Lady Madeline's Folly (14 page)

“Papa is speaking in the House. 1 plan to go and listen to him. I shan’t say
see
him, as the gallery you lords have chosen to set aside for females shows us nothing but the mace and the speaker’s feet. All that crimson-draped throne and finery you keep for yourselves.”

“But it is a nice private place for gossiping, and that is your real reason for going.”

“We don’t have to climb so many stairs into a dusty, dingy cubbyhole that is nothing else but a ventilator room to gossip, Eskott. We do that in comfort at home in our saloons. It is the wish to learn that takes us out.”

“Is anyone going with you?” Eskott asked, with a little look in Henry’s direction.

“Not I,” Henry answered at once. “I shall be busy here.”

“May I accompany you then?” Eskott asked.

“Certainly, if you like.”

“Good. I can hear what is going on as well from the strangers’ gallery as from my seat in the House, and don’t really mind if I only see the speaker’s boots. They have his phiz beat all hollow for looks. I’ll call for you in a couple of hours, if that suits you.”

When the tea was done, he took his leave. “This is not the first time he has spoken to me about joining his party,” Henry mentioned.

“He was joking.”

“1 suppose he was. He never offered anything definite—specific, I mean—either time.”

“It was a dig at me for doing so poorly by you. There is a do coming up at Ten Downing Street this week. I’ll speak to my father about getting you an invitation. It is not like Carlton House in that respect. It can be arranged. You’ll meet several people who have not been to call here, or met at other functions.”

“I would appreciate it if you could. It is a waste of time, and demmed dull, writing to your father’s constituents about roads and taxes. I thought politics would be more interesting.”

“It will be, Henry. You haven’t been initiated into the inner doings yet. If you were reading the dispatch boxes that come for Papa instead of his dull stuff from the county, you would be fascinated. I wish you could come with me this afternoon.”

“Eskott will take care of you. He has earned some reward, after last night.”

“Yes, but I would have a better time with
you.”

This won her a hurried kiss before Henry returned to his work.

Chapter Twelve

Lady Madeline enjoyed her afternoon under the eaves of
Westminster, despite the poor view of the proceedings below. Eskott put himself out to be entertaining. It was only her father’s speech they listened to with any attention. The rest of the time she was beguiled with the latest gossip, a matter on which she had fallen behind in recent weeks.

“They say Mrs. Jordan is threatening to publish the Duke of Clarence’s letters if he don’t ante up a better settlement on her,” Eskott mentioned. “That should make entertaining reading. Twenty years of them.”

“What price is she asking for silence?”

“Fifteen hundred a year for herself, the same for the children, and all manner of perks. She won’t have to display her aging charms on the boards, if she’s successful. Sad all the same—twenty years shot to hell.”

“She’s thrown over, and
he
will take to himself a tender young wife.”

“If he can find anyone to have him. The girls are turning him off in droves. Miss Long, Miss Mercer, Lady Berkeley, Meg Elphinstone. She is the latest he has in his eye. Lord Keith, her father, will never hear of it. As a seaman himself, he has too shrewd a notion of a sailor’s morals.”

“I expect he has a shrewd idea too that Clarence will never inherit the throne, or he’d hand her over fast enough, morals or no.”

“It might be the young lady herself who objects. Your breed seem singularly uninterested in social advancement this season.”

“Is that, by any chance, a reference to my cousin Henry?”

“Whatever gave you that idea?” he asked sardonically.

“I can’t imagine, unless it is the sly way you said it. I wish you will quit casting out lures to him. He is such an innocent soul he half thinks you mean it.”

“You are such an innocent babe, you think I
don’t.”

“Eskott, how horrid of you, trying to steal my beau.”

“The fellow needs a decent position if you mean to marry him. You are going to, aren’t you?” he asked, regarding her with interest.

“We shall see. I may be more interested in my social position than you think. He will attend Perceval’s do this Friday at Downing Street, to throw him in the way of any influential gentlemen he has not yet met. I expect something will come of it.”

“If it don’t, you can always toss your handkerchief at the Duke of Clarence. I wonder he hasn’t been throwing himself into your saloon before now.”

They drove through the park before returning home, though it was not a popular spot in the winter months. It was Eskott’s aim to discover if she had definitely settled on Henry. He found her strangely evasive, which was at least better than a firm commitment. When he invited her out again the next afternoon, however, she declined.

“I’ll see you at Downing Street on Friday then,” he said, as he left her at her door.

Henry was wearing his new black jacket for that important occasion, and looked even more dashing and handsome than usual, but Madeline did not let herself be diverted by mere admiration. She instructed him on how to perform at the prime minister’s party. There would be gentlemen from both political sides there. He was to concentrate on the proper side, making a good impression on Perceval if possible.

They went with Fordwich, and were admitted at the door by the porter. A steward draped in gold braid announced their arrival. They crossed the black and white marble floor to be received at the stairfront by Perceval and his hostess. Already the party was in progress.

“We shan’t stick together tonight, Henry,” she told him. “You stay with my father. Capitalize on this opportunity to make yourself known. Every person in this room is important. I might almost say every important person in town is in this room. I shall circulate and puff you off to anyone who comes in my way.”

“There seems to be more Whigs than anything else,” Henry said, scanning the crowd.

“Everyone is here. I expect the Tories take it for a business meeting, and are huddled in the library at the head of the stairs, talking politics. Papa will rout them out. Ah, here is Eskott,” she exclaimed as he approached. “I’ll have a dance with him, and meet with you later.”

Before she broke away, Eskott joined himself to the party from St. James’s Street. “What do you think is the reason for this sudden bout of hospitality on Perceval’s part, Lord Fordwich?” he asked.

“No idea. The party came as a surprise to us.”

“A farewell do, perhaps, as he will not much longer be in a position to offer the hospitality of Ten Downing Street?” Eskott suggested mischievously.

“Wishful thinking on your part,” Madeline answered swiftly. “You had your chance for a
little
power, and were foolish enough to turn it down only because the P.M. uses a style of letter you do not like. The poor man can’t help it if he expresses himself like a washerwoman.”

“We are not likely to be contented with a
little
power, when the whole pie is within our grasp at last.”

“I shall draw you away, before Papa has an attack of apoplexy,” Madeline said with an apologetic look at her father. “Why must you say such things, inciting him to anger?” she chided as they walked toward the dance floor.

“He hears worse every day, if he is listening at all. Nice to see you behaving like your old self, and not sticking like a burr to your boy. His nose will be out of joint, not getting first dance with you.”

“We did not come here tonight for pleasure.”

“Was it for penance, as you voluntarily accepted my company? I shan’t cavil. I am always happy to dance with you, whatever your reason.”

She enjoyed the dance, and the easy company of an old friend who knew what subjects amused her. She was not amused, however, when Eskott soon pointed out that Henry had fallen into conversation with the enemy Whigs.

“The idiot!” she exclaimed. “I most particularly told him to talk to Eldon and van Sittart. Castlereagh too will probably come into an important post before long.”

The word
idiot,
though spoken with feeling, was by no means an indication of lessening affection with Madeline. Eskott could not count the number of times she had castigated himself as one. Almost he was angry, to hear her speak so frankly of her new beau. “Who is the fellow he is talking to?” she asked. “I don’t recognize him. Is he new, or just unimportant?”

“He’s one of the bucks from Ireland. Reed is his name. A head hunter for us, Maddie. You better go after Henry. Reed is more menacing to your cause than poor I, no matter how much you chide me.”

She hastened forward to detach Henry from this menace, using the excuse of wishing to dance with him. She burned his ears for choosing so unhelpful a conversational partner, at this, his greatest opportunity. “I had no idea who he was! He accosted me. You must have seen it.”

“I didn’t notice. I was dancing.”

“You never notice
me
once Eskott enters a room,” he sulked.

“I thought you were with my father. I told you to stay with him.”

“He’s gone to play cards with a bunch of old fellows. That Reed chap agrees with Eskott that this will be Perceval’s last do at Number Ten.”

“Of course he does. He is a Whig. There—go and say how-do-you-do to William Lamb. You met him last week, remember?”

She did not dance with Henry after all, but circulated through the crowd, chatting to friends. She was busy throughout the evening to make Henry known to anyone who could help him, but of course nothing specific in the line of an offer would be mentioned at a polite party. Henry was rather disgruntled when they got back home, becoming impatient with the perpetual delays.

“You must do something for yourself, Henry,” she pointed out. “I have got you an entrée to the prime minister’s home. What do you expect of me, to dun him outright for a job for you?”

“Of course not. I appreciate your efforts. I didn’t mean to cast any slight on
you.”

“Well then, you have met everyone. Go to call on some of them tomorrow. Tell them you are open to an offer. Something will come from it.”

“I am not in the custom of going, hat in hand,
begging.”

“Maybe it is time you got in the habit then,” she said angrily. Definitely Henry was less agreeable to her that night. He looked very sulky and was behaving with a childishness that displeased her. His conversation was not so amusing as Eskott’s after all, or that of any of her old set.

“I’m sorry, love. It is only the delay that irritates me. I hoped we might be able to be married in June. I know we said a year, but seeing you every day...” He put his arms around her, pulling her to him for a passionate embrace, murmuring soft words of desire and impatience. It was enjoyable enough to smooth her ruffled feathers, to make her forget his peevishness.

In the morning, there was a new development at St. James’s Street. An unofficial cabinet meeting was taking place, to decide what was to be done about Wellesley. Perceval was not present.

“Wellesley has advised the regent to bring in Lords Castlereagh and Canning to strengthen the cabinet,” Eldon told Fordwich, his head wagging in displeasure. “I for one am determined to resign if Wellesley does not. I hope we are all agreed upon it. If we act as one, the regent must accept our verdict. Our first allegiance is to our prime minister, and Perceval is still that. We owe it to the office, if not to the man. How is he expected to command, with Wellesley smirking at him from the corner, his resignation refused by the regent? The situation is intolerable.”

“His resignation has been turned down once,” Tilsit mentioned.

“A formality only, indicating the prince’s wishes. Of course he can resign if he really wants to. A man can always claim ill health, use a gentleman’s excuse.”

“The prince might use it as an excuse to turn us out of office,” Fordwich warned. “At this time, with the Whigs waiting like hawks to pounce, we would be better advised to use discretion.”

His words, though listened to, were not followed. After an hour’s heated debate, it was decided to present their ultimatum to the prince regent. They requested Perceval himself to come and do it. A part of the cabinet went with him, and the others remained behind to hear the outcome after Perceval returned. While they were still assembled, Eskott dropped around for a purely social visit with the ladies.

He noticed the collection of hats and gloves in the hallway, and asked Madeline, when he joined her and Lady Margaret in a smaller parlor, what was afoot.

“Nothing you would be interested in,” she replied, with a laughing eye.

“Aha, the cat is in with the pigeons now. I cannot think what the old fellows are about, presenting their ultimatum in such stringent terms. Not necessary either. The prince would not be allowed to accept Canning, whatever about Castlereagh. Canning is adamant on the matter of Catholic Emancipation, and Hertford don’t allow Prinney to approve of it this year.”

“How did you know all about it? It only happened this morning,” Lady Margaret exclaimed. “I didn’t hear a word of it myself till I sneaked up and listened from the parlor next door. It is supposed to be a great secret, Eskott. Who is the spy, eh?”

“It was overheard last night at Ten Downing. The name Canning was being whispered in every corner and Castlereagh actually cropped out into a smile. He has teeth. I hadn’t realized it before.”

“The ministers are all too discreet to discuss it openly at a party. I daresay they have known it was coming for a fortnight, but the decision to resign if Wellesley don’t was only made today.”

“Well, now you see, I didn’t know
that
was the deal.
My
understanding was that they would
threaten
to resign if Canning was invited in, and that was only conjecture, to be sure. We knew Perceval would insist on some hard action. His present position is untenable.”