Lady Susan Plays the Game (19 page)

‘Send me a report on her,' Lady Susan had demanded in her latest letter. ‘You, dear friend, are the best person to judge whether she has made progress at all. Has she got a sense of how to carry herself in society? I don't expect miracles but some improvement ought to show by now. Find out if she has any idea what is expected of her. She seems timid but she's as obstinate as a mule.'

Alicia decided to avoid mention of the Manwarings but thought she might venture a comment on Sir James and the counting horse, which her husband had heard about at Tattersalls. It did nothing to ease the talk, for Frederica looked as though she'd jump through the window if any more was said, but at least she had shown some emotion. It was best, Alicia decided, to go on an outing.

So they took the carriage to Oxford Street and alighted at one end. They strolled along looking through the glass windows at the satin slippers and bonnets on display; then they entered shops to feel the materials, the shimmering silks and chintzes, and see the muslins hanging luxuriously in front of the fine high windows like folds in a woman's dress. As evening darkened they walked underneath the shining lamps staring at the brightly lit jewellery behind the glass windows, the smart buckles, ornamental buttons, the shammy gloves, ribbons, fans and artificial flowers.

Mrs Johnson registered the girl's lack of interest but found her less surly than she'd feared when in Edward Street. Frederica answered politely when directly addressed – she even once came alive before some Indian shawls and asked how they were made and from what part of India they came. So Alicia Johnson had no problem going happily about her own business of choosing and comparing and feeling and appraising. In the first trinket shop she'd been prepared to lay out something for Frederica if she'd admired anything in particular, but nothing had been required.

‘I expect you want all the pretty things you see,' she'd said smiling as they entered one brightly illumined shop. Lord Godring was present, buying a trinket for his mistress, she presumed. He and others looked on indulgently waiting to hear what the young girl would say. ‘I know I did at your age.'

But Frederica had replied, ‘Not all, no. The necklace would be lovely for little Lydia. She's a small friend I had in Someyton.' And with that her face became so mournful that the other shoppers looked away.

Yet, by the time they returned to the house, Mrs Johnson was not dissatisfied with the day or her visitor. Despite what Lady Susan had told her, Frederica seemed good-natured enough, although lacking much talk. In her favour was the fondness for Chubb. She was not eloquent about his points, the ears that had been so much admired by his breeder, and the little white socks above his dainty feet, but she'd looked so lovingly on him and handled him so gently that Alicia Johnson was almost won over. She'd stroked him for a full ten minutes, drawing her fingers through his soft coat.

Mrs Johnson had invited one or two old friends including Sir Dell to come in for a dish of tea later. She might then see how the girl performed in a group and could report back to Lady Susan. It would also allow her to broach the subject of marriage in an oblique way. Alicia was not sure of her own ability in this style but one of her guests could be guaranteed to raise the subject when chatting to a young girl.

It happened that Sir Dell sat next to Frederica on the striped sofa and, without being primed, acted as Mrs Johnson required – although, she had to admit as she listened from the other side of the tea table, it was rather crudely done.

‘I expect your head is running on weddings and babies,' he remarked. Sir Dell was a confirmed bachelor in late middle age and had little idea of what girls were thinking. But, considering the efforts made to catch him when he was a young and even a not-so-young man, he assumed this must be the case for marriageable misses.

Was it banter or query? Frederica didn't know. So she smiled, reddened, sipped her tea and stayed quiet, only the flutter of her eyelids registering that she had heard.

He assumed he was on the right track, so pressed on. ‘Perhaps you already have a young man in mind. You young girls turn heads before you're much out of the cradle.'

A few more such remarks and Sir Dell saw that Frederica was scarlet. It dawned on him that she was really upset.

‘You mustn't mind me, my dear,' he said and patted her knee.

The recent experience with Sir James preyed on her and she winced. Sir Dell caught the movement and concluded that she was stuck up as well as shy.

Despite these graceless moments – and the exaggerated recoil when Sir James had been alluded to – on balance Alicia Johnson did not judge the day a failure. But, when she sent her account of what she had discovered to Lady Susan, in all fairness she could not report very favourably. ‘She is young for her age and shies away from any talk of marriage and even lovers. She is not what one expects from a boarding school – those girls tend to be too forward in my opinion, or rather they are often too knowing in a sly sort of way. But she was very fond of Chubb,' she added inconsequentially.

Her report would not entirely please Lady Susan and, when she'd dispatched the letter, she regretted the remark about Chubb since her friend often failed to notice him when she called. But she intended to repeat the visit with Frederica when her husband was away again and then she might have something more encouraging to write. The little Frederica had disclosed made it clear she'd no love for her school, which sounded rather like a prison. It was expensive – Lady Susan had complained of the fact, though Mrs Johnson doubted much money had changed hands as yet – so presumably the harshness was intentional and for the girl's own good.

On the next visit she would plan the time more appropriately. Frederica was more of a child than a young lady despite her appearance, and they'd best visit the menagerie at the Tower rather than fashionable shops. Also, the way she'd turned over her volume of Mrs Radcliffe's
Udolpho
made Alicia think the girl might like a trip to the theatre. They could see something unexceptionable such as
The School for Scandal,
which kept returning to the stage – Mr Johnson said it was what happened when one censored politics in the theatre: there was only trivial rubbish left. In his wife's view, familiarity had the advantage that one could chat with friends throughout the performance. In any case, whether Frederica liked the play or not, she would surely be impressed with Henry Holland's beautiful new theatre in Drury Lane. Mrs Johnson anticipated some pleasure in seeing her reaction. She probably wouldn't say anything but her eyes would widen as she saw the immense and shimmering expanse of people in their fine clothes and jewels.

Before Mrs Johnson could put her good intention into practice, another note arrived from Lady Susan responding to the report. ‘According to what you have written,' it said, ‘my daughter has not developed as I wished. Your description of her demeanour at tea, while amusing, was disheartening for more than its disclosure of her conduct. Remember that Frederica is in school to learn obedience as well as manners; I won't be thwarted in the matter of Sir James.'

Although she had mentioned the young man, as instructed, Mrs Johnson had assumed her friend would have turned her attention to some other possible suitor by now. She knew Lady Susan's strain of mischief and the inveigling of him from the Manwarings must have pleased her – it might have been an end in itself – but it seemed that the Lincolnshire acres remained tempting.

‘Turn your attention to Sir James,' the letter continued, ‘and make sure he does not meet your husband again. He's still on his estate but soon due in town – I have it on good authority. He'll be a sitting target for any girl who cares to try for him: he has a habit of telling people his income. Imagine, Alicia! Keep him from entanglements by inviting him when Mr Johnson is from home, then talk of Frederica and her charms. He mustn't escape. The girl is so foolish that there is little chance of her attaching anyone with money
and
sense. Sir James is the best a mother can do. I rely on you, my dear. As for Frederica, let her stew in Madam Dacre's establishment. She will come to her senses if she is uncomfortable enough.'

Unaware of her mother's instructions, Frederica waited to be invited to Edward Street again. Despite having suffered at moments, especially with the insistent Sir Dell, she hoped that the following week, or at least the one after that, Mrs Johnson might come for her again. School was gloomier than ever. Madam Dacre scolded her and the dancing master said she was clumsy, clumsy.

Lady de Courcy's news excited her son. He was eager to set off for Churchill at once. Originally he'd planned to be at his friend Richard Marchmont's for Christmas but he would only be slightly missed there; other young men had been invited and could hunt and shoot, play charades and do their dramatics without him. The chance of seeing the scandalous widow in action was far too good to miss. He could dine out on it at his club the rest of the year.

The Hon. Richard Marchmont understood the change of plan for it was he who had met Mr Spencer, who had met Mr Carlton Smith, who had been at Langford, and consequently some of the goings-on had filtered through in a most gothic form. They mainly concerned a Sir James and his courtship of three women simultaneously. Then there was something about an amorous vicar, but Marchmont had forgotten the details.

It was impressive, thought Reginald, that a woman of Lady Susan's years could still startle men. His sister was much his senior and he could never imagine her in flirtatious mode. At Oxford he'd joined in the naughty habits of the other young men, one after the other tipping Dolly from the inn at Woodstock, and he'd once gone with them to a local brothel where he had done little and been shocked. Richard Marchmont mocked him as a puritan. In fact, he was used to the fresh charms of Jenny in the village dairy near Parklands, and the painted faces of these women, some he suspected nearing thirty, alarmed him. He was not without experience – Jenny had been kind – but something prevented him from paying for what he often desired, and she, dear girl, had never asked.

He felt a thrill of revulsion at the idea of Lady Susan. A woman past her prime should be simply a mother. He was glad the daughter was not there as well. The rumours from Langford pronounced her a dull thing, neither in nor out, rather proud and with no sense of pleasing anyone. Apparently she'd set her cap at a rich landowner but failed to get him. The details were obscure. Possibly this was the man who'd been in pursuit of three women.

Catherine Vernon had often invited her brother to Churchill for Christmas, but until now she'd not persuaded him. He loved her dearly and imagined he wanted to see her. But, when he visited her and her mild spouse, he missed the enjoyable badinage of young men, and his
niece and nephews, though no doubt adorable in their way – so Catherine often told him – were not of an age to amuse a young man. Last time he was there he'd thrown one or two of them into the air and that had seemed to please, but he'd drawn the line at doing much more, despite heavy hints from his sister. All in all he would have liked more serious or more frivolous company, something to stir the brain or senses.

He was surprised that Catherine had taken Lady Susan into her house – or had been persuaded to do so. Reginald had heard the woman denounced on more than one occasion over her dinner table but he supposed that propriety made it difficult to refuse a widow. He imagined her all in spangled black with a red lining to her gown that she flashed wickedly when no lady was looking. He supposed that old women who wished to attract must use any arts they could, including naughty drapery.

He travelled fast towards Churchill in his new curricle. He was proud of it and the two swift grey horses he commanded. Although rather bespattered with mud from the wet roads he knew he made a good figure coming up the drive and that at the first sound of his wheels his sister would be at the window.

Reginald de Courcy was not especially handsome – his nose was a little too small and indistinct – but he thought himself so and, while no dandy, he had Ladder, his man, take special care of his Woodstock gloves, silk cravats and high-top boots, and his hair was trimmed very often in the new short style. The glasses at the de Courcy mansion were on the whole dim and he'd been used to seeing himself through the eyes of his adoring mother and sister.

He had left his hunters with Richard Marchmont since he didn't intend to stay long after Christmas was over. He would pick them up when he travelled back to Parklands. He hoped, before returning to London, to get in some pheasant shooting there and good riding if the weather was open. In Churchill he could use Charles Vernon's horses if the occasion arose – he had pretty good mounts, he remembered. He would see the notorious widow, shoot with Mr Vernon enough to be polite, then leave.

Although the library faced south and had windows that took in the drive, Lady Susan did not see Reginald's curricle approaching. The day was misty and a prospect of damp grass and
gravel shrouded in white was unappealing. She preferred letting her eyes rest on the patterned Indian shawls she allowed herself to wear indoors when few were present to consider degrees of mourning. They reminded her deliciously of the shawls in the Langford summer house.

The prospect of Reginald didn't excite her; she had little hope of amusement from a de Courcy. Yet perhaps he would enliven his sister and make her less constantly play the mother. This would allow Lady Susan to slacken in her devotion to little Freddie, whose selfish behaviour would, she felt, be much improved by a box on the ears.

The night had been one of sleeplessness again, with a dose of laudanum taken towards morning. She always felt a little fatigued after this and had stayed late in bed to sleep off the potion. She knew that by the afternoon she would be recovered and be better for the drug-induced rest, but at the moment she felt dull and just a little low in spirits.