“My Aunt Mouser will approve of you mightily
,” he said, “Lady Katherine Fotheringill to give her the proper appellation; she’s bringing Kitty out as the poor child’s mother died a few years ago.”
“I must ask you all about Miss Fairlees and why you call your Aunt such a name as Mouser only the dance is ending and it is to be a waltz next
,” said Prudence, “and Emma says I must sit waltzes out until I am invited to dance them at Almack’s lest I be thought fast.”
“Quite so
,” said Alverston, “then as there is nobody else at this gathering tall enough for me to waltz with without it being excruciatingly uncomfortable for me, save perhaps your cousin Mrs Knightley who seems happy to waltz with her husband – and that of course is quite unexceptionable – I shall sit out and tell you what I may.”
He procured a glass of lemonade for Prudence and made her laugh with the explanation that Aunt Kat had become in the nursery Aunt Mouser for her predatory air over learning some new on-dit.
“My brothers and sisters and I always knew she was good to be touched for the odd bob or two if we were punting on the river tick at school; and for the concomitantly larger sums a boy at Oxford occasionally needs,” he said, “which was mostly my brother Everard’s need; he was more often in trouble than I. And my half brother Laurence; he was Arthur’s father. An indiscretion of my father’s before his marriage; Laurence, I regret to say, fought a duel and died of his wounds two days later leaving a young son who had already lost his mother to consumption. ”
“Excuse me, but you are the only brother left?” asked Prudence. Pain crossed his face.
“Everard fell at Salamanca; Percy was with Cochrane’s fleet in the War of 1812 and died gallantly saving a fellow officer. I sailed through the entire war in an unfashionable regiment with barely a scratch. I was ever contrary; and I ride too heavy, with my inches, to be a cavalryman so I joined the Rifles.”
“And of course to a Corinthian the dark green uniform would be more stylish than red
,” said Prudence with a limpid look. He laughed.
“You minx! Indeed, by the time we had crawled over half of Spain our bottle green uniforms were ragged, muddy and really more disreputable than the clothes of the local peasants…. But we made our name. Miss Blenkinsop, I consider it the height of ill manners to bore a lady with war reminiscences!”
She smiled at him.
“But had we not already established that you were a rag-mannered ogre, sir?” she said.
He gave a shout of laughter.
“Miss Blenkinsop, that is assuredly YOUR point! I am glad I came early!”
“That was early? I had thought you were unavoidably detained.”
“Ah, Miss Blenkinsop, you truly are a green girl; the rules of fashion decree that the ennui of life keeps one
from arriving until as late as possible. One
must
be at Almack’s before they lock the door at eleven o’clock but at many functions a fashionable man may not arrive until later, may stay for the barest minimum of time and then go on to his club to complain about the boredom of life. I generally retire to my bed rather than to my club because I rise earlier than many to attend …..well, a sporting establishment.”
“You box with Gentleman Jackson no doubt
,” nodded Miss Blenkinsop wisely, “I have heard about it from Jeremy – the vicar’s son in Whingate, where I live – because he was full of himself for having obtained a lesson when he visited town.”
“And is this Jeremy then someone special to you?” asked Alverston.
“He’s a clunch,” said Prudence, “but as a childhood friend one is naturally expected to listen to his tales of the number of ways he made a cake of himself in the city and pretend to think him a fine fellow. It were unkind to mock the afflicted.”
The Marquess gave a second shout of laughter.
Miss Blenkinsop would not, after all, be likely to have her head turned by other young clunches if she was already conversant with the type.
He danced with her once more – after a decent interval
, having relinquished her to another for the next country dance – and then left. He had also danced with a number of other girls, most of whom bored him by simpering at him or turning tongue-tied at the attentions of so important a man.
“Well he is very properly behaved not to draw too much notice to you by his attentions
,” declared George. “It does not do for a girl to be too obviously singled out by any one man. I like Alverston.”
Chapter 15
Lady Katherine sent invitations to an informal levee for the Knightleys and Prudence to meet her niece.
Emma wrote a letter of acceptance on behalf of all of them and expressed the opinion to her husband and cousin that whilst mornings were not her best time of day, by ten of the clock she should be feeling enough the thing to enjoy it and at least there would not be the ordeal of saying the right thing to a fearsome sounding dowager late at night.
“Alverston said she’s kind as well as formidable
,” ventured Prudence, “I fancy though from what he said of Miss Fairlees that she is a trifle, well, lacking in pluck.”
“I should imagine that Alverston could seem intimidating to a slight and nervous female
,” said George, “he terrified half the girls he danced with last night; not just the size of the man, but he has an offputting scowl that would make me dislike him if I did not know how much he cares for Arthur and how kind he can be. He went out of his way last night to thank me for my kindness and friendship to his nephew in the throes of his calf love; he is hoping of course that Arthur will transfer his infatuation to the next beauty of the season, for Alverston finds it an embarrassment that his nephew might embarrass Emma.”
“Poor Mr Alver
,” said Emma, “I treat him just as I treat small Henry; with the gravity needed to prevent any wound to youthful pride.”
“Never, however, say so to the poor youth
,” said George, “for he will be quite cast down to think that you compare him to a boy not yet eight years old and more than a decade Arthur’s junior.”
Lady Katherine was indeed a formidable
grande dame
who clung to the rustling brocades of her youth in a floral lattice pattern of black, grey and white, though made up in
more modish styles than the panniers in which she would herself have come out. Her iron grey hair was ruthlessly
coiffured under a black velvet turban that Prudence strongly suspected was designed to intimidate and which sported a black ostrich feather standing to attention as it rose from a ruby pin holding it in place. Somehow it was impossible to imagine any feather Lady Katherine had daring to droop. She utilised a quizzing glass with more ruthless efficiency than the effete and bored curiosity that was the wont of the Bond Street beaux Prudence had seen and glared at each of her visitors through it.
Miss Katherine Fairlees was by contrast a vapid looking girl with pale blonde locks fashionably dressed after the Greek fashion, rather vacant blue eyes and a pretty complexion with flawless features that might have served for a fashion plate, and with as much vivacity as a drawn page. She wore her fashionable blue muslin gown with elegance but without anything distinguishing about her. She smiled a timid smile that half apologised for her aunt’s intimidating manner.
Prudence, presented first, decided to refuse to be intimidated and smiled in greeting first at Kitty and then at Lady Katherine.
“Lord Alverston has been kind enough to tell me about you, Lady Katherine
,” she murmured as they touched fingers in greeting
“Hmmph, well, he is a truthful fellow if prone to levity and exaggeration at times
,” said Lady Katherine, “So I doubt he will have misrepresented me too much. I hear he doesn’t intimidate you at all?”
“No ma’am, why should he?” said Prudence “If he has told you of our first meeting I was too incensed to be intimidated by anyone; and since that time he has been the soul of courtesy and amiability.”
Lady Katherine’s eyebrows shot up.
“Truly? That does not sound like Gervase” she said disbelievingly.
Prudence chuckled.
“Well he is rag mannered in the extreme and offhand in his manner but there is nothing that any woman who sees
past that can complain about in his inherent courtesy and chivalry,” she said.
Lady Katherine regarded her with approval.
“I like you, girl,” she said, “you’re not in the least bit missish and you have a direct way that does not stray into impudence; and a sharper eye for the true character of a man than most. You may sit beside me and entertain me with your side of the tale of your meeting with Gervase. It will not of course be any different in detail, for he is truthful even to admitting his faults; but I shall be amused to hear it from your perspective. Kitty shall talk to Mr and Mrs Knightley.”
Prudence proceeded, once Emma and George had greeted the dowager, to tell the story, not omitting her solecism over the definition of a dandy, and the old woman laughed.
“No, Gervase would not care to be taken for a macaroni!” she said “As WE used to call a fribble in my young day! Well he needs the odd set down; there have been times lately when I have thought him too top-lofty and sneering, though that’s partly through having inherited care of a youth like Arthur when he lost his brothers and then his father in the space of just three years. And a man of eight-and-twenty years might be expected to be ready to have responsibility for his own nursery, but to suddenly have care of a youth of some fifteen summers cannot be easy; and it has made him stern of manner.”
“He seems to have most excellent care of Mr Alver
,” said Prudence, “who is a most pleasant youth but sadly unsteady as yet.”
“Oh Arthur has some growing up to do but he has no real vice to him
,” said Lady Katherine, “ah, here is Georgiana – Alverston’s sister – and her eldest. “Georgiana, my love, Diana; permit me to introduce you.”
Prudence, Emma and George found themselves introduced
to Georgiana, Lady Greyling and the
Honourable Miss Diana Wrexham, daughter of Earl Greyling and Georgiana, Lady Greyling. Prudence found
it confusing that titles were not necessarily the same as family names!
Georgiana was a vivacious woman of some thirty years who was fashionably dressed and evidently considered herself a woman about town whilst enjoying her various interesting offspring; she gravitated to Emma to ask if Mrs Knightley had any children yet, and as Emma blushed and replied,
“Not
quite
yet’ proceeded to give her some good – and it may be said fairly earthy – advice about surviving the Season whilst in an Interesting Condition. Emma was delighted and it did not need much in the way of discreet enquiry to get Georgiana onto her favourite subject, which was her children. They were soon comparing notes about the five Wrexham offspring and Emma’s nephews and nieces as though they had known each other for ever.
The Honourable Diana was a thin child of about eleven or twelve with big grey eyes and a wealth of black hair that seemed to have no curl to it at all and was strained back into a plait.
Prudence smiled at her.
“Do you like
London, Miss Wrexham?” she asked.
The child looked pleased to have the formal address.
“Well, if you please, Miss Blenkinsop, I have to say ‘no not really’ because there is very little to do here,” she said, “my next brother, William, is at school – he has just gone off for the summer term – so there are only the little ones and Nurse because my governess took the measles. That’s why Mama had to bring me; she said Aunt Katherine would not mind.”
“Measles! That must be very unpleasant for the poor woman; and how inconvenient for you!” said Prudence “And you are not permitted, I dare say, to walk out with a footman to a lending library?”
Diana pulled a face.
“No; but if Uncle Gervase is to come today I shall ask
him if I might be taken to his house to read in
his
library for he has a famous collection. I think he should marry a
blue stocking; I am glad he is not to marry cousin Kitty, though she is nice enough but she is not very well read and besides the idea of girls climbing trees makes her run to snea
k to someone. I don’t think
you
would sneak, Miss Blenkinsop.”
“Well as it’s not so many years ago I was climbing trees myself I should be a pretty poor hypocrite to do so
,” said Prudence. “We should however draw your cousin into the conversation; it would be courteous. My Cousin George is an excellent conversationalist but I am neglecting my hostess in not making conversation with her too!”
Diana giggled.
“She’s nervous of me because last time we met I had a mouse in my pocket. It was in the trap in the pantry and I had intended to release it, but had not had time, only it released itself and Kitty had the vapours. Mama slapped her,” she added, “because she was like to become hysterical. All over a little mouse” she added in some scorn.