The Indomitable Miss Harris (28 page)

Gillian herself felt a strong sense of dismay. It had been so long since her ladyship had produced a possible bride for Landover that she had quite forgotten their plot. Even Sir Avery, content in his courtship of Sybilla, had ceased to complain of the marquis’s interference in his life. She stared at the immense seven-story pagoda in the center of Nash’s bridge, too preoccupied to be impressed by the magnificent blue-and-yellow structure with its flanking temples and stately columns.

“Nash has an unerring sense of the monumental, has he not?” observed a familiar voice. She turned to find Darrow at her side and did her best to gather her wits.

“Good afternoon, sir,” she replied. “I suppose he must be very good, since everyone says so, but I find his work a trifle overblown.”

“Perhaps you are right,” he agreed. “This is hasty work here, and slick, too. But you must admit the man has a certain breadth of vision. His notions for the transformation of Marylebone Park quite take one’s breath away.”

“Do they?” She smiled weakly. “I am afraid that I know very little about it.”

He grinned at her tone. “And you care even less. The subject interests me, however, so I’m afraid I do tend to get carried away. Good afternoon, Lady Harmoncourt, Mrs. Periwinkle.”

Her ladyship nodded regally. “How nice to see you, my lord. Is this not a splendid sight?”

“Indeed, ma’am, but not nearly so splendid as it will be tonight when they light the pagoda up. They are using those new fangled gaslights, you know.”

“Yes, so I had heard. Do you know, Harmoncourt thinks to see those dreadful things inside our townhouse before the decade is out?”

“Very likely, ma’am. ’Tis the coming thing.”

“But so messy,” she objected, “and quite lacking the elegance of candlelight.”

“Or the dimness,” Landover chuckled, coming up behind her. He shook hands with Darrow. “Won’t you join us as we walk, sir?”

“No, thank you, my lord,” Darrow replied, “though I’m glad to have crossed your path.” He cast an oblique glance at Gillian. “Something has come up, and I find I must return to the country this afternoon. I was merely taking a rapid survey of the sights when I saw your party.”

“Then you are not following the world to Brighton?”

“No. I’m going to take care of business at home until the hunting season begins. But then I shall no doubt see you with the others in Leicestershire.”

“No doubt,” Landover replied. They shook hands again, and Darrow made his bow to the ladies, then disappeared into the crowd. Sir Avery and Sybilla wandered up to the others a moment later.

“I say, wasn’t that Darrow?” Sir Avery inquired. “I wonder he did not join us.” He winked at his sister.

“He has business to tend to at his country house,” she replied evenly.

“Bad luck. He will miss all the fun, especially the reenactment of the Battle of the Nile on the Serpentine.”

They were all looking forward to that spectacle, but first came the balloon ascension. Gillian nearly held her breath while she watched the intrepid Mr. Sadler climb into his tiny flag-bedecked gondola. The ropes were cut, and the great meshed red-yellow-and-blue-striped balloon, rising slowly at first, gained speed as it mounted to a chorus of cheers from the gentlemen, timorous shrieks from the ladies, and high-pitched squeals of delight from the children. With a gallant gesture of reassurance, Mr. Sadler leaned over the side of the swinging gondola and waved his cap to the upturned faces below. Giving a little shiver at his courage, Gillian watched until the balloon had floated away into space, then moved on with the others to find the carriages for the drive to Hyde Park, where the next entertainments would be found.

The afternoon passed quickly into dusk while the Battle of the Nile was presented with much realistic banging of guns to the complete annihilation of the enemy. Gillian could see very little of it for the press of people, but she could hear well enough and, long before it was done, wished she could cover her ears against the din. It was rapidly growing dark, and she was tired and hungry. Therefore, neither she nor anyone else demurred when Landover suggested that if they wished to obtain a good view of the lighting of the pagoda, they had best return to St. James’s Park before the masses took it into their heads to do so.

They could still hear the distant thunder of battle even as they found excellent seats at the canal side; however, at long last, the roar of cannon ceased, and suddenly it was as though a necklace of jewels had been strung amongst the trees, where Chinese lanterns, silver crescents, and golden moons came sparkling to life. At the same time, at the center of Nash’s Chinese Bridge, from every one of the pagoda’s seven pyramidal stories, light poured a reflected sheet of flame upon the water, providing the signal for the grand fireworks display. As the first curving snake of color whizzed heavenward to burst in fountains of falling stars, a gasp went up from the crowd. It was a magnificent display, and they had an excellent view of competitive displays from the other parks as well, but Gillian soon discovered it was necessary to beware of falling and drifting sparks, and she learned later that before the show was done, four ships of the Serpentine fleet had been set ablaze! It was said that the resulting flare-up was hailed as part of the fun by all except a wedge of frightened swans that fluttered screeching to safety.

It was over at last, and the crowds began to mill about while thoughts turned to dinner. Many people had brought picnics and merely spread themselves and their blankets and baskets wherever they could find room. Others could be heard streetside, shouting for hacks and carriages. Landover soon gathered his party, although it took a moment to find Sir Avery and Lady Sybilla, who had managed to wander off together in hopes of getting a better view of the sea battle. Then there was another moment or two while a sternly frowning Lady Harmoncourt imparted a few private but, judging from Sybilla’s downcast countenance, well-chosen words to her daughter.

When Sybilla turned away from her mother, Gillian noticed that the younger girl’s lips, though held in a tight line, were trembling, and it was as much to draw the others’ attention to herself as for any other reason that she spoke up to Lady Harmoncourt. “Perhaps it would be best, ma’am, if Cousin Amelia and I were to travel with you. You know how Landover abominates a crowded carriage, and there will be six of us with Lady Henrietta.”

“Nonsense, my dear,” replied her ladyship. “You will much prefer to cross the Thames to Vauxhall by water. I don’t mind the longer route across Westminster Bridge, because I find the boats a bit fragile, but you young things always think them romantic. If the carriage is too crowded during the drive to the boat landing,” she added on a note of asperity, “your brother can ride up with the coachman.”

Sir Avery opened his mouth to protest, and Sybilla looked more wilted than ever, but Mrs. Periwinkle chuckled. “There will be no need for such a sacrifice as that. The girls are slender enough that the three of them may sit together, and if I ride with you, dearest Abigail, there is no reason to think the gentlemen will not be perfectly comfortable as well. No one will think you unprotected, my dear,” she added kindly to Gillian, “whilst you ride with both your brother and your trustee.”

Everyone else seemed to approve the idea, and Landover turned away to send a boy for the carriages.

“No,” Gillian said firmly, surprising herself as much as everyone else.

“Why ever not?” asked Lady Harmoncourt. “Seems a perfectly logical solution to me.” Even Landover looked back at her, his eyes narrowed speculatively.

Gillian was embarrassed. How could she explain to them all that she had suddenly realized she would feel like a fifth wheel with Sir Avery paying heed only to Sybilla and Landover only to Lady Henrietta? Even to suggest such a thing would make her sound self-centered and sulky at best and like a veritable shrew at worst. And how on earth could she expect the others to understand such feelings when she didn’t even like the thought of them herself? She felt perilously close to tears. No doubt it was because it had already been such a long afternoon and because she was tired and hungry, but she felt completely unable to cope with the problem of thinking up an acceptable reason for her attitude, so she simply replied that she wished to have Mrs. Periwinkle’s company.

“She is my companion, after all,” she added, thinking miserably that she sounded childish and stubborn, but unable to stop herself. “Since it matters not one whit to me whether I go by water or in your carriage, ma’am,” she went on lamely, “I—I cannot see what all the fuss is about.”

“Well, you must do as you please, of course, Gillian,” answered her ladyship with profound reluctance, “but I am not sure Henrietta’s parents will approve of her going just with Landover. They are very protective, as indeed they should be. I do not worry about Sybilla’s being with Sir Avery, because she will also be with her uncle. But Henrietta’s parents cannot say the same, of course. An extra female always makes such things more conformable.”

“Don’t bother your head about it, Abigail,” interjected Landover harshly. “We can all survive one carriage squeeze. If worse comes to worst, I can always take a turn at tooling the horses myself, you know. Do you and Harmoncourt go ahead, and we shall be there to meet you when you arrive. All of us,” he added with a speakingly stern look at Gillian. She turned away unhappily and felt rather small a few moments later when he handed first herself and then Sybilla into his carriage. Mrs. Periwinkle came next and sat between the two girls, while the gentlemen sat on the opposite seat, their backs to the horses. There was silence until they reached the Armitage family town house on the south side of Grosvenor Square. Landover jumped down and strode up the steps to the front door.

Light from the carriage lamps lit the faces inside. Sybilla looked herself again and smiled once or twice at Sir Avery. Mrs. Periwinkle was placid, her slim blue-veined hands folded in her lap, but Sir Avery’s head rested against the corner of his seat as he watched, not Sybilla, but his sister. Gillian glanced at him, found his look a bit discomfiting, and turned away again, shifting slightly in her seat. At that moment, the front door of the house opened, and a blaze of light poured down the steps to the street. Gillian heard a trill of husky feminine laughter and turned to watch Landover and his companion hurry down to the carriage. A footman carrying a torch paced beside them, and in the flickering torchlight, Gillian got a good look at Lady Henrietta Armitage.

Her ladyship was slender and tall, so tall in fact that with her high-piled nutbrown curls and heeled sandals she lacked only three inches or so of Landover’s height. Her figure in the flowing and clinging draperies of an exquisitely low-cut amber satin gown could be seen to be full-busted with a tiny waist and well-curved hips and thighs. She moved with the supple grace of a woman who is well used to commanding the full attention of everyone around her, and as they neared the carriage, Gillian became aware of twinkling topaz eyes, a straight, gently flaring nose, and a generous, laughing mouth. Lady Henrietta was a beauty, and it was clear from his smiling expression that Landover liked her very well indeed.

The footman held the door while Landover handed her ladyship inside. Sir Avery squeezed into his corner, but even so it looked as though there might not be room for his lordship. He grimaced.

“It seems I shall ride the box, after all.”

Lady Henrietta chuckled, her voice delightfully low-pitched. “Nonsense, my lord. I shall promise not to bite, so that you may wedge yourself in however you may.”

“But your lovely dress will be crushed!” protested Mrs. Periwinkle. “You must change places with me, your ladyship.”

“No, no, ma’am, you are not to trouble yourself,” laughed Lady Henrietta. “If the gown is ruined, then Daddy must simply buy me another, and I promise, ’twould only be to serve him with his just deserts for making me miss all the grand fun this afternoon. I am Henrietta Armitage, you know,” she added, “but I don’t believe we have met. Do get in, Landover, and do these introductions properly, else we shall leave you where you stand.”

How very pushing she was, Gillian thought, succumbing to an unexpected flash of anger as Landover obeyed with a grin and introductions were made. The others all seemed to like her well enough, though. She watched as Sybilla acknowledged having met Henrietta once before.

“But you must call me Hetta, you know,” laughed her ladyship. “I promise, all my best friends do. Only Daddy calls me Henrietta, and then only when I am in the suds with him.”

“Is that what happened today?” teased Landover.

“Today?” She looked puzzled for a brief moment, but then her brow cleared, and she chuckled again. “You mean because he made me miss the fun! No, no, I promise ’twas nothing of the sort. He was merely worried about my safety in the crowds. Can you imagine?”

“Easily,” responded his lordship. “I confess to having had a qualm or two myself on behalf of Lady Sybilla and Miss Harris.”

“But you didn’t forbid their going! Daddy let me come out tonight only because I was to be with you and because he expects nearly all the rabble will stay in Green Park to watch that castle-temple thing explode from Discord to Concord. Otherwise, I expect he would have forbidden this venture as well.”

“You missed everything else?”

“I promise you, Sir Avery, I did indeed, so you must—all of you—tell me all about it. Every last detail!”

Everyone except Gillian seemed only too delighted to comply with this request. She could find Lady Henrietta only irritating, however, and decided it would be far safer to tune out their merry chatter before she inadvertently said something rude. Really, though, it was quite ridiculous the way they were all toad-eating her precious ladyship! Recognizing this thought as an uncharitable one, she made a firm effort to subdue it and turned her mind instead to anticipation of the pleasures that lay ahead.

She had been to the famous gardens only the one time before, with Darrow; but after having been rowed up the Thames from the Whitehall Stairs to Vauxhall landing in a wherry so light that she had felt like a fairy in a nutshell—quite delightful—they had dined together in one of the arcaded booths, and she remembered the Vauxhall menu easily. There would be quarts of arrack punch, as well as wafer-thin slices of ham,
petits poussins,
outrageously expensive lettuce salads, and delicate, mouthwatering cheesecakes. It made her hungry just to think of it. There would also be music and dancing, as well as magical strolls past the triumphal arches of the Grand South Walk or along the Cross Walk to the cascade.