Chapter 55: To Visit the Queen
"Oh, yes!" said Jane. "Letty looked marvelous. She was wearing some amazing pearls, but we could hardly have a word together. It was such a mob! And Lord Fanshawe has a female ward, it seems, who will be living with them now." Jane sipped her after dinner tea, thinking about her meeting with Letty that afternoon.
"A ward?" asked Penelope, very interested. "I confess I did not know there was such a person! Caro, did you know that Lord Fanshawe had a ward?"
Caroline raised her brows skeptically, looking at moment, Jane thought, very like her brother.
"Lord Fanshawe's name has been connected over the years with a great many young people. There was that young man who was said to be his son—the one who was involved with those other young men in that horrid scandal. I believe Lord Fanshawe sent him out to Africa. There has been talk about some of the children born on his estate. Forgive me, Jane, but you know that Lord Fanshawe has not lived a blameless life. Did the young lady resemble him?"
"A little, perhaps. She is very fair and has blue eyes. She is quite pretty. I can't say that I took one look and cried, 'Ha! That is Lord Fanshawe's daughter!'"
"It would have been very odd if you did!" Penelope observed, very solemnly. A pause, and the three of them burst out laughing.
Tavington and Sir John joined them at that moment, and were pleasantly puzzled to find such proper ladies so merry.
"Was it something we said?" Tavington asked, brow raised. Jane started laughing again.
"Or something we did?" John wondered, flinging himself into a favorite chair.
"Not at all, " said Jane, trying to compose herself. "We were speaking of my visit to my sister today, and trying to deduce who Miss James, Lord Fanshawe's 'ward' might really be."
"I think it's clear she his natural daughter," Caroline reasoned. "If she were some other relation, especially a legitimate one, he would have explained it all thoroughly. When no one speaks of it, it is a sure sign of a natural child."
"Very likely," John agreed equably. "Is she pretty?"
"Yes," Jane admitted. "She's very young—perhaps fifteen or sixteen. She was not very—well, actually she was rather sullen and rude—carefully behind Lord Fanshawe's back, of course. I gathered that she was unhappy to leave school. Letty was making the best of it, naturally, but I can hardly think such a girl will be a satisfactory companion. And—oh, dear! Letty is coming this afternoon! I wonder if she will have to bring Miss James along?" How disappointing! I shall never be able to talk privately with Letty if that girl is sitting there the entire time.
"I think I can promise that Miss James will be thoroughly engrossed," Caroline promised, with a sly smile.
"Yes, indeed!" Penelope agreed brightly. "We shall ask her all about her school, and have her play the instrument, and cram her with cake. She will be too occupied to eavesdrop on your conversation with your sister!"
The two men laughed. "It might be worth missing a debate, Will, to hear those women at their plotting!"
"Actually, perhaps I can be back sometime after three," Tavington considered. "I would like to see how Letty is, myself."
"Heavens!" Caroline laughed. "You might terrify Miss James out of her senses."
Jane said nothing, but thought a good fright might be salutary for such a spoiled, sulky young girl as Miss James seemed to be. She forced herself to say, "I really know nothing of the girl. She might simply have been overwhelmed, yesterday, but I confess all that eye-rolling did not impress me favorably. Perhaps she will improve on acquaintance."
-----
She did not.
Lucy arrived first, with Ned in tow, bringing her pleasant nurserymaid to assist Moll. The little boy was taken upstairs and a thrilled Ash chattered to him eagerly, while Rambler sniffed at the little boy, and evidently recalled him as a rightful member of the pack. The ladies left the boys at their play and their talk, and went downstairs to join Caro and Pen.
Just after one, Letty made her entrance in a gorgeous mourning ensemble, wearing a vast and gloomy hat. Miss James accompanied her in a pretty confection of grey and pink. They were shown into the drawing room, and Jane had no eyes for anyone but Letty in the first moments.
Caroline, however, did not fail to observe Miss James' faint sneer at the sight of the sisters embracing once again. Penelope and Lucy saw it too, and each caught her own sister's eye. A difficult girl, at a difficult age, was the message they silently agreed upon. Nonetheless, they spoke kindly to the girl, and then they all kissed Letty very affectionately.
Letty had so much to tell them: the wonders of Salton Park, the delights of Bath, the beauties of the night sky seen through a large telescope, the gaiety of the theatre. She gave them a short description of it all, and then wanted to hear more about Jane's experience with Carver.
Jane made her own tale equally short, but mentioned the treachery of Porter, and the terrible fate of his family. Letty pitied little Deborah Porter, and wanted to help her.
"I shall send her some books to amuse her. I'm sure she lost everything."
"Nearly everything but what she stood up in, poor girl. She is a very nice child, and very deserving. I'm sure a book or two would be very welcome. I hope she likes the school."
This was the opening Caroline had waited for. "Miss James, I hear that you have only recently come to us from the schoolroom. Whose school did you attend?"
These words were clearly the key to young Miss James' heart. A torrent of words followed: about Mrs. Trilling and her most exclusive school, about all the girls who were Miss James' special friends: girls named Sophronia, Louisa, Belinda, Miranda, Cecilia. There was even a Mary mentioned, which made Jane smile a little, wondering how a simple Mary fared amongst the grander names.
Miss James, by her own account, had been a leader among them, both in fashion and in accomplishments. She had been on the point of receiving a school prize for penmanship—a volume of poetical maxims for good conduct . She felt cruelly cheated of her just reward, and missed her schoolmates dreadfully. She told them about the latest rage for taking likenesses, and how she had excelled in drawing. The discussion moved to a table, when Miss James was provided with pencils, and she set to work, drawing the Tavington sisters in the most becoming pose.
With the girl happily occupied, Jane and Letty were free to speak in whispers of what was really important to them.
"Are you well?" Jane asked anxiously. "When is the child due?"
"In August, perhaps. That is what Nurse Gloake thought—a very good woman who attended me in Bath. I hope I find someone as nice here in London. His lordship speaks of doctors, but I hope he will not insist."
Briefly she described poor Lady Carteret's sufferings, under the care of the odious Doctor Malahyde.
"How horrible!" Jane sympathized. "And how ridiculous! It is hard to believe that educated people can be so taken in!"
"Well, they are!" Letty assured her. "I wouldn't have such a man attending me for anything! It's so immodest, anyway. But how are you?" She asked, very softly, "Is the Colonel treating you better now?"
"Yes," Jane whispered back. "He has become quite kind now. We both enjoyed our time at Wargrave so much, and he was so fierce in my defense when I was attacked, and so gentle afterwards. We are quite happy now. I hope everything stays as it is, now that we are in London. Of course, it helps that Lady Cecily is not interfering. She, poor woman, believes me to be the governess of years past, and tolerates me quite well when I visit her. I do not believe she can live much longer."
"Poor lady! Perhaps I could pay my compliments to her—but no—I do not want to take Harmonia to see her. I don't think she is accustomed to sick people or old people, and she might be frightened—"
"Or rude," Jane said dryly.
Letty turned her back to Miss James, obviously wanting to avoid any possibility of the girl overhearing. Jane thought it unlikely, as the Tavington sisters were loudly praising Miss James' skill with pencils and crayons, and were praising the progress of her drawing. Lucy saw Jane watching, and gave her a wink.
"She is so sarcastic," Letty confided. "She is not happy with anything. She complained of her room, even though it is charming—she says the color makes her feel bilious. She feels neglected by the servants, and is always finding fault with them. Lord Fanshawe expects me to chaperone her, but really, she is very troublesome!"
"Perhaps she would feel appeased if you took her to the modiste, and bought her new clothes."
"I intend to do that tomorrow. She complained of her clothes, and then acted ill-used when I told her we would go out to buy more. Somehow the day is inconvenient, though I hardly know how that could be, since she has no engagements that I know of."
"Still, perhaps some pretty new gowns may appease her."
"I certainly hope so! Now, Jane, will you send for Little Will? I've missed him, and I long to give him a cuddle. And Moll, too! Is she well?"
"Moll is doing splendidly. She is going to be married at the end of the month to Tom Young, who is now butler at Wargrave. Sir John will give them a pretty cottage. Moll is very kindly helping here in the nursery while the other nursemaid is being inoculated. I shall miss her, but she is so happy. She is expecting a child in August," she whispered softly, directly into Letty's ear.
"Oh, she deserves to be happy. Please ring for them now. And—for the other children, too. What a burden for you! Dear sister, Lord Fanshawe does not want me to offer to take them in, but he has given permission for me to buy them some very good presents. I want to take advantage of his good will. What would be best?"
Jane got up and rang for a footman. As soon as the servant appeared, she told him to have Mrs. Royston and the maids bring down the children. Sitting down by Letty again, she said, "They need everything, poor boys. Clothing, certainly. Plain baby linen would be welcome, and caps too. Actually—" Jane thought about it. The boys certainly did not need elaborate gifts, but if Lord Fanshawe wished to be generous—"Well, perhaps some silver. Their christening cups disappeared when Selina ran away, along with most of their clothing. Yes," she said more positively. "William Francis has so many nice things. A cup, porringer and spoon for Ash and Thomas would be charming."
"With their initials, of course. 'ACR' for Ashbury Charles Rutledge, and—what is Thomas' middle name?"
Jane opened her mouth, and paused. "Pinckney" was on the tip of her tongue, but she did not want to say it. She paused a little longer, in thought. The first family name that came to her was—
"Manigault," she told Letty. "Manigault, after Papa's mother's family. So--.'TMR,' for Thomas Manigault Rutledge." She felt herself blushing. She had no idea why she had suddenly thought of Ralph. Manigault was a perfectly good name—her paternal grandmother's name. There was no reason to burden little Thomas with the name of his faithless mother and her rebel uncles. Manigault it would be, then.
She smiled, her guilt assuaged, and told Letty, "The Colonel is being so good to them. He is a very affectionate father and brother."
"I'm so glad! You're not—expecting yourself, are you?"
Jane laughed. "I hope not! I would like to wean William Francis before I bear any more children! But someday," she admitted, "I would like to have a daughter."
"Oh, so would I! I hope this child is a girl. His lordship does too. He is not so fond of little boys, and there are so many in his family."
"You told me how horrid the little ones were!"
"I swear I didn't exaggerate! They were horrible!"
"Letty," Jane asked earnestly. "Is Lord Fanshawe kind to you? Are you happy?"
There was a pause, and Letty tried to answer honestly. "He is very good to me, and very generous. He never hurts me and he never speaks rudely to me. He expects to always have his own way, though, and that means—"
She stopped, her eyes on the doorway, smiling happily at the sight of Moll, who entered, carrying Little Will in her arms. A maid carried another baby, and the footman led a tiny boy with each hand, helping them down the stairs. Caroline and Penelope stopped their attentions to Miss James, glad to see the children. Lucy put her arms out to Ned. Miss James pursed her lips, annoyed that she had lost her audience. At Moll's urging, Ash made a kind of funny little bow to the ladies, and then trotted over to Jane, slowing down at the sight of a strange lady in black sitting by his sister.
"Come here, Ash darling. This is your other sister, Lady Fanshawe. Come and give her a kiss."
Ashbury thought the lady very pretty, but also rather frightening, as she seemed to be covered in black feathers and jewels. She smelled very nice, though, and when she bent low and offered him her cheek, he placed a loud kiss on it without too much shuffling and fidgeting. She kissed him back, saying, "I haven't seen you in ages, Ash. The last time I saw you, you were hardly more than a baby!"
"I'm a big boy now," he declared.
"I see that you are. A good boy, too. How do you like it here?"
This was too complicated a question. Ash shrugged and looked at his feet. "I like it. I was on a boat for a long time!"
"I know you were! I came here by boat too. It made my tummy sick. Did you get sick?"
"Umm-hmm! I was so sick I was 'bout to die!"
He thought the lady in pink was pretty, and decided he would like to make friends. He toddled over, put his hands on her gown, and tried to climb into her lap, not understanding that this young lady was unused to small children.
"Get away!" the girl cried, pushing Ash away. "You'll soil my gown!"
The little boy fell on his bottom, and his eyes filled with tears. Scrambling up, he turned and ran for Jane, small arms reaching out for comfort. Jane was already out of her chair and caught Ash up in a moment. She did not withdraw, however, but stood over Miss James, glaring.
"How dare you! You will be so good as not to strike my brother!"
Utterly taken aback by Jane's anger, the girl shrank into her chair. She looked to Letty for support.
"Lady Fanshawe, that child would have dirtied my gown!"
Her plea was useless. Letty was hardly going to take her part against her own sister. Very mildly, she reproved the girl. "Your gown could be cleaned or replaced. You must be gentle with little children." Sweetly, she called, "Ash, come here, and I'll wipe your little hands. You mustn't dirty ladies' pretty dresses!"
Jane brought him over and the two of them used their handkerchiefs on his perfectly clean fingers.
"There now," Letty soothed. "Go over to Harmonia, and she will give you a nice kiss."
Jane was doubtful, but did not want to undermine Letty with her unpleasant young charge. She took Ash by the hand, and led him over to Miss James, and fixed her with a stern regard. If that had not been enough to frighten the young girl, there was the imposing Moll, who stood behind Jane, glaring and flexing her fingers.
Finally, the girl wrinkled her nose, but leaned over and dutifully placed a kiss on Ash's forehead.
He sniffled, and whispered, "Sowwy, ma'am."
"Very nice, Ash." Jane praised him. "Here --sit by me. Mrs. Royston, please bring William Francis over to see Lady Fanshawe."
"Oh, Moll," Letty said, tears in her eyes. "I am so happy for you! I hope you and your Tom will have a wonderful life together.!"
"Thankee ma'am," Moll beamed. "That's right kind of you."
"Oh! And here is darling little Will!"
She took the baby in her arms and kissed him tenderly. He, for his part, was fascinated by her drooping black plumes, and made a little grab for them. The women laughed. Letty's eye was caught by Baby Thomas, and she admired him, too.
"Such a handsome child. But, oh! What a lot of work for you, Jane! You must take special care of yourself!"
"Don't worry about me," Jane said, putting out her arms for Thomas. "See what a nursery-full of fine little men I have!"
She dropped a quick kiss on Ashbury's bright head. The two babies grinned at each other. Lucy and Ned joined them, and formed a comfortable group: talking together about babies, and having babies, and planning for babies. The two little boys rolled Red Horse back and forth between them, giggling.
Meanwhile, Caroline and Penelope lured Miss James to the harpsichord and the girl began playing the pieces she had learned at school. It would take some time: though she only knew five by heart, each piece had a number of anecdotes attached to it, which the girl told him detail to the kind-hearted older ladies. She thought herself wonderfully witty and entertaining, not realizing how many times the Tavington sisters had heard those pieces, and heard stories just like Miss James.' Nonetheless, she responded instinctively to their intelligent comments, behaving better than she had in some time, and thinking that these women were very nice—"for old maids."
A few minutes later, Tavington returned, and took the stairs two at a time, happy to be home. He heard the music and talk floating from the drawing room, and strode directly to his wife, where she sat with her sister and sister-in-law.
"Ah, Jane!" He kissed her hand."Lucy, my dear!" He admired their other guest. "Lady Fanshawe! You look magnificent!"
There was as much truth as flattery in his remark. He had always thought Letty very pretty, but now she was positively glamorous. The mourning became her: giving her dignity and presence, making her skin appear more fashionably pale. His eyes searched her, looking beyond the expensive jewelry and the modish garments. Her whole air had changed. She was more confident—and she certainly did not show signs of ill-use, which he had looked for first of all. Ridiculous to consider it, of course. Fanshawe would never be so coarse as to strike her.
He bowed and kissed her hand, very respectfully, and then laughed as Will put out his arms to his father. Tavington took the boy from Letty with the ease of long practice.
"May I congratulate you, sister, on your own situation? I hope you are very well, and continue so!"
"You are very kind, Colonel," Letty replied, with a shy smile.
"But here," Jane interposed, "William, you are remiss. You did not see that we have another visitor. Miss James, let me present to you my husband, Colonel Tavington."
Miss James was already staring, her face red as fire. When the Colonel gave her a bow, she could hardly remember to acknowledge it. Instead she sat down, blushing the more, and looked at him in little quick glances. Lucy, Caroline and Penelope caught each other's eye and tried not to laugh. It was not the first time that a young lady had been besotted at the first sight of their handsome brother.
Letty and Jane noticed it too, and were not so amused. Letty was uncomfortable, imagining all sorts of unpleasantness, and Jane was annoyed at another woman—however young—so openly ogling her private property. Her lips thinned, and she tried to dismiss her annoyance by ordering tea.
Tavington was full of news about his upcoming mission to Windsor, and all the ladies were appropriately impressed.
"Perhaps you should plan to attend the first of the Queen's Thursday Drawing Rooms. I hope you can arrange your Court Dress in time!"
"Court Dress!" cried Miss James, a little too loudly.
Letty paused, and then said softly, "We must first ask Lord Fanshawe his opinion, my dear Harmonia."
Jane started, surprised at how well Letty had adopted the manner of speech of the British aristocracy. It was true, she had been surrounded by such people for months, and there was still just the least bit of Carolina honey left in her accent, but her expressions, her tone, even the pronunciation of such words as lord, first, darling, yourself—had changed. Letty was adapting: she was fitting in. She saw William's considering look, and knew he was thinking the same thing.
Letty, for her part, was studying her sister and her husband. She had thought Jane looked very well the day before, but had reserved judgement until she could see the two of them together. What she saw made her feel very relieved. They were talking together and were at ease together. The Colonel was paying Jane proper attention and was being very nice to the children.
Jane looked better, too—not pale and plain, as she was too apt to look. Well, Jane would always be pale, but with the careful cosmetics, it was a fashionable pallor. And then, she had put on a little weight, which very much improved her figure. Most of all, she looked happy, which Mama had always said was a great beautifier. Even if they must wear mourning to be presented at Court, Jane would make a fine appearance.
It was a little annoying, though, that Harmonia seemed to think that she would be presented, too. She did not know what Lord Fanshawe intended for the girl. If she was simply a companion, then a presentation was not warranted. On the other hand, if he meant to notice her and perhaps settle some money on her, it could be looked upon as the first step of the girl's being Out.
Lady Carteret had explained it all, and Letty felt she understood it. It all still hinged, however, on what Lord Fanshawe meant to do. And he might decide that Harmonia was too young to be presented anyway, and tell her it would take place next year. Letty felt she would prefer that. She wanted to be presented with her sister, with no troublesome, whining young charge to spoil the day.
With more decision than usual, she said, "Yes. I shall speak to Lord Fanshawe tonight. Tomorrow, dear sister, you and I shall go out and order our dresses. Miss Tavington, Miss Penelope—will you come with us? I know you have been at Court often—Lord Fanshawe has told me that Lady Cecily was a Lady of the Bedchamber to the Dowager Princess of Wales--but wouldn't you like to go again?"
"I don't know—" Penelope replied, surprised.
Caroline added, "—Our mother--"
"It would only be for a few hours. Or at least one of you could go? How handsome you would look."
"I promise to think about it, my dear," Caroline sighed, "I do not wish to disappoint you, but I think you will find it all a little—dull."
Penelope softened this, with, "But it is an experience not to be missed. Of course you must both be presented, but the conversation is so stilted, so insipid, even! You cannot speak unless spoken to, and sometimes no one speaks at all. It is very—"
"But to see the Queen!" Miss James nearly shouted. "To be so close to greatness! I would think it disloyal to call it dull!"
Embarrassed, Letty whispered a reproach, "That's enough, Harmonia!"
Jane stared at the blonde girl, very offended. She remembered that she had always disliked pretty blonde girls in South Carolina.
Tavington said calmly, after a frozen moment, "No one here is the least disloyal, Miss James. It is not disloyal to remark that it is a ceremonious occasion, and therefore, not one given to easy conversation or casual greetings. I daresay it is rather dull for Her Majesty, too, but she does not shirk their duty in becoming acquainted with her subjects."
Jane nearly rolled her eyes herself. She had never heard William sound so like a schoolmaster. She would twit him about it later, she decided. Right now, it had sufficed. Miss James was gaping at him in open adoration, and the Tavington sisters were trying to repress their laughter.
Jane remembered with a pang that Lucy probably could no longer be presented at court. Her husband's status as a gentleman was rather more questionable, and she had somewhat exiled herself from the social circles of her birth. Well, even if she was not considered grand enough to be received by the Queen, Jane thought, she was more than acceptable at Mortimer Square.
Jane spoke of the ball on Saturday the twenty-sixth, learned that Lucy's dress was ordered, and found that Letty had seen the invitation. Lord Fanshawe had approved it, and all was in train for a glorious occasion. They spoke softly, for Letty was uncertain if his lordship would permit Harmonia to attend even this function.
"I shall let you know as soon as possible."
"No matter," Jane whispered back. "With the mob we are expecting, one more guest will be no trouble!"
Blessedly, the tea came, and Jane could hide behind the refreshments. Miss James took her share, commenting that at school they were served French pastries on Thursdays. Jane ignored the remark, believing it to be a ridiculous lie, and smiled at Letty who was embarrassed at her charge's ill-bred behavior. Tavington looked amused, but had no more time for her, for Ashbury wanted his attention and part of his cake.
-----
Letty appeared the next day in her own elegant barouche, ready to go to the modiste with Jane. Jane had been watching for her, and was quite impressed by her sister's personal equipage.
"Alone!" she told Moll with excited pleasure. "We won't have to put up with that wretched girl!"
She danced from the nursery, and ran down the steps. She settled down beside her sister, with a smile and an exchange of kisses. Letty looked serious, and Jane asked her what was the matter.
"Such doings at Fanshawe House!" Letty told her, in a low voice. "Lord Fanshawe declared that he does not want Harmonia presented this month. She will be seventeen in March, and he said that is early enough. And then! Harmonia got red in the face and let out such a scream! The whole house must have heard it! She dared to oppose Lord Fanshawe, and said that she would be presented! Lord Fanshawe was quite surprised. He had always thought her a nice girl."
Jane was faintly horrified. Screaming at someone like Lord Fanshawe did not seem particularly wise. Most especially, a natural daughter, completely dependent upon him, should know how to hold her tongue. No doubt Lord Fanshawe was surprised.
"Of course he has never lived with her before. Probably she could behave for the short visits he had made in the past."
Letty looked at her wide-eyed. "It was very, very foolish of her. His lordship does not allow people to disagree with him. Harmonia has been locked in her room since last night, and we have all been forbidden to bring her anything to eat, so she has had nothing since tea with you yesterday. I believe she has some water, if she has not spilled it in her fit of rage. I could hear her smashing things. His lordship said she could stay there until she was quiet. I very much doubt he will permit her to attend your ball. He practically ordered me out of the house to see to my Court dress. I thought he would come along, but he is too angry. I wish Harmonia liked me. I would advise her to submit to her guardian, and not to irritate him. He might send her back to school!"
"Perhaps that's where she needs to be," Jane pointed out. "Maybe she is just not mature enough for the role he assigned her. Is she very rude to you?"
Though years of slavery had damaged Letty's self-esteem and confidence, she was far from stupid. There was no reason to lie to Jane. "She's very rude to everyone. She was restraining herself when in company with Lord Fanshawe, but she is so difficult to live with! I don't know how the other schoolgirls could bear it." She confided, "It's not at all like the school in The Governess. Those girls learned to live together so nicely. And also—" she looked sad. "—Harmonia knows that I am not the daughter of a nobleman. She doesn't know all about me, but she feels superior to me, because my father was a private gentleman, and hers—for she seems sure than Lord Fanshawe is her father—is a viscount."
"What nonsense!" Jane said, wanting to slap Miss James' sneering little face. "You are Lady Fanshawe, and she is a poor relation. She's a fool not to make a friend and ally of you."
"I do feel sorry for her," Letty told her. "She must be dreadfully hungry by now. I feel like a wicked stepmother in a story. It's horrible."
"You are not wicked! It's all her own fault. I confess I don't know any stories about wicked stepchildren, but she seems to be turning into one. She knows what she must do. Her own silly pride has got her into this fix, and she must swallow it before she can swallow any dinner. Put her out of your mind. We have wonderful Court dresses to choose. I saw a picture in The Lady—"
"Oh! I saw that too! Let us dress quite a bit the same. We will use the same fabric, only cut a little differently at the shoulder, and your plumes will be arranged in the back. Our hair must be powdered, of course, and we shall wear all our pearls."
"I noticed your enormous pearl, Letty. Or was that a cannonball?"
Letty laughed, her face clearing. "My Christmas present! It is called "The Virgin's Tear," and it belonged to some queen a long time ago. It is very heavy, but his lordship likes to see it on me. Even," she whispered, "when I wear nothing else!"
Jane felt her eyebrows nearly skim her hairline. "Tell me everything!"
-----
A few days later, Tavington rode out of London at the head of his regiment. It would not take long to arrive at Windsor. He thought back over rides of fifty, seventy—a hundred miles—that he had undertaken in America, on bad roads, or no roads, in all weather. This was a pleasant outing. The men seemed in good spirits, and St. Leger was singing to himself.
After a few miles of annoying humming, Tavington asked, "What is that tune?"
St. Leger looked at him in confusion. "Dreadfully sorry, sir. I really don't know. Something I heard at the theatre, I suppose. I didn't know I was humming. Just happy, I suppose."
Happy about the ball, probably. The ball was this Saturday, and additional invitations had been sent: to Lord and Lady Carteret, to Tarleton, and to a family that Tavington barely knew, but who had a daughter who had caught St. Leger's eye. There would be quite a crowd, and possibly there would be some uninvited guests in the houses, for keeping such people out was often beyond anyone's power.
He felt a little concern knowing that Uncle Colchester had sent word that he was coming, along with Sattersby and Kitty. He hoped there would be no unpleasantness. Jane, at least, need not be concerned for his own behavior.
Tavington was more concerned about his current duties: he was hoping to catch some influential person's ear in the course of this mission. Their Majesties would of course be secluded in their own great carriage, but there would plenty of Court appointees: Gentlemen and Ladies of the Bedchamber, equerries, secretaries. He knew he must exert himself to be pleasant to everyone. One never knew when an acquaintance might have the power to advance one's career.
His uncle, Lord Colchester, knew Lord North, and spoke well of him, though the two men had little in common and had never been close. St. Leger's father, Lord Melmerby, had some ties to the Paymaster General—that most lucrative of military posts. Tavington sneered, thinking of how Charles James Fox's father, Lord Holland, had built his huge fortune on his notorious corruption during his stint as Paymaster. It was rough justice that the man's two sons were dissipating his ill-gotten gains in their endless gaming and whoring.
Fox, it seemed, had taken up with yet another of the Prince of Wales' cast-off mistresses. Good God, the Prince is not yet twenty-one, and he already has been at the game long enough to have had a string of women—and if gossip is well-founded—at least one royal bastard in the making. Not a very promising beginning for a King of England, though perhaps we've been spoiled by the King's behavior all these years.
Tavington could remember the King's grandfather and predecessor, the late George II, quite well. He and John had even been presented to him as small boys, at an afternoon fete one summer. He recalled a shrunken old man in a huge wig with a thick German accent. The King had hardly seen them, so busy was he ogling Lady Cecily, then still a most beautiful woman.
Tavington grinned, reminded of what a friend of his mother's had told her about Queen Caroline's deathbed. She had urged her husband to marry again, and the King, with tears in his eyes, had said no, he could not bear to replace her. Instead, he said, "I will take mistresses." Tavington had not understood it at the time, but now, it never failed to make him laugh. He wondered if Jane had heard the story. If not, he would tell her. It would make a change from her own tales of Letty and Fanshawe House and that infernal Miss James.
Jane had been wild to tell him how the girl had been saucy to the old peer and had found herself locked up for a full day before apologizing. Jane thought she should be plumped back into school, but Fanshawe would not have it. His lordship had told the silly girl that her behavior must be impeccable hereafter, or she would find herself sent to the Continent, as a governess to a French family of his acquaintance. That had shut her up, very thoroughly.
Tavington was relieved that his wife's tendency to adopt strays did not extend to the tiresome Harmonia James. No one knew if the girl would be permitted to attend the ball or not. Apparently, Lord Fanshawe had not allowed a gown to be ordered for her for this occasion. This indicated to Tavington that she would not attend, for he could not imagine a man so devoted to fashion allowing his ward to appear at her first London ball in anything but something new and remarkable.
More happily, he recalled the reception of the present he had made his wife: an exquisite Russian-made box of green malachite with gold mountings. It locked, and was now the repository of Jane's little fund of cash. Jane had never seen malachite before, and was enchanted with it, going on about the beauty of that shade of green, wanting to find draperies of just that color for her room. She had thanked him at delightful length, not just, as she said, before the box was expensive, but because he had shown that he had taken the trouble to understand the sort of thing she would like.
The 3rd Dragoons arrived at Windsor, and were met very efficiently. Tavington was spirited away though the vast halls of Windsor to a private reception room. He wondered if he would be meeting with some functionary, when he recognized the tired, heavy-jawed man at the head of the table, and bowed deeply.
"Your Majesty."
"Come, sir. I wish to hear about your time in America."
Tavington, to his own amazement, found himself blushing a little with surprise and pleasure. He recognized two of the other men in the room: Lord North, the Prime Minister, and Lord Amherst, the Commander of the Forces. He tried to keep his own face pleasant and impassive. Lord North he considered something of a bungler, and he was prejudiced against Lord Amherst by Bordon's vocal hatred of the man.
Amherst had had a distinguished career in North America, but had refused a field command there in the present war, as he had too many friends on either side. That was not the reason for Bordon's loathing. It was fairly well known that Amherst had been party to a scheme to destroy the native tribes with smallpox, by means of infected blankets. It was a terribly cruel and underhanded thing to do, Tavington had agreed. And as he had told Bordon, "Impolitic too, since many of our colonists have no immunity, were a smallpox epidemic to sweep the frontier."
However, these were the men he had to deal with. Of all of them, he thought he rather preferred the King. However much some of his aristocratic relations—principally his mother—despised King George and Queen Charlotte for their simple tastes and domestic habits, Tavington thought there was some substance there, some feeling of responsibility, and at least on the King's part, some real love for his kingdom and his inhabitants. It was hard to realize that he was only about ten years Tavington's senior. He looked far older.
Interrogated by the King, Tavington told of his days as a Green Dragoon, and of the men he commanded. After some time, The King asked the predictable question.
"Why did you leave them?"
"They rather left me, Your Majesty. I had been gravely wounded at the Cowpens. I should have died, had not Mrs. Tavington and her sister, Lady Fanshawe, not risked all to journey into the dangerous backcountry to nurse me. Meanwhile, the Dragoons were subsumed into Lord Cornwallis' forces and headed north. By the time I was well enough to ride, we were separated by hundreds of miles and roving rebel militia. Instead, I made myself useful to Lord Rawdon in his defense of Camden at Hobkirk's Hill and in his retreat to Charlestown. When I heard of my promotion, I decided that I could serve better here as an advocate for my brave and loyal men better than I could in a garrison town, or in New York. I am writing a memoir about them, hoping to obtain recognition and succor for them."
"Yes—" the King shrank into himself, his head down. "Their sufferings have been great indeed. I think of them—my loyal people. Something must be done. Something shall be done. What of their families?"
Tavington told him a few tales—using Moll as an example. An honest farmer and his wife—their home burned—turned out into the wilderness--their child dying—their sturdy service in the Dragoons—his brave death—the farmer's wife, reduced to a regimental laundress—now a servant. The King asked a secretary to make a note of her name.
"Your wife is a Colonial lady, I have been told."
"Yes, Your Majesty. I shall be ever grateful to my service in America for making her acquaintance possible. Her father, Ashbury Rutledge was a great rice planter in South Carolina. He died knowing that his property had been seized by the rebels. My wife's two young brothers are entirely disinherited, and were brought to England nearly penniless. Of course, my wife and I shall care for them and they shall want for nothing—"
"Disinherited. Driven from their native land. Poor, poor boys. Make a note of them, Wyndham."
The King whispered to his companions for some time. Lord Amherst glanced to Tavington once or twice, and nodded. Lord North raised his brows and whispered back, not so softly but that Tavington could hear them speaking of John. Finally, the King sat back, and granted Tavington a faint smile.
"We are most interested in your noble concern for your comrades in arms, Colonel. Rest assured that steps will be taken for their relief."
Lord Amherst gave Tavington a look that told him that the audience was over. Bowing again, Tavington luckily remembered to back away politely as he exited the room. Knowing that eyes were upon him the entire time, he refrained from sighing or shrugging, and simply strode back down the hall, accompanied by the equerry who had shown him in.
Before he took his leave, that gentleman, Sir Edward Claypoole, touched his arm and said, rather confidentially, "I believe His Majesty was pleased with you, Colonel. Perhaps it would be a proper attention if Mrs. Tavington were to present herself at Court at the Queen's first Thursday Drawing Room."
"That is indeed our intention," Tavington replied, rather surprised.
"Excellent. The King never forgets his true friends. He occasionally needs to be reminded, however, who they are. You cannot do better than to remind the Royal Family of your existence. Why don't you join me and some of my friends for a bit of supper tonight? Your cousin, young Colonel St. Leger, is welcome, too, of course."
Having no other plans, Tavington agreed, and he and St. Leger had a very good supper indeed, which was interrupted by the appearance of a young man in the uniform of the 10th dragoons. His handsome face was flushed with wine, and his figure was tending to fat. He had a charming smile, however. If Tavington had not guessed his identity, he might have been offended by the familiarity of the young man's behavior.
"So you're Tavington! I've heard you were a regular Tartar in America! Fire and sword and 'damn the rebels!' Jolly good to see you in the flesh!"
And so it was that Tavington first met the Prince of Wales, at a late night of wine and cards in the equerries' apartments at Windsor. Feeling that he was on duty—after a fashion—Tavington drank sparingly, and played his cards very carefully. He won some money—over fifty pounds, and answered the young prince's questions about life at war.
The Prince of Wales might have been dressed as a soldier, but Tavington doubted he had ever served a day's duty as a working officer. He was, nonetheless, his future sovereign. The prince was no longer a boy, but also was not quite a man, in Tavington's opinion. Had he not been a prince, and had really been a young officer under his command, Tavington would have broken him of his vanity and chatter and posing, or young George would have had a sorry time of it. A few days under fire might do wonders for him.
At length, Tavington pleaded the late hour and his duties. He included St. Leger in his excuses, as his cousin was looking decidedly green. He gave St. Leger his arm and bowed his farewells to the Prince and his sycophants.
"So delighted to have met you, Tavington," the Prince of Wales called after him airily. "We must see more of one another in London!"
-----
Jane and Letty watched the return of the King to London and the subsequent review in St. James Park from the comfort of Letty's barouche. Letty's friend, Lady Carteret, joined their party, as well as the inevitable Harmonia. It was cold but clear, and the ladies were thoroughly wrapped in velvet and furs as they watched the passing parade. When Tavington and his men rode by, Jane had to force herself not to jump to her feet and call out, as the young woman of the town were, all around them. Miss James, who had become very silent over the past week, brightened considerably at Tavington's appearance, to Jane's great disgust.
"Who is that young man with the Colonel?" Letty wondered. "I know Colonel St. Leger, but not him."
"My dear!" Lady Carteret whispered loudly behind her fan, "That is His Royal Highness, the Prince of Wales! He must be taken with the Colonel, to seek—and to have been granted permission—to ride with him. He is a very good-looking young man."
"I suppose," Jane shrugged. "He isn't a patch on the Colonel!"
Both ladies laughed at her, but kindly. Miss James did not laugh, thinking Mrs. Tavington absolutely correct. Never had she seen a man who equaled Colonel Tavington in face or figure. He had such an air about him, too.
"The Colonel is very handsome," Letty agreed.
"And he makes such a splendid appearance in uniform," said Lady Carteret. "Their helmets give them the air of ancient heroes! Yes, I agree. Your husband is quite dashing. Colonel St. Leger is very attractive, too. Is he married?"
"Not even engaged, as far as I know," Jane answered. "Probably looking for just the right young lady—with just the right fortune."
"Maybe my sister-in-law's niece would do for him—"
They chatted on, and applauded the King's carriage very dutifully.
"We must get on to Madame Margot's." Letty reminded them. "I do hope the dresses are complete."
"You'll find the Drawing Room a very long affair," Lady Carteret warned them. "There's no way I could endure it, in my condition. Don't drink too much beforehand, or you may find yourselves very uncomfortable!"
"Will you come with us to the modiste's, Lady Carteret, or shall we take you home?" asked Jane. "Do come! We shall go to my house afterwards, and have a very substantial tea!"
-----
The Drawing Room was ghastly. Jane had not quite pictured how deadly dull it would be. She and Letty spent such a time dressing for it. So had William and Lord Fanshawe. They looked magnificent, and so did everyone else, but it was like being a statue. Jane longed to shout and fidget. The weight of her hair alone, however, made it more trouble than it would be worth.
Court dress was not the current style. It was very conservative, with huge old-fashioned panniers, the fullest possible petticoats, and enormously high-piled hair. It had taken Pullen all morning to do her hair alone, in between Jane's other duties. Some horsehair pads were laid on Jane's head, and her hair teased and ratted and pomaded around them into a rather grotesque shape. It was powdered then, and Jane sneezed and sneezed. Plumes were de rigeur, and caused the whole mess to grow even higher. Pearls were arranged on her head, and at last she was helped into the the steel pannier cage and the enormous underpetticoats. Her black silk petticoat was then covered with a black gown, edged with black lace.
After she was bejeweled with all her pearls, Jane could hardly support the weight. Now she understood why there was so much dignity at Court. It was nearly impossible to move. William looked gorgeous in his dress uniform, like a tropical bird in contrast with her black gown. Only his black armband revealed that he, too, was in mourning. They were to travel the short distance to St. James Palace in the Lord Fanshawe's carriage, which arrived promptly.
Fanshawe was eager to present his prize before the rest of the ton. He looked very well, himself, in his Court dress. His waistcoat and breeches were black watered silk, gleaming dully beneath the funereal splendor of the black velvet coat. His linen was snow-white and his lace superb. His face was painted so thickly that it was impossible to guess his age. His blue eyes, however, were wells of experience—and some of it very shady indeed.
Jane had practiced her movements in that heavy gown, but her heart beat erratically, imagining all the stupid, clumsy, laughable predicaments that might be hers. By the time they waited their turn, and then stepped forward to be announced, Jane wished violently that she had stayed home. Letty looked at her in sympathy, wishing she could go home herself.
She had had a dream the night before, and the memory of it made her stomach turn. In the dream, she had been dressed in white, like a bride. When the ugly man in rough clothes had stepped out from the crowd, she had known what he was going to shout.
"Bastard! High–yaller whore! You oughter be on the auction block."
Then he had changed into her father, sneering at her. All of Charlestown society was there—all of Miss Jane's kin. They were whispering and muttering and then shouting, telling the other slaves to throw her out. Hands groped at her, blackening her white gown with filth--
Letty shivered again, and a trickle of sweat snaked down her back. She leaned on Lord Fanshawe's arm.
"Are you quite well, Madam?" he asked, concerned.
"Yes. I was warned that it would be very fatiguing."
"Just a little longer, and then you shall see the Queen!"
A voice boomed, "The Viscount and Viscountess Fanshawe! Colonel and Mrs. Tavington!"
The Queen was seated at the end of the room, a dumpy figure in satin and jewels. A gentleman stood behind her, whispering identifying information in her ear about those being presented. The Queen's hair was piled high, and Jane felt a twinge of sympathy, knowing how long it must have taken to dress it so. The sympathy was followed by irritation. She's the Queen. She could change the fashion. It's so very horrid. Why doesn't she do something about it?
With the Queen was her eldest daughter, Charlotte, the Princess Royal, and the Prince of Wales. The Princess, Jane thought, was rather nice-looking, in a pink silk dress trimmed with amazing lace. Her sleeves were puffed out between encircling strands of pearls. The Prince of Wales was in an elegant uniform, and looked tremendously bored, but he brightened at the sight of Tavington. Then his eye moved to Letty, and he positively glowed.
The Queen greeted them, her English heavily accented. They bowed and curtseyed.
"We are very happy to see you here, Lady Fanshawe. You are from South Carolina, are you not?"
"Yes, Your Majesty," said Letty, her lips nearly frozen with fear. Lord Fanshawe had told her to say "Yes, Your Majesty" to anything she heard. It was very convenient.
"Lord Fanshawe, may you find great happiness in your marriage. Lady Fanshawe is charming."
"I thank Your Majesty."
"Mrs. Tavington, you and Lady Fanshawe are sisters, we believe."
"Indeed we are, Your Majesty."
"No doubt you find England very different than the Carolinas."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"Colonel Tavington, one hears so much of your loyal service. We are pleased to see you before us."
"The honor is mine, Your Majesty."
That was all. They bowed again, and backed away. Jane had a moment of horror, wondering if her train was tangled. Very carefully, she kicked it back, and proceeded smoothly. They found places near a window, and each drew breath, feeling that the worst was over. Fanshawe recovered first, for he had come to Court many times, and it was still as silly as ever.
"Well, they say that a cat can look at a king. It is only proper, therefore, that you charming ladies should make free to look at a queen! How do you like it?"
Jane said quietly, "It must be very dull for her."
Fanshawe snorted. "The Queen is the distillation of dullness. Thus it is her meat and drink! And you, my dear Madam," he said, turning to Letty. "Are you recovered from your brush with greatness?"
Letty thought about it. Now that it was over, it seemed very simple, and rather ridiculous. "Yes, I'm all right, but I wouldn't be a queen for anything!"
Tavington chuckled, and looked about to see if anyone were listening. "Either of you could play the part better than she!"
The endless stream of people waiting to be presented moved with all the speed of a glacier. Gossip hung thick on the air. They were feeling very thoroughly bored, and wishing they could go home. Some acquaintances found them and chatted interminably. Jane was so tired by the weight of her gown that she considered sitting down on the hard, shining floor. Letty was tired of the insipid talk, and began discussing Bellini and her Italian lessons, and how soon they would start.
It was agreed that Monday would be the day. Bellini would come, and give Letty a singing lesson, and then teach them both the rudiments of his native tongue. Very cautiously, Jane suggested that perhaps the lesson should be at Mortimer Square.
"My lord, with all your visitors, it may be impossible for my sister to attend to her lessons as she needs to. We would meet in our music room, shut the doors, and see no one else for the afternoon. That way you could visit or receive as you like."
Fanshawe considered this. It was a sensible plan, but he disliked the idea of Lady Fanshawe spending two full days a week at her sister's. On Thursday, Mrs. Tavington would be at home, and Lady Fanshawe could spend the afternoon there. It was enough. He preferred that anything else be under his own auspices.
"It is most generous of you to offer, Mrs. Tavington, but I shall make clear that Lady Fanshawe is not at home to visitors on Monday. She will have the Painted Parlor for her lessons, and I would be honored if you would join her there. I shall see that the two of you and Bellini are quite undisturbed, except when I come to enjoy the fruits of your labors."
Tavington were giving her a look that told her to agree. Jane knew she must. Lord Fanshawe was no great admirer of hers, and she must make concessions, if she wished to spend as much time with Letty as she liked. They would have three afternoons together, and one of them in comparative privacy. They were invited to dine with Lord Fanshawe weekly, as a regular engagement. It was really quite nice of him.
"Very well. It sounds like a delightful plan. I have heard so much about the Painted Parlor. I cannot wait to see it for myself!"
Jane hoped that it, unlike the Queen, would not prove utterly disappointing. She felt Tavington stiffen beside her and looked up. He was returning the stare of a gentleman in blue. Whoever the man was, he was not a friend, for he was staring hard at Tavington—staring as if he wished his gaze could strike him dead.
"Who is that gentleman?" Jane whispered.
"No one worth attending to," Tavington replied, rather curtly. "Only Lord Torrenham, who was one of the parasites leeching off my mother."
Fanshawe glanced idly at the younger nobleman. "Oh, come! He's an amusing dog, and a good card player. One can't blame the fellow. It is his only livelihood."
"Then let him find a profession! He's a Whig, too," Tavington remarked. "What is he doing here? I thought his sort disdained the King and Queen."
Fanshawe shrugged elegantly. "He is with his mother and the youngest sister, who is to come out this Season. One must observe the forms, whatever one's politics. Miss Sophia must be presented, and they must hope for the best."
"Her face is rather pretty," Letty remarked, wanting to say something nice.
"You are generous, as always, my lady. Her face is pleasant enough, indeed, but the poor girl has but five thousand pounds. The late father and his endless building projects have nearly ruined the family. I daresay they will find a rich brewer for the girl."
"Like the sister of Lord Cornwallis," Tavington agreed. "The man is still a parasite."
Torrenham appeared to have heard the words "parasite." His head swiveled back to them, and he glared at Tavington, who smiled sweetly at him.
"He looks like he'd like to pick a fight," Jane observed. She stared at Lord Torrenham herself, disliking him because he so obviously disliked William. Torrenham noticed her looking at him, and sneered. Jane narrowed her eyes at him, and lifted her chin in defiance, disliking him more than ever. Tavington noticed the exchange, and laughed.
"Perhaps, my dear; but if there is to be a fight, be merciful to him, and leave him to me!"
Torrenham had dropped his mother's arm, and was coming their way. Jane kept her head up, but felt very uneasy. The man, thin and long-nosed, tried to push his face into Tavington's. He was not quite tall enough, but Tavington caught the stale reek of too much wine.
"Were you speaking of me, sir?"
"I am unsure what you heard, my lord. However, it is well known that eavesdroppers never hear good of themselves. You should not intrude on private conversations."
"Private indeed! At Court!"
Tavington snarled, "I was not speaking to you! Had you not made a point of attracting my attention with your open scorn, I should had no reason to say anything, for I do not consider you worth the trouble of thinking of."
"How dare you! Do not presume to hold yourself above me! It's a disgrace that a red-handed murderer like you is allowed to walk free, much less strut about St. James Palace—"
"--Ah, yes, the ruined layabout presumes to speak of wars he had not the stomach to serve in himself--"
"--and everyone knows your mother has gone off her head with the pox--"
"Richard! Please!" Lady Torrenham and Miss Sophia had followed Torrenham and were trying to pull him away, looking very ashamed.
Tavington felt himself flush, a dreadful shame and nausea pooling inside him like cold lead. Does the whole town know?
The girl pleaded, "Don't spoil my presentation. You promised, Richard!"
Unruffled, Lord Fanshawe bowed to the ladies. "Lady Torrenham, Miss Copely."
Tavington followed suit, still furious, but uncomfortable with the situation. He had no desire to spoil Jane's presentation either. If only he had met Torrenham in a lonely place, unobserved--
But he had not. The whole Court was watching him, and they would judge him and, by association, Jane, by what he said next.
"Ladies, your servant. Torrenham," he hissed, "this is not the time or the place!"
"Then name the time and place!"
"I shall, but not in front of these ladies, or in the presence of the Queen, whom you seem to have forgotten. You shall hear from me tomorrow. Good day to you."
Torrenham's mother and sister pulled him away, whispering frantically. A little ripple of gossip spread out in a widening circle from Tavington's party.
"—Insulted his mother! Right here in St. James Palace!"
"—I wonder if it will be swords or pistols?"
"—Scandalous! Perhaps Torrenham will apologize—"
"William," Jane said grimly. "I don't want you to fight."
Tavington sighed in irritation. Fanshawe was mightily amused by it all. "Do you wish me to serve as your second?" he asked.
"No, but I thank you, my lord. I wish this to be as quiet as possible, and if you are involved, Lady Fanshawe may be discussed, too. I can at least protect her by not involving you. I shall have my brother visit Torrenham. I cannot overlook such an insult." He looked Jane in the eye. "Can I?"
"I suppose not," she agreed, very ungraciously.
Once again, she wished she had never come to Court. The Queen's attempts at conversation were certainly not worth a duel.
-----
Next chapter: Affairs of Honor
