Without a Summer (12 page)
The Admiral laughed. “Well, make sure he pays you in advance, then. That is all I have to say on the matter.”
“I am certain Vincent will have no difficulties in that regard. Perhaps I might visit sometime to see your work in progress?” Lord Verbury’s question was posed with an openness of interest that Jane could not trust in the least, and yet … and yet, she recognised his smile as the one that Vincent offered her in private. Might he have been sincere in his desire to repair his relationship with Vincent?
“In general, we prefer not to show our work until it is completed.” Which he must surely know about Vincent—or perhaps not, given their history. To turn the gentlemen’s attention from their work, she indicated Miss Godwin. “I wonder if either of you know the lady over there?”
“Oh, yes.” Admiral Brightmore chuckled and crossed his hands upon his stomach. “I had the pleasure of serving with her father before he began working for the East India Company. Made his fortune in Calcutta with silks.”
“She is valued at thirty thousand pounds, I understand.” Lord Verbury conveyed the information about Miss Godwin’s dowry as though he were discussing a horse.
Admiral Brightmore concurred. “Her complexion is no impediment with that, believe you me. And her father comes from one of the best families.”
“She seems to be elegance embodied.” It was true that the young woman was a model of good breeding in her carriage and deportment, but Jane had expected her dark skin to limit her eligibility. Apparently, a single woman in possession of a good fortune would find herself with no shortage of suitors.
“You need not look so astonished at our approbation,” Lord Verbury chuckled. “She comes from good British stock on her
father’s
side. It is not as though she were Irish.”
The look he gave Jane was so pointed, she wondered how she could have mistaken his manners for anything like charming. He could only be referring to the day that Melody skated with Mr. O’Brien.
“Oh, bless me, no.” Admiral Brightmore chuckled, with his belly shaking in delight. “Her father’s as honest a man as ever was born. Miss Godwin takes after him in every regard save one.”
“She will have no trouble finding a husband.” Lord Verbury tilted his head and looked at Jane, as though an idea were just occurring to him. “If you should like my help with making introductions for your sister, you have only to let me know.”
“Have you a sister?”
Before Jane could answer, Lord Verbury said, “Oh yes. Her sister is quite pretty.”
His implication that Jane was not went unnoticed by Admiral Brightmore. “I should be delighted to meet her, Lady Hamilton.”
Jane stared at the Admiral for a moment before understanding that he was addressing her. “Pardon, sir, but I am Lady Vincent. My husband no longer uses the Hamilton surname.”
Smoothly, Lord Verbury said, “Vincent has the Hamilton pride, I am afraid. He wanted to succeed on his own merits. Stubborn fellow has been calling himself David Vincent these last few years. The Prince Regent raised him to a knighthood that way, so I suppose we are stuck with it now.”
“Bless me. It sounds as though he is just like you.”
Jane’s cheeks burned with anger at the way the Earl perverted the past. She tilted her chin up to address Lord Verbury. “My understanding, sir, is that you were embarrassed by him and requested that he not use your name. Perhaps that is my mistake?”
“Yes.” Lord Verbury’s tone was cool and gave away nothing of his emotions. “Perhaps it is.”
The Admiral’s laughter died away. His gaze darted between the two, seeming to recognise slowly that they were somewhat less than fond of each other.
“Good evening, gentlemen.” Jane turned and made her way through the crowd, feeling as though she had attempted to manage a fold of glamour too large for her. What she longed for most was to find Vincent and depart, but she would not let that man chase her away. Even if her pride would allow it, her duty would not. Jane had brought Melody to London hoping to find a match for her, and she would do that without the Right Honourable the Earl of Verbury’s help.
She also felt that she should warn Vincent that his father was in attendance, though what that would do to his spirits she did not like to contemplate. He should at least have an opportunity to prepare himself. She knew that he was belowstairs, so she went in search of a footman who might be able to take her to him.
As she crossed the room, her attention was arrested by the welcome sight of a friend. “Major Curry? Is that you?”
The good gentleman, in his smart red uniform, turned and regarded her with pleasure. “Mrs.—no, it is Lady Vincent now. Forgive me.”
Jane blushed. “I have difficulty becoming accustomed to it, myself. My mother is beyond pleased, you may be certain.”
“As well she should be.” Major Curry glanced around the room and lowered his voice. “And your health?”
Jane smiled at his concern. After the Battle of Quatre Bras, he had been charged with conveying her and Vincent to Brussels. Lord Wellington had assigned him to guard them for the months they resided there, until their health permitted them to make the Channel crossing. He had proven himself to be a worthy friend. “I am quite well. We both are.”
He sighed with relief. “I must say that it is fortunate Sir David taught me about the—you know. The Duke of Wellington has kept me in service thanks to that. I owe him a debt. So many soldiers returned that there is not work for us all, and a military glamourist … well, I would have had few prospects, were it not for that. As it is, he has quite made my career.”
“I would not think there was much use for it, with Napoleon defeated.”
“Sadly, the troubles in the north of England have kept us busy. The Luddites … the coldmongers … Everyone is unhappy, it seems.”
“You do not … have you had to fire upon them?”
He looked pained. “I dislike it.” Hanging his head, Major Curry tugged at the trimming at his cuff. “I know that it is for the good of England, but I do not like firing upon my fellow countrymen, no matter what their offence.”
“You are a good man.” He was. And he had a promising career in the military, as well as a passion for the arts. She had thought before that he would be well matched in nature to Melody. “Are you occupied at the moment? I should like to introduce you to my sister.”
“I am at your service, madam.” Major Curry offered his arm, which Jane accepted.
She led him through the throng to Melody, who was engaged in conversation with a flock of young men. Jane had not often had a chance to see her sister in full form. She wondered at how Melody could give each gentleman enough attention that it seemed she wished to speak to him alone if only the others would leave them, without at any point making the other men feel slighted. It was a miracle of charm more intricate than any glamour Jane could weave.
“Melody, may I present Major Curry?”
Her sister’s face lit with delight as though she had been waiting to meet him for years. “Of course! My sister has spoken of you with such high regard.” She touched his sleeve with her fan. “I cannot thank you enough for your service to her.”
Major Curry coloured and cleared his throat. “It was nothing, Miss. Merely my duty.”
“Your duty, sir, would have been to take her to Brussels and stand outside her door with your rifle, but it was more than mere duty that kept you there reading to her during her recovery.” Melody tilted her head up to look at him. “She said she could not do without you.”
“I—ah. You are most kind.”
“It is one of Melody’s best features.” Jane raised a brow at her sister. “She also has a lovely singing voice. I only wish we had the opportunity to show it off to you.”
“And I share that wish.” Major Curry bowed his head to Melody.
Jane offered, as though she had just thought of it, “Perhaps you could come for tea sometime this week? I know that Vincent will be sorry to have missed you.”
“Will I? Ah, Major Curry! I will indeed.” Vincent appeared beside her and shook Major Curry’s hand with enthusiasm.
As they completed their addresses and general inquiries about each other’s health, Melody leaned over to Jane. Raising her fan, she masked her lips and said in a low voice, “Is it necessary for you to throw me at every young man who appears?”
Of a sudden, the room felt overwarm as Jane blushed deeply. “I did not know that my efforts were so transparent.”
“La! I dare say half the room knows that I am for sale.” Melody closed her fan and laughed at something that Major Curry said, as though she had not cut Jane to the quick. With ease, she entered into the conversation, chatting amiably with the Major and Vincent.
Jane did not hear that or the subsequent comments, being involved in rebuking herself. After a moment, Vincent touched her arm. “Muse? Are you all right?”
“Yes. Only distracted for a moment.” She lifted her head, suddenly remembering why she had sought him earlier. “Oh! My love, your father is here.”
“I know.” Vincent grimaced. “We spoke.”
The conversation could not have been a pleasant one, but he offered nothing beyond the fact of their speaking. Jane took his hand and squeezed it, offering the only comfort that she could in a crowded room. Privately, she resolved to do better by her sister and by her husband.
Rather than eating her breakfast, Jane stirred her baked beans with her toast. Sighing, she looked across the table to Vincent. “Would you be all right without me today?”
He looked up from the paper he was sketching upon. “Hm? Is anything the matter?”
“I thought to take Melody shopping today. I have given her no real attention, and I felt that want, last week at Mr. Colgrove’s party.” In truth, she felt that about Vincent as well, but while at work they did not speak of anything beyond glamour, and he had been strikingly guarded after the party. Of the two, she felt that Melody would benefit most immediately from an excursion.
He settled back in his chair. “She has seemed happier of late.”
“I worry that Mr. O’Brien is attaching her.”
“I thought that was desirable. He stands to inherit a Barony, after all.” Vincent sipped his coffee, watching her over the rim of the cup.
“Yes. A Barony in Ireland.” Jane set down her toast and pushed her plate away. “Vincent … can a Catholic marry outside his faith? I have heard that it is illegal.”
Vincent frowned and lowered his cup. “My study of law was some time ago. I do not recall anything in English law…” He hesitated.
“But?”
“But there was a fellow at university, very much attached to a young lady who was Catholic. When he made his offer, she said that she was obliged to refuse him, unless he were willing to convert. She ‘would not risk hell for him.’” He rubbed his brow. “I had forgotten it.”
“So it is a Papist rule?”
“Truly Jane, I do not know.” He winced. “You are concerned that he cannot make an offer to Melody, since she is not of his faith.”
“Am I supposed to watch my sister attach herself, yet again, to a gentleman who will mean no good for her?”
“Hm.” Vincent’s jaw worked as he set his coffee cup in the middle of the saucer.
“That is all? Hm?”
“Well, your mind seems made up that it is a bad match.” He shrugged and aligned the cup even more precisely. “Having also been someone that a thoughtful father might consider a bad match, I am inclined to give the gentleman the benefit of the doubt.”
“You could never be a bad match.” Jane reached across the table and took his hand.
He snorted and squeezed her hand gently. “You did not endure the interview that I did before your father let me see you.”
Jane opened her mouth in surprise.
“Aha. You see? Would you have come with me if he said no? Or, what if he even denied me permission to make my address?”
She had not thought that it had been such a near thing—that she might never have known that he cared for her. Jane forced her voice past the knot in her chest. “You must see that this case is different.”
“If they love each other…”
“You would want Melody to convert to Catholicism?”
“Perhaps he will become Anglican.” He shrugged and picked up his pencil again. “In any case, taking advantage of the dry weather sounds like a sensible plan. I can work in the musicians’ gallery while you are away.”
“And you will remember to pause for a meal?”
Vincent gave her a crooked smile. “Muse, if I do not, you will never let me work alone again.” Reasonably assured of her husband’s good behaviour, Jane went in search of Melody to apprise her of the change of plans for the day. Her sister was only too happy to have an alteration of routine. The delight she expressed made Jane feel guilt anew at how long she had neglected her sister.
Though it was mid-May, the weather was still cool enough that both ladies wore their pelisses when they stepped out. With stout half-boots, the puddles and refuse on the walks offered no real concern, though Jane did pay sixpence to a crossing sweeper at one particularly foul intersection. She let Melody guide their stroll, caught up in her sister’s enthusiasm for the wealth of opportunities provided by London.
The streets were crowded with ladies and gentlemen, ship-workers, maids, lascars, farmers, and blackamoors all taking advantage of the weather. The day could not be said to be a fine one, but after weeks of rain, the high silver overcast seemed almost beautiful.
Melody came to a halt in front of a store dealing in preserved animals. “Oh! Jane, are these not cunning? Would Vincent like one, do you think?”
The window display had a variety of stuffed birds in various poses as well as fossils of improbable creatures. “For reference, do you mean? He might.”
Melody wrinkled her nose. “I was thinking of Vincent’s birthday. Is that not why we are shopping? I thought I was just a pretext.”
“Oh. No.” The weather had been so odd of late that she had forgotten it was almost summer and that Vincent’s birthday was rapidly approaching. They had not marked it the year prior because of the aftermath of the Battle of Quatre Bras, and it had slipped her mind completely. “He might, though he tends to not want anything. A book might be more to his taste.”