Lady Susan Plays the Game (44 page)

The conversation passed on, touching on Mr Vernon's affairs, on a play Mrs Vernon might want to see, the new shops that had opened on Oxford Street with gowns that would just suit her sister-in-law. All the while Frederica sat watching. Finally Mrs Vernon screwed up her courage.

‘I hear Sir James is come to town,' she said.

‘I believe so,' replied Lady Susan. ‘We saw his name in the
Gazette,
which also announced your welcome arrival.'

And that was that. Mrs Vernon began to despair. How could she get her niece back to Churchill or even away from her mother for a while? She could not prolong the visit to London indefinitely: she already ached for her children.

The visit was drawing to a close, with Lady Susan all pleasure and smiles, when there was a most unexpected opening. ‘Dear Frederica has done so well here and yet, sister, do you think she is looking quite as blooming as she did in Churchill?'

The two women gazed at Frederica, who, keeping her eyes down, blushed crimson. She could not imagine what her mother was about. ‘You know, at Churchill she seemed to have more fresh colour in her face. I do believe that, for all the benefits of town, she really does find that the country suits her better. What do you think, Mrs Vernon?' Once more Lady Susan looked benevolently on her daughter.

Mrs Vernon took the bait. ‘You are right, I do think Frederica a little pale. I remarked it as soon as she entered the room. In fact, we return within a week. Do let me take your
daughter with us. It would please me beyond anything.' And again the two ladies looked kindly on the blushing girl.

‘You are, as ever, too considerate,' said Lady Susan. ‘But I could not think of so imposing upon you. And besides I cannot wish to lose my daughter again after so little a time. We have much to say to each and much to do.' She sighed and looked serious, ‘But I do believe that the country does suit her. She is more robust there. And it is for this reason that I myself am considering taking her out of London. My plans, you know, are not fixed. But I think a country dwelling would suit both of us. There's something hectic and artificial about town living.'

What was the woman about? Certainly no good, thought Mrs Vernon, but protestations were useless. She took a quick farewell of Frederica, who scarcely met her eyes as she stepped back after embracing her.

When later Catherine Vernon described the visit to her husband she found it difficult to understand the performance. Lady Susan would never voluntarily fix herself out of London, unless perhaps in Bath for a season. She couldn't have any intention of coming again to Churchill – that was out of the question, given the treatment of her poor brother. What new schemes had she formed? Now that she'd failed to trap Reginald she was presumably in need of money, yet surely she would never voluntarily closet herself with Frederica in the country. They would be each other's torment.

For two more days Catherine Vernon called on Lady Susan. On each visit she was received by her sister-in-law with just the same cordiality.

On the third both she and her husband dined at Upper Seymour Street. It was an intimate affair. Lady Susan had once been famed for her elegant supper parties – primarily in the past paid for from Lord Gamestone's revenues – but she didn't feel that a late-night event with some of her friends would much suit the Vernons, and, as she admitted, her lodgings did not allow a large gathering. Besides, wasn't it better that they were alone
en famille
?

They were eating their fruit and Frederica was tucking into some grapes with rather more heartiness than Mrs Vernon would have expected, when Lady Susan remarked, ‘My
daughter has made great strides with her drawing. Fetch your flowers, my dear, for your aunt and uncle to see.'

Frederica got up obediently. While she was out Lady Susan leaned confidentially towards the Vernons. ‘You know there's a report of a strong influenza in town.'

Mrs Vernon did not know this but immediately thanked God that her little ones were safe out of the way.

Lady Susan looked agitated. ‘Dear sister, if anything should happen to my daughter, I should never forgive myself for bringing her here.'

‘It's too terrible to think of,' cried Mrs Vernon. ‘You must – I insist you must – let me take her down with me to Churchill tomorrow. She will be safe there and it is time we were gone. Mr Vernon's business is quite completed.'

Charles agreed that it was. Lady Susan demurred and Mrs Vernon repeated her invitation.

Just then Frederica returned with her drawings. Her manner of entering a room had not improved, her mother noted with a slight shudder while turning to admire the crinkled flowers which happily no longer revealed strange parts. The Vernons joined in the praise.

A few more polite phrases passed between them till it dawned on Frederica that what she wanted above all things was happening. When her aunt and uncle left Upper Seymour Street after an excellent dinner, she, Frederica, her bag packed with haste and no help from Barton, would go with them.

Lady Susan took a fond and public farewell, clasping her daughter to her bosom. ‘Mind, it must only be for a few weeks at most,' she said at the open door, ‘until this shocking illness has run its course or I have found a suitable home for us both.'

Too elated, Frederica did not register the final words. It was enough that she was away from her mother and London now. Although she had seen Sir James only once she knew he had visited Lady Susan again and feared they were plotting something.

Lady Susan watched the Vernons and Frederica helped into their carriage. Her lovely friendly face was the last the three of them saw as they set off back to Duke Street to prepare for their journey to Hampshire next day.

Soon they would be in Churchill again. In her fullness of heart Mrs Vernon offered Frederica the fine green and gilt suite that Lady Susan had occupied and which still held the unused pianoforte. But Frederica preferred her own smaller quarters. In the drawer of the cabinet Reginald's handkerchief still lay neatly folded, along with the unswallowed Peruvian bark pills Mrs Vernon had kindly pressed on her. With Barton helping her, she had been too embarrassed to bring either out when packing. In any case, she did not care for elaborate furnishings; if Reginald de Courcy came again he would not care for them either: hangings, like clothes, could be of no importance to a brilliant young man like him.

Lady Susan was relieved to see them go and glad the evening had not stretched on too long. She had been out the previous night at Lady Harry's tables and had lost, not a great amount but, given the new situation, enough to make her feel her danger. She had gone in part to see Jack Fortuny, whose involvement in her affairs she had now assimilated, but questions remained. It never surprised her to find people existed only for themselves and she supposed Sir Philip had parted with some of his apparently immense wealth on her behalf. But she would like details.

Jack Fortuny had not been in evidence, but she had looked into the shadows and thought she saw Sir Philip. Despite what she knew, she had not really expected him there. Cold water fell on her mood. No one had approached.

She mentioned him to Lord Gaines when he walked past and bowed.

‘Yes,' he said, ‘he comes often and curiously does not play. He is a man of great wealth, I think. Hemp, I believe. He is planning to return to Vernon Castle soon.' He paused realising the connection. ‘But of course you must know him well. I had forgotten he was living on your family's old estate.'

He excused himself, aware that his words were poorly chosen.

They unsettled Lady Susan. She could not win with the chance of Sir Philip being in the room. And why play if not to win? It flashed through her that she could not stay in London now at all.

She turned over her options. With Frederica gone, Manwaring would be free to visit. But Manwaring dodging a wife now firmly supported by Mr Johnson was not as entertaining
as formerly. There was gossip abroad that he and Charlotte were to part and that Mr Johnson would help his ward claw back as much of her property as had not been squandered. Lady Susan assumed she would not be made party to any dispute – surely they had more pride – and yet it was not comfortable to be dependent on the tact of either party. Although Manwaring would never be ruined, in the event of a separation he would not have the riches to which he'd grown so accustomed.

Alone in her lodgings, sipping her green tea, Lady Susan weighed her pleasures against her distress. However she looked at the latter, it did not diminish. For the first time in her life she felt she was indeed short of time.

This was especially borne in on her when, in a hurried visit, Alicia Johnson kissed her friend and told her she was being carried off to Bath by her husband's gout – he wanted to be looked after by three squabbling women after all and he was insistent. He'd left his ward's business in the hands of his lawyers.

‘Why, oh why, dear friend, did you let Reginald de Courcy slip through your fingers? You had him so tight.' She was gathering up her things to go. ‘You know he's actually gone back to Churchill. He felt such a fool before his friends and then he couldn't stand the fussing of his mama at Parklands. It really is rather amusing. And – do you know? – Sir James is supposedly in attendance on that Manwaring girl again.' With an affectionate embrace she was gone.

Lady Susan sat for a moment. She leant back in her chair. She very rarely had need of alcoholic stimulants but just now green tea was not enough. She ordered a large glass of wine to be brought up. She knew what she had to do.

When the news reached Churchill that Lady Susan had married Sir James Martin, the inhabitants were each stunned in a different way. It was so extraordinary a turn of events that it was almost impossible to discuss all together and in any rational manner.

While smoking his clay pipe in his study, Mr Vernon allowed himself a private chuckle: he thought of his sister-in-law with awe.

For her part Mrs Vernon realised that the many days of persuasion in London and indeed the whole journey there might have been avoided since Lady Susan had wished to be rid of her daughter.

Frederica had resumed her reading of magazine fiction. She wondered now how a woman – for she managed to divide Lady Susan into a woman and her mother – who had been loved by Reginald de Courcy could have stooped to a man such as Sir James.

When later informed of the marriage, Reginald bridled and said nothing. He was still in the heroic stage of grief and everything related to himself: this was just one more mortification. He would of course never love again; he would have no more to do with women, and if the army was closed to him – he had resurrected the notion in front of his fearful mother, then put it once more from his mind – he would hunt and kill everything that moved in Parklands and Churchill.

When he was not shooting or galloping after foxes, Mrs Vernon made sure that her brother was thrown together with Frederica. He discovered that they shared some interest in natural history and she had shyly shown him her rather too detailed drawings. He could not avoid seeing what his sister was about with the girl but it was no matter. His was a broken heart. Her adoring looks – for Frederica could hide nothing – would not impose on him. And yet he thought her prettier than she had once seemed, prettier perhaps than her gaudy mother.

After her marriage Lady Susan wrote affectionately to her daughter asking her to come to her new home in Lincolnshire. But, when appealed to by the Vernons, she consented graciously to leave Frederica for the moment at Churchill. She wrote one more time – the letter was postmarked from London – with a further, less pressing invitation. Then the letters stopped.

Frederica blamed herself because, at school, she had not joined the girls who wrote letters to their parents in the library on a Friday afternoon. Her mother must have felt the neglect. She decided to compensate for her remissness by writing each week. She gave titbits of information and listed the health and activities of all the Vernon children and, soon, she described the new baby named Reginald. She wrote without receiving or expecting a response.

She continued the habit long after she became Mrs, then Lady, de Courcy. Some of the letters describing the new plantings and hothouses at Parklands lay unopened in Lady Susan's portable writing desk; others were not delivered, since the post, so excellent within England, was far less reliable abroad, especially now there was a blockade of the coasts.

For, despite the difficulties of travel in time of war, too formidable for ordinary women to surmount, Lady Susan Martin with Sir James in tow had managed, by careful planning, the use of old French contacts, and some new ones provided by Jack Fortuny, to reach Venice. Jeffrey, happy in a place where no one expected him to speak coherently, had conveyed the baggage. Barton had left her mistress's employ: the wages had not all been paid but she had some fine dresses in last year's fashion and a glowing reference to Lady Heton as a most loyal and devoted maid.

Venice had not been Lady Susan's first choice. When she had made known to her husband some debts, including a very large one to a firm of London lawyers, he had blanched but soon recovered his humour. There was easily enough left for carriages and dogs and if he had to sell some of the land in Lincolnshire he could do that. He was his own master. She had only to tell him the address of Reeve & Reeve. He was rather proud of himself paying off a lady's expenses. It made him feel more adult. He was going against all the precepts of his prudent mother and bossy estate agent. It was exciting.

However, when it came to handing over the money, Lady Susan had thought better of it. No one had recently pressed her for payment and, if she and her husband were going
abroad, there was much to be said for leaving the debt unpaid for the moment. It could be seen to later.

Sir James did not quite understand how this could be. And he did not much like the idea of abroad. But he acquiesced. After some months of marriage he had not found it quite what he'd expected. But he was learning that to obey his wife was the best route to a peaceful existence. Lady Susan was in agreement and, despite war and a ravaged continent, the pair found themselves soon in Venice lodging in the Palazzo Mocenigo.