Lady Susan Plays the Game (20 page)

When Reginald's curricle was being wheeled away by a groom and the owner momentarily resting on the gravel before entering the house, she happened to glance out of the window between the heavy drapes. He was standing with his legs apart, his greatcoat hanging in folds from his shoulders. Green and manly, it was in the best fashion and went well with its owner's sandy hair. It was the figure of a gentleman whose self-esteem had rarely been dented by family or friends, a man satisfied with the body – and possibly the mind – he possessed. Lady Susan returned to her dressing table, abandoned the shawl and had Barton fiddle a little more with the arrangement of hair around her cap and dab on a touch of rouge. She could in time let her hair fall more loosely to good effect but a demure demeanour was always best at first.

When satisfied, she bit her bottom lip. Her mouth was naturally a carmine colour but it did no harm to help nature on; the action came involuntarily before she encountered a new face. Then she dismissed Barton and sat a moment looking in the mirror.

Her bored mood was lifting but a remnant remained. She determined against it, smiling that smile that was hard to resist, even for herself. Then she moved down the corridor and began to descend the curved stairs.

Reginald was in the hallway. His greatcoat and hat had been removed and he stood in the centre of the swirl of children, while his sister clucked delightedly nearby. Against their
noise Lady Susan's light footsteps could not have been heard at the bottom of the stairs, but something, perhaps a movement in the corner of his eye, caught Reginald's attention and he looked up. In front of the red wall, lit against the gloom of the day by flickering candles, the descending figure seemed a sort of dark angel, in brilliant black and white. He dropped the damp little hand he had been clutching and felt for his necktie.

Attuned to any removal of attention from her darlings, Mrs Vernon followed the direction of her brother's gaze and saw Lady Susan descending composedly into the middle of the welcoming chaos. She felt a pang. Until this moment she'd feared that Reginald would find her sister-in-law uncongenial. He might mock her charm as superficial, mendacious even. She had imagined him trying to catch his sister's eye over dinner while Lady Susan was narrating one of her sprightly anecdotes or was vivaciously mentioning her enjoyment of their quiet domestic routine. But now, in this very first moment of their encounter, when they had yet to be introduced – a new, not quite articulated fear began to well up in Catherine Vernon.

She pushed it back, for Reginald had good-naturedly turned again to the children and was attending to Arabella's boasting of her dancing skills. Yet, there was something about his stance that made her aware that he knew someone else was entering the hall.

Lady Susan descended the last step and Mrs Vernon came forward. ‘Lady Susan, let me present my brother Reginald de Courcy. Lady Susan.'

Lady Susan proffered her hand. Reginald bowed slightly over it and, when he looked up, she lowered her eyes.

Was this the famous coquette? He'd expected an immediate sauciness. His surprise kept him silent a little too long and Lady Susan politely helped him by asking in a quiet, respectful voice, ‘I hope, sir, you had a pleasant drive down here despite the weather?'

She'd been too far from him to register the first glance he'd given her as she descended the stairs, although she assumed he'd noticed her. The look he now gave her was a curious one, compounded of astonishment and hostility; his eyes moved from her eyes to her bosom in a way that was almost impertinent. Then he recollected himself. The struggle so plain on his open face amused Lady Susan, but her smile gave nothing away.

She had a good idea of what he must have heard from his sister. Young men tended to be censorious for they knew so little of life and thought so well of themselves. He meant to
dislike her, that was clear, probably he intended to be wittily critical at her expense. The wish crossed her mind, that he would be thoroughly prejudiced against her, that he'd been told of the Langford stories – certainly by now they were abroad. It would be a fine game to make him approve of her whatever he supposed, rather like knowing the bank had everything stacked in its favour while she lacked a single face card yet determined to win. Almost involuntarily she made a wager with herself that she could charm this arrogant youth within a fortnight. Churchill might after all deliver some pleasure.

Soon they met together in the yellow drawing room. Lady Susan's flattery of Catherine Vernon was toned down, for she now had to keep both siblings happy. It was easier when they were apart but she felt up to the task even when they were both in sight. She fancied Mr Vernon was diverted by the spectacle, but couldn't be sure. Was he mild through a mixture of sagacity and laziness or was he simply dull? His eye usually promised more than his tongue delivered.

Reginald began the talk in what he believed a roguish manner. ‘You must be missed at Langford, Lady Susan. I hear that your stay was enjoyable for all.'

‘I found it most pleasant,' she replied, noting that indeed something had seeped out from Langford, ‘Mrs Manwaring is a childhood friend. We were in school together.'

‘Miss Manwaring is something near your daughter's age, I believe. They too must have become good friends.'

‘I wished it. But Frederica is reserved and has not had much chance to mix with girls of her own rank. She was much attached to her father. His loss continues to affect her deeply. Of course, it affects us all.'

Lady Susan seemed to muse on her various sadnesses and Reginald did not pursue the point. She'd looked at him when she spoke and her eyes seemed brilliant, almost as if they held unshed tears, but when she stopped speaking she modestly turned them away.

His sister was more vivacious, asking him a thousand questions about what he'd been doing and what his plans were. While he replied he thought Lady Susan was gazing at him but when he hazarded a glance he found that she was politely smiling at his sister. Her lack of response to him allowed him to take longer looks. He noticed the exquisite embroidery on her lap, where its vibrant colours beautifully complemented her dark clothing.

His sister did not register his stare but she did observe that the colourful embroidery had not noticeably advanced while her guest had been at Churchill.

The next day over dinner, Reginald tried again. ‘There was good company I hear at Langford,' he began when the general talk lapsed. ‘You had many guests, perhaps?'

‘There was some entertainment and many visitors,' replied Lady Susan. ‘The vicar was a frequent dinner guest.'

‘Ah the vicar,' said Reginald with half a smile.

His tone embarrassed his sister; she was not used to her brother being so crude. She was about to intervene when Lady Susan continued, ‘You perhaps know him, Mr de Courcy? He has written a commentary on the Book of Judges. He is a particular friend of Mr Manwaring and his wife.'

She spoke in a low quiet voice. The quietness commanded attention – people had to strain to hear her.

‘I don't know of him. Not at all. I just thought that perhaps he was someone I'd once met, but probably not.'

How maladroit Reginald was being
, thought Mrs Vernon.
So strange
. She said brightly, ‘Perhaps if the weather is improved tomorrow, we might take an airing, a drive through the beech woods to the chalk hills.'

Mr Vernon glanced at his brother-in-law: he doubted that this was quite what the young man wanted. ‘A good plan my dear,' he said, ‘but I had hoped to take Reginald hunting with me. I have got him an excellent mount.'

But Reginald had caught sight again of Lady Susan's lowered head, he found he wanted to hear her voice again, and perhaps quiz her further and more successfully. ‘Another day, Charles,' he replied. ‘I should be delighted to see the chalk hills with my sister.' Then turning to Lady Susan he said, ‘You will accompany us, will you not, ma'am?'

She gently smiled her assent, then turned to Mrs Vernon. ‘I noticed how well Freddie sat on his pony today. It is a pleasure to see him ride. I found myself watching for a good half hour as he cantered up and down with the groom. He'll be a fine horseman when grown.'

It was an act, of course. And yet Mrs Vernon knew it would be hard not to be delighted by the sight of her little boy in his riding breeches. He held his whip so confidently and was so cross whenever the groom tried to restrain him. The child had such spirit it did one good to watch him. She smiled at Lady Susan. It was not a warm smile but Reginald was surprised all the same.

The next day it rained and rained until all the gravel paths were pooled with water and deep puddles collected in the driveway. The expedition was cancelled. Lady Susan was mightily relieved. She loathed the idea of traipsing about in an open carriage through the dreary countryside. Perhaps only Reginald was truly disappointed.

A few days later he found himself sitting alone with Lady Susan in the blue morning room where magazines were on display. He was surprised and pleased. He would no longer archly allude to the vicar – obviously that was a mistake – but there remained the shadowy daughter and the strange story of the communal suitor: he could not banish these from his mind.

It was perplexing. Was it possible that the notorious reputation was unfounded? That was unlikely. But much might arise from female jealousy. The source of the Langford stories had been a gentleman but a link in the chain of gossip might have been a woman. He resolved yet again to be clever and draw Lady Susan out about her past. He would judge for himself.

‘Your daughter is sadly not with us,' he began in that stilted way he now felt almost obliged to employ, as if Lady Susan constrained an unusual formality. ‘I regret not making her acquaintance.'

She looked briefly at him, with a melting expression that was not at all flirtatious –
The look of a devoted mother
, he thought. Then she spoke quietly – her tone rebuked his formality and made it seem cold and insincere.

‘It's difficult,' she began, ‘it's difficult for a man to understand quite what a mother feels.'

She paused and Reginald didn't break the silence.

‘My concern is not for myself – I am a grown woman and a widow – but for Frederica, who's still so young. She is a dear girl, not shining perhaps,' she hesitated. ‘It has torn both our hearts but I did feel it necessary to put her in school and to separate her from me. A mother and daughter can be too close just at the point when a girl must become her own person – and, in time, a wife.'

Her low spoken words coated Reginald in honey. He didn't really know what she was saying, except to feel that it was decorous. Any answer he could give would be too coarse.

In the silence that followed Lady Susan looked down at the magazine before her. He noticed she must have been reading a review of the recent edition of Dr Johnson's
Prayers and Meditations.
He dared not interrupt. Fearing to catch her eye if she looked up, he still managed to take long glances at the bent head of golden hair caught in the lacy black cap. His hand itched to touch the glossy curls and draw them back from the alabaster face.

He pulled himself together. He was being ridiculous. When she seemed to have finished and was looking instead out of the window at the leaden sky, he forced himself to speak again. ‘Such a lady as yourself, madam, must have so many friends vying for her company. It was good of you to visit my sister who lives so quietly in the country.'

‘But this is exactly what I needed,' cried Lady Susan turning abruptly from the window. ‘The sadness of losing a husband cannot be overcome in a few months.' Now at last she raised her large eyes directly to his. They were something between the faintest blue and grey with just a hint of green, he considered, not quite one colour or another. And again they seemed luminous, to be holding unshed tears. It was strange and a little exciting.

After a few seconds of silence Lady Susan got up, inclined her head to Reginald, and left the morning room. She felt it unwise to return to the theatre notes she'd been perusing and she was certainly not going to read the pious prayers of Dr Johnson for his drunken wife printed on the facing page.

Reginald sat on, his thoughts jumbled, his senses aroused. He looked briefly at the review of the
Prayers and Meditations.
He admired what he read but couldn't concentrate.

His sister came in to find him. She had passed Lady Susan in the corridor not far from the morning room and realised she must have been in there alone with Reginald. When she entered she saw her brother sitting doing absolutely nothing. The sight jolted her. Usually he
was in movement, jumping around, riding or dashing from place to place; anything less active had seemed to bore him. Yet there he was almost meditating. With a sinking heart she knew that the subject of his meditation, the cause of this new reflectiveness, was a growing – and quite unexpected – fascination for their unwanted guest.

Catherine Vernon had hoped that Reginald would forego blaming her for accepting Lady Susan into her family but she had not wished more. Yet now she felt something had begun to go wrong almost at once.

Two days after he'd arrived she'd made some slighting remark and Reginald hadn't answered in similar tone; she'd felt abashed. Her normal courtesy re-established itself and she thought it improper to speak ill of a guest when she was in the house.

But she couldn't help herself and she'd continued alluding to Lady Susan's unsavoury reputation. Her comments had irritated Reginald but he'd not countered them. Mostly he just unfocused his eyes and walked away.

She felt angry. If he had managed to ignore the tales from Langford, which he had conveyed to her on such good authority, had he forgotten the matter of Vernon Castle? It had hurt her that Reginald, so aware of the importance of a family estate, had been disdainful of Charles for letting his slip through his fingers and contemptuous of the brother for being inveigled by his wife into the sordid transaction. But now it seemed that Reginald had separated the present and past Lady Susans.