A London Season (14 page)

The small part of the Mermaid herself was taken very well by a young singer, Mary Anne Goward by name, and at the end of her ravishing little aria Persephone leaned back and breathed, so softly that Elinor only just caught the words, “Oh,
how
I envy her!” Next moment, Miss Grafton was sitting forward on the edge of her little gilt chair again, quite transported to the fairy world of the opera. Certainly, thought Elinor, the absurdities of its tangled plot seemed of no account when such a flood of melody poured forth from the singers and the orchestra.

She had been a good deal shocked, herself, by the appearance of the man who had written this wealth of tuneful, romantic music, for Herr Weber looked very ill indeed. His face, with its high cheekbones and large dark eyes, was sallow and cadaverous, and Elinor wondered how, in so frail a state of health, he found the energy to direct the music with such spirit. For her part, Persephone gazed at him with rapt interest as he made his entrance. Previously, Elinor had observed, she had also seemed remarkably interested in the members of the orchestra, leaning forward to scrutinize them keenly as they brought in their instruments and began to tune up.

The actual performances of the singers were varied.
Mr.
Braham, though a fine figure of a man and possessed of an excellent tenor voice, made Sir Huon of Bordeaux seem a rather lifeless character, but the vivacious Madame Vestris was all that could have been desired in the soubrette-like part of Fatima, and Miss Paton, as the Caliph
’
s daughter, sang her tremendous aria in the second act very finely. Applause at the end was enthusiastic, and the composer
’
s name was shouted out repeatedly by some sections of the audience, until finally Herr Weber himself went up on the stage to acknowledge their plaudits.

Persephone clapped as hard as anyone, and as the musicians were at last leaving the auditorium she again leaned forward, almost craning over the side of the box and seeming to peer at each individual player. It was almost as if she hoped to recognize someone there, Elinor thought, for as the very last man disappeared from view she heaved a tiny sigh.

But her face was glowing as she turned to the rest of the party, and said to Sir Edmund, “Thank you
—
oh,
thank
you for bringing us! It was truly
wonderful
!”

So Elinor might have thought, too, but for the fact that before the opera even began, she had caught sight of Grenville and Charlotte Royden seated with a party of people in a box opposite. This was not calculated to promote her enjoyment of the piece, and indeed, just as she anticipated, they had come to visit Sir Edmund
’
s box during the interval. Introduced to the Yoxfords, Charlotte behaved very prettily; there was nothing in
that
to trouble Elinor. What she did not much like was the way that
Mr.
Royden almost instantly drew Persephone into conversation, monopolizing her attention for the greater part of the interval. So earnestly did she seem to be talking to him, in return, that Lord Conington, who had come round to the box too, found himself unable to get near his inamorata. Elinor wished very much she knew what the pair were saying, but she was not near enough to catch their words.

“I see I am quite cut out!” said Conington, ruefully. “Dear me, I am afraid so!” she agreed in a light-hearted tone. “How do you like the opera, Charlotte? I dare say you will recollect meeting Lord Conington at Almack
’
s.” Charlotte did, and Conington, with his usual impeccable courtesy, turned his attention to her directly, apparently forgetting his chagrin at being unable to talk to Persephone. Perhaps it was not all merely a civil pretence, thought Elinor, for Charlotte
’
s natural friendliness and ease of manner were really very taking. Far less engaging was the sly, knowing look, with what was almost the suggestion of a wink, that
Mr.
Royden gave her as he left the box when the orchestra began to tune up again.

“Why, what a charming child your charge is, Elinor!” he said softly as he passed, for her ears alone. “More so than I had any idea of!”

Since Persephone
’
s charm was undeniable, she could not have said just what there was in that harmless comment to make her uneasy. But uneasy she was. “What had you and
Mr.
Royden to say to each other?” she inquired gently of Persephone later. “You were talking so long! Poor Lord Conington could not get near you!”

“Oh, we talked about all kinds of things!” said Persephone, with enthusiasm. “
Mr.
Royden feels
just
as I do about Weber
’
s music, and quite agreed with what I said about the excellence of the scoring, especially for the woodwind!”

“Did he, indeed?” said Elinor a little drily. She fancied that
Mr.
Royden had not the least notion in the world about scoring for woodwind, but had simply encouraged Persephone to talk of what interested her.

“Yes, and he entered entirely into my feelings about
—
oh, a great many things! I wonder,” added Persephone, apparently losing interest in
Mr.
Royden, “where and how the players in the orchestra live?”

Unfortunately, Miss Radley was quite unable to enlighten her.

“How agreeable it would be to meet such people!” Miss Grafton sighed. “People who can
—
can
do
something, and something so splendid, instead of simply going about to balls and parties like the company we receive at Yoxford House!”

Elinor was opening her mouth to point out that going about to parties formed a very small part indeed in the life of, say, so busily employed a man as Sir Edmund, but Persephone was continuing.

“Oh, well! I suppose you and Cousin Edmund and Cousin Isabella would say it was
not the thing
to be acquainted with such people.”

And for a few moments, though she did not explain why these thoughts should have sprung to her mind just now, she looked quite downcast. However, the power of the music she had been hearing would not allow her to remain cross-tempered for long, and she soon said an affectionate goodnight to Miss Radley and went off to bed, happily humming to herself.

Elinor felt, very strongly, that if anyone with whom Persephone was acquainted was
not the thing
, Grenville Royden best met that description. The trouble was, only she knew it. Lady Yoxford had warmly invited him and his sister to call in Upper Brook Street, and this they did the very day after the opera. Yet again,
Mr.
Royden sought Persephone
’
s company, and Elinor was left talking to Charlotte and wondering just what was in his mind. Her anxiety on this score increased as she found that they kept meeting the Roydens, walking or driving in the Park, visiting concerts or the play, at routs and assemblies. And the calls in Upper Brook Street became frequent. In short, scarcely a day seemed to go by without some encounter between the Yoxford family and the Roydens, brother and sister.

It was very agreeable to call and see Mary again, of course, admire her pretty children and meet her husband, John Stead, who, far from being the prosy fellow of Grenville
’
s description, turned out to be a very pleasant man of modest but respectable means, with a small estate in Buckinghamshire, where, as Mary proudly informed Miss Radley, he was a Justice of the Peace in spite of his comparative youth. “It is such a pity Grenville does not like John,” Charlotte told her former governess, in a moment of confidence, “but the fact is, I believe he once applied to him to lend him some money when he
—
Grenville, that is
—
was in a little passing difficulty, and John could not see his way to obliging him, so I fancy that is why he doesn
’
t care for John above half. Yes, it is a great shame,” she added, wrinkling her candid brow, “because
I
like John a great deal, and anyone can see that he is devoted to Mary and she to him, and the babies are so sweet
—
but there! You cannot expect a bachelor like Grenville to take much interest in babies, can you?”

Elinor gravely agreed with this wise pronouncement; Grenville had certainly taken little enough interest in his own, if the hints of Meg the parlourmaid eight years ago were to be believed. She reserved to herself the observation that, whether or not
Mr.
Royden liked his brother-in-law above half, he did not let his inclinations prevent him from accepting free board and lodging from him whenever he was in London.

The friendship that had instantly sprung up between
Persephone and Charlotte prospered, and Charlotte
’
s whole-hearted admiration of the other girl also won her the liking of Lord Conington. His manners, Charlotte naively informed Elinor, were such as must please, and it was so easy and agreeable to talk to him! Elinor agreed, privately hoping Charlotte would have enough good sense not to lose her heart to him, but she did not dwell too much on the matter; she had enough worries of her own. These worries were rather vague in their nature, but all centred upon the marked attentions which
Mr.
Royden was paying to Persephone, and which she did not seem to find unwelcome. Elinor herself knew only too well how charming he could be when he wished. But surely he could not be trying to win Persephone
’
s heart? He had told her it was Charlotte, not himself, he wished to marry well! Elinor did very much want to know what his real intentions were, but gathered only a strong impression, from the barbed little innuendoes which he dropped into her ear now and then, and the mocking smile with which he was wont to glance at her across a room, that he was bent on teasing and tormenting her with references to the past. He had been inclined, she remembered, to tease his little sisters when they were children, in rather a cruel way, although, deeply in love with him as she had been, she had chosen to shut her eyes to this unamiable characteristic. Well,
she
was the object of his small cruelties now, and if all he wanted to do was provoke her, she could bear that with fortitude!

From what little Persephone said, it seemed she was convinced that
Mr.
Royden shared her own consuming passion for music. Elinor thought that was not the case, but found herself sounding waspish and ungenerous if she hinted as much, and after she once saw a puzzled look appear on Persephone
’
s pretty face, she kept her own counsel. Without making a clean breast of her whole story to the child
—
and at the moment, she saw no need for anything so drastic
—
she could offer no compelling reason why a young lady should be wary of Grenville Royden, and really, the idea that he intended a serious courtship of Persephone, so much younger and surely destined to make a far more brilliant alliance, seemed too far-fetched to be long entertained.

As for Persephone
’
s own enthusiasm for the musical life of London, it showed no signs of abating. It was, after all, the circumstance which had induced her in the first place to accept her own removal to the capital with equanimity, and the lengths to which it would take her were borne in on her family a few days after they had been to Covent Garden to hear
Oberon.
Elinor had supposed her to be in the Yellow Parlour, practising the piano, when Beale came to Isabella and herself as they were discussing plans for Persephone
’
s ball and told them Miss Grafton was gone out. He had ventured, he informed Lady Yoxford with an air of lofty disapproval, to drop a hint to Miss that a young lady of rank ought not to be jauntering about on her own, and in a hackney carriage too, which he had observed her to hail out in the street, but she had paid him no heed, saying only that if anyone asked for her, she had gone to Covent Garden to buy a book of songs. It was not
his
place to stop Miss, but he thought my lady ought to know.

“Oh, the naughty child!” exclaimed Isabella. “Yes, Beale, you did quite right. Thank you; you may go. Dear me, Elinor, what should we do?” She was looking quite flustered. “Suppose some harm were to come to her?”

“Dear ma
’
am, what harm can come to her between here and the theatre, in a hackney carriage?” said Elinor soothingly. “Of course she shouldn
’
t have gone out quite alone, but it is sometimes hard to remember that etiquette in such matters is stricter in London than for a girl in the country. She forgot to purchase the songs from the opera the other night, you know, because she was so caught up in the piece that she could think of nothing but what she had just seen. And now I suppose she has remembered them, and feels she must have them immediately
—
you know how impulsive she is! Depend upon it, she will be back before long.”

But time went by, and Persephone was not back. Lady Yoxford began to fret, and Elinor herself became uneasy, working out the greatest length of time it could possibly take for a hackney carriage to go between Upper Brook Street and Covent Garden, and back again. When Charley popped his head into the drawing room, to inform his mama that he was driving out in his tilbury and might not be back till after dinner time, Lady Yoxford seized eagerly upon him. “Oh, Charley, if you have your tilbury there, do pray go and look for Persephone first!”

“Why, where the deuce is she?” inquired
Mr.
Hargrave.

“If I knew
that
,”
said his mama, quite pettishly, “I should not be asking you to go and find her!”

The matter being more fully explained to him,
Mr.
Hargrave grumbled a little, saying that Persephone was nothing but a confounded nuisance, with her piano-playing and caterwauling and other mad starts, and now this! But he agreed, without too much demur, to do his mother
’
s bidding, and Elinor offered to go with him.

It did not take them long to reach Covent Garden, and Elinor kept an anxious eye open as the tilbury rattled over the cobblestones, afraid of coming upon signs of a recent accident, but no overturned hackney carriage was to be seen.

“Shouldn
’
t wonder at it if there ain
’
t anyone about at all, at this time of day,” observed Charley as they drew up outside the theatre.

The same thing had occurred to Miss Radley, but after Charley had given an urchin sixpence to hold his horse
’
s head, and they had knocked on various very firmly closed doors, a morose and elderly man at last appeared and wanted to know their business, asking if Charley didn
’
t know as how no theatre folks was to be looked for afore noon, barring rehearsals, which there weren
’
t none today, and wondering whether all the nobs hadn
’
t gone daft this morning, coming a-plaguing of him! Females, too!

Concluding from these remarks that Persephone had at least arrived at her destination, Elinor explained their errand. A coin tactfully slipped to the old man by Charley elicited the information that yes, a young lady
had
been here, a-wanting to buy songs and asking questions about the players. “Them wot scrapes their fiddles and such, in the horchestray,” the old man elucidated. “Couldn
’
t be no manner of use to
‘
er meself, could I, now? Miss, says I,
‘
tain
’
t me you want, it
’
s
Mr.
Kemble!
He
‘
as the time for you, which I wouldn
’
t of supposed, meself!
‘
Owsomever,
‘
er insisting on seeing the guvnor, I give
‘
er
‘
is direction, didn
’
t I?”

Another coin prised the theatre manager
’
s address from the old man for a second time, and soon Charley and Miss Radley were back in the tilbury, bound for Gerrard Street in Soho.

“Dear me!” exclaimed Elinor, between amusement and mild annoyance, “I hope she is not making a nuisance of herself! It evidently quite slipped her mind that any of us might wonder where she is and become anxious!”

She also had some misgivings, which she kept to herself, about the propriety of Persephone
’
s visiting the lodgings of an actor-manager, even one bearing a name as famous as that of Kemble; she feared Isabella might not be altogether pleased. But that doubt was soon set at rest. Gerrard Street proved to be a very respectable neighbourhood, and as she and Charley were admitted to the rooms where
Mr.
Charles Kemble lived when in London (for his family
’
s main residence was in Weybridge) she heard the murmur of pleasingly modulated feminine voices, the notes of a piano, and
—
inevitably
—
a now very familiar soprano briefly raised in song. Persephone was discovered in animated conversation with two middle-aged ladies and a very pretty girl of about sixteen. Her hand flew to her mouth as she set eyes on Miss Radley.

“Oh, good gracious, I quite forgot the time!” she exclaimed.

Mrs.
Kemble, a lively, dark-haired woman whose voice held a pretty trace of French accent, made Elinor welcome, saying with a little severity that while she, her sister and her daughter Fanny had been very glad to make Miss Grafton
’
s acquaintance, it was not the thing for her to have been calling on strangers alone! Elinor agreeing whole-heartedly with this,
Mrs.
Kemble softened, and said with a smile, “But there! Girls will be girls, and
now
we are not strangers to one another! How delightfully she sings! Even my husband said as much, before he was obliged to go out, and
he
must be held to know! I am only sorry we could not help Miss Grafton further.”

Since the tilbury would not easily carry three of them home, Charley went to procure another hackney for Elinor and Persephone, and when, after an exchange of civilities with the Kemble ladies, they left Gerrard Street, Elinor sensibly forbore to reprove her charge for putting them all in a worry, saying only, “What very agreeable people!”

The slightly apprehensive look on Persephone
’
s face disappeared. She said fervently, “Oh yes! And do you know, Elinor, Fanny was at school in Bath too
—
only that was when she was quite small, and afterwards she went to continue her education in France. She is the most delightful girl, and excessively well-read, and she means to write plays as well as act in them
—
is not that clever? We got on famously, though I think her mama did not quite approve of me at first! But Fanny told me that
Mrs.
Kemble and her sister
—
that is Fanny
’
s Aunt Adelaide, who lives with them
—
are both very musical, and once I had played a sonatina, and sung, we all went on very well.”

“Well, it sounds to me as if
Mrs.
Kemble may have given you a little scold, so I won
’
t add another!” said Elinor, smiling. “But, my dear, what did she mean by saying they were sorry they could not
help you further
?”

“Oh, that
...
Well, I merely wanted to
—
to make some inquiries, about concerts, and operas, and
...”