Maddy watched her cousin depart, curiosity stamped on those chubby features. It was obvious that Letty had last-moment warnings of a private nature to depart, and Maddy knew well that Alathea was not so high-minded as to refrain from listening at keyholes. What use Alathea might make of information pertaining to Claude de Villiers’ financial affairs, Maddy shuddered to think. Longer acquaintance had not lessened the dislike between the girls.
“Now,” said Letty, “your object, Maddy, is to find a husband. I see no reason to refine upon that. Your appeal to the gentlemen will be based upon your air of innocence and those genteel accomplishments that are expected of every young lady of quality. The less you appear to know, the more attractive you will be.”
Maddy was peeved that her face and physical appearance played so little a part in her aunt’s catalogue, but silently smoothed her long evening gloves of fine white kid. Letty, mistaking this lack of response for compliance, continued. “You must not think me cruel. “A young miss like yourself cannot be expected to know the ways of the world. I shall tell you precisely how to go on, and providing you do not run counter to my advice, we shall soon see the thing done. Do you understand?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Maddy reflected that her aunt, whom even the most generous of persons could not characterize as needle-witted, was unquestionably up to all the rigs in regard to the strict code of behavior that governed High Society. Dressed most suitably for the occasion in a gown of white silvered lama, on gauze, with large, straight sleeves fashioned in the Eastern style, Letty appeared to have not a care in the world. Maddy, whose stomach had achieved that interesting state referred to as “butterflies,” and who had already countless times imagined herself committing such unforgivable gaffes as must ruin not only her own chances but the future of everyone even remotely connected with her, glowered at her aunt and burst into unwise speech.
“As I understand you,” Maddy said grimly, “I must make a push to attract a gentleman who is wealthy enough to answer the purpose. He need not be rich as Croesus, only well to pass. I must not be so imprudent as to encourage the advances of someone who is not quite the thing. It would be helpful if the gentleman forms a lasting passion as soon as he claps eyes on me, but we must not expect such good fortune.” Letty, frozen in the act of patting the Turkish turban of bright blue fringed with gold that swathed her fair curls, stared at her niece in horror. “However,” Maddy concluded, “his infatuation must be strong enough that, when he learns of my lack of fortune, he will pay it no heed!”
“I beg you,” said Letty weakly, reaching for her hartshorn, “to curb your tongue! We shall all be ruined if you persist in speaking so. My entire acquaintance would shun me were they to learn of my involvement in so dastardly a scheme as this.” Letty seemed close to tears. “But the alternative, were the world to learn of Claude’s ruin, would be equally dire. You
must
go through with this, Maddy. There is no other way!”
Maddy was instantly remorseful, and hastened to reassure her aunt. Letty’s momentary gloom was quickly dispelled, for a card that lay upon her dressing table reminded her of a signal triumph that she soon would achieve. “In all the excitement, I forgot to inform you of it, but Wilmington means to attend.” She considered Maddy speculatively. “It seems you misjudged the gentleman’s estimation of you.”
“I am sure,” Maddy replied serenely, “that he is merely being polite.” She had not for a moment doubted that the Earl would appear, not being acquainted with that illustrious gentleman’s perverse disposition or the fact that her aunt had long despaired of enticing him into her home.
“I must be present to greet our guests.” Letty rose. “I only wished to remind you once more of how you must behave.” Maddy surveyed herself in a full-length glass, and privately owned herself pleased with what she saw there. From her fair curls, which were dressed
a la Madonna,
combed from a center parting and flowing in loose curls on the top of her head, to the tips of her exquisite slippers, she was perfection itself. Maddy imagined Motley’s reaction to such vanity, and smiled. Even that critical and plainspoken lady had found no flaw in Maddy’s appearance, for whatever criticism might be made of Letty Jellicoe, it was hard to fault her in matters of dress. High-waisted, with short puff sleeves, Maddy’s pale blue satin gown was veiled with Brussels lace. The bodice was decorated with three tiny bands of blue piped with white; the skirt boasted two rows of double petals, also piped with white, and the bottom row was a deeper tone of blue.
But one could not spend the entire evening staring at one’s image in a glass. Maddy wrenched her gaze away, and flushed to find her aunt watching her. “The Earl of Wilmington,” Letty repeated thoughtfully. Though Maddy wore what the long-suffering Motley referred to as her innocent look, she had not forgotten her resolution to teach the haughty Earl a well-deserved lesson. She experienced a twinge of anticipation regarding the evening to come.
* * * *
Letty’s optimism was justified; it soon became obvious that her rout would be referred to, in those most enviable of terms, as a decided crush. Maddy was relieved that her aunt had chosen to entertain her illustrious guests in rooms that, with the startling exception of an outsize musical elephant, were less crowded with furniture and bric-a-brac than the remainder of the house. Rich paneling and paintings adorned the walls; the floors were made of marble and the ceiling curved; gilded furniture of the Louis Quinze and Louis Seize periods was arranged elegantly. Were it not for the Savonnerie carpets, embroidered curtains, and Beauvais tapestries that also existed in abundance, Maddy would have suspected that Letty had had little hand in furnishing the rooms.
Featherbrain though Letty might be, she was an accomplished hostess, as was proved by the guests whom she commanded. Maddy’s gaze moved restlessly through the rooms, but even the exquisite Brummel was beneath her notice. Wilmington had not as yet arrived.
Alathea swept by, on the arm of a young man who could only have been described as an Adonis, fair-haired and with a profile of breathtaking purity. Maddy considered her cousin’s expression to be entirely too triumphant, and thought that Alathea would have been wise to be guided by her mother in matters of dress. In color, Alathea’s gown was unexceptionable; white was considered quite suitable for young girls; but, despite Letty’s protests, the concoction was festooned lavishly with rouleaux of pink satin. The plump Alathea resembled nothing so much as an unpruned rosebush.
Immensely cheered by this observation, Maddy tamed to Kenelm, who was glowering in a most inhospitable way at his guests. Maddy was aware of the source of her cousin’s discontent, for her enforced seclusion had brought her into close contact with him: of all things Kenelm loathed social functions, yet his absence from his mother’s grand rout could only give rise to unwelcome comment. Therefore, Kenelm had no choice but to attend.
“You are excessively glum this evening,” Maddy commented, watching as Alathea flirted outrageously with her Adonis, who had a military air. “I hope I am not to take your sentiments to reflect upon myself!”
“Shockingly bad form,” growled Kenelm. Maddy glanced at him, startled, but he was frowning at his sister. “I do not know why Mama invites the attentions of that simpering fop! The world knows him to be an arrant fortune-hunter, but she will have him besotted by Alathea. I do not know who is the greater fool.”
Maddy thought it prudent to ignore this remark, and allowed Kenelm to escort her through the crowd. “I must confess I’m terrified!” she whispered. “My aunt has told me so many things I must not do that I dare not do anything at all.”
“That is a common problem for those who wish to make a place in Society,” Kenelm replied with a marked lack of sympathy. “Books on etiquette are invariable bestsellers, and are devoured voraciously by snobs and social climbers.” He was undeterred by Maddy’s dismayed exclamation. “I see you are unaware of the countless ramifications of polite behavior. Let me elaborate: it is quite proper to ask your doctor to dine, but never his wife. And it is permissible to entertain the vicar at the family table, but you must never offer the curate more than a glass of wine before sending him about his business.”
Maddy wondered, astutely, if Kenelm’s ill temper was prompted by the fact that this evening, at least, he was prevented from viewing the object of his affections. She experienced strong curiosity concerning the fabled Clemence, and wished very much for a glimpse of that damsel. The actress must be alluring, indeed, for Kenelm had abandoned his clubs to haunt the theatre where she appeared, and had even, on one memorable occasion, forgotten a wager in the heady bliss of receiving a smile from that blue-eyed miss. Even his inventions had been abandoned, to his mother’s delight, for Letty still had no notion of what had caused the change in her headstrong son’s character. Maddy had been privileged to view the results of her cousin’s particular genius, and had been most stricken by an apparatus designed to prevent snoring, with straps that passed around the chin and over the head, thus making it impossible to open one’s mouth. Though the device had been used most successfully by the late Mr. Jellicoe, Letty remained unappreciative of her son’s talents, for her first glimpse of her husband in this remarkable apparatus had sent her into strong hysterics.
In view of Kenelm’s dour mood, Maddy was relieved to be left in the company of her aunt. Alathea soon joined them, and Maddy was privileged to meet the incredibly handsome Captain Adrian Huard. She had no way of knowing if he truly was a fortune-hunter, and his manners were of the best, but she felt his attentions to Alathea were much too particular. She was surprised that her aunt made no protest.
Having already been engaged in several dances, Maddy was glad enough to take a seat by Alathea and survey the illustrious individuals among whom they found themselves. Her satin slippers may have been very fashionable, but they were also exceedingly uncomfortable.
“Kenelm appears to be in a very black mood,” Alathea remarked. “I doubt his actress is of a tractable nature.” Maddy glanced quickly at Letty, but her aunt, deep in conversation with a haughty lady whose hair was an improbable shade of yellow, had not heard. “But then Kenelm is definitely unlucky. Were he not more fortunate with the cards than in general, he would surely be ruined.”
Maddy stared at her cousin, but Alathea’s expression was bland. Her attention was focused in a most improper way on Captain Huard, engaged with another young lady on the dance floor. “Whatever do you mean?”
“Why, that he is singularly ill fated,” Alathea replied with marked disinterest. “All manner of accidents befall Kenelm. I suppose we should consider him fortunate in having survived. He was also a sickly child, but he’s long outgrown that. Mama once asked him if he had an enemy who wished to end his life, but you know what Mama is.”
Maddy, surprised, turned to look for Kenelm. She did not see him, but her glance brushed that of a tall raven-haired gentleman who was staring at her with marked intensity. Maddy blushed and quickly looked away.
“Who is that man?” she whispered to Alathea. “The one who’s staring so rudely?”
Alathea, indiscreet at best, craned her head. “Lord Bechard!” she replied, for once in suitably low tones. “I cannot imagine what he sees in you, and it is pointless anyway, for Mama would never countenance such a connection. He has a shocking reputation, and is also the leading aspirant to the favors of Kenelm’s actress.”
“Alathea!” Maddy wasn’t inclined to explain that her brief inspection of Lord Bechard had not inspired her with the tenderer emotions, but with curiosity. “How would you know that?”
“They place bets on such matters in the clubs.” Alathea frowned at the far end of the room. “He’s said to be a very unpleasant man, fond of innocent young ladies whom he may despoil, and they also say Kenelm’s actress has taken his fancy to an alarming degree. Look! There’s your precious Wilmington.”
Maddy thought that her aunt had not proved successful in guiding either Alathea’s tongue or behavior into young lady-like ways. Her cousin rose to better view the newcomers. “Lady Tyrewhitte-Wilson!” Alathea exclaimed. “I am surprised that she would appear here, for she loathes Mama, but there is no telling what Mathilda will do. She is said to be quite eccentric.” Maddy had only a brief glimpse of a stunning creature dressed in a gown of black lace shot with traceries of yellow and ruby silk. “But,” Alathea admitted grudgingly, “she is of impeccable lineage, and her presence can only add distinction to a rout. Mama will be thrilled.”
Indeed, Letty had hurried to offer the newcomers an effusive welcome. Maddy was possessed of a burning curiosity to learn more of the flame-haired woman who enjoyed the Earl’s attentions.
“Mathilda and the Earl were betrothed at one time,” Alathea continued, “but she broke it off, and both of them married elsewhere. Dominic Tyrewhitte-Wilson died over a year ago in a hunting accident, but Lady Wilmington’s death was a great deal more mysterious. Some say she killed herself, but others believe the Earl murdered her.” Alathea studied the subjects of her discourse. “I wonder if they have now resumed their liaison. It’s said he’s cast off his gypsy mistress since she’s returned to town.”
This information sent Maddy’s spirits plummeting to accountable depths. “You cannot be serious,” she protested. Mathilda Tyrewhitte-Wilson was not serious competition, but it did not suit Maddy’s notions to have the Earl a murderer.
* * * *
Tilda was not unaware of the sensation caused by her appearance. It was not an uncommon reaction; though she did not aspire to the ideal of feminine beauty, Tilda had only to enter a room for heads to turn. Her height was a partial cause of this phenomenon, as was her fiery hair, but even Tilda’s enemies could not deny that she had a style uniquely her own.
“Letty Jellicoe has outdone herself,” she murmured, and gazed nearsightedly upon the crowded room.
Tilda’s companion surveyed her appreciatively. It was appropriate that matrons, and Lady Tyrewhitte-Wilson averred that her advanced years must delegate her to this category, clad themselves in lace and embroidery in shades of black and white; but Tilda’s black lace gown was not only shot with color, its neckline was cut scandalously low. Only those as well acquainted with the niceties of feminine attire as was Lord Wilmington might guess that beneath this stunning creation Tilda wore very little at all. Around her slender neck hung a huge diamond pendant set in heavy Roman gold.