The Battling Bluestocking (21 page)

“What are you two nattering on about?” Lady Susan demanded when Lord Gordon paused for breath. “Cyril has just been describing all the Clarendon’s best dishes to me, and I for one suggest that we allow him to order whatever suits him best.”

“Already did,” announced his lordship, patting his round stomach. “Stepped in early this afternoon to have a word with the chef, don’t you know. Wanted to assure myself that his turtle soup would be available to us. Superb stuff. Wait until you taste it.”

He waxed enthusiastic for some moments more before Lady Susan interrupted him ruthlessly. “If you’ve already ordered, then stop talking about the food, Cyril. We shall see soon enough for ourselves. Besides, I wish to know what Jessica and Georgie were discussing so avidly.”

The two young women stared blankly at one another. Lady Gordon’s dismay was reflected by amusement in her sister’s gray eyes. Finally Jessica turned back to Lady Susan.

“We were merely gossiping, ma’am, and I shall tell you the whole later, but you know how Cyril detests listening to female chatter.”

Lady Susan knew nothing of the sort, but she pursued the matter no further, contenting herself with a speaking look that informed her younger niece that she would have the whole tale out of her just as soon as they reached Hanover Square. Jessica smiled back blandly.

The turtle soup was everything Lord Gordon had promised, and the rest of their dinner lived up to the Clarendon’s reputation. But once the sole with Portuguese stuffing had been removed with a roast turkey, and Jessica had tasted samplings of the raised pie á la française, the beef olives and sauce piquant, and a sauté of sweetbreads and mushrooms, the conversation turned to the play they had seen, and she felt the awful boredom descending upon her again. It was not that the play had not been amusing. She supposed it had had some very comical moments. But the things she had thought funniest had not been the same things that had made the audience laugh, and there had been no one to share her own mirth. Had Sir Brian been there—

But at that point in her thinking she forced her thoughts back to the present and threw herself into the conversation at hand with a will. She would not think of Sir Brian. She would not wonder where he was. Nor would she speculate on why he had gone or when he meant to return. Such thoughts as those, as she had already learned to her cost in the days since his departure, only led to melancholy reflection.

She managed to present what she assumed was the picture of a young woman thoroughly contented with her lot in life until their return to Hanover Square. Even then, when Lady Susan commanded her to step straightaway up to the drawing room, where they could be as private as they chose, Jessica was able to maintain her light humor and even to enjoy her aunt’s reaction to her news.

“Increasing? Georgie is in a delicate condition? Truly, Jessica, you are not cutting a wheedle?”

“No, Aunt Susan, it’s perfectly true. She only just had her suspicions confirmed by Sir Richard Croft, but she has been aware of the likelihood for some time now.”

“Has she written to your mother?”

“Goodness, I haven’t the slightest notion. I never thought to ask her.”

“Well, she must do so. Gracious, when I think how excited your parents were when it was disclosed that Madeleine was with child. And she their youngest. They have quite despaired of hearing that sort of news from Georgeanne, I can tell you.”

“Or from me?” The words seemed to fall from her lips all by themselves, but Jessica suddenly felt heavy and depressed again. She regarded her aunt miserably.

Lady Susan patted her shoulder with a smile. “No, child, that is not the case at all. Why, your father actually wrote me a letter the first time you came to stay with me, commanding me to engage in no matchmaking on your account, but just to allow you to go your own road. He said you’d never allow yourself to be trapped into marriage, that you could be trusted to send the ineligible ones to the rightabout with no help from anyone else, and that when the time came you’d find the right man and marry him. I know your dearest mama hoped you’d get yourself riveted in your first or second Season, but that was only because Georgie had done so well.”

“Well, I didn’t want a man like Cyril, I can tell you that,” Jessica said with a little chuckle. Her aunt’s words were like balm to her wounds. There had been many moments over the past years when she had been certain she was a disappointment to her parents. She had literally had dozens of offers during her come-out, and more than a few since, but she had turned them all down for the simple reason that she could not imagine spending two succeeding days, let alone the rest of her life, with any of the gentlemen in question.

“I know your father, at least, never thought you would come home with a man like Cyril on your arm, dear one. I can remember him telling your mother so, right here in this very room, when she was in flat despair after you turned down that young earl—the fidgety one, you remember?”

“Aylesworthy? Of course I remember. He was very persistent. But he is scarcely as tall as I am, and I am sure I must weigh at least a stone more than he does. I couldn’t contemplate that match for a moment.”

“And so your father told your mother, my dear. ‘Mark my words, Thea,’ he said, ‘young Jess will not want to submit to anyone yet a while, but when she does, she will choose a man who’s worthy of her.’ That’s exactly what he said, my dear,” Lady Susan said with an odd gleam in her eyes, “and I believe he was right. The man you’ve selected is certainly worthy of you, best of my nieces.”

Jessica flushed to the roots of her hair. “Aunt! I haven’t chosen anyone, and I forbid you even to hint such a thing to anyone.”

“As if I would,” retorted Lady Susan indignantly. “But it’s no use denying your feelings to me, my dear. Or to yourself. They will persist, whether you attend to them or not.”

“What feelings?”

“Jessica, do not treat me as if I were all about in my head,” Lady Susan said tartly. “I have eyes, and I use them. And I know you. Have done all your life. I know when you are out of sorts, which you are. And I certainly can see when your heart is disturbed. As it is, my dear. Can you, in all honestly, deny that?”

“Oh, you are being foolish,” Jessica muttered, refusing to look her aunt in the eye. “As of this very moment, there is certainly no reason for me to be disturbed or out of sorts. I have no right to feel that way,” she added dismally.

“He has made you no offer?”

“Oh, once he said I was the very woman he’d been searching for and never expected to find. No more than that.”

“I don’t know what more you need to hear,” her aunt said with a wry twist of her lips. “The man is clearly interested. Why have you not brought him up to scratch?”

It never occurred to either of them that they might not be discussing the same man. Nor did it occur to Jessica to deny any interest in Sir Brian. But the last question stopped her short. She stared at her aunt.

“How can you ask a question like that, when he is what he is and who he is?”

“Fiddle, he is a most agreeable young man who thinks just as he ought.”

“Aunt Susan, he owns slaves in the West Indies. He has women and children working down in his mines. How can you say he thinks just as he ought?”

Lady Susan tilted her head, giving the matter some thought. Then she looked her niece straight in the eye and said, “He is the man for you, Jessica, for all that. Neither his plantations nor his mines enter into the business at all. Besides the which I have yet to hear that he mistreats his slaves or exploits his workers. And we certainly cannot do without sugar, copper, or tin. I have never advocated that course, and never will. If I work to outlaw slavery, it is because the institution itself is a despicable one, but that does not mean that, simply as a matter of course, I despise all slave owners. Many of them are good men, trying to make things better for all concerned. I believe your Sir Brian is one of those. In fact, by all I have heard of him, he is one of the most generous and benevolent men in England. I know for a fact that he is constantly on the lookout for newer, more modern equipment to make his mines safer for his workers.”

“But the mines will always be unsafe, no matter what modern equipment is used. I’ve heard they have no idea what causes those dreadful explosions where so many are killed. And the dust. They say that kills, even when nothing else gets them. And the deformities suffered by the women and children from crawling through narrow tunnels and carrying huge loads—
you
know, Aunt Susan!”

But Lady Susan was staring at her now. “Jessica, Sir Brian owns tin and copper mines, not coal mines.”

“Oh, Andrew told me that, but I fail to see that there can be a difference,” Jessica replied impatiently.

“Nonsensical child, of course there is a difference. The explosions you speak of occur often in coal mines, but rarely in others. And the harmful dust is certainly coal dust, not that from tin or copper. But you should discuss this with Sir Brian. He cannot be aware of these misconceptions or he would have straightened the matter out long ago.”

“Is such mining so safe, then? Miss St. Erth was assaulted on the road not long ago by one of her father’s miners, who could not get his master to listen to his complaints that the mines were unsafe. Even Sir Brian agreed that they were.”

“And so they very likely were,” Lady Susan informed her. “I have met Sir Warren St. Erth, and I can tell you the man is an unconscionable pinchpenny who grudges every farthing spent on his mines. Repairs and new equipment are always expensive, and heaven knows there are any number of conditions that can exist in any mine that would make the mine unsafe. The condition of the ladders leading down into the mine, the amount of water that is allowed to collect, the supports for the tunnels—all those things exist in all mines, although coal mining is a particularly dangerous occupation because of certain factors that pertain only to that industry. It is for that reason that while rioting rarely occurs in Cornwall or Devon, it is a constant threat in such places as Newcastle and Manchester. People in coal country fear for their lives and their health even when the conditions are as safe as they can be. That is why we fight to get women and children out of those mines. But with regard to the St. Erth mines,” she added, “I’ve not the slightest doubt that once Sir Brian discovered the dangers, he took the matter up with Sir Warren.”

Jessica nodded.

Lady Susan reached out a slender hand to touch her niece’s shoulder. “Jessica, you really must discuss all this with Sir Brian.”

“Well, I can scarcely do so when we do not know even where he is,” Jessica replied with a sigh. “He is furious with me, too. I said dreadful things to him, and he said dreadful things to me. I doubt he will want to discuss anything with me ever again.”

“Now you are being as melodramatic as the actors we saw in the farce tonight,” Lady Susan told her with a touch of asperity. “I think your best course of action at the moment is to get a good sleep. Once you are thoroughly rested, you will be able to look upon the world with a less jaundiced eye, my dear.”

Jessica went obediently upstairs and found her patient Mellin waiting to put her to bed, but though she was soon tucked under the soft blue eiderdown, sleep refused to come. Instead, her mind’s eye seemed to be filled with the sight of a tall, broad-shouldered twinkling gentleman who had once always seemed to be watching her whenever they were present in the same room, and whose twinkling gaze she had begun to search for on those rare occasions when previous arrangements to meet had not been made between them. Clearly, Sir Brian had come to mean more to her than she had allowed herself to realize, she decided. If nothing else, his presence definitely exerted a beneficial effect upon her state of mind. A niggling little voice deep within her seemed to take exception to that wandering thought, and Jessica knew she was hedging. Somehow her mind was avoiding a collision with the truth. Her father had been right. And Aunt Susan was right. Whether Sir Brian had chosen her or she had chosen Sir Brian, and whether the choice had been made purposefully or not, the fact of the matter was that she seemed to have fallen in love. But what she was going to do about that fact was more than Jessica could say.

J
ESSICA HAD HOPED THERE
might be a reply to one of her advertisements regarding Jeremy before the end of the week, but when Friday arrived, there was still no word. Nor had there been word from Sir Brian.

“Not so much as a brief scrawl,” said Andrew, having stopped in Hanover Square to pay a morning call, “which must mean that he intends to return soon, Miss Jessica, for otherwise I dashed well ought to have heard from him by now.”

With that she had to be content. She had arrived at the conclusion that her aunt was right about one thing. It was time she sat down and had a talk with Sir Brian, explaining her misconceptions about mining and asking him to explain certain matters to her about his own mines. As for the fact that he owned a few slaves on an island far away, well, maybe she could convince him to free them or sell the property, or to find some other way by which her own sensibilities could be reconciled. Then, too, she had to admit in all honesty that, when she thought about Sir Brian, the issue of slavery seemed somehow rather remote.

However, before the weekend was out, Jessica discovered that issue to be having an effect much nearer home than she had dreamed. Having enjoyed a comfortable coze in Duke Street with her sister Sunday afternoon, she returned to Hanover Square to discover her aunt in the drawing room, looking very much like the cat cleaning her whiskers after a venture into the cream pot.

Lady Susan’s eyes fairly danced with excitement, and Jessica experienced a sudden sinking feeling. “What on earth—” she began, only to break off when her aunt spoke at the same time.

“You’ll never guess what’s happened, Jessica,” Lady Susan said. Her hands were clasped at the waist of her primrose-colored high-necked afternoon gown, beneath which she actually seemed to quiver with triumphant glee.