Chapter 32: Revelations and Quarrels

Tavington hated the visit to Lord Ravenswood. For nearly an hour, he and John waited in a gilded anteroom to be received, glancing at their watches. Finally, John sat down gingerly on an ancient and delicate chair, while Tavington himself continued to pace. It was very uncomfortable, and Tavington began to feel again that awkward uneasiness that had plagued him when he had served under the disapproving Cornwallis.

John growled, "If he doesn't want to see you, he could bloody well just tell his servants to say he's not at home. Who does he think he is, keeping us dancing attendance like this?"

"He thinks—no, he knows that he's the one who got me my promotion, John. Besides, everyone says he's very unwell. I do owe him a debt, and Mamma too, by extension. No doubt she pecked at him until he exerted his influence."

"No doubt. Look here, in another quarter hour, let's give it up as a bad job, and head on home. You said you wanted to see how that new carriage of yours was progressing."

"I would, actually."

"Still think you should have chosen the barouche. They've got a lot of style."

"I agree, but a barouche is just not practical in my situation. It's got to be a closed carriage. A barouche top can only be raised to protect the back seat. I've got too many women with too many feathers to consider. And there's the boy, too."

"I should toddle on up to the nursery and have a look at your progeny. I also heard whispers about the warlike Amazon you took on to tend him. Must see the wonder with my own eyes."

"She's a terrific shot. Killed a brace of rebels at a remarkable distance. Can reload on the fly. And she's a damned good nurserymaid, too."

A scornful servant appeared. "His lordship will see you now. Walk this way, gentlemen."

Sir John raised an ironic brow at his brother, and obediently minced after the footman. Tavington restrained himself from giving John a shove.

They were led into Lord Ravenswood's cavernous bedchamber, walls populated with full-length family portraits. The old peer was certainly very ill, and Tavington was more willing to forgive the delay when he saw the shrunken body lying motionless in the monumental bed. A grey-wigged doctor glanced in their direction, busy with his instruments and bottles.

"Sir John Tavington; Colonel Tavington," the servant announced.

The brothers bowed. Tavington peered at their host, who seemed either asleep or dead. He almost started at the sound of a hollow voice, issuing from the bed. "I thank you, gentlemen, for your visit. I am, as you see, hardly fit to receive company, but I am glad to see you both. Come closer, I pray you. I would like to have a better look at you."

John's nose twitched at the smell of old age and decay. As a soldier, Tavington had smelled far worse, and did not flinch when a claw-like hand was extended, and then dropped back feebly.

He said, "I am very sorry, my lord, to find you so unwell. Thank you for receiving me, so that I may express my profoundest gratitude for your help in advancing me in my profession."

The old man's eyes were sunk into his skull like a skeleton's, but there was still a gleam in them as he very slightly shook his head. "No need for thanks. Tell your mother that the third time pays for all. She will no doubt understand that I am no longer in a position to be of further service to her."

Sir John cleared his throat uncomfortably. "I'm sure, my lord, that with proper care—"

"No. Stop. I'm dying, and I don't want any more lies." The old man peered at them curiously. "Has either of you seen your sister Lucy recently?"

Tavington was puzzled, but replied, "I have, my lord, seen her but a few days ago."

"Was she well?"

"Quite well and happy, my lord. She is the mother of a fine little boy, and is treated with the greatest regard by her husband, Mr. Protheroe."

"And so she should be. A hundred times too good for such a man. What a pity—" He stirred, as if trying to rise, and whispered, "Your mother has much to answer for."

To Tavington's great annoyance, his brother immediately replied, "She does indeed, my lord. I am entirely of your mind."

Lord Ravenswood smiled faintly. "She would never let me do anything for the girl, you know; but I got you, Colonel, three different promotions. She always favored you. Anyway, I'm done now. Third time pays for all." His eyes shut.

The doctor came forward, wanting them gone. "His lordship will sleep now. As you see, he is not long for this world, but you were among those to whom he wished to bid farewell."

Somewhat embarrassed, Sir John muttered a gruff, "Thank you, sir," and bowed to the physician. Tavington bowed himself, saying nothing, only peering curiously at the dozing shape in the great bed. What did he mean?

Outside, John turned to his brother. "What do you suppose he meant?"

"Raving, I suppose. Probably didn't mean anything at all."

"No." John waved the groom aside, as they climbed back into the curricle. "He had a message for the old woman, that's clear."

"I could drive back, John," Tavington suggested. He really liked John's light, fast little curricle.

"Not in a million years, old fellow." John took the reins, and in a moment they were moving around the carriage sweep at a fast trot. "No, he was telling us something. What do you think? Is that old fellow Lucy's father, do you suppose?"

"Good God! You're not suggesting—"

John chuckled. "I remember something of those years. I was a just a little lad myself, but I remember that Father and Mamma were at odds just after you were born, when he had that fling with the actress--whatever was her name? Mamma might have looked for a little comfort elsewhere."

"Good God!" Tavington repeated, repelled at the idea of his mother having intimate relations with anyone. "You don't suppose that I—"

"Hmm—" John grinned, and then relented. "Not a chance, Will. You look quite a bit like Father, except for the eyes. Lucy, now—well, well. That's very interesting."

"Whether or not it's true, Lucy must never know," Tavington said sharply.

"Oh, all right, I agree. It wouldn't do the girl a bit of good, but someday if Mamma provokes me, it might do for a—"

"No!"

"And what if he were to leave Lucy a bequest? It will all come out then anyway. At the very least, Will, you ought to give the old woman his message. He's done with her. 'Third time pays for all.' Then the old man can die in peace, without any more begging letters."

They rattled on down the road in silence, and at considerable speed.

"Damned good horses, John."

"Nothing but the best, old fellow."

-----

They stopped at the carriage-maker, at a horse-dealer, and then Sir John took his brother back to Mortimer Square, before heading to his club. "You're sure you won't join me?"

"No. Not today. I've things to do at home, and afterwards I should pass on Lord Ravenswood's message and get it over with."

"Rather you than I."

Tavington paused, listening to the sound of his brother driving away, before he sighed and went to the door.

Rivers met him, his usual efficient self. "Her ladyship wishes to speak to you, Colonel."

"Thank you, Rivers. Where is she?"

"In her boudoir, sir. She asked that you come to her as soon as you returned home."

What does she want now? Tavington wondered. He was a little put out. It had occurred to him on the way home that he had not seen his son since they arrived. A brief break from daily noise had been welcome, but now after John's mention of him, Tavington felt a curious tug at his heart, a longing to see the little villain again. He had not seen Moll either. He ought to see how she was faring, after bringing her halfway around the world. He would go upstairs to the nursery after Mamma plagued him with her latest hobby-horse, and he gave her his news.

He climbed the stairs, uneasily curious. Mamma did not openly insult Jane in his presence, but he knew that once his back was turned, anything was possible. Jane had not complained, though, so it must not be too bad. It was very convenient for him to be living here again: convenient and comfortable, and a great financial boon.

He knocked. "It is I, Mamma."

"Come in, my dearest." The shades were lowered. Mamma sat in the kind half-light, exquisitely dressed and perfectly serene. Tavington was put in mind of a pampered cat on a satin cushion. Even the most pampered cat still has its claws.

"You wished to see me, Mamma."

She gave him a little sideways look. "I am always happy to see you, William. It is such a joy to have you home again, looking so handsome. Everyone is so delighted with you, and you are making a distinguished name for yourself, with your noble concern for your soldiers. That is all very agreeable." Tavington waited, feeling a little suspicious. His mother continued smoothly, "You have not forgotten my dinner Wednesday evening, I hope?"

"Of course not."

"Please speak to John about it. It would not look—you know—a dinner in your honor, and John not present. I'm sure he would not wish to slight you. Do speak to him and make certain of his attendance."

Oh. Nothing too difficult, then. Tavington expelled the breath he had been holding. "I have already spoken to him, Mamma. He will be present. We discussed it on the way to see Lord Ravenswood."

"And how is my good old friend?"

"He is very ill, Mamma, and his physician holds little hope for him."

She seemed in no great distress at the news, but asked only, "And did he mention me?"

Swallowing his distaste, Tavington answered, "He did, Mamma. He said that his health prevented him being of any further service to you. The phrase was 'third time pays for all.' I daresay you understand what he meant."

"Yes." She frowned. "Well, at least he obtained your promotion. It is very vexing that we can hope for nothing else—especially now-- from that quarter. If only John made more of an effort to cultivate men of influence! He lacks all ambition."

Plainly Lord Ravenswood mattered little to her, being no longer of any use. Tavington said nothing, not wanting to hear anything that could disgust him further. His mother's attention turned to herself.

"My dinner on Wednesday is but an intimate affair, my dearest, but I hope it will further reestablish you in your proper sphere." Lady Cecily gave him the ghost of the sweet smile he remembered from childhood. "Sir Joshua Reynolds is invited. I have commissioned him to paint your portrait. You can discuss the particulars with him on Wednesday—which uniform you prefer, and so forth. I think you can agree that such a portrait, publicly displayed, would raise the right people's interest in helping you in your design to assist your veterans."

He nodded. "Yes. I agree. It can certainly do no harm."

A shadow of discontent furrowed her brow. "The guest list will be somewhat different than I had anticipated. I notified your Uncle Colchester of your arrival, and received an express that he would be coming to London to see you! He has always been fond of you," she admitted reluctantly, "and no doubt considers it a great concession to leave the country and its sports for even a few days. Lord and Lady Sattersby will accompany him, and they will dine with us. Knowing whom he likes and does not like, I was forced to reconsider some of my potential guests. I hope you are not inconvenienced."

"Not at all, Mamma. I would be very pleased to see my uncle again."

She played with her fan, tapping it on the arm of her chair. "Another guest I had not originally intended—" she paused, and smiled again. This was not a pleasant expression. "My dear, I have always prided myself on my honesty."

Tavington's brows rose. He did not utter the words that hung between them. Since when?

His mother ignored his expression, and added,"To be perfectly candid, I find myself in some little difficulty—"

"Of what kind, Mamma?"

"I have had a recent stroke of rather bad luck at the tables, dearest. One does not care what owes mere grubbing tradesmen, of course, but debts of honor—"

Tavington began to feel rather ill. This, then, was the reason for their little tete-a-tete. "How much do you owe in all, Mamma—and to whom?"

"His name hardly matters," she laughed lightly. "One of my creditors had become exigeant, I fear. Tiresome of him, but he insists on being paid!"

"How much, Mamma?" Tavington repeated wearily.

She shrugged. "I must have two thousand pounds by Christmas."

Tavington shot to his feet. "Two thousand pounds!" Horrified, he stared at her, hoping he had heard amiss. It was a small fortune. He had no idea Mamma was so dreadfully in debt. "I cannot give you two thousand pounds!"

"Of course you can, my dearest," she laughed. "Why else did you wed that ugly little nonentity? You told me she brought you twenty thousand. You can spare a little, surely, to help your family?"

He forced his anger down. This was his mother, after all. "I will not hear you speak so of Jane, and she is my family. I will not give you her money to throw away at Mrs. Crewe's. If you are so unlucky, you ought to stop playing altogether."

"Nonsense!" his mother cried, angry in her turn. "It is just a streak of ill-luck. I can easily win back double the amount when Fortune smiles on me again. In the meantime, I hope you are not going to be a selfish boy. And to defend that ill-favored creature to me! I cannot think why. She is good for nothing but feeding her sickly little brat, like the lowborn cow she is."

Tavington stared at her, shocked into silence, and Lady Cecily approached him, teasing him with the tip of her fan. "Don't be difficult, William. It is only two thousand pounds. I shall never plague you again on such a silly matter, only the person I owe is so very determined to have his money!"

He caught at the fan, and pushed it out of his face with a grimace. "No, Mamma. I'm not going to give you the money. Jane's fortune is all we have, and it can't be replaced." And if I were to give you the two thousand, Mamma, you'd want another, and another…

"I've got to have the money, William!" she cried, her playful mask slipping.

"Then raise it yourself," he ground out, through gritted teeth. "You have clothes, you have lace, you have jewels, you have this enormous house full of valuables. You cannot tell me that there is nothing in this house worth two thousand pounds. Do not speak of this to me, and never insult Jane the way you just have, or I will leave, and you will not soon see me again." He glared at her, at the moment not caring if she ordered him out of her house forthwith. But she did not, and did not try tears with him, which would have ruined her artfully applied cosmetics.

Instead, she gave him a proud, disdainful sneer. "Just as you please, William. I think you are being horridly disagreeable. Such a trifle! And for your mother! But I shall say nothing, and bear it as best I may. Go now. You have made me very unhappy. Send my maid to me. I have a headache."

Without a word, he bowed, stiff with indignation, and strode out of the room, nearly knocking down his mother's French maid, who was just straightening up from having obviously listened at the keyhole. He growled at the woman, "You heard her. Get in there!" He could not escape to the nursery fast enough.

Lady Cecily reclined on her daybed, while Fabienne applied eau-de-cologne to her brow. William had always been a headstrong boy. Even as a child, he had not liked to share his toys. So much the worse. And John would never help her. John was a brute, and hated her. The girls' capital was beyond her reach, and the income from it for the quarter was entirely gone. She must find the money herself. William had said that he was certain that she had something in the house worth two thousand, but what? She considered the house and its contents, wondering what she could bear to part with. There were her diamonds—

Never! Those were hers! There must be something else!

Quite suddenly, as she reviewed the house and each room in its turn, the solution came to her. She gave a great sigh of relief, and smiled up at the fussing lady's maid. It was not so much a matter of what was worth two thousand pounds, as who.

-----

Tavington took the stairs two at a time. His quick step caught the notice of the upstairs maids who gazed after him admiringly. Tavington was in no mood to give them a smile. He had not seen the nursery in years. The door was open, and he peered cautiously inside. The boy was not howling, at least. Was that Moll by the window?

"Come in, William," his wife called softly. Jane was in a chair by the window, feeding the baby. The boy seemed to have grown in only a week, and had more hair than Tavington remembered.

Moll was working at the table, sorting linen, and smiled when she noticed him. "Hello there, Colonel. Haven't seen you in a while."

"Good day to you, Moll. I hope you've found everything to your liking here."

"Yes, indeed, sir! A fine place. Sit yourself down. I'm just a-boiling up some tea. I reckon I can find a cup for you, too."

"I thank you." He took the seat by Jane, smiling at her relaxed expression. The boy was a hungry little glutton, to be sure. Tavington admired his wife's serenity at the baby's onslaught. "At this rate, he'll be dining on steak and kidney pie and saddle of lamb in a week or two!"

Jane laughed. "Well, maybe a month or two. Give the boy some time!"

Tavington looked about, remembering how much he had loved this place. "Ah! My first charger." He got up and walked over to the rocking horse. "Dear old Dapple-Grey! How many princesses we rescued together!"

Penelope appeared in the doorway, and began quoting,

"'I had a little pony, His name was Dapple-Grey—'"

"Don't sneer at my war horse," Tavington demanded indignantly. "This noble beast here is the most reliable steed I ever rode. He never got a stone in his shoe, never was out of humor, never threw me—"

Penelope laughed out loud.

Tavington shrugged. "Yes—I remember that time, too, but it was not Dapple-Grey's fault."

Jane laughed, too, eager to hear more about her husband's childhood. "Your rocking horse threw you?"

"He did not throw me," Tavington declared loftily. "He was attacked by a dragon."

"John ran into him, and they fell over," Penelope explained with a laugh. "What a crash! Nurse was afraid that William's arm was broken."

"Such thrilling play," considered Jane. "I was alone in my nursery—save for Letty, of course. We were very quiet by comparison. Good little girls stitching on samplers. A few dragons might have been welcome."

"Dragons prepare one for the terrors of battle. No battle line on earth can be as bad as a dragon." Tavington gave the rocking horse a push, and watched it for a little while, remembering. "Where is Letty?" he asked.

Jane smiled. "Practicing the harp. She's very diligent."

"And Caroline?"

Penelope was a little uneasy. "Ah—well—you know Caroline. She is generally in her room."

"I cannot help but wonder what she does there," Jane admitted. "She cannot simply be dealing with her correspondence." She rubbed the baby's back, and suggested. "Perhaps she is secretly writing a novel!"

Penelope was horrified. "Oh, please! Don't say that to anyone else! She'll think I betrayed her!"

Tavington burst out laughing. "Good God, Pen! Do you mean that Caro really is writing a novel?"

"Hush!" Penelope looked around at Moll, who was busily making tea. "Ah, Mrs. Royston—"

"I won't breathe a word about anything Miss Tavington is doing. Don't read novels myself, but I know you all fancy them. Don't see why your sister can't write one if she has a mind to do it."

"It's just—our mother might think—"

Tavington grinned. "—And she would be right!"

"Just don't, don't say a thing about it. It gives such Caro such pleasure, and it is costs only the price of her writing paper. We get out so little, and it is sometimes so dull here—"

Tavington took the well-fed William Francis from his wife and laid the boy back on his lap, so the two of them could communicate with smiles and silly faces. Not taking his eyes from his son, he asked, "May one at least ask what the book is about?"

"Let me guess!" cried Jane. "A well-born young woman struggles against society's dictates—"

Tavington interrupted. "—which force her to be the sacrifice to the local dragon—"

"Oh, stop, William! –She is torn between suitors: one handsome and vicious; the other plain and virtuous—"

"—who duel to the death for the lady's hand—Yes, my boy," he growled, tickling the baby, "a duel to the death! Man to man—sword to sword—eyeball to eyeball—"

Penelope tried to hush them, terrified that others might hear. "Ssshh! Please! If you must know, it's about a young woman whose tyrannical mother takes her money and prevents her from marrying—"

Tavington could hardly contain himself. "No! I can't believe she would dare it! That's glorious!"

"Of course, she would publish it anonymously."

"Yes, of course," said Jane, not wanting to laugh too much. While it might be allowable for Penelope to criticize her mother, she did not think it would sound very well bred coming from Jane herself, a new addition to the family and Lady Cecily's guest. But it's just what that awful woman deserves. Better no mother at all than such a one!

-----

Letty's gown was duly delivered, and pronounced a great success. It was one of the grandest dresses Jane had ever seen, with a price to match. Not satisfied that Letty try on the gown in the privacy of her own bedchamber with Pullen's help, Lady Cecily insisted that Letty parade in front of her to make certain that the fit was perfect. Jane resented her mother-in-law's high-handed behavior, but felt she was in too weak a position to defy her openly.

Letty, obviously, never considered disobeying Lady Cecily at all. Jane bitterly acknowledged that all those years of slavery had left her sister submissive and biddable. That much of that training was Jane's own doing made these reflections even more painful.

Because of these thoughts, she took a certain dislike to the gown. It was so very showy: a subtle silver-grey silk over a petticoat of a particularly intense rose. The lace edging around the shoulders and neck was starched up into a delicate frame that set off Letty's beautiful figure to perfection. The décolletage was very, very low. On Letty, the gown seemed to shout, "Look at my breasts! Aren't they marvelous?"

The bright petticoat too, made Jane uneasy. There was something about it—about the way that the front of the silver gown opened out on that rose-red petticoat, the intense color coming up in a point just below Letty's waist, that suggested—well—something secret and erotic. Something—it seemed impossible, but Jane felt it all the same—like a woman's private parts. Altogether the effect was very sensuous on Letty, an aggressively overt attempt at allurement.

To whom could she complain about this rather nasty display? It occurred to her that someone who did not know her well might imagine that Jane was jealous of Letty's beauty and of how wonderfully the gown became her. She was almost sure that she was not jealous. Rather, it was Lady Cecily who had angered her, dressing Letty like a doll, with no regard for her modesty or dignity—with no indication that she thought that Letty had feelings of any kind worth considering.

She tried, one night, as William slid into bed beside her, to tell him how unhappy she was. "Letty has a very elaborate new gown for the dinner on Wednesday."

"Hmm." He blew out the candle and settled back into the bedclothes, kissing her hand lightly.

"Your mother chose it, but I find it rather immodest."

"Mamma gave Letty a gown? That was very obliging of her."

Jane snatched back her hand, growing angry. "No! Your mother chose that very expensive gown. It is I who paid for it!"

He sighed. "Surely you don't begrudge the girl a pretty dress?"

She hissed back, "Of course I don't begrudge it! What I dislike is your mother making a show of her. The gown is perfectly ridiculous, and makes Letty look like a woman of the town! And I don't like your mother telling me how to spend my money!"

Tavington winced, staring up at the dim ceiling, very much disliking being put in the middle. "I'm sure the dress is not so bad as you think, Jane. You do not know the fashionable world as my mother does. I realize that she is extravagant herself, but why did you not simply say no?"

"Because she would have made the same accusation as you! That I am jealous of Letty! When I am the one who loves her and has cared for her!" A sob rose up, irrepressible, and soon Jane was shaking with grief and indignation. Tavington clicked his tongue, sounding vexed with the bother, and that was all Jane's store of wrongs needed to boil over. She rolled to her side, away from her husband, and lost all control. "I can't bear her! She's so rude and condescending! She makes me feel like nothing!"

Tavington reached out and touched her shoulder. "Jane—"

"Why must we stay here? It's horrible! I wish—" She stopped with a choking sound. Tavington had no trouble completing the sentence in his imagination. The awful unsaid words sizzled in the air like summer lightning. I wish I had never left South Carolina.

Tavington was tired, and briefly considered going to his own room to sleep. But no: that would be cowardly, and while he might easily leave Jane's bed, he might not find himself so easily readmitted. "I am very sorry you are unhappy here, Jane. I was not aware that you found it so disagreeable. You have always adapted so well before to all manner of situations."

"Are you saying that it's all my fault?" Her voice rose shrilly.

"No! I'm saying I did not know you were unhappy! I've been so happy myself, seeing John and my sisters that I've thought of little else." He rolled over and put an arm around her. "Try to bear with Mamma a little longer, Jane. And if she tries to make you spend money, tell her that I have forbidden you to make any purchases without my express approval." Another unpleasant thought crossed his mind. "And don't, for God's sake, give her any money if she asks for a loan. You'll never get it back. She recently approached me—"

Jane trembled, trying to control her tears. "What did you say?"

"I said no. She was displeased with me, but you must know, Jane, that Mamma has a weakness for gambling. It is very sad, but all we can do is refuse to fuel this mania of hers. Just tell her no, and say that I told you to say no. She'll have nothing to say to that. I'm sorry that this gown has troubled you so much."

"It was horribly expensive, and it means that there are so many other things that I cannot afford now."

"Do you need more money? I can—"

"No!" Realizing that she was sounded irrational, she softened her voice and said, "I don't want to start living beyond our means from the very first. I have set aside certain sums, and I will not go beyond them. I have enough to purchase new day dresses for Letty and me. We do not need anything else, no matter what the fine ladies of the ton might think. And if your mother is tired of my three gowns for evening, that is simply too bad!"

Tavington gave her thin body a squeeze. "That sounds more like my Jane!"

-----

Note: As some of you have no doubt noticed, fanfictiondotnet is once again misbehaving. If you have reviewed and have not received a reply, be assured that I did reply and you will someday get notification. We'll all hope for better days.

Next—Chapter 33: An Intimate Dinner