Lady Susan Plays the Game (16 page)

All the girls except the parlour boarders took deportment and paraded round the room with books on their heads, but only the younger ones had rulers stuffed down their backs.
This was seen as an indignity since it made a girl look like a chicken roasting on a spit, her breasts thrust out in embarrassing prominence. Yet Frederica had been told to submit to this treatment and the under-teacher Miss Jones, who was standing in for the dancing master, looked coldly on her when she dropped the books from her head and couldn't bend because of the ruler along her back.

The French teacher Mam'selle Latour, who came in daily, had seemed pleased with Frederica when, after hesitation, she had answered correctly in the first class. But she pursed her lips in surprise when her pupil admitted she knew no French songs. What had she been singing at home? When Frederica began to talk of folk songs from Norfolk and the airs of Mr Handel, Mam'selle Latour cut her off, with a ‘
mais oui
' and a knowing glance to the other girls, who tittered politely.

She fared no better with the science master. She didn't show him her botanical drawings since her mother had brusquely advised against it. ‘They are not what a young girl is supposed to do with her time, Frederica. They are too detailed. No man wants a bluestocking for a wife. I've told you that already. I suggest in school you stick to blooms.'

So the drawings remained hidden in her cupboard but, when asked about plants, Frederica couldn't help mentioning their parts. The master gave her a kindly look, then withdrew it, muttering about Erasmus Darwin and his improper work on the sexual life of plants. Frederica didn't know what he was talking about but blushed anyway.

It was worse when she actually made a drawing of a flower brought in for the girls to copy. To Frederica her work looked like an imitation with all the various pieces carefully delineated; to the master and to two of the girls who came to stare at it, the drawing seemed suspiciously like human parts. The girls giggled and the master turned away, angry with Frederica and the world.

The most dreadful class was elocution, over which Madam Dacre herself often presided. A young girl, Elizabeth Atcherley, was the first to read out a passage from
Elegant Extracts;
she used the sort of voice Madam Dacre declared proper for a young lady. Without quite telling her charges to cultivate a lisp, she did suggest that a little feminine halting while maintaining clarity would be correct.

‘Do I hear a burr in your voice?' Madam Dacre had rasped out in front of the smirking girls when it was Frederica's turn. Frederica hadn't replied but instead looked down and reddened. She supposed that, if she lived in Norfolk with Norfolk people, she would speak a little like them. She began again to read from the chosen passage by Mrs Chapone, but her nervousness made matters worse and, when she stumbled over the word ‘distressing', Madam Dacre snatched the book from her and gave it to Lucy Reardon to finish; Lucy had – or had cultivated – a very pronounced lisp and pouted prettily over the word. Madam Dacre smiled and told her to go on.

Sometimes at night Frederica lay awake beside the snoring Anna and, when her tears had ceased, found herself whispering to her dear dead father. She would never please anyone, she told him, certainly not as she had pleased him.

Catherine Vernon felt that she and her husband had been tricked into receiving Lady Susan at Churchill. As she'd told her mother on many occasions, she'd resolved never to have that woman in her house. She loved Charles and he loved her; yet she knew that her sister-in-law had done everything in her power to prevent a match that was eminently suitable. On top of this, Lady Susan had persuaded her own much put-upon husband to cheat her dear Mr Vernon out of the little he should have had from the family fortune.

‘Cheat' was perhaps a strong word but Mrs Vernon felt strongly. Her mother had hoped her daughter would marry an elder son; consequently, Mrs Vernon took every opportunity to mention how much had been taken away from her husband by this scheming minx, as well as how splendidly Mr Vernon had managed the little that had been his. The summation of her wishes would have been the removal to Vernon Castle entirely frustrated by their sister-in-law.

But the letter had come and before she had even discussed its contents with Mr Vernon it had been assumed that Lady Susan would be arriving and would be staying a long time. Short of having her intercepted on the road there was really nothing Mrs Vernon could do. In any case, she knew that her dear husband had impressed on the widow that she should treat his home as hers. Everyone knew such sort of words were merely convention – only someone as artful or desperate as Lady Susan would think of acting upon them.

However, as her husband gently pointed out, when Mrs Vernon couldn't help yet again complaining, they had better make the best of the visit. Even if, as his wife was surmising, his sister-in-law had few places she could go, she'd still chosen to come to them. He once made the mistake of adding that Catherine might find a friend in her relative, for Lady Susan was reputed to be a charming woman.

‘At least,' said his wife, as she finished stretching a piece of excellent needlework on its frame, ‘she is not bringing the daughter with her. A hoyden of sixteen with no education and with the example of such a mother would be no good companion for our little Arabella. A school is the best place for her.'

‘My dear,' replied her husband, ‘you remember we heard that the daughter was precisely
not
with her mother and you yourself have mentioned the matter on several occasions when we've had letters from my brother. From his description she sounds a very amenable sort of girl.'

Mrs Vernon didn't reply. She had no very great opinion of a man who had chosen Lady Susan for a wife and she doubted he could have been much help in bringing up a female child. She had in any case heard the girl was unmanageable.

After a silence Mr Vernon continued, ‘I wish you would read all her letter, my dear. You remember you broke off rather sharply just after you'd learnt her determination to honour us with a visit. She goes on to say very generous things about wishing to be acquainted with our own children and to act as an aunt towards them, while—'

With a visible shudder his wife interrupted him. The idea of Lady Susan as an aunt to Arabella and the boys filled her with horror. And yet when Mr Vernon held out the letter and she was forced to read some of it, the reference to her own ‘dear little children' had a mollifying effect. But it was very slight. A woman who had so neglected her own child was unlikely to care much about the children of anyone else.

‘Well, my dear,' she said to her husband, ‘there is no help for it, but do not anticipate that she and I will become friends. She will not get far with a de Courcy.'

Her husband was used to her invoking her family name and smiled indulgently, but she had turned away before she could catch his expression.

By the time Mrs Vernon had reached her chamber, the slight softening of attitude had disappeared and she had recourse to her pen to relieve her feelings. There was no point in trying to argue with her husband so she was writing her vexation to her mother. At least, so she ended her letter, the woman would probably attract her brother Reginald to their house out of curiosity. When in the past they had spoken about her scandalous sister-in-law, he'd shown distinct desire to see this old woman who charmed the breeches off men. Mrs Vernon did not use the expression to her mother but Lady de Courcy had a clear idea of what was meant.

That sensible lady did not share her daughter's angry letter with her husband. Sir Reginald was a very different man from Mr Vernon and quite likely to take unnecessary offence. He might even write to his son-in-law to tell him to think of his wife, and not let such a woman enter their house. That would never do. But Lady de Courcy did let Reginald know her own and his sister's disquiet. He could change his Christmas plans and go to Churchill to be of some assistance to poor Catherine. Her daughter adored him. But, then who didn't? reflected Lady de Courcy, he was such a handsome and charming young man.

Mrs Vernon was glad her mother would do the business with her brother. He was younger than his sister and, although he would surely take her part, he might also mock her anxieties. Yet, was it wise to encourage him to visit? Unusually for her, Mrs Vernon was in two minds. Without Reginald perhaps it would be so dull in Churchill that Lady Susan would simply go away after a week or two. But she'd already sensed that her sister-in-law would not be coming to them at all if she had anywhere else to go. So, however dull they were, the woman could not be relied on to leave in a hurry. Besides, she had heard from her mother through Reginald that there'd been gossip concerning her stay at Langford and she'd need to live that down somewhere out of town. At least, concluded Mrs Vernon, she could do no mischief in their house. Dear Mr Vernon was quite immune to this kind of woman, and the neighbourhood boasted few gentlemen with the spirit to be at risk.

As the widow of her husband's elder brother Lady Susan must of course be publicly treated with respect. She knew what was due; yet it was with a heavy heart that Mrs Vernon ordered the housekeeper to have the green and gilt chamber and dressing room prepared for the guest and discussed with cook a slightly more elaborate menu than they were used to.
She would need also to think a little of her wardrobe and what remained presentable. Three lyings in had taken its toll on her figure and her best gowns were no longer serviceable. Happily she'd recently had some patterns from the
Lady's Magazine
made up by the dressmaker.

As she was heading towards the nursery, ready to begin the pleasantest duties of the day, her time with the children, she did wonder a little if she were doing more than she need. She had told herself she was acting for her dear husband. But was she also trying to impress this woman of whom they had unwillingly heard so much? She was irritated to think it. If Lady Susan could be impressed by anything outside herself, it should be by the sight of this happy family home. Surely that, if anything, could excite envy. The lively children, the placid contented husband, and the caring, careful wife. She savoured a moment of self-satisfaction.

Then the thought returned that this woman was even now nearing Churchill. Well, she would be allowed to disrupt nothing. The pleasant domestic routine with dear Arabella, Frederick and baby Charles would carry on as it always did day after day and no designing widow would get in the way. She'd visit the nursery when she wanted to and have her infants round her in her dressing room, with their little toys, the drums and dolls and coloured papers spread over the floor.

‘I wish now,' she said to her husband as they sipped their bowls of black tea in the drawing room, ‘that the daughter was coming after all. But I suppose with such a mother she must be either a forward minx or a cowed sort of creature.'

‘Now now, my dear Mrs Vernon, I don't think we should talk so about Lady Susan. She will soon be our guest. But I confess for myself I am disappointed that Frederica is not to be of the party. I should like to get to know a girl so dear to my brother.'

He sighed. He had been fond of Frederick and looked up to him when they were both young. He'd been aware his mother had favoured her eldest son although he knew himself to have the greater share of energy and enterprise. But, then, neither was necessary in an elder brother who simply had to wait for what fortune would give him. Even that Frederick had mismanaged. Charles had felt deeply his brother's refusal to sell him Vernon Castle, more deeply than he'd confessed to his wife. It was a strange business.

But, despite what had happened subsequently, in the back of his mind he had vivid memories of his brother's first description of the woman who would be his wife. Their sister had had a friend in the Bury school and Frederick had gone with her to one of the parents' social evenings when the girls were displaying ‘postures' – Lady Susan had been Venus with a bevy of younger flower girls in attendance. According to Frederick Lady Susan had risen out of the crowd of girls, a vision of feminine perfection with her fair hair swept up like a crown, a row of pearls round her throat, her skin whitely transparent. She sprayed perfume on the room, wrote Frederick. And it had overcome his senses. ‘I cannot believe my good fortune,' he had written later to his brother and sister, ‘she has accepted me, Lady Susan has accepted me! I feel so humbled. How can I ever do enough to deserve her – ever?'

Charles had been amused but then he'd met the lady. Although he himself would never have considered addressing such a woman – he didn't at the time have the income to buy this kind of loveliness – he did remember the stab of unusual envy he'd felt when he saw his brother's new wife and heard her low, tuneful voice.

But that was a long time ago. She was now a mother and a widow.

He'd heard rumours of her gambling but found it hard to be shocked. In fact, he wasn't sure that the banking business was so very different. Both relied on luck and chance. He'd done so well with such little work it wasn't unlike winning at cards he supposed. Perhaps she might be guilty of greater indiscretions – but it was not his business.

For Catherine's sake he wished she were not coming, and there would probably be coldness between the women – there usually was with in-laws – but, for himself, he admitted he had some curiosity to see what time had done to so handsome a creature. Meanwhile he felt some satisfaction in knowing that, if he were to die, his own widow would not need to go traipsing round the country to find lodging.

Mrs Vernon was the first to hear the carriage far off in the distance. She was out on the lawn in the unseasonal sunlight playing in a circle with Arabella, Frederick, the crawling Charles and their governess. She knew at once. She left the game, sent the children to the nursery and went inside to tidy her dress. A strand of her hair had flopped over her face and she sought Bonnet, her maid, to put it up and fix the back. While she was in her dressing room the
carriage rolled up to the door. Lady Susan entered the wide hallway with a flurry of words and presents …