Frederica in Fashion (8 page)

Frederica looked to Lady Godolphin for help. It had taken
hours
of preparation: hours of being clipped and curled and dressed and perfumed. Surely, she would not have to go through it all again.

But Lady Godolphin and Colonel Brian were still scrapping. ‘My love,’ pleaded the colonel, ‘what I need is your love.’

‘What you need, my good man,’ howled Lady Godolphin, ‘is a kick up the testimonials.’

Deirdre gave Lady Godolphin a scandalized look and pushed Frederica out of the room. ‘Quickly,’ she said. ‘I will not be gone long.’

By the time Frederica was finally declared ready to go to the ball, Deirdre and Mary were exhausted but triumphant.

‘I think Frederica did very well to choose you as
lady’s maid,’ said Deirdre. ‘You have a good eye for colour and, what is more important,
common-sense
.’

Mary’s squashed face turned beet-red with
pleasure
. She curtsied and murmured that she thought Miss Frederica looked ‘more herself’.

Frederica was now wearing one of Deirdre’s gowns. It had only needed to be taken in at the bosom to become a perfect fit. It was of pale green, very fine silk, a simple cut with a high waist and little puff sleeves. Her hair, which had a slight natural curl, had been washed and brushed until it shone and arranged in a simple style. On her head was a circlet of silk laurel leaves ornamented with emeralds and a dainty necklace of gold and small emeralds shone at her neck.

‘Don’t she look a bit
odd
?’ said Lady Godolphin, walking around Frederica and surveying the finished result. ‘The rest will all be in white or pale pastels.’

‘She will look
different
,’ said Deirdre proudly. ‘Where is your fiancé?’

‘If you mean Colonel Brian, he’s gone off – just like last year’s cheese,’ sniffed Lady Godolphin. ‘Was ever a woman so plagued. Maybe I should not have listened to the gossip from that Lady James creature. She drinks scandal broth for breakfast.’

‘Will Lady James be at Almack’s?’ asked Frederica.

‘Not her,’ said Lady Godolphin. ‘She’s person non gracious as far as the patronesses are concerned. We best leave. They don’t let anyone in after eleven. I hope you know what you’re doing, Deirdre. I think
Frederica would have been much better to have borrowed one of my wigs.’

‘I am not
bald
,’ said the much-goaded Frederica. She longed for the courage to say she did not want to go to Almack’s. At least when Martha and Monsieur André had finished with her, she felt she looked a nondescript debutante.

Now she felt strange-looking. She would, she was sure, excite the wrong sort of comment. It was all very well for Deirdre with her red hair, slanting green eyes, and modish gowns to excite attention. ‘There goes another of the beautiful Armitages,’ everyone said when they saw Deirdre, Lady Desire.

And the Duke of Pembury would probably cut her. He would not want to remember he had spent the night with a young miss who looked so
farouche
.

The Duke of Pembury was leaning against a pillar under the minstrels’ gallery at Almack’s, wondering whether to go home. It had been a flat, insipid evening. His eyes strayed to the clock. Nearly eleven. There was no sign of Miss Frederica
Armitage
– which was perhaps just as well. Everyone had been gossiping about the latest Armitage girl, and gossip had it she was sadly plain.

The duke’s friend Mr Tommy Ward, a tall, gangling gentleman with sparse hair, a long face and an engaging smile, came strolling up.

‘Evening, Robert,’ he said, being one of the very few people who had the privilege of addressing the duke by his Christian name. ‘You look sadly flat.
There are rumours about you flying all over the room. Care to hear a few?’

‘No, thank you,’ said the duke wearily.

‘They’re saying you’re fishing for a wife,’ said Mr Ward blithely. ‘They say if you’re fishing for a wife then why don’t you make the slightest push to dance with anybody? They say there was some scandal about the youngest Armitage, working as a servant in your household so as to entrap you. The mamas say that ain’t fair and Miss Armitage should have her vouchers withdrawn. The patronesses refuse to listen but o’ course, they’re all frightened of Lady Godolphin. I feel quite sorry for the Armitage chit. No one but the most hardened fortune hunter is going to dance with
her
.’

‘Do not rattle on so, Tommy. You make my head ache. Frederica Armitage is little more than a schoolgirl. She ran away from her seminary because some trouble at her home was distressing her. She has as much interest in me as I have in her.’

‘Why do you not care to dance?’

The duke sighed. ‘Truth to tell, Tommy, I find all the ladies here look remarkably the same. Hard to tell one from t’other.’

‘Well, by George, if you want an original, take a look at the latest arrival. Reminds me of a sea nymph. She’s with Lady Godolphin. Never say
that’s
the Armitage girl!’

The duke looked across the bobbing heads of the dancers towards the entrance. Lady
Godolphin
was outrageously unmistakable. Beside her stood Frederica.

‘I believe her eyes are green,’ murmured the duke. ‘Why did I not notice that before?’

‘Only see how they cut her!’ exclaimed Mr Ward. ‘And she so young and frail. I am going over there this minute …’

The duke put a restraining hand on his arm. ‘My pleasure, I think, dear Tommy. After all, Miss Armitage and I have already met.’

The duke made his way quickly to where Frederica was now sitting with Lady Godolphin. There was a flush of pink on her cheeks. Frederica had noticed the snubs and wished she could sink through the floor. Beside her, Lady Godolphin was puffing and panting with outrage. Frederica was sure that lady was about to burst out with a string of oaths.

Then she heard that deep, familiar voice. ‘I have been looking forward to furthering my acquaintance with Miss Armitage,’ said the Duke of Pembury.

Lady Godolphin’s wrath disappeared like magic. She gave the duke a wide, crocodile-like smile. ‘Then I shall leave you with Frederica and go and slay a few gossip-mongers,’ she said, rising and shaking out her flimsy skirts.

The duke took her vacated seat. He turned and surveyed Frederica who was nervously playing with the sticks of her fan.

‘I compliment you on your appearance, Miss Armitage,’ he said.

‘It is kind of you to say so,’ said Frederica gratefully, ‘but I know you are only being kind. Only see how everyone stared at me and then turned their
backs. I must look like the veriest freak. I am sure I looked
much
better earlier in the evening, but my sister Deirdre, Lady Harry Desire, she screamed when she saw me and would not let me leave until all the sugar and water had been washed out of my hair.’

The duke laughed. ‘Sugar and water? Were they trying to make a pudding of you?’

‘No,’ confided Frederica naively. ‘It was to stick my hair up in curls. But Deirdre said it looked like a wig. If I do not look like a freak
now
, why is everyone being so pointedly cold to me?’

‘Because your adventures as a chambermaid are well known.’

‘Oh, dear,’ said Frederica miserably. ‘I had not thought of that.’ She brightened. ‘If I amsuch a social pariah, there is no point in my remaining in London. I can go home.’ Then her face fell. Deirdre had questioned her closely about Sarah and Frederica had told her all about it, believing Minerva to have read her letter. It was, therefore, no longer a secret. Deirdre had said roundly that of course Papa would not marry Sarah, but now Frederica felt miserably that Papa should do the Right Thing and marry Sarah. It was all so worrying.

‘Do not look so distressed,’ he said gently. ‘
My
attentions this evening will bring you back into the fold of the
ton
.’

‘Are you so
very
important?’ Frederica looked at him curiously.

‘In this frivolous world of the top ten thousand,’ he
said tartly, ‘you do not ask a very rich duke of marriageable age whether he is important or not. You are supposed to know better.’

‘I will learn,’ sighed Frederica. She looked at him cautiously. ‘You are much more impressive at Almack’s, now I see you set against the other gentlemen.’

‘In what way?’

‘You are quite elegant,’ said Frederica kindly. ‘You make every other man in the room seem
fussy
. I would like you to meet my twin brothers, Peregrine and James. They are both suffering from
fashionitis
at the moment and Papa always grumbles about the amount of money they get through, but of course he always pays them because, after all, they are gentlemen and not ladies.’

‘And money should not be wasted on ladies?’

‘Oh, no. Only just for a Season or two to see if the bait takes. I have great hopes that Papa will despair of me after this Season and will not trouble to try again.’

He looked down with a lurking twinkle in his eyes at the small figure of Frederica sitting next to him. ‘I am persuaded, Miss Armitage, that you will have many suitors before the Season is finished. Here comes Lady Godolphin.’

That lady approached them, the blazing
candlelight
of the ballroom shining right through her dress and exposing not only her corset to the vulgar gaze but a pair of diamonded garters which were holding up her flesh-pink stockings. Following her was a stocky, countrified-looking gentleman.

‘This here,’ said Lady Godolphin, ‘is Mr Harrison who is a friend of your sister Daphne, Mrs Garfield, that is.’ Lady Godolphin effected the introductions and Mr Harrison made Frederica a clumsy bow. ‘I would be honoured, Miss Armitage,’ he said, ‘if you would partner me in this next quadrille.’

Frederica’s large eyes sparkled with pleasure and she half rose from her seat, but sat down again abruptly as the duke said coldly, ‘Apologies, Mr Harrison. The next dance is promised to me.’

Society watched avidly as Mr Harrison bowed again and walked away.

‘You do not
have
to dance with me, your grace,’ said Frederica. ‘Mr Harrison would have done very well.’

‘On the contrary,’ he said, rising and holding out his arm, ‘I wish to dance with you myself.’

Fans fluttered. Eyebrows and quizzing glasses were raised. ‘It is just not fair,’ said one debutante to another. ‘Those wretched Armitage girls! I wonder what Lady James will say when she hears of
this
.’

‘Who is this Lady James?’ asked her friend.

‘You mean you have not heard the
on dits
?’ Heads bent close together and tongues wagged.

Lady Godolphin sat with the dowagers and fanned herself complacently. How little Frederica could dance! Why, the girl was a different person when she danced. What a triumph! If Frederica became a duchess, the Armitage girls, already more famous than the Gurneys, would go down in history.

The elderly Dowager Marchioness of Blessop
nudged Lady Godolphin with her elbow. ‘Don’t see Colonel Brian here tonight. I would have thought your affianced would have escorted you.’

‘My fiasco has a great many affairs to attend to,’ said Lady Godolphin with great hauteur.

‘So I have heard,’ cackled the old marchioness. ‘And it ain’t any use you getting your hopes up about Pembury. Cold fish, that man is.’

‘You are a jealous old cat,’ said Lady Godolphin. ‘And if you don’t stow your gab, I’ll stuff my reticule right down your scrawny neck.’

Having silenced her companion, Lady Godolphin settled down to watch little Frederica’s triumph.

The duke was a leader of fashion. He was a first class sportsman and a notable whip. He belonged neither to the Dandy set nor the Corinthians. Although many members of the demi-monde had found brief favour with him, he had never paid court to any respectable lady, and never before this evening had he singled out any debutante as he had singled out Frederica.

He was enchanted by her dancing and by her youthful manner which was free from missish airs. He had a sudden longing to see her always sparkling and happy the way she now was. He did not want to see her become the crushed and silent Frederica of the house party.

Before the dance was over, Lady Godolphin waddled to her feet to circulate the ballroom and brag quite disgracefully over the size of Frederica’s dowry.

By the time the Duke of Pembury led Frederica back to her chair, there was already a large crowd of male admirers waiting to lead her in the next dance.

The Duke of Pembury then proceeded to make it quite plain that he had little interest in any other lady at the assembly. He promptly took his leave.

Despite the fact she was enjoying her newfound social success immensely, Frederica could not help feeling the evening had gone a trifle flat, but she would not admit to herself that the Duke of Pembury’s leaving had anything to do with it.

SEVEN

Guy Wentwater called on Lady James two days after the opening ball at Almack’s. He no longer entertained any hopes of using her to hurt the Armitages, but he was at loose ends and found Lady James amusing.

Sir Edwin Armitage had sent him an angry letter, saying that if he approached the Hall to try to see Emily again, he would be shot by the gamekeepers as a poacher. The Reverend Charles Armitage had also written to inform Mr Wentwater that his presence in Hopeworth would, in future, be even more unwelcome than it had been hithertofore. The vicar added that it would give him infinite pleasure to horsewhip Mr Wentwater should he dare show his nose near the vicarage again.

Since Guy Wentwater did not move in very high circles, he had not heard of Frederica’s triumph at the ball, but Lady James most certainly had.

She flew at Guy Wentwater the minute he was ushered in and poured into his willing ears all the gossip she had heard. By now, Lady James had convinced herself that the Duke of Pembury would have married her if only this wretched Armitage girl had not appeared on the scene.

‘It is of no use me trying to lure the girl away,’ said Mr Wentwater. ‘The Armitage sisters will have warned her against me. There must be some way to get at her. Is there anyone of whom she is
particularly
fond?’

‘Let me think.’ Lady James strode up and down, the silk of her gown making a swishing noise. ‘Lady Godolphin?’ she said, coming to a halt.

Mr Wentwater shuddered. ‘That horrible old woman would eat us for breakfast. Did Miss Frederica show no evidence of having any school friends?’

‘I was not intimate with the chit,’ snapped Lady James. ‘You must remember when I first met her she was emptying chamber pots. She has the soul of a servant. The minute she was unmasked and hoisted back up into the ranks of the
ton
, her only desire was to have her fellow chambermaid elevated to the rank of lady’s maid.’

‘Ah, I might do something in that direction,’ drawled Guy Wentwater. ‘Abduct the maid and the mistress will follow.’

‘I do not know what I can do to help,’ said Lady James fretfully. ‘My name must be kept out of any plot.’

‘You must befriend the Armitage chit, find out her movements and get me a description of the maid. I will do the rest.
You
must hint to Pembury that her taste runs to servants and that Miss Frederica is said to be enamoured of some footman.

‘If necessary I can produce said footman. We must give Pembury a disgust of the girl for long enough to allow you to do your work – unless, of course, you are over-rating your charms. He may not want you, no matter what happens to Miss Armitage.’

But Lady James’s vanity would not allow her to believe that the duke had not one scrap of feeling left for her.

‘Do not be insulting,’ she said coldly. ‘Get rid of Frederica Armitage and leave the rest to me.’

Lady James would have been very surprised if she could have known that the entire Armitage family were determined that Frederica should have nothing to do with the Duke of Pembury. All the sisters had heard of Frederica’s evening at Almack’s and all were convinced that the duke had been merely amusing himself, but that little Frederica was in danger of losing her heart and spoiling her Season. Deirdre had finally convinced Lady Godolphin of the folly of even thinking of the duke as a possible suitor. The other sisters had also written to her ladyship on the matter. Diana had called on Frederica the day after the ball, prior to journeying to Hopeworth, and had been alarmed by the distinctly dreamy look in her little sister’s eyes.

But Frederica had aroused herself from her dreams enough to give Diana the full story of Sarah Millet, and so it was a very worried Diana who approached the vicarage.

The vicar was at first delighted to see his
fox-hunting
daughter and was prepared to take her on a tour of the kennels, but his face fell when Diana delivered herself of a long lecture on his morals.

‘But Pettifor’s going to marry Sarah,’ said the vicar, ‘so it ain’t no use you going on like a
jaw-me
-dead.’

‘Worse and worse,’ said Diana severely. ‘You constrain that poor man …’

‘I didn’t constrain him,’ howled the exasperated vicar. ‘He’s smelling o’ April and May. Can’t keep his eyes off the girl. Wants an early marriage.’

‘Mr Pettifor!’

‘Yes, that long drip o’ nothing has blossomed. Got a house out o’ me and demanded a mort o’ money.’

‘Amazing. Where is Sarah?’

‘Well, Jimmy Radford said it waren’t fitting for her to stay here, so she’s lodged with Miss Hamworthy in the village until the wedding, and I’ve had to pay that old biddy for the housing of her.’

‘A small price to pay for having got off marrying the girl yourself,’ said Diana dryly.

The vicar raised his eyes to heaven. ‘The Lord has forgiven me,’ he said piously. ‘“Neither do I
condemn
thee; go and sin no more.” St John, chapter eight …’

‘Oh,
Papa
. What does Sarah think of all this?’

‘Like a dog with two tails. Strutting around the village, bragging ’bout how she’s going to be Mrs Pettifor.’

‘The problem does seem to have been resolved,’ said Diana doubtfully. ‘But trouble of another kind has arisen. Frederica’s adventures with the Duke of Pembury have not finished. At her first ball, the duke sat for quite half an hour talking to her, then he danced with her, and then he left, making it quite clear he did not favour any other lady in the room. He was merely amusing himself, but I am afraid little Frederica has taken his attentions seriously. The duke must be dissuaded from paying her any further attention, or we will never get her married. I asked Dantrey to have a word with him, but he merely yawned and said he was much too lazy and for his part he always thought Frederica was a taking little thing. Men! They do stick together.’

‘Ever consider Pembury might have a
tendre
for her?’

‘Pembury? Nonsense. You have only to look at the man.
You
have met him. He recently had an affair with Lady James, a mature and voluptuous blonde. He is not going to change his exotic tastes and fall in love with a little girl like Frederica. It is your duty, Papa, to write to Lady Godolphin and tell her to make sure Frederica meets as many suitable young men as possible. We are all doing our best. Deirdre sees Frederica almost every day.’

‘If you’re so anxious, why don’t you stay in
London and keep an eye on her?’ grumbled Mr Armitage.

‘I must return to Dantrey. He … misses me.’ Diana’s dark eyes lit up and her whole face seemed to glow.

‘You can’t leave here so soon,’ said the vicar. ‘Break your journey for a night.’

But Diana refused to stay.

Before she left Hopeworth, she called on Sarah, and found, to her relief, the maid was much as her father described her. Sarah was already playing the part of the respectable matron and enjoying herself immensely. Mr Pettifor called while Diana was visiting Sarah, and, although he was obviously head over heels in love with the girl, he had also become rather pompous and sanctimonious.

As her carriage finally bore her homewards, Diana resolved to write to Frederica as soon as she arrived. Frederica must know as quickly as possible that the problem of Sarah had finally been resolved.

Contrary to her sisters’ fears, Frederica did not think about the Duke of Pembury very much and, like them, was convinced his interest in her at Almack’s was based on some fleeting whim.

Unlike her other admirers, he had not called on her the day after the ball, but had sent his servant instead with his card and a bouquet of flowers.

Frederica did not, however, know that he had called two days later, but Lady Godolphin did, and had informed Mice, her butler, to say Miss Armitage was ‘not at home’.

The duke accepted the message and was strolling across Hanover Square when he happened for some reason to turn round and look back at the house. He was very surprised to see Frederica at an upstairs window, looking dreamily down into the square. He raised his hand in a salute, but she did not see him.

He walked on his way, puzzled. Never before had he received such a rebuff. People were not in the habit of turning rich and eligible dukes away. After some thought, he decided Lady Godolphin had made a mistake. He let two more days go by and called again. Again he received the same message. He walked away and leaned against the railings of the square. After about ten minutes, a carriage drove up and Lady James alighted. His eyebrows rose in surprise. Lady James, obviously receiving the same rebuff, drove off again. He waited patiently.

Five minutes later, the door opened and Frederica and Lady Godolphin emerged, got into Lady
Godolphin’s
carriage and drove off.

After some thought, he decided to call on his former mistress and find what she was about.

Lady James had just arrived home when he walked up to her home in Curzon Street. She gave him a rapturous welcome. She was looking very beautiful, melting and feminine, and he almost forgot about the ugliness of her character which had only shown through in the latter days of their affair.

After she had fussed over him, plumped cushions behind his back and poured him wine, she
proceeded
to regale him with the latest gossip. Lord
Lascelle’s son, Edward, had actually up and married Harriet Wilson’s sister. Harriet Wilson was a famous courtesan. Everyone was afraid that Sam Whitbread meant to marry that woman who was living with him. Prinny had let down his belly and wore corsets no more. The old king was dying. Murray, the bookseller, had returned Lord Byron’s latest poem to Venice and said he was afraid of publishing it.

‘And,’ interrupted the duke, ‘Lady James has been seen trying to call on Miss Armitage.’

‘How people gossip.’ Lady James laughed. ‘I was merely calling to see how she fared. As a matter of fact, it was because I heard some rather disquieting gossip. It is said she has formed a
tendre
for some
footman
. Not in your household, I trust.’

‘Fustian.’ His face had gone hard and set.

‘Just what I said,’ she said quickly. ‘I mean, even if she took a post as a servant it does not go …’

‘Exactly,’ said the duke. ‘I am sure you are too wise, ma’am, to broadcast such a piece of scurrilous gossip yourself. No lady likes to be accused of jealousy.’

‘I? Jealous! You are funning.’

He rose to his feet and looked down at her curiously, wondering what he had ever seen in her.

‘Good day to you,’ he said, turning on his heel.

Lady James made a move as if to run after him, but quickly restrained herself. She would need to be patient and wait – and hope that Guy Wentwater could effect the ruin of Frederica Armitage’s reputation.

Guy Wentwater had not been idle. He had been frequenting the taverns and coffee houses favoured by the servants of the
ton
. He was searching for a good-looking footman who liked gambling too much. After a week of searching, he struck gold. His prey was William Richards, second footman in Lord Cooper’s town house in Mayfair. Richards was a tall, engaging young man, handsome in his pink and silver livery. Introducing himself as a Mr Jackson, Guy Wentwater soon became on friendly terms with the footman. Their friendship proceeded rapidly through several bottles of wine to several games of hazard. The unfortunate Richards did not know that the dice were literally loaded against him, and found with a sobering shock that he owed his newfound friend one hundred guineas – a sum it would take him several years to pay back.

Embarrassed and miserable, he stammered out a plea for time to pay.

Guy Wentwater leaned back in his chair and smiled lovingly on the blushing footman. ‘I could forget about your debt, my boy,’ he said, ‘if you would but render me a trifling service.’

‘Anything,’ babbled the unfortunate Richards.

‘Then lean your head close to mine for I do not wish to be overheard. Good. This then is what you must do …’

Perhaps the Duke of Pembury might never have been able to call on Frederica had Lady Godolphin
resumed amicable relations with Colonel Brian. But when there appeared to be no sign of a reconciliation on the horizon, Lady Godolphin decided that drastic measures must be taken to restore her beauty.

Firstly, Martha, her lady’s maid, was told to prepare a ‘cosmetic bath’. Baths were usually medicinal or cosmetic. No one really bothered taking them for simple dreary reasons of cleanliness. Lady Godolphin’s bath was to consist of two pounds of barley meal, eight pounds of bran, and a quantity of borage leaves boiled up in spring water.

Secondly, Mary was despatched to the City in a hack to fetch a tincture for the teeth from
Greenough’s
apothecary shop near St Sepulchre’s, Lady Godolphin claiming that her usual home-made mixture of the ashes of nettles, tobacco and honey was doing nothing to whiten her remaining teeth. Greenough’s tinctures claimed not only to keep the teeth white but to ‘perfectly cure the scurvy of the gums, fasten and preserve the teeth, render them white and beautiful, and prevent them decaying and keep such as are decayed from becoming worse’.