Sir Philip's Folly (The Poor Relation Series Book 4) (7 page)

“Like demanding all his share of the hotel and going off and marrying Mrs. Budge.”

“I do not think he would do that,” said Lady Fortescue. “He has extravagant tastes and any money he got from his share would soon be dissipated. Now, Miss Tonks, I forgot to cancel Monsieur André’s visit and he will be here presently, and as you expressed a wish to have your own hair done, perhaps you should make use of his services.”

“So soon?” Miss Tonks’ thin hands fluttered up to her brown hair, which she wore under a cap.

“Why not?” said the colonel heartily. “You deserve a treat.”

“When is he due here?”

“In half an hour,” said Lady Fortescue.

“But he is such a great man and my bedchamber is so small.”

“You can use Mama’s room,” said Arabella. “She will not be home until dawn, and by that time I shall have certainly removed all traces of the hairdresser’s visit.”

Miss Tonks made up her mind. “Then I shall do it. Will you come and sit with me, Arabella?”

“Gladly.”

Lady Fortescue experienced a pang of sympathy for Miss Tonks. The spinster was so obviously delighted to have a friend, and yet, a pretty girl like Arabella would soon marry and Miss Tonks would be left alone again. Strange that Sir Philip’s romance should have affected her so badly.

They talked then about general things and menus, none of them anxious to return to the subject of Mr. Davy when Sir Philip was expected to return.

At last he came in and stood looking contemptuously around the room, jingling coins in his pockets. He then noticed Arabella and raised his eyebrows in surprise, but then his gaze returned to Lady Fortescue and the colonel. “You’ve all gone too far,” he said. “So hear this. I am going to marry Mary Budge.”

“No!” screamed Miss Tonks.

“Fiddle,” said Lady Fortescue.

“You can’t,” said the colonel bluntly.

“I can and I will,” declared Sir Philip.

“Has she accepted you?” asked Lady Fortescue.

“No, ain’t asked her yet. But she will. She knows which side her bread is buttered on.”

“That one likes her bread buttered on both sides, and loaves and loaves of it, too,” said Miss Tonks with a break in her voice.

“And what’s more,” went on Sir Philip who, Arabella noticed shrewdly, seemed to be enjoying himself immensely, “I think I’ll get you to give me my share in this hotel. Fed up working. Want to be a gentleman.”

Miss Tonks rose to her feet. “Nothing,” she said passionately, “could
ever
make you a gentleman!” She marched from the room, her head high, two spots of colour burning on her cheeks. Arabella followed her.

“Come down to Mama’s apartment,” said Arabella.

Miss Tonks shook her head blindly. “Why ornament an old fool like me?”

“Because it will make you feel better,” said Arabella quietly. “You are already a distinguished-looking lady, Letitia. I would like to see what Monsieur André does with your hair. And I’ll tell you something else. I do not think Sir Philip is going to propose to Mrs. Budge.”

“But he said…”

“He said it to get revenge on all of you, firstly because he really does care for that awful woman, but secondly because he smells secrets from which he is excluded. He is like a bad child, I think. Come along.”

***

The earl was dancing with Lady Carruthers. He was glad it was a country dance, for the few times the figure of the dance brought them together caused her to ogle him in quite a dreadful way and so it was easy for him to show coldness to her. And hard as she worked at flirting, Lady Carruthers’s spirits were plunging by the minute. The earl was the first gentleman who had asked her to dance and she feared he would be the last that evening. She could not see what she really looked like when she surveyed herself in the glass. She still saw herself as young as her clothes. And yet there was no denying that her dreams of being surrounded by eligible men were falling about her ears. Instead of sitting with the chaperons and dowagers, she had taken a place with the young débutantes. That had been a mistake, for as each was taken up to dance, she was left alone on her rout-chair, feeling exposed. She could have crossed the room and joined friends of her own age, but she felt that by so doing she would draw attention to her age. Of course London was thin of company, but it was mortifying after all these years to find herself a wallflower. When her dance with the earl was over and they were promenading around the room, she said with an arch look, “I look forward to your call tomorrow, my lord. As we are both resident in the same hotel, I feel confident that you will call in person.”

“I doubt if that will be possible,” he said loftily. “I have many engagements.” And with the next dance being announced, he led her back to that lonely seat.

***

The fashionable crop that was to have been Arabella’s was now adorning Miss Tonks’ head. “What do you think?” she asked nervously after the hairdresser had left.

Arabella put her head on one side. “You know,” she said consideringly, “it makes you look
years
younger, and I wonder what he used to get that shine. I asked him but he said it was a secret recipe.”

Miss Tonks’ hair was now a cap of shining curls. “And you should not wear these starched caps,” went on Arabella. “Some pretty lace ones, I think, to show those curls to advantage. Come upstairs with me and let us see if the others are still there.”

The others were still there, going through the books, Sir Philip’s face looking sour. “So you say,” Lady Fortescue was declaiming in a measured voice, “as we have no intention of selling up, you will be only entitled to your cut of the profits, profits from which your lady’s food and clothes and rent have been deducted. You are an extravagant man, Sir Philip, and so I do not think you would be able to exist very comfortably in a separate establishment.”

“A pox on’t,” muttered Sir Philip. “What’s this girl doing here again? Is she to be party to all our discussions?”

“Miss Carruthers is a friend,” snapped the colonel. “Mind your manners, sir!”

Sir Philip’s gaze focused on Miss Tonks’ capless, shining head. “What have you been doing to yourself?” he growled.

The colonel took Miss Tonks’ hand and bent and kissed it. “You look most charmingly.”

“I must say,” remarked Lady Fortescue, “that André has done wonders. How very young you look, Miss Tonks!”

“Pah!” said Sir Philip Sommerville, and went out and crashed the door behind him.

“He does not like you looking pretty,” Arabella whispered to Miss Tonks. “I wonder why?”

And Miss Tonks, who had been on the point of crying, suddenly felt very happy indeed. No one in her whole miserable life had called her pretty before.

Lady Fortescue, who had overheard the aside, reflected that no one could ever call Miss Tonks pretty, and yet the new hair-style made her look undoubtedly interesting and mundane.

***

“Did many gentlemen dance with you last night, Mama?” asked Arabella. For to her dismay, early the next afternoon, her mother showed every sign of preparing to go out on calls.

“Oh, so many I have lost count,” said Lady Carruthers.

“In that case, would it not be better to await calls rather than going out?”

“Oh, there was no one of interest, no one worth waiting for.”

“Was Lord Denby there?”

“Denby? Denby?” Lady Carruthers affected a yawn and tried to look as if she were hard put to remember the name of the only man who had danced with her. “Oh, yes, the fellow who is staying here. Yes, he danced with me. Terrible flirt.”

The footman came into the sitting-room. “The Earl of Denby is called, my lady,” he announced.

“Show him in,” said Arabella quickly before her mother could order her from the room.

The earl, reflected Arabella, although her heart gave a painful lurch, was surely as good an actor as Mr. Davy. He came in and bowed low to Lady Carruthers. Then he turned and affected to see Arabella for the first time and gave a little start.

“I pray you,” he said to Lady Carruthers, “please introduce me to this beauty.”

Lady Carruthers looked wildly about the room as if expecting to see someone else there. “Arabella?” she asked faintly. She rallied with an obvious effort. “My daughter, my lord. Arabella, make your curtsy to his lordship and then I am sure you will be glad to get back to your books.”

But the earl had taken Arabella’s hand and was smiling down into her eyes. “You must not waste your beautiful eyes over books, Miss Carruthers.” He turned back to Lady Carruthers. “May I persuade both of you to come for a drive with me?”

“I shall be glad to go,” said Lady Carruthers. “But my child is…”

She saw the slight stiffening of Lord Denby’s face and realized with a shock that he might, just might, change his mind if Arabella were not to be of the party.

“Arabella, change into your carriage dress, my chuck, while I entertain Lord Denby.”

When Arabella had gone into her bedroom, Lady Carruthers said, “Such a dear child.”

“Not a child, my lady, despite her juvenile gowns. I would have estimated her to be about nineteen years.”

Lady Carruthers coloured under her paint but said nothing.

“Have you brought her out yet?”

“No, my lord, this is not the Season.”

“And yet, with such beauty, you would have the men flocking around her—were she suitably gowned, of course. And she is trifle old to be still wearing her hair down.”

“Oh, let us not discuss my tiresome child,” said Lady Carruthers gaily. “I confess I am fatigued. So many dances!”

Lord Denby restrained himself from pointing out that apart from one dance with him, she had not danced at all. He talked about various people they both knew, for most of society at least knew one another by sight and by gossip, while Lady Carruthers fretted as the minutes dragged by, wondering what on earth her daughter was about, to take so long to put on her carriage gown.

The door from Arabella’s bedroom opened and she entered followed by Lady Carruthers’s worried-looking maid. Lady Carruthers’s eyes looked daggers.

Arabella was wearing one of her own, that is, Lady Carruthers’s, own carriage gowns, and one of her mother’s best hats. And worse! For under that dashing little hat her hair was piled up on her small head in shining curls and waves. The earl smiled his appreciation. Arabella was transformed into a beautiful and modish young lady.

They made their way down the stairs to the hall. Miss Tonks was standing there, talking to one of the guests. She saw the party approaching and cried, “Arabella! How very fine you look.”

Lady Carruthers gave Miss Tonks a contemptuous look. “You will kindly be less familiar with my daughter. I do not like familiarity from hotel servants.”

“Good day, Miss Tonks,” said the earl easily. “Your hair looks splendid, very fetching.”

“Is Letitia not grand,” cried Arabella. “But then, Monsieur André is the very best.”

Nonplussed and feeling that life was treating her very unfairly, Lady Carruthers made her way to the door but found to her mortification that she had to wait there alone while the earl and her wretched daughter finished talking to that wretched hotel woman. She was bewildered. Arabella, she kept thinking. Is Arabella then so very beautiful? I never noticed.

When they were seated in the earl’s carriage, she kept darting little looks at her daughter from under the shadow of her bonnet. For the first time Lady Carruthers was bitterly jealous of her daughter. Her own face was a mask of paint; her daughter’s, free of paint, glowed with good health. Not one line marred that beautiful face opposite, and the hazel eyes were wide and clear. On the other hand, the earl had called to pay his addresses. Lady Carruthers preened. All her vanity, which had taken a sad blow at the ball, came flooding back. Once more she saw herself as irresistible and began to flirt with the earl so that he had little opportunity to speak to Arabella. Had Lady Carruthers allowed him plenty of time to get to know Arabella better, then the earl might have tired of the game. But the fact that his every move to engage Arabella in conversation was thwarted by her mother made him more intrigued by the girl.

“Your daughter is attracting all eyes,” said the earl as they drove in the Ring in Hyde Park.

But Lady Carruthers’s vanity was fully restored and she thought it was charming and kind of the earl to flatter her little daughter so as to please
her
. After all, Lady Carruthers knew that it was obviously herself that all the men in the Park were admiring.

The earl found himself feeling increasingly frustrated. He had initially made up his mind that when Lady Carruthers started to take her daughter out and about, he would favour the girl with a few dances and then forget about her. But during the following two weeks, only Lady Carruthers herself was present at various social functions. At last, after flicking through his cards, he noticed there was to be a musicale on the following night, hosted by a Mrs. Sinclair. He approached that lady and said that he had learned Lady Carruthers had a very pretty daughter also staying at the Poor Relation and perhaps Mrs. Sinclair might oblige him by sending a note to Lady Carruthers saying that her daughter would be welcome also.

Mrs. Sinclair smiled indulgently, assuming the earl to be smitten with Miss Carruthers, and said she would send a note right away.

Lady Carruthers scowled down at that note. She felt she was making progress with the earl. Into every indifferent remark he had made to her she read growing passion. Then he always asked her to dance and the fact that healways asked about Arabella she considered a very hopeful sign. The earl obviously had a fatherly interest in the girl. And so she shrugged and crumpled up the note and threw it into the empty fireplace.

Arabella found it later that day, smoothed it out and read it. She was feeling increasingly angry because her mother showed no signs of wanting to take her anywhere and doubted very much whether she would take her to this musicale. Also Arabella was weary of wandering the corridors of the hotel hoping to bump into the earl. Her mother did not even take her to the dining-room but had her meals sent in from a chop-house.