack's every Thursday evening and gaping at the company whilst they enjoy themselves, then no. There is nothing I like less than watching others be diverted whilst I am bored.”

Miss Newsome did not know how to respond. The several subjects of conversation in her repertoire were now exhausted. In truth, she did not know what could be said about a man who hated dancing and cards, disliked Almack's, and preferred the fox to the fox hunters. Had Sir Basil been nothing more than a gentleman at a ball, she should have now turned away and given up any further attempt at conversation. Indeed, his manner was such that it was impossible to think
he
longed to keep it up. Even Miss Newsome could not help but see this. And yet she was determined to pursue the exchange. She was now in her twenty-eighth year, and had no other prospect of marriage. Her sister had informed her barely a week before that she was as good as wed to Sir Basil, whom, as Lady Hargate would have it, “is come home on purpose to find a wife. Think how delightful it will be! I shall come to visit you in Paris, and we shall have our gowns made up together, and be the envy of everyone!” Miss Newsome had had no previous ambition to live in Paris, or to be an ambassadress, or to give endless balls to foreigners, but in a week her ideas had changed so much that she was absolutely set upon becoming Lady Ives. If Sir Basil had any suspicion of the plan, he gave no sign of it. Indeed, he would have been astounded to discover that the scheme was already so far advanced that Lady Hargate and her sister had practically laid out his future life down to the minutest detail. The young woman sitting opposite him, whom he had met perhaps three times, and never spoken to above five minutes, was so sure of her success that, far from neglecting the lavender satin, she had ordered it and twenty gowns besides, with the idea that they should serve her during her engagement, even if they were not adequate for married life. With a renewed energy, therefore she persisted:

“I can well imagine that Almack's must appear very dull to you, after the brilliance of French society. But surely you
will not deny your friends the pleasure of seeing you? I, for one, shall think you perfectly cruel if you do not attend at least one cotillion, if only so that we may learn, from seeing you dance, how we may improve our own performance.”

“I assure you, Miss Newsome, that no one could benefit from such a spectacle,” replied the Baronet gravely, growing increasingly impatient with this flirtation. “On the contrary, it could only injure your sensibilities to watch me. I am so awkward in the execution of the steps, and so heartily dislike being laughed at, that I make it a point
never
to dance. As to seeing my friends, there are innumerable ways that I may do so without being subjected to the indignities of a ball.”

“To be sure you are jesting!” cried Lady Hargate upon hearing this. “He is only jesting, my dear! Fancy saying that he cannot dance! Why, I am sure he dances every night in Paris! My dear, your leg is being pulled.”

The Princess Lieven, who had attended to this conversation with keen amusement, now felt it encumbent upon herself to rescue the Baronet:

“He is not jesting, Lady Hargate, I assure you. I cannot remember the time when Sir Basil could dance. As a matter of fact, if I am not much mistaken, he ruined my best slippers when last I had the misfortune to see him. Did not you, Basil?”

Sir Basil, much relieved, replied that it was true.

“But tell me,” continued the Princess, “what is this I hear about your having acquired a ward? Can it be true?”

“A child of nine, the daughter of a distant cousin,” concurred the Baronet, happy to embark upon another subject.

The Princess put back her head and chortled in delight.

“A child of nine! A little girl! Did you hear that, Nastasy? Sir Basil has acquired a daughter! How delicious it is! But my dear Basil, what on earth do you mean to do with her?”

“The usual things, I suppose,” returned the Baronet, not nearly so amused as the Princess. “Feed her, clothe her, educate her as best I can. Lady Cardovan has managed to secure a governess for her, a most remarkable young woman.”

“Ah, yes—the wonderful Lady Cardovan,” murmured the Princess with a significant smile. “How is the wonderful Lady Cardovan? I have not seen her for an age. But of course, she has become so dreadfully busy, with all her books. Is she as beautiful as ever?”

“As beautiful as ever,” returned Sir Basil shortly.

“And the child?” persisted Princess Lieven, seeing that her
curiosity about this particular friendship was not to be satisfied, “where is she?”

“At the moment, she is with her governess and her cousins in another part of the house.”

“Ah!” The Princess clapped her hands in delight. “Then I shall be able to see her! Do send for her, my dear Basil. I
must
have a look at this child, who is succeeding in what every other woman in London has failed to do—” with another significant smile at Miss Newsome—“that is, you know, to domesticate you!”

“I am afraid you shall have to wait until after dinner,” interjected Lady Hargate, barely concealing her scowl. “I see that we are being summoned to table.”

The Princess was forced to defer her request until later, but only upon the absolute assurance that she should be granted a glimpse of the little girl. The line was formed, and a short dispute between the ladies ended in Lord Hargate's escorting the Princess, whilst Sir Basil walked in with Miss Newsome. Seated between them, the Baronet passed an hour and a half of misery. Anne would certainly have been entertained, if only she had been privy to the scene, for the Princess was tireless in her witty jabs, and Miss Newsome, persistent in her flirtations.

It is indeed a great pity that Anne could
not
observe her employer under these circumstances, growing uneasy from the piercing questions of the one and squirming beneath the admiring gaze of the other. As it was, she ate her plate of cold mutton in a much happier frame of mind than the Ambassador, though it was cold, and her only companions were children, whilst Sir Basil saw six courses pass before him, and sat beside the wittiest lady in England.

The Princess persisted in her desire to see the little girl Nicole, and when the ladies had risen from the table, she asked a footman where the children could be found. Slipping away by herself (for she did not wish to be encumbered by her hostess) she sought out the apartment where Anne and her charge had been ensconsed all evening. The little Hargates having long since run upstairs to seek their own amusements, there was no one else in the room save the sleeping nurse. The Princess found governess and child bent over a book and, putting on her most charming smile—for the Princess could be as charming as any woman on earth when she chose—she introduced herself.

“I have come to meet the little girl about whom I have heard so much,” said she, approaching them.

Nicole blushed and made a pretty curtsey, whilst Anne stood by smiling.

“What a pretty child you are! And not a bit like your guardian! Ah yes—there is just a little resemblance about the eyes, else I should not able to tell you were related.”

“They are only related very distantly, Your Highness,” put in Anne, quite taken with the lady's charming manner, her beauty, and the elegance of her dress and bearing. “Miss Lessington is the daughter of Sir Basil's second cousin.”

The Princess smiled disarmingly. “Oh, but of course! One ought not to look for resemblances. But I am very fond of doing so. In Russia, we always say that a family has certain traits which carry down the line, and that no matter how distant two cousins may be, there is always a faint resemblance between them. Have not you noticed that it is nearly always true?”

Anne had not noticed anything of the kind, but nodded nevertheless.

“In this case,” continued the Princess, taking Nicole's chin in her hand, “I think there is more than a
faint
resemblance. One would not see it unless one looked, of course—but it is there, certainly it is there. Why! I do believe you have got exactly the same eyes as your cousin, my dear! Yes, yes, and, quite the same expression in them—fiery and stubborn, to be sure. Well, well! I should watch out, Miss—what is your name?”

“Calder,” replied Anne.

“Miss Calder, yes—a very pretty name. Sir Basil has spoken very highly of you.”

Anne doubted that, but smiled all the same, and bowed her head.

“Lady Cardovan—ah, found you, did she not?”

Again, Anne nodded and smiled, laughing to herself at the continual difficulty encountered over her station.

“Lady Cardovan is a most wonderful woman.”

“Yes, Princess—she is indeed.”

The Princess let go of Nicole's chin and patted her head.

“A most wonderful, excellent woman. And extremely beautiful, too. Sir Basil regards her very highly, I believe.”

“They are great friends, ma'am.”

“Yes, yes—
great
friends. I am astonished by it, actually. Sir Basil has always had the reputation of disliking women. I
believe he finds us—ah, well! Who can explain the human heart? Well, well. And what is your name, child? Nicole, is it not? A very pretty name. I have always been fond of French names. Where do you come from?”

“From Lincolnshire, ma'am,” whispered Nicole, who was evidently in awe of the Princess.

“Lincolnshire! A favourite county of mine! It is the only good hunting county in England. Else one must go to Scotland. How do you suppose you came to have a French name?”

Nicole's eyes grew round. She shook her head. “I don't know, Ma'am. Save that Papa always said it was a name he liked.”

“And quite right, too—it is a lovely name. Tell me, Miss Calder—you will come to me if you need any help, will you not? I know that bachelors are often at a loss for how to deal with little girls. If there is anything you need, you must not hesitate to call upon me.”

“How kind of you!” exclaimed Anne warmly, “but Lady Cardovan has been most generous with us.”

“I am sure she has. Still, if there is any little service you require, please feel free to let me know.”

Anne thanked her warmly, and said that she would do so.

“That is a very pretty dress, Nicole. Did Lady Cardovan pick it out?”

“She had it made at her own dressmaker's,” replied the child proudly.

“Really?” The Princess raised an eyebrow. “That was a most generous present! Well, well—Lady Carodvan is a wonderful woman.”

And smiling very broadly, the Princess patted the child's head and went away.

Chapter XII

If Anne had thought it a little odd that the Princess Lieven should take such keen interest in herself and in her charge, if she had noticed that the Princess had smiled very broadly at certain things which did not deserve such broad smiles and gazed more intently into the little girl's face than was perhaps warranted by the interest of a friend, she was not given time to think about it. After a very short time Sir Basil came in to collect them with an irritable expression on his face, and in the next days there were more pressing things to occupy her mind than the smiles of Russian princesses. The greatest consideration of all, at least to Nicole, was the impending visit to Carlton House. But for Anne, there were still other matters to consider.

There was, for instance, the question of her writing, which had been sorely neglected since she had come to London. When she had been at home, it had been her custom to work each morning for several hours together. This, which had been all she could manage between the demands of her mother and the teasing of her sisters, had sufficed to finish the one book which was the whole proof of her trade. And yet she knew that if she was to make a mark as an authoress, she must be diligent. She had not found, since coming to London, more than an hour altogether to write, and this she had spent on scribbling in her journal whatever of quick sketches and impression she could manage. Her publisher was already clamoring for another book, and said that he would print it as soon as one was ready. But Anne had no second novel and only a vague idea for a plot. This much at least she had decided: that her second book should be a satire of city life, just as her first had been a satire about the country. That
the hero should be a determined bachelor, very much like Sir Basil in character, she had settled in her own mind, and that much of his circumstances, as well as his character could be drawn from life. But more than that she did not know. Her imagination was such that she was continually embroidering upon the plain fabric of reality in her mind, and already she had envisioned several scenes and sketches which might be useful. But she had not had the time to play with them, to toss them about and rearrange them upon paper, and she was impatient to do so. It was, therefore, her plan to spend the following morning, when Sir Basil and Nicole had gone to church, at work upon them. Accordingly, she declined the Baronet's invitation to join them and, as soon as they had quit the house, sat down at her writing table. Several hours were passed thus, and very enjoyable hours they were, too. One idea led to another, and another, and Anne's hand seemed to fly across the paper in the effort to keep up with her racing thoughts. Between concentration and delight at the ease with which the words seemed to flow, she remained immersed in her work until the great clock in the hall struck one. Startled, she stood up. Why, where had the time gone? Surely Sir Basil and Nicole must have long since returned from church! But a quick search about the house did not reveal the little girl, and the butler informed her that neither his master nor the young mistress had returned. Puzzled, she climbed the stairs back to her own apartment. The service had commenced at eleven o'clock and could not have lasted above an hour. Surely Sir Basil and his ward ought to have returned.