Evelyn Richardson (5 page)

Just as she had ordered that odiously superior Kilson to procure a chair—she was too much in awe of her uncle to dare to ask for the use of his many conveyances—the knocker sounded and Lady Streatham was ushered in. Elizabeth, Lady Streatham, cousin to Lord Mainwaring and the only relative he had not labeled a “dead bore,” had been a reigning belle in her day. A merry rather than beautiful face, vivacious nature, and abundant energy had won the hearts of scores of eligible young men. To everyone's surprise, given her fun-loving nature, she had chosen the quietest and shyest of them all, Lord Streatham, and retired happily to his country seat to raise a promising young family. In answer to her friends' protests against such a seemingly unequal match, she had maintained that for her to marry someone as lively as she was would be to court disaster. For sanity's sake she had chosen someone she could dominate. Her closest friends, seeing the warmth in her eyes whenever she was with her husband, recognized that, unlike most of her contemporaries, she had married for love to someone who could give her a constant supply of admiration, support, and emotional security. These same friends, while they missed her gaiety and humor, realized that these lovable traits now found an outlet with her four equally fun-loving and energetic boys. In fact, the joy she derived from being mother to a lively family far outweighed the gaiety of London. It had been years since she had spared a thought for all that she was missing, buried in the country until her youngest had begun to spend more time with his tutor than he did with her. Just as she realized with a slight shock that she was middle-aged and had not attended for years anything more formal than a country assembly, she had received Mainwaring's missive begging her to chaperone his niece. With some trepidation she had broached the subject to her husband. “I do think I ought to help him out, as I am the only female in the family with whom he is on speaking terms. Don't you agree, John?”

Her husband looked at her fondly, marveling that in spite of her years and children she didn't look much older than she did when he married her. “Of course, my dear, it's time we used the London house ourselves. We all could do with a little town bronze. I have some affairs to attend to in the city.” He continued, with an understanding twinkle, “Elegant as you always are, I am sure you are years behind the London fashions. My riding boots are in tatters. Come to think of it, we could all stand to replenish our wardrobes as well.”

Lady Streatham, knowing how much her husband loved the country and how difficult the social whirl was for someone of his shy nature, fully appreciated his sacrifice and the generous spirit which prompted it. Tears stung her eyes as she flung her arms around his neck. “Oh, John!”

“There, there, my dear, no need to get in a pother about it,” said her husband, returning her embrace and smiling down into misty eyes. “I've selfishly kept you to the boys and myself all these years. It's time your friends enjoyed your company again.”

“You're so good, my dear friend,” she replied. “But won't you dislike it excessively?” she questioned anxiously.

“Not when I've got the gaiest member of the ton to watch out for me.” Her husband smiled. “Now, no more. It's settled,” he added, silencing her with a kiss that was unexpectedly passionate in such a reserved man. So it was that the entire Streatham household was removed without a great deal of fuss to their house in Bruton Street, not too far away from Mainwaring House. And Lady Streatham lost no time in becoming acquainted with her charge for the Season.

She had already met Kilson, who allowed the faintest of smiles to cross his countenance as he opened the door to her. Pulling off delicately shaded lavender gloves, she greeted her protégée. “I see you're on your way out, and looking vastly charming too, if I may say so.”

“Yes,” responded Kitty, highly gratified by such notice, “I've just received word that Lady Frances has arrived in town, and I do so want to see her. Won't you come too? I need your support because I know she means to avoid most of the social functions and I think it would do her good to attend them. She says she refuses to burden any hostess with someone for whom partners must be pressed into service, but I hardly see how that could be. I think she's very elegant and certainly easy to talk to. But she says people don't want elegance and conversation. She keeps telling me that she is not at all the type that is admired, but I think that her opinion is a result of her one and only Season, when she was taken about by Lady Bingley, who is excessively silly herself and moves in such fashionably empty-headed circles that Frances was bound to feel awkward and out-of-place. Do come and help me convince her at least to start off the Season by accompanying us to Lady Richardson's ball.”

Lady Streatham had not spent a week escorting Kitty to every fashionable establishment in London without having heard about Kitty's unusual neighbor, and her curiosity was aroused. Her own lively family and a devoted elder brother had given her enough confidence to enjoy her come-out and to view making the acquaintance of hordes of unfamiliar people as an exciting opportunity for discovery, but she knew she had been unusually lucky in her family and friends. Too well she could imagine the loneliness of a girl whose parents' tastes had kept them apart from the fashionable world and deprived her of the security of recognizing familiar faces among the ton crushes. The fact that the distant relative who had chaperoned her scarcely shared a single thought with Frances would merely have added to her sense of being completely out-of-place. “I agree. We must see what we can do to change her mind. Come along. My carriage is just outside,” offered Lady Streatham, drawing on her recently discarded gloves.

“We must be back by three o'clock, because Lord Mainwaring is taking me to tea at his grandmother's,” warned Kitty in a tone tinged with misgiving at this prospect.

By the time they arrived at Brook Street Frances had succeeded in persuading Cassie into a fresh pinafore and lured Freddie away from the stables with promises that he could take a large lump of sugar to his pony after lessons. She intensely disliked playing the martinet, but knew the children would feel more comfortable and the household would run more smoothly if a routine were immediately established. Consequently it was a well-behaved, well-scrubbed schoolroom scene that welcomed Kitty and Lady Streatham as they entered the drawing room. This model of decorum instantly disintegrated as Cassie jumped up to greet Kitty, upsetting the globe in the process. Lady Streatham, whose maternal reflexes were never far from the surface, caught and righted it dexterously while extending her other hand to Frances, saying with her infectious smile, “I am so glad to meet you. I apologize for coming uninvited, but Kitty persuaded me that it would not bother you. She was desperate that I should meet all the Cresswells. Besides, having rusticated for so long, I feel in need of support from another sensible woman if I'm to help Kitty sort out admirers. From what I hear, you're just the ally I need.”

She couldn't have chosen a more advantageous method of attack. What Frances would not do for herself, she would do for someone else most willingly. Appealed to in this way, she could only laugh as she rose to greet her visitors, removing the somnolent Nelson from her lap as she did so. Having deposited him in an equally comfortable spot, she extended a welcoming hand to her visitor. “I shall do my best to help you, ma'am. But with my experience, or lack of it, I am more likely to scare off suitors than to introduce Kitty to them.”

Looking into the frank hazel eyes fringed with thick lashes, the delicate features lighted now by a warm, generous smile, Lady Streatham agreed with her charge that Frances' one and only Season must have been badly mismanaged. Surveying the scene further as Frances directed Cassie and Frederick to make their bows to their guests and pushed Wellington from a perch on the sofa—illegally snatched in all the confusion—she reflected on what a great pity it was that someone who commanded love and respect as naturally as Frances did should so quickly resign herself to spinsterhood. No sooner had she decided this than she began to plan a strategy to avert such a tragedy. I shall force Mainwaring to help me, she resolved. To lend Kitty countenance, he will just have to overcome his dislike of the place and escort us to Almack's and to several balls as well. He detests partnering the young girls and their rapacious mamas so much that he should be only too glad to dance with someone as sensible as Frances. He'll get intelligent conversation and protection from matchmaking females at the same time. At this point she remembered hearing Kitty repeat Frances' account of the rather disastrous first encounter between the two. Never daunted, she set out to remedy this immediately by asking if one of the Cresswells' footmen could deliver a note to Lord Mainwaring requesting that his lordship call for Kitty at the Cresswells' on his way to his grandmother's. “For it's much more convenient and will give us more time together. How did we not think of it before?” she wondered aloud. Once Mainwaring was at Brook Street, she felt fully confident of her powers to cajole him into meeting Frances and renewing their acquaintance on a better footing.

Her schemes were interrupted by a distinct tug at her skirts. She looked down to discover Wellington and Frederick looking at her hopefully. “Excuse me, Lady Streatham,” broke in Freddie, “but Kitty says you have a boy about my age. Is he here in London with you? I should like ever so much to meet him if he is.” He lowered his voice confidentially. “The thing is that I want someone to play with my soldiers with me. I have the dandiest collection! Cassie's a great gun. She can run and climb trees as well as I can, but she hasn't the knack for playing at soldiers. Frances knows ever so much about battles and history and such, but I don't really think she likes the thought of bloodshed. So if your son were here . . .”He trailed off rather wistfully.

Lady Streatham's infinite experience with small boys prompted her to respond with just the right note. “How delightful! I should think Nigel would like to above all things. He has a set of his own, so you two could have a whole campaign instead of one paltry battle. I'll discuss it with him when I return home this evening.” Her eyes twinkled in a conspiratorial way that had won the hearts of countless children through the years.

“Oh, famous!” breathed Freddie, hardly daring to hope for such luck.

“Woof!” agreed Wellington with enthusiasm. The two dashed over to Frances, breaking into Kitty's excited recital of all the advantages to be found in London.

“You must come to Hatchard's with me straightaway,” she was saying when Freddie burst in.

“Fanny, I say, Fanny. Lady Streatham has a son who is about my age and he has his own soldiers and she thinks he might like to visit and play with me and she's going to speak to him about it directly!”

“That sounds like great good fun,” approved his sister. Catching sight of Cassie's forlorn face out of the corner of her eye, she added, “While you and Nigel are together it would be an excellent time for Kitty and me to take Cassie and Ned with us for ices at Gunter's.”

The woebegone look vanished instantly from Cassie's, to descend on her twin's. “But, Fanny ...” he wailed.

“Now, Freddie, you can't do two things at once, you know, so you must choose.” With only the briefest of hesitation he selected the more bellicose amusement, as she had known he would.

“Besides,” she teased him, “I couldn't bear the strain of taking both you and Cassie there at the same time, when either one of you alone is a walking disaster. Together, I shudder to think!'' The twins grinned good-naturedly, but neither one could let such a remark pass without a spirited defense. These rather vociferous protests were cut short by the entrance of one of the footmen bringing tea and cakes. Neither Lady Streatham nor Kitty, looking forward to the forthcoming tea at the dowager Marchioness of Camberly's, was able to do more than nibble daintily, for which Cassie and Freddie not to mention their furry friends, were abundantly grateful.

“Kitty tells me that you brought not only your entire household and stables, but your conservatory as well,” Lady Streatham commented with some awe. Looking at the twins, she felt that she would be unequal to anything greater than shepherding those two lively charges. Her esteem for Frances rose mightily when she saw how surprised she was that anyone should consider it an effort.

“Oh, yes.” Frances laughed. “We have brought all the comforts of a country home, and then some.”

Here, Freddie, who had barely finished his cake in time to enter the conversation, burst in eagerly, “Lady Streatham, does your son ride and does he have his own pony?” Assured on both counts, and having arranged to meet Nigel in the park very soon, he was satisfied, and the ladies were left to compare notes on the various unpleasantnesses encountered in removing to town for the season.

 This agreeable conversation was interrupted by the entrance of Higgins. “My Lord Mainwaring,” he announced, wondering as he did so whether milady and milord would wind up having another set-to. Certainly milord had looked rather forbidding as he strode up the steps, the wind whipping the folds of his many-caped driving coat.

He had, however, underestimated Lady Elizabeth, who, deftly stepping over Nelson and Wellington's teatime tussle, extended both hands to Lord Mainwaring. “Thank you for coming to collect Kitty here. It has saved me taking her back to Mainwaring House, and I'm late for Nigel's tea as it is.” Then, plunging on with her irresistible smile, she added, “I know you've met Lady Frances before, but you two haven't been property introduced. I daresay if you had, each one of you would have been much more civil to the other and wouldn't be looking daggers at each other right now.” At this direct attack the two principals, who were both ramrod-stiff and eyeing each other warily, looked slightly sheepish.

Appreciating the humor in the situation, and recognizing a master stroke when she saw one. Lady Frances extended her hand, saying in her frank way, “How do you do, my lord?” No proof against the lurking amusement in her eyes. Lord Mainwaring thawed slightly to extend his own.