Jennie Kissed Me (12 page)

“I am not sure I care to marry at all,” I said.

Lady Pogue gave a pained frown. “A single lady is severely restricted in society, Miss Robsjohn. If she is pretty, as we are, all the old cats fear she is after their husbands. It doesn’t take them long to cook up a scandal and bar her from the best parties. My husband has been dead eighteen months. I mean to marry before the year is out, though I do not relish taking on a young debutante along with a husband. It puts one in the class of older ladies, being a chaperone. Of course, I must be a little sly about my plans.” Again she examined the group of gentlemen. I had never seen such a determined expression on anyone’s face. From that moment I considered Marndale as well as shackled. Obviously she referred to Lady Victoria as the debutante.

Our conversation was different from what I had expected—more interesting and entirely frank. She was a solicitor’s daughter from Surrey. She had married an older gentleman who wanted a son, which she had failed to supply. She had no children. Before half an hour was up, Lady Pogue knew all about me, too, except my age. That I managed to keep quiet, and she was equally reticent regarding how long she had graced the earth.

Our talk was all of eligible
partis
and where they might be met in London and how to get invitations to the best gatherings. She lauded my having “got an apartment out of Charles,” as she phrased it. “You will meet all his pensioners there. Don’t think they won’t have the ton calling on them! I am always more than polite to noble old relics. I met Charles through his great aunt Sophronia, whom I used to take out for drives when Sir John was alive. He knew her late husband and used to call on her occasionally. Charitable works are a good ploy, too. I shall get you on to the committee for the state orphans in London. Lady Castlereagh is a member. She might even get you a ticket to Almack’s if you butter her up. And if that fails you will be prominent at their annual ball at least.”

She was a gold mine of information, and I hung on her every word, as keen as Plato’s students at the feet of their mentor. I quite forgot that I was in the same room as the Lord Chancellor and the Minister of State. Much good they would do me; but here was a lady who could set me on the path to a first-rate marriage.

“Do you drive?” Lady Pogue inquired during our conversation.

“Certainly.”

“Then you must set up a dashing rig. My friend, Lady Lade, will help you there. And you must make a visit to a French modiste,” she added, flickering a glance at my gown.

“But I only have ten thousand pounds.”

“Spend it. There is no better investment you could make than to look well and mix with the right people.”

“But if I spend all my money and
don’t
nab a
parti
.. .”

She shrugged her shoulders insouciantly. “You will. Perhaps even a title.” Her eyes glided across the room again. I beheld the monumental chin and frizzed pate of Anselm.

I was taking lessons from the wrong tutor. Lady Pogue, I realized, would marry a sheep or a goat so long as he could advance her social career. That she had shackled herself, while still young, to an elderly gentleman was proof of it. I was made of different stuff. Some of her advice was useful, but I must pick and choose what parts of it to follow.

A little later she mentioned Lady Lade again. “Is that Lettie Lade, the famous whip?” I asked, remembering Victoria’s opinion of the lady.

“Yes, we are bosom beaux.”

It was Marndale who had warned his daughter that Lettie Lade was bad ton. He would never marry her bosom beau. I began to suspect that the relationship with Lady Pogue was not an honorable one.

At six we went upstairs to make our toilettes. “You’d best wear the bronze gown,” was Mrs. Irvine’s way of telling me she was bowled over by my competition.

“I cannot. I’ll need it for the larger dinner party and dance Saturday evening. What did you think of Lady Pogue?”

“Monstrously pretty, but she’s not the lady that would pop into your mind when you met a spring chicken.”

“True, but one wouldn’t look long at a peacock without thinking of her. She’s about thirty, wouldn’t you say?”

“Not a day under.”

“She is not at all what I thought.”

“I thought she’d be more discreet. I hardly knew what to say when she blurted out for the world to hear that she is chasing after a husband as fast as her legs will carry her. Meanwhile, I shouldn’t be surprised if she amuses herself with affairs.” She pierced me with a gimlet glance. I knew she meant Marndale.

“Her frankness was quite disarming,” I said vaguely.

“I doubt she’d be so outspoken if she didn’t think you were cut from the same bolt as herself. I noticed the political wives kept a distance from her. I don’t think it is a connection you should pursue, Jennie.”

“She does know the London ropes, though.”

“Give her a good quizzing while she’s here, then–”

There was a tap at the door, and Lady Victoria stepped in. She was dressed and ready for the evening, and looked lovely in a pale pink Italian silk gown with her hair dressed in a new fashion. We made a fuss over her toilette; then she said, “What did you think of Lady Pogue?”

“We were just discussing her,” Mrs. Irvine replied. “Does she come here often, dear?”

“As often as she’s invited. This is her third visit, but she always comes with a party. If it weren’t for the respectable company, I would think she is only papa’s
chère amie.”

“You should not say such things, Victoria,” I felt compelled to object.

“I am officially out of the schoolroom, Jennie. I  may now say—in front of friends at least—all the things I only used to think.”

Mrs. Irvine listened, and as the expert in sexual chicanery, gave her advice. “If he is sleeping with her, you need not fear he will marry her. A hen that gives her eggs away cannot expect a farmer to buy and feed her. There’s an easy way to find out.” We both looked with interest. “What we did aboard the
Prometheus
was to put something in the suspect’s bed—a feather duster or a dustpan or something that looked as if a careless maid had left it behind, for we didn’t want her to suspect us. If the lady complained the next day, we knew she had slept in her own bed. if she did not, then we assumed she hadn’t.”

“But what if Papa goes to
her
room?” Victoria countered.

“We’ll put one in his bed, too. The gentleman really ought to go to the lady’s chamber for such assignations. It would be improper to ask her to go skulking along a dark corridor where she might be seen. But with such fast hussies as Lady Pogue, I wouldn’t put it a pace past her to be the predator.”

In my mind I had an upsetting picture of Marndale creeping down the corridor in stocking feet to slide into Lady Pogue’s bed. “That is disgusting! You should not say such things to Victoria, Mrs. Irvine.”

“Pooh. She has to learn the ways of the world sometime. And so do you, miss. You were locked up in that school too long. You’re turning into a Bath Miss yourself.”

“Such tricks as that are fit for a frigate, not a gentleman’s home, and certainly not for the ears of his daughter. Shall we go down and see that all is ready for dinner, Victoria?”

Nothing could be told from the seating arrangement, for Bathurst’s wife had the seat of honor on Marndale’s right hand and Lady Eldon, his left. The rest of us were scattered along the board. At dinner Anselm sat between Lady Pogue and myself and shared his chin with us both equally. He flirted with the former and discussed Lady Mary and the seminary with me till I told him frankly it was a subject I would prefer to forget.

After dinner Victoria entertained us with a harp recital, poorly executed, and Lady Pogue played the pianoforte while Anselm accompanied her in a very creditable tenor. Lord Eldon confided to me during an intermission that he had an earache. I thought he referred to the music and was surprised at his poor manners, but it turned out his ache had occurred during the trip to Wycherly. He was well along in drink. He and his lady retired early. The rest of us, including Victoria, stuck it out till eleven. The Bathursts and Mrs. Irvine were the next to leave.

I made a leisurely exit and before reaching the staircase Marndale caught me up, as I hoped he would. “Your daughter is performing well,” I mentioned.

“She should. She has been practicing the harp for six years. I had hoped we might hear you perform, Jennie.”

“I meant performing her social duties.”

“Oh, yes, she did us proud. Do
you
sing or play?” I noticed he adroitly turned the conversation back to a more personal line.

“I have long forgotten the few tunes I once knew how to play. I didn’t teach music at school but the academic subjects and social deportment.”

“I hope you haven’t forgotten how to dance. I look forward to dancing with you tomorrow evening.”

“That is like riding. Once learned, never forgotten.” From the corner of my eye I noticed Lady Pogue waiting for a last word with Marndale. Anselm was amusing her with some foolishness that sent her silver laughter tinkling along the hall. “Lady Pogue plays beautifully,” I added, and watched to gauge his reaction.

“Yes, she is a talented lady,” he replied. He turned and studied her a moment with a smile of admiration curving his lips.

“I believe she is waiting for a word with you, Marndale. I must not monopolize you.”

“Monopolize me?” he asked, staring. “You’ve hardly said a word to me since I returned!” His tone was not far from sulking.

“What is there to say? It is a very nice party.”

“You seemed to find plenty to say to Anselm during dinner.”

“Yes, and if I have to say once more that I do not miss the seminary in the least, I shall crown him. One would think I was born and bred at Mrs. Grambly’s seminary.”

A smile parted his thin lips. “Ah, is that the nature of your conversations? In that case I need not resent it. Lady Pogue rather thought it was something else that interested him.”

I bit back the words that Lady Pogue had a one-track mind and said, “If you are so vulgar as to discuss me behind my back, Marndale, you ought to least be civil enough not to carry tales.”

“A lady doesn’t usually resent hearing that she has caught a gentleman’s interest.”

We both glanced toward Anselm as we spoke. He intercepted our looks and came forward with Lady Pogue. The lady placed her marmoreal hand on Marndale’s arm and began climbing the stairs while lavishing praise on the delightful visit. I heard him tell her that was largely her doing, as she had played so divinely. Piano lessons were added to my list of things to do in London. It branded me as unfinished, not to be able to perform in public.

“A grand party, by Jove,” Anselm said. “A change from the seminary, I warrant.” I glared. “Now I have displeased you by talking about the school again, Miss Robsjohn. All the same, you must see the advantages to being companion to one lady in her home as compared with herding a whole class of chattering girls.”

“I am quite aware of the advantages.”

“Yes, indeed. A young lady of Victoria’s age is more a friend than a student. The house and stables are completely at your disposal.”

“Did Marndale ask you to bend my ear on this score, Lord Anselm?”

“No, truly!” he objected at once, but there was guilt in his pink cheeks.

“You waste your breath. I do not plan to become a permanent guest at Wycherly or anyplace else where there is a young charge awaiting my attention. I have retired from teaching.”

“Still, you must miss the girls at the seminary.”

We reached the upper landing, where Marndale and Lady Pogue stood a moment, chatting. Marndale overheard my companion’s last speech and turned a laughing eye on me as he made his final bow. “If he is as tenacious at his work as he is on this subject, he must be a first-rate assistant,” I said in a low breath.

“Why else do you think he is here? His persistence is greatly appreciated at Whitehall. More so than at Wycherly, I think, to judge by the scowl you bestowed on him. Good night, Jennie. Sleep well.”

I nodded to the others and left, curiously light-hearted. Marndale was not entirely pleased with my conquest of Anselm, and that being the case, I could not be entirely displeased with it.

Chapter Eleven

Friday morning the gentlemen resumed their endless work, and Victoria took the ladies to the village, as the day was fine. She and Mrs. Irvine escorted Ladies Eldon and Bathurst to see the church and a few examples of municipal architecture. Lady Pogue had no interest in anything that did not wear trousers or add to her personal embellishment. I accompanied her. We poked around the drapery shop but nothing was purchased till we entered the milliner’s. There she found a soul mate in the French milliner. For half an hour they chattered about ribbons and feathers and flowers till I was bored to flinders. Lady Pogue tried on every bonnet in the shop and finally bought a navy blue glazed poke bonnet with a high crown, which became her famously.

After lunch at Wycherly the gentlemen declared themselves on a holiday and asked us what we would like to do. Mrs. Irvine elected to accompany Lady Eldon and her husband on a tour of the garden. I have mentioned Mrs. Irvine’s universal appeal to all the various sorts of humankind. The Eldons were the exception, and I was a little uneasy to think of that mismatched threesome. Lady Bathurst expressed an interest in the library. Lord Bathurst, a glutton for work, had received a red dispatch box from Whitehall and remained behind to answer some letters from Lord Liverpool.

“What do you say you show me how your driving is progressing, Victoria?” Marndale suggested. “You missed your lesson yesterday.”

“Very well, Papa,” she said. “You will come with us, of course, Jennie,” she added, turning her back on Lady Pogue.

“Let us all go!” Lady Pogue exclaimed. “You too, Dick. There is room for all of us in the open carriage.”

“It only holds four comfortably,” Lady Victoria said at once. “It is not at all a large carriage.”

“You go ahead, Rita,” Anselm suggested. “I can amuse myself somehow.” His eyes, however, moved in my direction in a meaningful way as he spoke.