To Catch a Rake (26 page)

Tom nodded slowly, his eyes wider than saucers.

Meta bellowed instructions to Fitzy. “I have business that must be attended to this afternoon with the Learned Ladies. I have no time to sort all of this out. You are almost a grown gentleman now, and one day soon you will run your own household. I want you to attend to this matter immediately. You understand me, Fitzy?”

He leaned over to brush dust off his bottle green wool trousers. “I’ve never been in charge of a household matter before. What do I do?”

“First you make sure everyone in the house is warned of the danger. Then put up signs and arrange furniture, so nobody accidentally goes near the center of the ceiling, or even comes anywhere near those hanging bits of plaster and wood. After that, you will see to the repairs.”

“How?”

She brushed plaster off her skirt, then stood with both fists resting on her hips. “The man of the house figures it out. They would ask other men. I assume you will do the same.”

He hesitated for a moment before he straightened his shoulders. “You’re right. I’ll pop over and ask George then.”

“No! No, you will not bother Mr. Drexel. Is that understood?”

He stood unmoving, eyes wide and mouth open.

“You will not speak to him under any circumstances for at least a month. It’s a personal matter that does not relate to you. Do you hear me?”

This time her brother nodded. “I don’t understand. I thought we all were the best of friends.”

“Mr. Drexel and I have recently argued over a matter that is none of your business. For that reason, I request you keep to your job at the tunnel and do not bother him or his family. Understood?”

He huffed. “If he is mad at you, I don’t see why I cannot pay a call upon the family. Both Drexels have provided me with support in ways I cannot begin to describe.”

“No!” This time the expediency of her tone and earnest stare got her point across.

His mulish expression vanished. “All right,” he said, “you don’t have to behave like a parent, you know.”

“You’re right. I am not your parent. Since your parents are unavailable, you will have to gain guidance from wherever you can. I suggest James would be a good gentleman to ask about whom to call to mend a chandelier. He is now living in rooms in Fenton’s Hotel.”

Lily faced both of them. “Meta, you are being horrible. Come on, Fitzy. You can call upon James today after breakfast. I’ll wager you can put the chandelier to rights better than Meta ever could.”

Meta wiped her hands and skirt to remove more plaster dust. “Excellent. It’s about time the two of you take some of the burden running the household. Now let’s not keep Cook waiting. It’s time for breakfast.”

Two hours later, Meta walked to Lady Sarah’s London town house. If there was one thing she believed in, it was efficiency. The best way for her to get her grievances across to her friends would be to stand in front of everyone and point to the metaphorical knife stabbed in her back.

Before she rang the bell, she paused on the doorstep and experienced the guilt of an unkind thought. After all, she firmly believed that you could never fully understand a person’s motive for their actions, so granting tolerance and the benefit of the doubt should be her first course of action. Perhaps she should wait until the appropriate moment to ask the ladies why they penned the field guide and why they decided to hide the publication from her. Then she’d do her best to listen carefully before she made a judgment. Still, that knife hurt.

About a dozen ladies mingled in the pretty yellow room when Meta entered. She greeted everyone, but to her dismay, her felicitations sounded perfunctory to her ears. Thankfully, the meeting began soon after her arrival.

Lady Sarah stood first, resplendent in a green silk gown with white bobbin lace sleeves. She opened the meeting. “I officially declare this meeting of the Learned Ladies Society open. Our agenda today will be as follows. First, we shall introduce any guests to our members. Then in open forum, the informal part of this meeting, any member may speak about any subject—even give us the latest
on dit
. Afterwards, we will hear a report by our treasurer on the current state of our funds. This will be followed by a progress report about our current governesses. We will then close the meeting after a discussion of the books we are reading. One person will be chosen to present her views upon a factual book and one will start the discussion on the latest novel. So without further ado, are there any guests present today?” She took her seat at the head of the table.

Clara stood and motioned for a young woman, who could have been mistaken for her twin, to rise. “This is my niece, newly married, Mrs. Underwood. Her husband is a prominent person in the Navy. We share many of the same favorites when it comes to books, so I believe she will be a natural and welcome addition to our group.”

Mrs. Underwood stood and everyone gave her a warm welcome.

“Any other guests?” Lady Sarah lifted her brows. “Right then, we now enter open forum. So what are the latest
on dits
, tittle-tattle, or popular jests? Even better, anyone have happy news?”

Lady Sarah’s gaze swept the room and fell upon Meta.

Meta ignored the veiled reference that she may have happy news of the matrimonial variety and considered whether or not to air her grievances immediately. However, the meeting had yet to begin, so this was not the appropriate time to address the ladies, especially since any ill feelings might end the meeting prematurely. Perhaps during tea she could informally ask the group about their field guide.

Grizel, her black curls set off today by a white muslin gown covered in an overdress of machine-made orange net, held up her hand.

Lady Sarah gave her a nod.

Grizel grinned. “I heard a jest yesterday. Two gentlemen whispered like they were in a vestry.” She blushed, a rare occurrence. “I overheard it by mistake, of course. It is very vulgar, you understand, but quite clever.”

“How vulgar?” Clara asked.

“Some might say”—Grizel lowered her voice—“this jest is offensive to modesty and decency—obscene, even.”

Mrs. Underwood turned to her aunt Clara. “I’ve never heard an obscene jest before. This will be my first.”

Lady Sarah stood to draw everyone’s attention. “Just weeks ago, the majority of us agreed that if we could not present a jest appropriate for ladies, we would eliminate all jests from the open forum part of the meeting, remember?”

“Such a shame. May I ask why?” Mrs. Underwood said.

Daphne, the young lady sitting next to her, explained. “It seemed that the only jests our members knew were vulgar ones. For example, there was a pun about some lady sitting in the gallery of the House of Commons, which everyone deemed only right because she allowed”—she lowered her voice—“members into her House of Commons. Get it—
members
?”

“Oh my,” exclaimed Mrs. Underwood, a small grin lingering on the corner of her mouth. “I understand now, any mention of the…gentleman part should be avoided at all times and is considered very indelicate indeed.”

The ladies furtively glanced at each other, amusement still shining on several of their faces and snickers mixed with giggles.

Clara raised her hand. “I recently heard some tittle-tattle that will amaze you all. It seems Mrs. Puckle has left her lover of ten years, at last. I saw her yesterday and she didn’t seem affected in any way. She even mentioned her new spaniel.”

“She gave up a lover for a spaniel?” Bethia asked.

Clara answered. “Spaniels are much better than a lover.” She blushed. “I mean in providing good company. Besides, they are so adorable with those soft hairy ears…furry ears.”

“Ladies, please stop.” Lady Sarah stood. “It always amazes me that the conversation of an intelligent group of women can turn so indelicate at the wink of an eye.”

The members grinned and exchanged glances.

“How about a jest with cats? Everyone loves cats, and animal jokes can never be vulgar,” Sybella said.

Grizel turned to her. “I know one about a game cock.”

They all burst into snickers.

Lady Sarah’s voice boomed over the crowd. “The open forum is officially ended. Let us continue on with the reports.”

Once they finished the business part of the meeting, the group moved their chairs around another large table for tea.

Meta inhaled deeply, gathered her courage, and stood before them. “Ladies, may I take a minute of your time to ask a question?”

“Of course, Meta dear. You don’t have to ask,” Lady Sarah said, stirring her tea with a petite spoon.

Meta waited until the polite clanging of spoons hitting fine porcelain came to an end. As she did so, she searched their faces to discover if her friends already knew what she was about to say. A few looked guilty, but she could not really tell. “It has come to my attention that some of you”—she glanced around the table—“have written and published a book titled:
The Ladies’ Field Guide to London’s Rakes
. Is this true?” She failed to see surprise or even regret written on a single face.

“Yes,” Lady Sarah said in a casual manner. “Once we heard how much money Mr. Drexel made publishing his field guide, we all thought it would be a good idea to do the same. I’m sorry you were not present at the meeting when we decided upon this matter. But, as you are fully aware, we could use the extra funds. Now the book has been so successful, we might even be able to rescue every governess we find.”

Several ladies nodded in a perfunctory fashion and one clapped.

“Much easier than holding a bazaar, for example,” said Sybella, the group’s treasurer.

Meta was at a loss for words; her throat seized.

Her disappointment must have shone on her face, as Clara glanced down to her lap. “Our intent was to protect you. We—I—suggested the book might also save you from the attentions of a scoundrel. I…mean you were observed in his close company, and you surely don’t want any hint of scandal attached to your good name.”

Meta’s irritation overwhelmed her, and a brief silence fell over the room. Her affection for George must have been patently obvious for her friends to attempt such a faulty scheme to save her from him. Close to tears, she remained standing, expecting to run to the door the moment one fell. “If we were seen in close company that evening, it’s because it was raining. I had no desire to get wet and become ill.”

Many of the ladies appeared unsettled, focused on their teacups, or absentmindedly stirred their tea.

Meta’s mind swam in confusion. “I understand your motives were to protect me from him, I guess. I can assure you that is not necessary.”

Her friends appeared to relax.

“For personal reasons concerning others, I must insist that all publication of your field guide cease immediately.” Her palms became damp, so she nonchalantly brushed them on her skirt.

“But, Meta,” Lady Sarah said, “we too have earned a significant amount of money for the accounts, enough for every governess. No more begging husbands or fathers for funds.”

Sybella remarked, “Husbands can be particularly troublesome.”

All of the married women agreed.

“So true.”

“Yes indeed.”

“Without a doubt.”

Meta turned to Lady Sarah and held out her hands. “I promise to match the expected profits, pound for pound, when you stop the publication. But stop it must. You have hurt Mr. Drexel’s reputation unfairly, and now his promotion is in jeopardy.”

“We used random initials followed by dashes,” Lady Sarah said, her brows knit. “So I don’t see how anyone could come to the conclusion it was his name in the book.”

Meta gave her friend a resigned smile. “I don’t pretend to understand why people attached names to vague initials—for the fun of it, I presume—but I know they do. They consider it a game. Remember Lily’s difficulties? Her name was unjustly attached to initials that merely resembled hers.”

The women lapsed into uneasy silence, punctuation by a great deal of noisy tea stirring.

“Mr. Drexel,” Meta said, in a choking voice, “has worked hard for years to overcome the stain on his reputation from his ill-considered field guide. Today he is considered for promotion, a well-deserved honor for his hard work on the tunnel. Your…well-intentioned field guide may have prematurely ended his career. Civic gentlemen may not seek him out for projects, solely on the basis of rumors derived from your book.”

Silence filled the room. The ladies all stared at their laps or out the window.

“I have come into some money recently,” Meta said. “So reimbursement is not a hardship, believe me. But further publication
must
be stopped immediately.”

Lady Sarah spoke in a low voice. “You must be fond of Mr. Drexel to defend him so.”

The word “fond” was sometimes used when one did not wish to mention the word “love.”

Was she in love with George?

With the speed of a thunderclap and the heat of a fire’s spark, the answer was yes. A sudden clarity assailed her.
Yes, she loved George.

It began when he had kissed her and she let her hand softly linger on his cheek. Then it grew into a passionate love. Unlike the gentle, friendly love that she felt for her husband, her love for George burned. She now recognized this love as the dream of every female growing up. This love was the subject of novels of romance, the desire for the touch of the children you create together, and the loving tenderness that grows from a life shared. This love would never fade with neglect or time.

“Meta, are you feeling well?” Lady Sarah tilted her head down to catch her eye.

She looked into her friend’s eyes and nodded. This was also a love that could never be; George did not need her or want her friendship. Moreover, he was a reputed rake, complete with the unfeeling reputation that came with that title. To him, women were merely a conquest, or names in his book, or a means of celebration. She fought the welling of a tear.

While his barriers against love were ones derived from his personality, her barriers stood even taller—her unquestioned devotion to the needs of her family. This was her duty and her greatest joy. Nothing could make her happier than attending to their wants and desires. So to leave them to reside elsewhere with another spouse was out of the question. She turned around to discreetly wipe away the troublesome lingering tear, then faced her friends again.