Cousin Prudence (36 page)

Kitty Fairlees was attempting, having had part of a
London season, to look as though such things as balls filled her with fashionable
ennui
; she was not entirely succeeding.  Cousin Gervase was famed for the lavish and complete nature of the few entertainments that he gave; and though flowers were somewhat in abeyance in this cold summer, there was ample greenery, and the flowers that there were flowering out of season, graceful narcissi

that grew in abundance about the grassy banks of Donwell. The pale gold and green was a graceful theme and suitably romantic, thought Kitty, for a betrothal assembly.  She hid the fact that she had turned to stare at a particularly graceful flower arrangement to seem to be turning to hide a yawn behind her hand. 

One did not wish the likes of Miss Emily Rawlinson and Miss Henrietta Potts to think that she was entranced like a county girl.

She stared to see Mr Letheridge come in and bow to his host; and turned a little pale.  His eyes swept the room and passed over Kitty.  Kitty was hardly sure if she were relieved or piqued!  She told herself firmly that she was relieved; it would be embarrassing to turn him down if he asked her to dance.  It might also have been nice to have had that option.

He was chatting now to Emma Knightley, who was bringing him towards the group from Mrs Goddard’s school; surely Emma would not ask him to dance with her?  She could hardly refuse it if Emma suggested it!  Kitty was pale.  But Emma merely smiled and nodded to her, presenting him to one of her fellows.

“This is, Mr Letheridge, Miss Potts; I believe Miss Rawlinson has already engaged herself a partner for the first dance so perhaps I may present you to each other? Miss Potts, Mr Letheridge; Mr Letheridge, Miss Potts
,” Emma effected the introduction and turned to Kitty. “Kitty I wish you will stand up with Arthur for the first dance; he’s eschewing women and dancing with his cousin emphasises that he’s not looking for any matrimonial hopes.”

“Arthur eschewing women?  Emma, that’s nonsensical!  He’s always falling in love!” said Kitty.

“Apparently he has seen the error of his ways and plans to live a bachelor life,” said Emma, “and you know he will surely change his mind as well as I do; but I pray you to indulge his whim for the nonce.  And try to persuade him

not to grow his hair again; whoever heard of anyone with such pretty curls being Byronesque?”

Kitty giggled.

“Is that his ambition?” she asked.

“Well he has been inspired by our entirely spurious pirate ancestor, with whom dear Mr Knightley and Cousin Gervase have been amusing the children with outrageous stories and an equally spurious treasure map, to write a poem after the style of the Corsair.  Apparently it is George’s fault for encouraging him to write poetry in the first place and Arthur liking the imagery of Byron’s line ‘There was a laughing devil in his sneer’ which he says suits Cousin Gervase to a ‘T’ but which he would like to emulate, and you bad girl you are
not
to laugh at the poor boy!”

“I’m s-s-sorry
,” spluttered Kitty, “Arthur as the Corsair!  Doing it
too
brown!”

“Well yes, so thought I; but I am kind enough to be tactful about it
,” said Emma, “he is struggling in the toils of heroic quatrains in iambic pentameter; and one day he shall read it to his children as humorous verse no doubt. And unless he volunteers to tell you about it, my girl, you have never heard about it!”

“Oh  I shan’t say a word!” said Kitty
, “I should be afraid of giggling if I did,” she added honestly.

“Good girl
,” said Emma who had endured having to remain straight faced while Arthur read to one he still admired more than any woman he had ever known, even though it was perhaps more the admiration for a much beloved aunt now, than the adoring lover.

And when she bethought the lines –

“The pirate stood upon the wooden deck

he waved his sword and gave an awful snarl

he cried ‘I’m going to chop you at the neck

you are a cowardly cur you sniv’lling carl!”

  – she found it hard not to laugh out loud.  Really, Arthur was more like little Henry in his excitement over pirates than in any way like Lord Byron, who was for all his supposed romantic appeal so deeply in debt that he had, like Beau Brummell, been forced to flee the country though certain other scandals of a most particularly unpleasant nature had probably contributed to his choice to leave.  Moreover Lord Byron was outspoken against mechanisation; and Prudence considered him a silly little man. 

The couples formed up for the first country dance; Gervase and Prudence were to lead off, and though strict precedence decreed Lord Greyling and Georgiana next, the precedence went to Emma and George as hostess and secondary host.  It would be quite a long set with the number of couples to traverse the length of it; but it would give the couples a chance to chat to their partners to break the ice; for which reason a simple figure had been chosen.  Next was to be an Allemand which required much more passing of hand to hand and concentration; and Gervase handed Prudence to George and solicited the honour of a dance with Emma for, as he said to George, an Allemand with too much disparity of height left the gentleman in a cursed embarrassing position getting stuck going under his lady’s arm and afraid of tripping into her décolletage.  The evening was going very well; though not all those invited had turned up.

For some reason the Eltons had seen fit to not come to the Ball; though they had not sent any regrets concerning their inability to attend.

Aunt Mouser was of the opinion when she heard of that solecism that they were quite as pushing and vulgar as she had at first opined and instructed Gervase and Prudence that they would be quite correct to give the ‘demmed mushrooms’ the cut direct should they have the mischance to meet them in the village.

Chapter 43

             
“You missed a treat in town old boy,” said Mr Bugge to Gervase, “the incomparable Parisienne acrobat Madame Saqui did tightrope walking AND dancing at Vauxhall; all covered with spangles and feathers; delightful!

             
“Why do I somehow think that the parts between the spangles and feathers are what elicits that remark of delight more than the acrobatics?” said Gervase dryly. “I know you appear to be a great gun with my niece Diana but I wish you will not tell her about that; the idea that she might borrow a washing line to attempt such feats herself has to present itself to mind.  The child is unwholesomely like her mother.”

Mr Bugge chuckled.

“Too late old boy,” he said, “I also told her how we borrowed the parson’s mule to undertake our own version of Astley’s Amphitheatre for the rest of the chaps.  Lord, the bruises we got when that wretched nag threw us were worse than the beating!”

“And I wager Diana told you off and said she was surprised at me for upsetting the poor beast
,” said Gervase, “a great animal lover my niece.”

“Well yes, actually she did! But if you ask me putting mice in that….no, forget I spoke
,” said Mr Bugge.

“Oh it
was
Diana was it?  The mice I am sure will thrive as the wretched creatures always seem to; and I have no liking for Gerry’s wife anyway.  Trust a hussar to marry for looks not personality!” said Gervase.

Kitty was feeling decidedly miffed.

Mr Letheridge, far from feeling any undying passion blighted by her rejection of him appeared to be enjoying himself very well indeed dancing with a number of people from one of her school-fellows, the bird-witted and also

decidedly dowdy Henrietta Potts, to the incomparable Emma Knightley.  And he had not even done more than nod to her!

It was true that it had been fun twitting Arthur over his incipient Byronesque gestures; but less fun that he had grinned and said that perhaps he could not carry it off after all, but a provincial ball was the place to make a cake of one’s self to see if it made a good impression or not; and added that he had already been sent to redo his neckcloth by Uncle Gervase who refused to permit him to dance in something he referred to  a ‘farmer boy’s neckerchief’. 

Arthur actually seemed to be intending to settle down to work at Oxford and declared that though he was writing poems about pirates it would be his last kick over the traces.

Which fact meant that the evening was generally rather flat; since most of the men there were as old as Mr Letheridge, save Mr Churchill; and he was a married man though one might not think it for the fulsome compliments he bestowed.  Kitty found that Mr Churchill was a trifle unnerving; because she was not sure how to reply to his well-turned compliments; and his poor wife did not know where to look for the fact that Kitty could not refrain from blushing.

She might have been more gratified to have known that her cousin Gervase had stopped Mr Letheridge from offering to knock Mr Churchill down.

However, when Mr Letheridge came up to her and murmured,

“Will you do me the honour of a dance, Miss Fairlees?” then Kitty forgot her resolve to turn him down flat and the little speech of rejection quite flew out of her head and she said,

“Oh yes please, Mr Letheridge.”

He drew her into the figures of the cotillion; which Kitty danced well.  It was too complex a dance to exchange pleasantries, but as Mr Letheridge offered to procure her a glass of lemonade and then stayed to chat politely she blurted out,

“Do you
like
foundries and things, Mr Letheridge?”

“Oh not in the least
,” said Mr Letheridge, “it was, I suppose, of some interest; though I think I should have preferred to have read about it to seeing it.  Still, Diana and Helena enjoyed it, did they not?  And it was Diana I was fool –er, impetuous enough to ask what you might all like to do.”

Kitty chuckled.

“Diana is a law unto herself,” she said, “
how
she gets away with it I am never quite sure; and she is a most disconcerting child.  Sometimes she has
mice
in her pockets!”

“How extremely unpleasant!” s
aid Mr Letheridge obediently.

“Oh yes!  And Prudence does not enter into my feelings on the matter at all, and I suspect that Emma considers me to be making a fuss!” said Kitty.

“Mice should
not
be forced upon young ladies,” said Mr Letheridge gravely, “even with an introduction; they are not a respectable part of the ton.”

Kitty managed a giggle.

“Oh pray, Mr Letheridge, might I ask a personal and – and quite impudent question?” she asked.

“Well, Miss Fairlees, I do not gua
rantee not to swoon if it is
too
personal or shocking,” said Mr Letheridge with a straight face.

She giggled again.

“You really are a complete hand!  I did not realise! But pray tell me, are you always called Meleager?”

“It is an appalling name, is it not?” he said. “I was named after a man who had saved my father’s life; so I always use it to sign documents to honour him and I would never change it by Deed Pole for that reason.  My family pick the middle part and call me Lee; far less of an encumbrance, would you not say?”

“Lee?” she tested the feel of it. “Why that is quite…..dashing!”

He laughed.

“I fear I cannot live up to
dashing
; but I believe I am not such a chawbacon that a name like Meleager makes me sound.”

“I believe, Mr Letheridge
,” said Kitty, “if you were to wish to go for a walk at the weekend it might be pleasant to get to know Mr
Lee
Letheridge.”

“I believe, Miss Fairlees
,” said Mr Letheridge, “I should like that very well.”

The waltz was for strictly married or betrothed couples; and Gervase and Prudence led the dance.  Emma and George always enjoyed a waltz, and Gervase had arranged to have a couple of waltzes just for them.  Mr Blenkinsop informed Aunt Mouser that he did not know the steps but that he would have asked her to dance if he had.

She whacked him lightly on the knuckles with her fan.

“Rake!” she admonished, snapping open her fan to flirt it at him. “You may procure for me instead a glass of Negus if there is any to be had to warm me up on this chill night.”

Mr Blenkinsop bowed and set forth on his mission to see if Mrs Hodges would mull some spiced and sugared port and water for Lady Katherine.  She was, after all, the most interesting person here bar his late wife’s relatives and her racy and often outmoded speech amused him. They had begun a game whereby he spoke of steam powered looms to her, and she spoke about the scandals at court in her youth to him; it was reet amusing.

Lady Katherine also found the game vastly diverting and considered happily how scandalised her husband’s family would be to see her flirting with a mill owner.  She was fond enough of her husband; they were on friendly terms.  His family however she loathed and despised. 
What
a pity none of them would hear about this!