Lady Susan Plays the Game (34 page)

Then he reddened, remembering his sister's frequent hints. Unless of course, she was actually in love with him and was using this clumsy approach to get close. But, no, this couldn't be the case. She couldn't be so artful. He must speak with Lady Susan.

Dinner that night was a tense affair. Frederica, who had been refused a tray in her room, ate almost nothing; she kept her eyes on her plate and dared not even glance at Reginald, though she was aware of his every gesture. Once or twice she thought he looked down the table at her. Then she reddened just a little but made sure her face was otherwise calm. She shouldn't have run out of the room so suddenly, but a fleeting reflection made her think the tears were perhaps not a mistake. She was both horrified and almost glad that she'd conveyed her suspicions of her mother at Langford. She'd never expressed them before, even to herself.

Lady Susan on Mr Vernon's right spoke when necessary, as she always did, but initiated no subjects of talk. She was calculating how many days must elapse before Sir James would have to go. If there were a clear limit, she would merely need to keep everyone away from each other in his or her own separate world: all could yet be right. She'd explained once again that Frederica needed time and he must wait; when directly commanded, he would, she thought, be obedient.

The other diners were even more subdued. Reginald's eyes occasionally roved from mother to daughter. He noticed that, for all her shrinking and diffidence, Frederica was not as clumsy as he'd thought her at first. There was something pleasing in the way she carried her arms and moved her hands on the table. Mostly he let his eyes rest on Lady Susan. There was no comparison in beauty.

When once she caught Reginald's eye, Lady Susan noticed his look of inquiry. She found it impertinent. All the men round the table were insufferable, including a gluttonous archdeacon who'd been invited to dine because he was staying with the rector. He had not expected conversation to be so difficult to sustain: he was the only one grateful to Sir James, who filled some of the silences with remarks about a counting horse, surfaces and shoots. But even that young man, his eyes darting towards Miss Vernon, felt the chill in the room and often went mum. Charles, as usual, ran a little with anything that was said but made no further social effort. A remark or two about the weather and planting and he felt his duty done.

Once the ladies had withdrawn from the table, Sir James laughed and talked in spurts, with himself as sole listener, Charles Vernon smoked and ruminated on the relative value of naval bonds and land in wartime, and the rector and archdeacon chatted together about the advantages of pluralism in rural areas. Reginald attacked the port wine with more than usual zest while his mind turned over and over the events of the day. That night he went to bed with the sore head of a man unused to heavy drinking – or indeed much perplexity.

Next morning he was not in the most amiable frame of mind but he knew what he must do. He sent a message to Lady Susan asking if he could wait on her in the blue morning room.

When she received Reginald's message, Lady Susan was surprised since they had been in the habit of taking a walk about this time, but she prepared to go. She had put last evening's chilly dinner out of her mind. After it she had pleaded a slight headache and gone to her chamber. She had taken supper there alone and played a game of piquet with Barton. Then she had had a fit of sleeplessness and had lain in bed calculating again and again the days, even hours, of Sir James's probable stay. She feared she knew what Reginald was going to say.

He met her. She sensed his aloofness at once and resented it.

‘Lady Susan, forgive me, for bothering you and asking you like this … but of course' – and he relaxed a little into gallantry – ‘it is hard for me ever to stay away long from you.'

She waited, her eyes on the carpet. Her head felt stuffy. She suspected she was catching a cold. The brats in the nursery were always sniffling and it was a wonder she'd not picked one up before now.

‘You will be surprised at what I am going to say but I feel I must acquaint you with your daughter's actions.'

Lady Susan looked up at this. ‘My daughter, Mr de Courcy?'

‘Yes, dear Lady Susan. I know of course how fond a mother you are and I hate to displease you in any way.'

She kept silent, hardly smiling.

‘But you should know that Miss Vernon has come to me to tell me how much she dislikes Sir James.'

Lady Susan swallowed and said nothing.

‘I know you have your heart – your heart as a parent – on this match, but really I believe Miss Vernon is telling the truth when she says that she really cannot under any circumstances marry him.'

A further silence followed. Then Lady Susan spoke quietly, ‘Really. Am I to understand that my daughter has made you the object of her confidences and that you have listened to her? Would it not have been more appropriate for her to discuss the matter with her mother?'

‘Yes, of course,' Reginald answered quickly, ‘and I told her so. But, Lady Susan, she said, or rather implied, that you had taken pains at Langford to bring him …' He stopped.

She stifled her anger. So the girl had been telling tales despite the warning.

‘To bring him?'

‘Well, to attach him to your daughter.'

‘And surely that is what any conscientious mother would do.'

‘Yes, yes,' he replied, ‘but she has told me how much she cannot like him and how strong has been the pressure. Knowing you as I do, if I can presume, I cannot credit this, but at the same time it is possible that she has gained the idea that you would be implacable, whatever her wishes. I am truly pained to say this, for, as you know, to me you are …'

He stopped as he caught her look.

‘And you?' she said coolly ‘What part did you play in this little scene?'

The blood rushed to Reginald's face. ‘I assure you, Lady Susan, there was no encouragement on my side. Your daughter sought me out.'

‘And why was that?'

His anger was rising and he answered more violently than intended. ‘Because the poor girl felt she could not speak to you and she'd promised not to speak to my sister and brother.'

‘An interesting way to keep her promise; I had not thought her quite so devious.' Lady Susan sniffed. Yes, she feared she was beginning a cold.

He looked at her closely, his mind agitated with conflicting emotions. Before he could speak, she went on, ‘I can't believe that you have been prevailed on in this way, Mr de Courcy. I presume she cried and you found her tears affecting.'

‘Lady Susan, it pained me very deeply to see your daughter in such distress.'

‘I imagine you were flattered to be her confidant.'

She said these last words so quietly that Reginald did not at once catch the meaning. When he did, he flushed, then stepped backwards. ‘If you are implying what I think, I dispute it. It ill becomes you, madam, to cast aspersion on your own daughter in this way, or indeed on me. Is there anything in my conduct that would suggest that I am either conniving or credulous?'

He gave a haughty look. His temper was up.
It is best
, thought Lady Susan,
to part at once.
‘Mr de Courcy I think we should end our discussion here. When you have reflected a little on what you have said and your willingness to believe what is imputed in my disfavour by a mere child, perhaps you will think differently from what you now do.'

With a bend of her head and lowered eyes she turned and left the room.

As she walked along the corridor her anger at Frederica mounted. It was hard to believe that this girl, who had seemed all milk and water, could have been so cunning. Reginald had, she knew, at first thought her awkward and disobedient, yet one interview had brought him to the point of questioning her mother's motives.

What had the girl done? She couldn't credit her with any eloquence. She was habitually tongue-tied. And Reginald was not a man to be moved by childish tears of frustration. Had Frederica actually expressed love for him? It was possible. Over the past weeks she'd shown herself extraordinarily insubordinate. She wondered again what had
happened in that London night. Well, she would make Frederica know who was mistress here.

Next morning Mrs Vernon and Sir James came a little earlier than the others into the breakfast room. It was the day Sir James was to depart. Lady Susan had told him firmly that his stay had been long enough.

He had not been unwilling to go. He was sick of the cat-and-mouse game and was beginning to wonder if Frederica would ever be his – and whether he still wanted her. Lady Susan had tried to put him right on both counts. ‘When we are in London, she'll be quite different, you'll see,' she'd said. Her daughter's hostility here was feigned and girlish. She also told him that his own desires remained intact. He only partly believed her.

The day was grey and cold with light snow lying on the ground, but he felt in better spirits than he had for some time, anticipating an enjoyable ride to his estate in his splendid sprung carriage. He was unperturbed whether snow fell or the sun shone on him.

He helped himself to the cold meat arranged on the marble-topped sideboard while Mrs Vernon buttered her toast. She was musing on the mismatched couples in her house, her wonderful brother and the devilish Lady Susan, the boorish Sir James and the sensitive Frederica. Things had slipped out of her control.

Sir James sat down with his meat and some pie and began to tell her that he was thinking now of buying a small chestnut mare to mate with his counting horse when her brother entered the room. He was flustered and had on his riding clothes.

‘Good morning, Reginald,' said Mrs Vernon. ‘Are you going out?'

‘Catherine,' he replied, ignoring her greeting and the presence of Sir James, ‘could I ask you to step outside for a moment. I need to talk to you in private.'

With a nod to Sir James, he left the room. Mrs Vernon followed as quickly as she could. She'd noted his flushed face and knew something was wrong. As a little boy he used to redden when anything upset him; she always saw the outline of the child in the adult whenever he was excited or anxious.

‘Dear Reginald,' she exclaimed when the door had closed and they had moved a little way down the hall, ‘whatever is the matter? Has something happened at Parklands?'

‘No, no, nothing like that,' he replied impatiently. ‘Only I am leaving for there today. I must be gone at once. I have stayed here too long. I must see father and mother, I'm sure they need me. Ladder can go on ahead with my curricle and I'll send for my hunters later. I shall spend a little time in London on the way, then continue to Parklands. So if you have letters for our parents, write them at once.'

‘But Reginald,' cried his sister in amazement. ‘Why? This is so sudden.'

‘Yes, and I am sorry to have to leave you and Mr Vernon, but I must go.' He lowered his voice. ‘But before I leave I want to ask you to do something for me. You must promise. Do not let Frederica Vernon marry that man.' He gestured with his head towards the breakfast-room door. ‘She does not like him; I know she doesn't. Her mother is promoting the match but she has mistaken her daughter.'

Reginald paused for a moment but Mrs Vernon was too surprised to reply. Then he grasped his sister's hand, ‘I implore you, Catherine, to make this your business. Whatever the girl's character, she must not be sacrificed to a fool.' He dropped her hand. ‘I don't know when I shall be back but it will not be for some time.'

And with this he tore himself away and dashed upstairs, leaving his sister in a daze of amazement and delight.

She could not at once return to the breakfast room despite her half-eaten toast; indeed she could not just then have eaten another morsel. As her surprise lessened her joy grew. She walked over to the window in the hallway and looked out at the dank grey morning, seeing the melting snow dripping from the box hedges and topiary. Never was weather so at odds with human feelings.

She recollected herself. Whatever his faults Sir James must not be insulted as a visitor. She re-entered the breakfast room.

Lady Susan was planning to take her early meal in her chamber. Barton had brought her up some Gascoign's powder from the medicine chest and she had swallowed it twice already: she was sure it had halted the progress of her cold but it was best to rest so it could work completely.

While Lady Susan was waiting for her breakfast to be delivered, Barton re-entered the room with some sack-whey, which the cook had said was the way to nip a cold in the bud. ‘Your ladyship might be interested to know that Mr de Courcy is planning on leaving today,' she remarked as she placed the bowl and saucer on the dressing table.

‘How interesting,' said Lady Susan, ‘and from whom do you get this momentous news?'

‘Bonnet had it from Ladder. The groom is taking out his horse and Ladder is planning to drive the curricle.'

Lady Susan did not reply. She sat in silence while Barton handed her the mixture. She needed to think. Up to now she'd been anticipating peace once Sir James had gone. This was a blow she should have expected. Meditatively she ate a few spoonfuls of whey.

She'd been missing London again, the gaming tables and smart saucy talk – and especially Manwaring. With the potential money from Reeve & Reeve in her pocket and pleasure before her, she felt that Reginald would be no great loss, even if she let him go before she'd brought him to a proposal. But there was no question of his leaving in anger. He was a vain man, proud of his reputation and character, and he would enjoy putting it about that Lady Susan had been prepared to sacrifice her daughter to a fool. He might even say that she herself had had designs on him, and be backed up by his sister.

‘Thank you, Barton,' she said. ‘Please cancel my tray. I will go down to breakfast after all – I feel much refreshed by the whey.'