Disclaimer: This work is loosely based on the 1982 movie, which I, obviously, do not own. The only profit I receive from this work is the enjoyment that I derive from the time spent with one of my favorite stories and casts of characters.
Suzanne de Tournay struggled not to stare at the throngs of well-dressed ladies and gentlemen that crowded the rooms of Lord Grenville's residence on this auspicious occasion. She had scarcely ever seen such finery gathered in one place, for no such assemblies had occurred in France during the last few years. The whole evening had so far been simply dazzling, from the delightful opera to this fine ball, but she tried to curb her excitement and keep her attitude demure as she stood between her mother, the Comtesse de Tournay, and her betrothed, Sir Andrew Ffoulkes, Bart.
One of Andrew's friends, Lord Antony Dewhurst, Lord Tony to his acquaintances, soon joined them, and his effusive, if teasing, greeting and gallant manner warmed Suzanne's heart nearly as much as the presence of her betrothed. Andrew's friends had gone out of their way to make her whole family most welcome ever since they had emigrated to England. Some of them, such as Lord Tony, were also participants in the very league which had rescued the de Tournays from the guillotine, and Suzanne was very grateful to them for that.
Sir Percival Blakeney, Bart., the richest man in England and an old acquaintance of the de Tournays from Paris, joined them a few moments later, apparently having broken away temporarily from the company of his dear friend, the Prince of Wales, with whom he and his wife had arrived. The elegant gentleman bowed gallantly to Suzanne and the Comtesse, asking cordially how they were adjusting to England. Suzanne was a little surprised at his apparent disregard for the tension that existed between her mother and her dear friend Marguerite, Sir Percy's wife. Surely Sir Percy was not so dense that he was completely oblivious to that situation. Thankfully, her mother managed to answer his query courteously enough. Apparently, she either did not hold quite the same disdain for the baronet that she did for his wife or she wasn't willing to publicly snub such a wealthy and well-connected man.
When Sir Percy turned his attention to Suzanne and inquired after her, Suzanne responded enthusiastically, "it's all so very splendid, Sir Percy. I am simply thrilled, and everyone has been so kind."
Sir Percy raised his ever-present quizzing glass and gazed around the room. "It is quite the sight," he agreed.
"I declare I have never seen so much finery in one place," Suzanne gushed, "though I suppose you are used to it, Sir Percy, and know all about it seeing as how you are such a fop."
Sir Percy loosed his inane laugh, turned back to her and raised his eyebrows with a look of muted horror on his face. "I, mademoiselle? You wound me. Whatever gave you that impression?"
Suzanne would have thought he was teasing her if not for the other gentlemen's reactions.
"My dear Mademoiselle de Tournay," Lord Tony spluttered, looking torn between laughter and dismay, but he seemed unable to continue whatever he was going to say.
Andrew had turned a little away from her, and Suzanne couldn't see his expression. Her mother looked as confused as Suzanne felt about the reaction that her words had produced in these English gentlemen.
"No matter," Sir Percy said gaily after taking a moment to regain his composure. "It's an understandable mistake when one isn't familiar with all the native lingo, what. I shouldn't be able to express myself in French nearly half as well as Mademoiselle de Tournay speaks English, and I would probably make an even more grievous error."
Suzanne couldn't decide whether to interpret these words as pardon or an insult, for all that they had been kindly spoken. All she knew from the way the men were acting was that she had somehow insulted Sir Percy and perhaps Andrew and Lord Tony as well or at least said something that was grossly inaccurate, and she wasn't quite sure how.
"I think you'd better explain, Ffoulkes," Lord Tony said with a chuckle.
"Me? Why don't you? Or Blakeney?" With these words, Andrew looked appealingly at the other baronet.
Sir Percy waved his quizzing glass around. "No, no, no. She is your betrothed. The pleasure is all yours," he said airily. Both he and Lord Tony looked at Andrew expectantly.
From the look on Andrew's face, the pleasure to which Sir Percy referred was apparently a dubious one. Lord Tony now appeared vastly amused, and he was watching Andrew intently, waiting to see what he was going to say. Sir Percy's eyes twinkled under their hooded lids as he waited for Andrew to collect himself. To Suzanne's surprise, she noticed the beginning of a blush creeping across Andrew's cheeks, and she felt her own face warm in response. Just how badly had she blundered that Andrew was so embarrassed and his friends so amused?
"Well," Andrew began, but then he stopped and seemed to flounder.
"Go on, m'dear fellow," Sir Percy encouraged.
"Blast it, Blakeney," Andrew muttered. "I'm not nearly as good at peroration as you are."
"It can be demmed difficult," Sir Percy agreed congenially.
Suzanne strongly disagreed with Andrew's assessment of his oratorical abilities, and she resented the way he compared himself to a fool and found himself lacking. He might not have Sir Percy's ready tongue, but he was perfectly capable of expressing himself in at least two languages, for he spoke French beautifully. Suzanne had, in fact, scarcely heard him speak English at all prior to reaching Dover. During the long journey through the French countryside and across the English Channel after the rescue of her family, he had communicated almost exclusively in her language with no errors and only occasionally the barest hint of a foreign accent.
In contrast, while Sir Percy might have little difficulty finding words in his native language, anything he said in French was riddled with errors and pronounced in one of the thickest foreign accents that Suzanne had ever heard, for which Marguerite was prone to tease him mercilessly. He had, of course, studied French, as nearly all English gentlemen had. As a result, he seemed to have some understanding of it when others spoke it, but he simply could not speak it well himself, and he didn't seem inclined to put much effort into trying, which was a little surprising considering that he had a French wife.
"Never mind, Andrew," Suzanne said consolingly, feeling like she needed to intervene in some way. "I promise I won't say anything of the sort again."
"No, no, you do need to understand," Andrew replied in defeat. "It's just that, Suzanne, Sir Percy is not a fop."
Suzanne's eyes widened. "Not a fop? How is that? I thought that meant that he is enamored with nice clothes."
Andrew shot a pleading look, almost one of apology, at Sir Percy, who was smirking. Lord Tony was shaking with laughter.
"It does," Andrew assured her, "but it has to be a particular kind of clothes, you see, and it's rather derogatory to call someone that even if it's true. Sir Percy is actually a dandy, and so are Lord Tony and myself."
"Is dandy as derogatory as fop?" Suzanne asked.
"Oh, yes," Lord Tony gasped.
"But what is the difference?"
"Well," Andrew started, but he once again seemed unable to continue.
Sir Percy seemed to finally decide to take pity on her betrothed. "It's all in the cut and color of the coat, you see, mademoiselle," he said airily. "You can see some of those monstrous long old-style coats over there behind me in all those garish colors." He gave an exaggerated shudder. "Most impractical for a proper sportsman, what. These shorter coats and muted colors," here he gestured with his quizzing glass to himself and his friends, "are much better, hmm."
Suzanne had noticed even before she had left France the difference between Sir Percy's manner of dress and her father's, but she hadn't given it much thought, especially since the ensembles about which Sir Percy spoke so disparagingly were extremely common amongst the old aristocracy of France except when going riding. She had thought that the difference was either due to Sir Percy's eccentricity or merely a divergence in style between the two countries. Apparently, Sir Percy was not alone in his preferences in England, and it was a terrible faux pas to confuse the two styles and use the wrong word to describe the type of gentleman that wore each. While she was thus ruminating, the men continued the conversation without her.
"Do you think the powder will be gone soon too, Blakeney?" Lord Tony asked. "It's only universal on very formal occasions such as balls now."
"Most undoubtedly," Sir Percy said definitively. He tapped his quizzing glass to his lower lip thoughtfully. "I might try it as soon as next season," he mused, "though it might require a few seasons to take off, what."
"That could have political implications too, Blakeney," Andrew remarked.
"Hmm, yes, you are quite right about that, my dear chap. I shall have to give it some thought."
"And what word should I use if I wanted to be less derogatory?" Suzanne asked, disrupting the discussion about the potential preferences of future times, which held little interest for her since she barely understood them.
The men exchanged glances. "Exquisite," Lord Tony suggested after a moment, eliciting another outburst of laughter from Sir Percy and a reluctant smile and a shake of the head from Andrew.
"For shame, Dewhurst, to tease her so," Andrew admonished. "Do not believe a word he says, my dear. Exquisite is every bit as derogatory as fop and dandy."
Lord Tony inclined his head repentantly in Suzanne's direction, but laughter lurked in his eyes. "My apologies, mademoiselle."
Suzanne turned to Andrew. "What would you recommend?"
"Nonpareil," Andrew offered.
"Corinthian would also work," Lord Tony added, and Suzanne narrowed her eyes at him, unsure whether he was in earnest.
"La, mademoiselle," Sir Percy said gaily. "You needn't go to so much trouble and be so concerned about giving offense on my account. I daresay I shall survive."
"I am truly sorry, Sir Percy, for my rudeness," Suzanne apologized, already resolving to subsequently avoid trying to bandy words with the prince of dandies. In retrospect, it seemed less than wise to do so. "I promise that I shall take more care with my choice of fashion words in the future."
Sir Percy waved his hand dismissively. "Think nothing more of it, I beg of you."
"I am so very sorry for embarrassing you, Andrew," Suzanne whispered as the other baronet took his leave of their little group.
Andrew gave a little laugh. "You didn't. Do not let it trouble you. He's a good man, and I promise that he won't hold your blunder against you."
"What does nonpareil mean? And Corinthian?"
Andrew laughed. "A Corinthian is a sportsman, and that is an accurate description of Blakeney. A nonpareil is someone who can command the attention of a room."
"Sir Percy can certainly do that," Suzanne mused. "It seems that he attracts attention wherever he goes."
Lord Tony laughed. "Indeed."
Author's Note: I stumbled across an interesting nugget of information while researching the fashion of the 1790s, since our heroes are so obsessed by it, and that nugget inspired this story. I'm not sure how realistic it is, and I don't pretend that I understand all of the ins and outs of the terminology, but I couldn't resist putting poor Suzanne in this awkward position. At least she only said it in front of Andrew and his closest friends, though in private Tony might not let her live it down for a long while. I myself was quite surprised to learn that in the 1790s fops and dandies were quite different things, though they had some similarities, and even though the original author uses both words to describe Percy Blakeney and Antony Dewhurst, seemingly interchangeably, which contributed greatly to my confusion, it appears that they could not have been both at the same time. Since Percy is such a leader of fashion and a member of the younger generation, I decided that he would most likely have worn the newer form of dress, and, thus, he would have been exclusively a dandy, at least during this era. If you are interested in more information regarding gentlemen's fashion and the different words that might be used to describe them in the 1790s, I highly recommend the web articles titled Gentlemen's Fashion in the 1790s: A Decade of Transition and Gentlemen Cliques of the Georgian Era: From Fops to Corinthians by Paullett Gordon. The tidbit about the potential political implications of their attire was inspired by the web article English 1700s Clothing and Fashion – with Illustrations, which I found on a website about the American Revolution.