“And you didn’t invite
me,”
he said with mock offense. “Change your plans. There is time yet.”
“No, it’s too late. We go home for a week or ten days.” As she compared her own dull party, comprised mostly of crones of her father, she wished she could cancel it.
“The boy goes with you?” he asked, a black brow lifting.
“Yes—that is, he has been invited.” Oh dear, and if Henry did not come, after arranging the whole for him...
“What is the problem then? He will hardly refuse, when the thing was orchestrated with his career in mind, if I know anything.”
“There is no problem. He will come. It is only that he had some thought of going home to visit his family, and must write his mama to tell her.”
“I know nothing of his mother, but I warrant his father won’t want him spending the holiday in the bosom of the enemy. I refer to political enemies, of course.”
“I wonder if
that
is why he was reluctant,” she said, really thinking aloud, though Eskott jumped on it at once.
“Oh ho, got yourself a reluctant boy this time, have you? That will be a change. Hardly a welcome one either.”
“I admire his respect for the feelings of his family,” she defended.
“No doubt, but the reluctance is less admirable, if I judge your scowl right. You definitely cannot come to me for the holiday then?”
“You can see it is impossible,” she said, her disappointment lending a curt tone to her words.
“I’m sorry I went to the bother of arranging it then. That will teach me to count my guests before they’re asked. I was really looking forward to a week’s flirtation. Whom shall I ask instead? Lady Susan...” he began enumerating as he regarded her closely for reaction.
“Why not? She always seems an acceptable substitute—that is, an acceptable companion for you lately.”
“She is the most agreeable
substitute
I have found yet. A substitute is never totally satisfactory though. I shall keep looking. I shan’t wish you a merry Christmas yet. I expect we’ll meet about here and there before we leave,” he said, arising. “Any errands for me today? The wind is chill; you will not wish to go out.”
“I am not a flower, Eskott. I don’t mind a little breeze.”
“Very well then, you ungrateful old weed. This is the thanks I get for looking out for your interest, and trying to entertain you. It makes it rather difficult for me to ask the favor that was my other reason for this visit. I was hoping to cadge your box at Drury Lane tonight. My Aunt Hilda and her dreary spouse are in town. Nothing will do them but Drury Lane, when I have chosen Covent Garden this year. Are you using your box?”
“No, take it by all means,” she said, rising to fetch her ticket
She was relieved, after he left, that there had been this amiable end to the visit, when the rest of it was so unpleasant. More unpleasant even than the prospect of missing his party was the unsettling news about Henry.
Chapter Six
There was no opportunity to quiz Henry about his application to Neville. He sent around a note that afternoon telling her he was going home at once. His mother was not well, and he was leaving that same day to visit her. This naturally made it impossible for him to attend her house party. He hoped she understood, and so on. She was feeling a trifle peaky herself, and did not go to the rout party she had planned to attend.
Eskott, not having seen her on the town, dropped around one morning to make his farewell before leaving for the country. “I have brought a small token of my esteem,” he said, tossing her a book. “From the house guest I mentioned, Lord Byron. It won’t be out till the new year, but I know you like to be in advance of all the vogues, and am lending you my review copy. It’s rather good, if you care for that sensational sort of thing.”
She glanced at the title,
Childe Harold,
before setting it aside. “Thank you, Eskott. Do sit down, if you’re not in a great rush.”
“To put so many miles between you and myself? Never. Oh, did I tell you I bumped into Hopper the other day? He was put out with you, milady,” he said, waggling a finger at her.
“Hopper? Good gracious, I’m glad you jogged my memory. I wrote to the Admiralty about him. I meant to follow it up.”
“Too late.”
“Why? What has he done?”
“Switched jackets.”
“He sold out his commission, the idiot. I told him not to.”
“He did, but that was not the jacket I referred to.”
“I had a post in mind for him.”
“If the post you refer to is the sinecure at Plymouth, you left it too late. It’s been taken.”
“Who got it?”
“Some cousin or nephew of Lady Hertford. I don’t recall the name. I
do
know, however, that there was no competition for the post. Quite sure you wrote that letter?”
“Of course I’m sure,” she said, but even as she spoke, she had no real recollection of having
posted
the letter.
“Don’t worry about Hopper. I got him something.”
“You?” she asked with quick suspicion.
“Yes, I found him a bright, knowledgeable fellow. He’s giving a hand to our party, a sort of scribbler for Rundell, while waiting for a vacant seat to come up. We mean to put him into the Commons, where he can be heard.”
“You’re going to use him to speak against the Orders in Council!” she charged, her eyes sparkling dangerously. “That is poaching, Eskott! I didn’t think you would be so low.”
“He found the grazing lean in Tory preserves. I didn’t think
you
would be slow in helping an erstwhile friend and favorite. Neither did Hopper. The lad has no money to speak of. He needed work. You sat on your thumbs for a month, despite his repeated urgings. What was he to do? And in any case, what he has to say is too important for mere partisan feelings to enter into it. He is a gold mine of information, experience, on the curst Orders in Council.”
“I’m tired of hearing about them. They are the law. They must be executed.”
“No, the law must be changed. They are leading us inexorably into war with America. Quite apart from the morality of it, it is unthinkable to stretch our resources any thinner at this time, when we are contending with Napoleon.”
“Napoleon issued his decrees first. What were we to do, let him sail all over us?”
“Some rational course could have been devised. It is irrational to expect the Americans to sit still while we board and search their ships, taking their men by force to serve on our own vessels. You may imagine how eager they are for the work. A great pleasure to their captains, I’m sure. It is no secret we have also licenced privateers to prey on American ships. At latest count, sixteen hundred American ships were lost in this way. Their export trade was cut to a quarter in one year. Whom are we trying to punish—the French or the Americans?”
“Whom are we trying to protect—the Americans or the English?”
“Ourselves, primarily. A stroke of genius on the government’s part, robbing us of our needed raw products, and in turn robbing us of the lucrative American market for our manufactured goods. We’ll never totally recover. The colonies are fast becoming self-sufficient. The Yanks have gone halfway, reducing their Embargo Act to the less stringent Non-intercourse Act. We ought to at least meet them halfway. It is madness to go on as we are. They might listen to a man like Hopper, who has firsthand experience.”
“Did Hopper go to you, or did you go after him?”
“That’s not important, Maddie. The culprit in the case is yourself.
You
didn’t stir a finger to help him, after you
promised
you would. As a matter of fact, I looked the fellow up, planning only to pump him for anything I could learn about his experience. He mentioned he was
still
waiting to hear from you, after having written to jog your memory. He happened to mention the position he was waiting for. I checked with the Admiralty, and they had heard nothing from you. I went back and told him the position was taken, which it was. He was desolate, worried to death, with another child on the way and no roof over his head. It is unconscionable the way you have treated him. I think we both know what has deterred you from doing your duty.”
“It’s not
my
duty to find him a job.”
“When you give him your word, it is your duty to carry it out.”
“Well, don’t bother dragging Henry into it. I was wrong, but it’s not
his
fault.”
“For once, your defense of him is just. I am happy you’re man enough to admit it.” He drew a deep sigh and continued:
“I didn’t want this last visit to be so unpleasant. I don’t know why I feel
I
must be your conscience, except that your father doesn’t perform that duty very satisfactorily.”
“Never mind. Lady Susan will soon cheer you up. She has agreed to accompany you home for the holiday, I trust?”
“She has. In fact, we are leaving this afternoon. I’m driving her and her mother. An eye for an eye, you know. You will have your Henry with you at Highgate, and I my Susan.”
“Henry is not coming after all.” He looked at her, his interest quickening. “In fact, I am fed up with Henry,” she admitted, annoyance with her own laxness over Hopper, regret at having to miss Eskott’s party, and some little jealousy of Lady Susan all coalescing into a fit of pique. “Why don’t you stay and take luncheon with me before you go? I shall be all alone. Papa is not coming home. Cheer me up, dear Eskott,” she said, reaching her hand out to him.
He grabbed it swiftly and squeezed her fingers. “Today you will take into your head to be civil, when I have asked guests home to lunch.”
“Lady Susan?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“Be sure to give her my best wishes for the holiday. In that way, she will know you came to say good-bye to me,” she added with an arch smile. “Also my very best to yourself, of course.”
“Still friends, despite all my badgering?” he asked.
“The best friend I have in the world. But no more poaching, if you please.”
He looked at her for a long minute in silence, with an expression that was difficult to read. There was admiration in it, and some less happy emotion. “I wish you were coming with us,” he said.
“I wish I were too,” she answered with a wistful frown.
“Maddie!” He lunged forward, pulling her into his arms. There was a wild look of hope in his startled eyes. “Do you mean it?”
“Certainly I do. I always loved Bleumont. We have had such good times there.”
“Make it yours too, permanently. You know I’ve always loved you.” She made some little effort to push him away, but he was determined to finish what he had started, and held her tightly, fixing his lips against hers till she stopped struggling and even enjoyed the unexpected embrace. Eskott was damnably attractive, and she was not a young girl, abashed at passion. She felt some satisfaction at what Lady Susan would think, if she could see them at this moment. When at length he stopped, a slow and happy smile stole over his harsh features.
“Miss Morash, I ask you for the second and last time, will you marry me? Oh Maddie, do! We could be so happy...”
“Eskott, you ninnyhammer!” she exclaimed, laughing. “You’re mature enough to know one swallow doesn’t make a spring, and one kiss doesn’t make a lady a bride either. I don’t want to get married yet.”
“Yet? It’s been
years!
You’re getting on, Maddie, and so am I. How long must I wait?”
“I didn’t mean... It’s not a matter of
time,
dear heart. You and I will never be more than good friends, but
do
let as continue friends. There is no one I esteem more.
Please?”
she asked, smiling sweetly. Then on an inspiration, she reached over and placed a maidenly kiss on his cheek. “I shan’t tell Susan, if you don’t tell Henry. Agreed?”
“I am not accountable to Lady Susan for my actions. I understood you were through with Henry too,” he said, his voice harsh.
“Fed up, not through. I’m just disappointed he is not coming to Highgate with us for the holiday.”
To save face, Eskott gave her no argument. He pulled out his watch, though there was a clock not four feet away from him on the mantel. “I really must be off. Give my best wishes to your father and Lady Margaret.”
“We’ll see you after the holiday?” she asked.
“Very likely. I hardly ever die of disappointment. Good day.”
He bowed and left rather quickly, feeling like a fool, and a badly disappointed one too. Madeline smiled idly. It was very satisfying to know that Eskott still loved her. She could hardly be considered over the hill, when the most eligible bachelor in town was dancing at her skirts. Oh dear, and she had meant to send a nice note to that Byron fellow, praising his poems, though she had not actually found time to read them.
She was busy, with her own trip to arrange. It was necessary to write a few notes begging off city parties. While at this chore, she found the unposted note to Dundas, and felt a twinge of guilt. She knew she ought to pen a message to Hopper explaining, but really there was no explanation to give; and besides, he had turned coat on her and deserved no apology. She went upstairs to give her dresser instructions for packing. There was a small dinner party at her own home that evening, over early, to allow a good night’s rest before an early start for Highgate in the morning.
The Christmas party was strangely unsatisfying to Madeline. She was unsure whether it was due to the knowledge she was missing out on a livelier do at Eskott’s place, or to Aldred’s absence. The days were short. Already by four or four-thirty the skies darkened, indicating another long evening to be got in. She sat around a roaring fire listening to a bunch of elderly politicians discuss their world, realization slowly but surely dawning on her that her real interest in it all was not the running of the country’s affairs but her own running of one particular young man.
If Henry were there to put forward, to make shine in front of the two ministers and several other influential gentlemen, she would be well entertained. She wrested what pleasure she could from visiting old country friends; from one skating party, for the weather remained cold; and from one country assembly. But on the whole she was just plain bored.