Amanda Scott (9 page)

“I’m perfectly comfortable, ma’am,” Diana assured her, wondering how anyone seated so near to the roaring fire could possibly be cold.

“Nonsense. Susanna, do you go at once and ring for someone to bring your sister a shawl.”

“There is no need, my lady, truly,” Diana protested, but she might as well have spared her breath, for Susanna had already moved to do her aunt’s bidding. There was nothing to be done but to thank the footman who presently appeared carrying a heavy pink wool shawl. At least, Diana told herself, it was not a color that would clash horribly with her green and lilac gown.

“There now,” said Lady Ophelia with satisfaction, “I am persuaded that that will be a deal more pleasant. There is always a draught in this room. Move the firescreen a trifle to the left, Susanna, if you please. We shall enjoy a comfortable coze.”

S
USANNA OBEDIENTLY MOVED THE
firescreen to protect her aunt from the fierce heat of the blaze, then resumed her seat, smiling shyly at Diana, who asked as though she did not already know the answer, “Are you looking forward to your come-out?”

“Oh, yes,” the young girl replied, her smile growing wider. “Aunt says I shall go to Almack’s and to Ranelagh, and even perhaps by water to Vauxhall Gardens.”

“The gardens,” said Lady Ophelia, smoothing her purple satin skirts and adjusting her own peach-colored shawl more securely about her plump shoulders, “are become dreadfully public nowadays. I don’t know what my sainted mama would say to some of the goings-on one hears about. They seem to let just anyone into those places, you know. Not Almack’s, of course, but the public gardens.”

“Oh, pray do not say I may not go after all, ma’am,” Susanna protested, subsiding at once into confusion when her aunt disapprovingly lifted an eyebrow.

“I was speaking to Diana,” her ladyship said in quelling tones.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“The gardens are really very nice, ma’am,” Diana said quickly before Susanna could beg pardon again. She wished that her ladyship would not so consistently stifle the girl’s natural high spirits. Diana felt a kinship for Susanna, knowing perfectly well that Lady Ophelia did not approve of Diana’s high spirits either.

“No doubt,” her ladyship said now, turning a basilisk eye on Diana as if she suspected her of attempting to shield Susanna from deserved reprimand, “I expect you enjoy the sort of romps one hears about only too often.”

“No ma’am, I don’t,” Diana replied calmly, having no doubt that her ladyship’s “only too often” was meant to qualify her enjoyment and not the rumors flying to her ladyship’s ears. “Not if you mean, as I think you must, the public masquerades and ridottos that are held both at Ranelagh and at Vauxhall during the Season. Such events often become rowdy and unpleasant, but there is nothing amiss in a private excursion with one’s particular friends and relations to enjoy a concert or a display of fireworks. Such occasions are perfectly harmless, I assure you.”

“I daresay,” returned her ladyship in tones that bespoke doubt. But she would not lower herself to engage Diana in a debate on the subject. Instead, she shifted a little in her chair, bent a more benevolent eye upon her, and suggested that since Diana had been traveling about for the past three months she would no doubt like to entertain them until teatime with all the latest crim-con stories.

Although a little daunted by her ladyship’s suggestion, Diana nevertheless made an effort to comply with the request by describing the places she had visited and the people she had met. Since most of these were well-known to her ladyship, she was ably assisted in her endeavors, and Lady Ophelia expressed particular gratification to learn that the Duke of Beaufort had rebuilt the ancient conduit houses at Badminton so that one was no longer prone to find bits of limestone in one’s washwater, and to learn as well that the Wilton House remodeling was nearly completed. Diana managed to keep the conversation on an amiable key until she chanced to mention Lady Jersey’s name along with those of the other guests at Badminton soon after telling Lady Ophelia that the Prince of Wales had numbered among the company.

“That
woman
,” pronounced her ladyship in awful tones. “Do not speak of that dreadful woman to me. I do not know how I shall support my spirits whilst she is present in this house.” She glanced rather quickly just then at her brother, but Diana, her own gaze following Lady Ophelia’s automatically, noted that the marquess and Simon were still involved in their own conversation. As she returned her gaze to Lady Ophelia, she chanced to notice that Susanna was attempting to hide a smile. No doubt the child realized as well as she did herself that the marquess would not approve of his sister’s comments.

“Will it truly be so dreadful, ma’am?” her evil genius prompted her to ask. Even if it brought the marquess’s wrath down upon them all, the subject would serve to keep Lady Ophelia from criticizing Susanna or herself, and it was always more gratifying to hear criticism of others. Moreover, if she were not successfully diverted, Lady Ophelia was bound before much more time had passed to demand a more narrow account of Diana’s own activities during the past months.

“Having that woman here will be intolerable,” her ladyship said. “I do not know how you can ask such a question when you know perfectly well that his highness means to honor us by celebrating the New Year at Alderwood. He will think I am hand in glove with that woman.”

“No, no, ma’am, how could he when he knows that Lord Jersey is a friend of my Lord Marimorse?”

“Well, that is as may be, but I will not tolerate
goings-on
in this house,” pronounced her ladyship with a grimace of distaste.

“Nor will you be asked to do so, ma’am. Although Lady Jersey does indeed persist in throwing herself at the prince’s head, her star is definitely believed to be on the wane, you know, for the prince makes no secret of the fact that his affections are once more engaged by Mrs. Fitzherbert, a fact which cannot but gladden the hearts of those who know them. He scarcely pays any heed now to Lady Jersey.”

“As if that should please me. Knowing Frances as I do, I can tell you that being ignored must merely stimulate her to more outrageous behavior than ever. And he, a married man. He should be ashamed of himself, whomever he chases. And you needn’t tell me he is married to the Fitzherbert woman, for that cannot signify in the slightest if the match was never approved by his father. His proper wife is the Princess of Wales. In my day, such doings were not tolerated, I assure you.”

Diana repressed a chuckle, wondering how in the world Lady Ophelia at the tender age of fifty had managed to suppress all memory of the excesses of her younger days. Considering that the prince had turned forty only last summer and had been engaged in scandalous activities for more than half his life, surely her ladyship was well aware that such goings-on were not isolated to the present new century. According to Diana’s parents, the last twenty years of the old century—and indeed, the twenty years before them—had been wilder by far than those of the present. But she murmured commonplace reassurances, knowing it would be unwise to remind Lady Ophelia of the facts.

“Moreover,” Diana added with a smile, “I believe Lady Jersey will be on her best behavior when she comes to Alderwood, particularly if the Earl and Countess of Westmorland have also accepted your invitation.”

“Lady Westmorland is coming,” said Lady Ophelia. “Had a message from Brymton d’Evercy only this morning. Bringing that eldest chit of his along as well, and since the girl will make her come-out in the spring and has already been included (most improperly, if you ask me) in a number of parties, I could scarcely tell Jane to leave her at home. But as to whether Westmorland will come, I’m sure I have no way of knowing. Although Lord Alvanley very properly sent his regrets—some matter of business, he said—Westmorland’s manners are not so nice. He has not honored us with any response, and Jane did not mention him.”

“Why do you dislike him so, ma’am? By all I’ve heard, he’s perfectly respectable. He is the King’s Lord Privy Seal, after all.”

“That’s as may be, but there’s bad blood in the Fanes, and the chit’s inherited it. Not much good to be said about her mother’s family either, for that matter. Can’t imagine what Frances Villiers, so high in the instep as she pretends to be, sees in Sarah Fane. Oh, I know what Frances is about, same as everyone else, of course. Thinks to add the girl’s fortune to the Jersey estates by making a match for the young viscount. I’ve heard about her schemes. I daresay she thinks the girl’s money will make up for all the rest. It won’t. The old tales will be bruited about as quick as the cat can lick her ear, if they haven’t begun already. Then she’ll be smiling out of the other side of her face. See if she don’t. I cannot imagine how she thinks to escape the unpleasantness.”

“What old tales, ma’am? I confess, I’ve seen some sly looks and noted a bit of whispering, but my own friends seem to know nothing.”

Lady Ophelia glanced at Susanna. “No need for you to await the tea tray, my dear,” she said kindly. “You bid your papa and Andover good night and run along upstairs.”

Disappointed but obedient, Susanna made her curtsies and left the room. When the door had closed behind her, Lady Ophelia nodded placidly. “No need for her to hear such stuff. Unsuitable. Moreover, she’s a bagpipe, and I confess I’d just as lief she not blurt something when the house is full to the rafters. I know you will not say anything.”

“No, indeed, ma’am, but do go on.”

“John Fane carried young Sarah’s mama off to Gretna Green and married her in the teeth of her father’s opposition, that’s what,” said Lady Ophelia with an air of divulging the worst. “Her father was a mere banker at that. No family to speak of, though I believe his brother was a baronet. Died in mysterious circumstances, however, so he don’t count for much. Not one of our kind.”

“But Robert Child was scarcely a
mere
banker, ma’am,” Diana said, stifling laughter. “There’s hardly a penny to choose between Child’s Bank and Hoare’s, after all, and Sir Richard Colt Hoare is accepted everywhere.”

“Indeed, I am very fond of Sir Richard. Now I come to think of it, wasn’t you meaning to go to Stourhead from Wilton House?” her ladyship demanded disconcertingly.

“Yes, indeed, but we decided, as Simon said, that we had had enough racketing about for the moment, and we knew you would welcome our assistance here, what with all the upheaval for so many guests.”

“That I shall. Not that there’s much to do, of course,” Lady Ophelia added complacently. “The servants see to everything.”

“Under your very able guidance, ma’am. I know. But do, please, tell me about Lady Sarah Fane’s parents.”

“Well,” said Lady Ophelia obligingly, “Miss Child—she was Sarah, too, as I recall—was no better than she should be, I daresay, but John Fane wanted her, and her papa’s fortune, of course, despite the fact that Child wanted a man with a head for business and not a flighty earl for a son-in-law. So what does Westmorland do but ask Mr. Child what he’d recommend to a young man who couldn’t gain parental permission to wed the girl of his heart. And Child—more fool, he—up and tells him he’d elope with her. So that’s what Westmorland did. Even shot a horse from under one of the Child grooms who pursued them, they say. And the two of them was married over the anvil after no less than three nights on the road together. Needless to say, despite the fact that they tried to put a good face on it by having a proper ceremony later,
she
was never received. Westmorland carried her off to Ireland as soon as ever he could manage it, and she died there at Phoenix Park when young Sarah must have been about eight or ten. He married Jane Saunders two years ago, as you know. She can’t be much older than her stepdaughter, I’m thinking, but she’s a proper lady.”

“They say Lady Sarah Fane is a great heiress,” Diana prompted, having no wish to discuss the current Lady Westmorland.

“Ought to be, seeing as how Robert Child left her his entire fortune, including his houses at Swanscombe and Osterley Park.”

“But surely he died before she was born, ma’am. How is it that the Fane family did not acquire everything? Was not that her papa’s purpose in marrying Child’s daughter?”

Lady Ophelia chuckled, causing her plump bosom to ripple beneath her low-cut bodice. “That may have been his purpose, but Child made sure that no Earl of Westmorland would ever see a penny of his money.”

“You mean Mr. Child entailed everything in the female line?”

“So some said at the time, but that was not the case. He merely left it all to his eldest granddaughter. And that’s why Frances Villiers hopes to see Lady Sarah as the next Viscountess Villiers. She would add Osterley Park to the Jersey estates.”

“We are invited to Osterley the end of next month,” Diana confided. “I’ve never been there before, but Lady Westmorland has invited everyone, saying it will be more convenient to entertain at Osterley than at Brymton d’Evercy.”

“Well, you will no doubt enjoy yourselves, and Frances will be surveying the whole park with a proprietary air, or I miss my guess.”

“Perhaps when she learns the truth about how Lady Sarah’s parents were married, she will change her mind about the suitability of a match with her handsome son,” Diana suggested, eyes twinkling.

“Not she. She knows the tales as well as I do,” said Lady Ophelia sardonically. “She just won’t like hearing them retold. But when all’s said and done, she’s no more than a reverend’s daughter herself—a bishop, her father was, but only an Irish one, and dead two months before she was born. It was her stepfather, General Johnstone, who provided her entry to the polite world, him plus a generous bit of money left her by her reverend papa. But for all my Lady Jersey holds herself so proud, the lack of proper breeding shows in the way she—a grandmother, for pity’s sake—flings herself after the prince. Not that she didn’t have a precedent or two for such behavior. The Villiers women have cuckolded their lords with royalty since the days of Charles the Second, after all. Very wicked of them, I’m sure.”

Knowing her ladyship was perfectly capable of rehashing the entire conversation, Diana made haste at this point to change the subject by reminding her that they had come to Alderwood from Ethelmoor Hall and by extending greetings from her brother and sister-in-law. From there it was but a natural step to lead the conversation into family matters, where it rambled amiably until the gentlemen chose to join them when the tea tray was brought in.