Читать книгу The Husband Season - Mary Nichols, Mary Nichols - Страница 8
ОглавлениеSophie woke the next day to find the sun was shining, though it was still cold. Bessie was busy about the room, finding warm clothes for her to wear. ‘Such weather for May,’ she said. ‘You would think it was winter, not the beginning of summer. Do you think you will be able to go out today?’
‘Yes, I am determined on it. If Aunt Emmeline cries off, I shall ask Teddy to take me. I did not come to London to sit about indoors.’
On Bessie’s insistence she put on a fine wool gown in a soft blue that was warmer than the figured muslin she had hoped to wear and went down to the breakfast room, where she ate a boiled egg with some bread and butter and drank a dish of hot chocolate in solitary splendour. Lady Cartrose was never an early riser, and when Sophie enquired of a servant if Mr Cavenhurst was up and about, she was told that he had not come back to the house until nearly dawn and was still abed. She was obliged to shift for herself.
* * *
After breakfast she wandered about the downstairs rooms getting in the way of the servants who were busy with housework that had to be done before their mistress put in an appearance. This inactivity was making her impatient and cross and she went up to her room to don a full-length pelisse, a velvet bonnet, walking shoes and a muff and went out into the garden. It was not a very big garden and she had soon seen all she wanted of it. The wider world beckoned.
There was a small gate at the end of the garden that led to the mews where her ladyship’s horses and carriage were kept and her groom lived. She walked past the stables and presently came out on to Park Lane. It was still early in the day, but the road was already very busy. Carriages and carts rumbled by, riders trotted towards the gate into the Park, walkers hurried about their business and children made their way to school accompanied by nursemaids. Three soldiers, colourful in their red jackets, gave her a lascivious look as they passed her on the way to their barracks. One even went so far as to sweep off his hat and bow to her. Haughtily, she put her chin in the air to pass him, and that was her undoing. She slipped on a patch of ice on a puddle and found herself flat on her back with her skirts up to her knees, displaying a well-turned ankle and several inches of shapely calf.
They immediately rushed to her aid. Despite her protests that she was unhurt and could rise unaided, one of them came behind her, bent to put his arms about her under her shoulders and heaved her to her feet.
She stood shaking, not so much with hurt or shock, but indignation that he could have manhandled her in such a way and seemed in no hurry to relinquish his hold of her. ‘Let me go,’ she said.
‘But you will fall again if you are not supported.’
‘Indeed, I will not. I am perfectly able to stand. I insist you release me.’
They might have let her go, but her hauteur made them want to have a game with her. ‘There’s gratitude for you,’ one of them said. ‘Did your mother never teach you manners?’
She did not answer, but repeated, ‘Let me go. I shall call the constable.’
‘Constable? I see no constable, do you, Jamie?’
‘Never a one,’ his companion concurred, picking up her bonnet from the road where it had fallen, putting it on his own head and prancing about in it. They had attracted quite a crowd, none of whom seemed inclined to interfere. Most were laughing.
‘You do realise that your fall broke the ice and your fine coat is wet and dirty. What will your mama say to that, I wonder?’ This from the one who held her firmly in his grasp.
She was well aware of the state of her coat; the cold and damp were penetrating through to her body. ‘Let me go, you great oaf.’ She struggled ineffectually to free herself. It only made him hold her more firmly.
‘Dear, dear, such language, but I take no offence at it, though I fear that if I let go, you would take another tumble and then, as you disdain my assistance, I should feel obliged to leave you sitting in the puddle. On the other hand, if you were to ask me prettily and give me a kiss as a reward, that might be a different matter.’
‘Certainly not.’ Her pride had given way to fear, though she endeavoured not to show it. No one had warned her of the perils of going out without an escort, or if they had, she had not listened, confident of being able to take care of herself. In Hadlea she thought nothing of walking about the village on her own, and no one would have dreamed of molesting her. The onlookers did nothing to help, being too busy laughing at the soldier who was wearing her bonnet and curtsying to them, pretending to hold out imaginary skirts.
She was fighting back angry tears when a gentleman pushed his way through and grabbed the soldier who held her and flung him aside. ‘Off with you, or your commanding officer will hear of this.’
Recognising the voice of authority when they heard it, they flung her bonnet down and fled, leaving Sophie to fall into the arms of her rescuer. He held her a moment to steady her before releasing her. His face had a weather-worn look of someone used to being out of doors and there were fine lines at the corners of his brown eyes, above which were well-defined brows. His hair, under a tall hat, was light brown and curled a little into the nape of his neck. He was stylishly but not extravagantly dressed, but none of that counted with her because he was endeavouring not to laugh, and that annoyed her. She felt obliged to thank him, but it was done in such a superior way, he could have no reason to think his assistance was any more than her due as a lady.
He picked up her bonnet and attempted to brush the mud off it, but it was ruined, and he simply handed it to her. ‘Have you far to go?’
‘Only to Mount Street.’
‘I will escort you there.’
‘That will not be necessary. I bid you good day.’ She walked away, her only purpose at that moment to return to the safety of her aunt’s garden and make up her mind how to explain the state of her clothing.
* * *
Thankfully her aunt and brother were still abed, so she was able to creep up to her room unseen. Bessie was there, unpacking the things from her trunk that had not been taken out the night before. ‘Mercy me, Miss Sophie, whatever happened to you?’ she asked, seeing the state of her young charge.
‘I slipped on the ice and fell into a puddle.’
‘Are you hurt?’
‘No, except my pride.’
‘You had better take off those wet things before you catch cold.’ Bessie bustled about fetching clean clothes for her. ‘Where did this happen?’
‘On the way to the park. I had seen all there was to see of the garden, so I thought I would take a walk.’
‘Miss Sophie,’ Bessie said while busy helping Sophie out of her clothes, ‘you cannot, indeed you must not, go out on your own.’ The maid had been with the family so long, she felt at liberty to speak her mind to the young lady she had known since the day she was born. ‘This is London, not Hadlea. Anything could have happened. Did anyone see you?’
‘Only the people walking in the street, but I soon got up again and came home.’
‘No harm done, I suppose, but you should have come indoors and asked me to go with you, if there was no one else.’
‘I didn’t think of it. I have never had to do it before.’
‘Isn’t that just what I have been saying? What is permissible in Hadlea is not permissible or wise in London.’
‘You won’t tell my aunt, will you? It is too mortifying.’
‘No, of course I will not, but you must not do anything like it again. You could have twisted your ankle or broken your arm. It is fortunate that you did not.’
‘It was more humiliating than painful.’ Just how humiliating she was not prepared to divulge.
* * *
Her aunt came downstairs at noon to find her niece in the morning parlour with a novel by Miss Jane Austen in her lap, although she was not reading it but daydreaming. Not even Miss Austen’s elegant prose could hold her attention. She had never expected to be so bored. It was worse than being in Hadlea, where at least she could go out walking or riding or visit her sister.
‘When we have had nuncheon, we will go out in the carriage,’ her aunt said. ‘I must go to the library and change my book.’ She nodded towards the volume Sophie was holding. ‘Unless you want to read it.’
‘No, Aunt, I have already read it.’
‘Then to the library we will go and then we will call on my friend Mrs Malthouse in Hanover Square. Mr and Mrs Malthouse are very wealthy, but it makes no matter for I have often spoken of you and dear Jane and Issie and their husbands and how well up in the stirrups they are, so you do not need to feel in any way inferior.’
Sophie did not see why she should feel inferior and was tempted to say, ‘I do not’, but held her tongue.
* * *
Mrs Malthouse was even rounder than Aunt Emmeline, but in spite of that wore fussy clothes with a great many lace flounces and ribbons. Her daughter, Cassandra, was nothing like her mother, being tall and slim, with dark brown hair arranged in ringlets and a merry smile.
‘You remember me speaking of my sister’s family, do you not?’ Lady Cartrose explained to her friend. ‘Sophie is staying with me, but as you know, I seldom venture out in the evenings nowadays. Her brother is also with us and will escort her to whatever function has been arranged for her to attend. Everyone knows I do not go out so very often these days and I am wanting in invitations. I am come to appeal to you to help me out. I know Cassandra is engaged to attend the Rowlands’ dancing party and wondered if you might ask them to include Sophie in the invitation.’
Sophie disliked the way her aunt was begging on her behalf and would as lief forgo the dance as to be invited out of charity. ‘Aunt, we should not put Mrs Malthouse to the inconvenience,’ she said. ‘Doubtless there will be other invitations.’
‘It is a public subscription dance,’ Cassandra put in. ‘It is only being held at the Rowlands’ because they have a large ballroom. You have only to buy a ticket. I think it costs five guineas.’
‘That is a prodigious amount,’ Emmeline said.
‘It is so high as to keep out the undesirables,’ Mrs Malthouse put in. ‘And because it is to raise money for a suitable gift for the new princess. She is to be christened Alexandrina Victoria, though I believe she is to be known as Princess Victoria.’
‘In that case I shall naturally obtain tickets for Teddy and Sophie,’ Emmeline said. ‘I shall not go.’
‘If Sophie is in need of company,’ Mrs Malthouse added, ‘then she and her brother are welcome to join our party.’
‘Thank you, Augusta. I knew you would help,’ Emmeline said.
Sophie added her gratitude while wondering who was to pay for the tickets. The pin money she had been given would not stretch to it. Her aunt seemed unconcerned, so perhaps she expected Mark to put his hand in his pocket yet again, but Mark might judge ten guineas for two tickets a monstrous imposition and refuse to pay. It would be a bitter disappointment if she could not go.
‘Shall we take a turn in the garden?’ Cassandra suggested to Sophie. ‘We can leave Mama and Lady Cartrose to their gossip.’
She readily agreed and the two young ladies left the house by the conservatory. The sun had come out and chased off the frost, and the garden was secluded and sheltered. It was pleasant strolling about an immaculately tended garden and talking. ‘Have you been to London before?’ Cassandra asked her.
‘No, never, though my sisters have. They are older than me and both married. Jane is married to Lord Wyndham, and Isabel to Sir Andrew Ashton, who owns a fast clipper and takes her all over the world on it. My brother is in town with me. He is older than Issie and younger than Jane.’
‘Yes, I have heard Lady Cartrose talk of your sisters. Your father has a substantial estate in Norfolk, I believe.’
‘It is fairly extensive. It is mostly arable land and grazing. I have often heard Papa say the land is very fertile, but I know nothing of agriculture so cannot vouch for it.’
‘We don’t have a country estate. It is not that we could not afford it, but that Papa’s business as a top lawyer in constant demand keeps him in town all the year round and we would hardly ever use it. Sometimes I go and stay with my uncle and aunt in the country, but I miss the entertainments and the shops and meeting my friends, so I am always thankful to come back home.’
‘I can quite see that. I should, too, I am sure.’
‘You are very pretty and I do admire your dress,’ Cassandra said, looking at Sophie’s yellow sarcenet gown with its high waist and puffed sleeves, over which she was wearing a matching silk shawl. ‘It must have been made by the finest mantua maker.’
‘Indeed it was,’ Sophie said. ‘Just because I live in the country does not mean I am ignorant of fashion, or unable to procure the best.’ This was all dreadfully boastful and not exactly accurate, but she couldn’t bear to be thought of as a country yokel. Besides, Jane’s needlework was up to anything a London mantua maker could produce.
‘I am so pleased to hear it, Miss Cavenhurst. I can think of nothing worse than having to stint. We are fortunate not to have to think of it.’
Sophie had only intended to praise Jane’s work, but her aunt had already told everyone she was well connected and she felt she could not contradict her, so she let it go. ‘If we are to be friends, please call me Sophie.’
‘Of course we shall be friends, so Sophie it shall be. You may call me Cassie. Everyone does except Mama and Papa and my grandparents.’
‘Cassie, do you have a beau?’
‘No, Mama would never tolerate it before I come out, but this year I hope to find a husband. What about you? Do you expect to find one while you are in town?’
‘That is the idea of a Season, is it not?’
‘Indeed it is. Have you anyone in mind?’
‘No one. My brother says I am too particular, but I will not marry just for the sake of it. I have already turned down three offers.’
‘Three!’ exclaimed Cassandra. ‘You cannot mean it.’
‘Indeed, I do.’
‘Were they all handsome and rich? Did they have titles?’
‘One was handsome and tolerably rich, one was a baronet and one a lord, but none combined all the attributes I am looking for. The lord was a widower with two children. I have no wish to be a second wife. I had no difficulty in rejecting them.’ She was boasting again, although she had said nothing that was not true and was amused by the expression on Cassandra’s face, a mixture of shock and incredulity.
‘What manner of man are you looking for?’
‘The same as every other young lady, I expect. Handsome, rich and titled, but he must be kind, considerate and care about the things I care about, and he must of all things be wildly in love with me, as I must be with him.’
‘You and I think alike, Sophie. Let us hope we are not both vying for the same man, if such a man can be found who is single and looking for a wife.’
‘Tell me about the dance.’ Sophie felt they had exhausted the topic of future husbands and she was feeling a little guilty over her boastfulness. It was not at all how she felt inside. ‘What shall you wear?’
‘Mama will not allow colours until after I have my come-out later in the Season, so white it will have to be, but I can have a coloured sash and coloured ribbons in my hair. Which colour would suit me, do you think?’
Sophie stopped walking to turn towards her. ‘Green,’ she said. ‘Definitely green, it will enhance the colour of your eyes. And green slippers, of course.’
Cassandra clapped her hands. ‘Yes, I am sure Mama will allow that. What about you? You are very fair and have blue eyes, so perhaps blue for you. Or maybe pink. Do you like pink?’
‘It depends on the shade, but I like blue best. I have a lovely blue ball gown in my luggage and a rose-pink gauze evening gown.’
‘You mean the whole dress is coloured, not white?’
‘I hate white. It may look delightful on you, but it makes me look insipid.’
‘Will your aunt allow it?’
‘I don’t see why not.’
‘But you will be defying convention.’
‘Pooh to convention.’
Cassandra laughed. ‘Oh, I can see you are going to set the ton by the ears.’
Sophie joined in the laughter. ‘That is the whole idea.’ She paused. ‘The gowns shall be a secret until the night I wear them, so do not say anything of them to your mama.’
‘I won’t. Shall we go back indoors? Lady Cartrose will be taking her leave by now.’
They returned to the drawing room to find that Cassandra’s brother, Vincent, had arrived and their departure was delayed while Sophie was introduced to him.
He was very like Cassandra in looks, half a head taller than she was and rather too thin to be called handsome. He was dressed in a dark grey coat and lighter grey pantaloons. His neckcloth was extravagantly tied and his shirt points starched to a board. They certainly made him keep his head up. His dark hair was cut short and curled towards his face. He bowed to her and took her hand. ‘How do you do, Miss Cavenhurst. I am told that you will be gracing the Rowlands’ dance with us. I shall look forward to that.’
She withdrew her hand and smiled at him. ‘You are too kind.’
‘Come, Sophie,’ Emmeline said. ‘We have time for a turn around the park before going home. Lord Wyndham is to dine with us, so we shall have a little company this evening.’
They took their leave and, once they were seated in the barouche and trotting along Brook Street towards Park Lane, her aunt asked her what she thought of Cassandra.
‘I think we shall deal very well together,’ Sophie said, speaking very loudly into her aunt’s ear. ‘She already thinks of me as her friend.’
‘Good. That means you will have a companion for outings when I cannot go with you. What did you think of Vincent?’
‘I really did not think of him at all, Aunt. We met so briefly.’
‘He is an admirable young man, and though he does not have a title, he will come into a considerable fortune when he inherits. In the meantime he is employed in his father’s law firm.’
‘If he is anything like Teddy, he doesn’t do much work there.’ She was obliged to repeat this twice before her aunt comprehended.
‘You are unkind to your brother, Sophie. I collect he worked very hard when he was in India, for he made a fortune there, enough to get himself and your papa out of dun country by all accounts.’
‘Oh, yes, I will give him that, but as for law work, he hated being behind a desk all day. Now he helps Papa on the estate. Mr Malthouse has no estate.’
‘That is true. But Mr Vincent Malthouse is only the first of many young men you will meet in the course of the next few weeks. I am persuaded you will be able to choose whomever you please.’
Sophie was not so sure about that, considering she had so far only been engaged for a subscription dance. She needed more than that. She needed something happening every day and she needed to make an impression at every one of them.
They turned in at the park and followed a parade of carriages passing others going in the opposite direction. Lady Cartrose knew so many people and they were continually stopping for her to gossip and introduce Sophie. Sophie bowed her head and said, ‘How do you do?’ and answered politely when they enquired if she was enjoying her stay in London, but she doubted she would remember all their names. One rider she would not forget, though he did not stop. He simply rode slowly past them on the other side of the rail, and she concluded he was not known to her aunt, for which she was thankful. She was not sure whether he had seen and recognised her, but turned her head away to talk to Lady Cartrose. ‘It is lovely to see the trees bursting into leaf,’ she said. ‘It makes me think of summer.’
‘And let us hope it is better than last summer,’ her aunt answered, unaware of Sophie’s agitation.
‘There,’ the old lady said, as they turned out of the gate to go home. ‘Everyone knows you are in town now, and if they do not they very soon will.’
* * *
Mark arrived at six that evening to dine with them as promised. He was in a cheerful mood and listened attentively to Lady Cartrose’s recital of their afternoon. ‘There is to be a subscription ball to honour the new princess,’ she told him. ‘You have no objection to Sophie attending with Mr and Mrs Malthouse and their daughter, Cassandra, have you? They are very respectable people, well up in the ton. I know she should not be attending balls before her come-out, but this is not a formal ball and it is in a good cause.’
‘My lady, I can have no say in the matter, I am merely a bystander. It is for you and Sophie’s brother to say what she may and may not do.’
Lady Cartrose turned to Teddy. ‘Edward, what do you think? Shall you allow it?’
‘Don’t see why not,’ he said lazily. ‘What’s it all about, this ball?’
He had not been attending the conversation, and her ladyship was obliged to repeat what she had said to Mark. ‘It will be a very select dancing party,’ she explained. ‘The tickets are five guineas.’
‘Five guineas! Whoever heard of having to pay for an invitation to a dance? Sounds rummy to me.’
‘It is to raise money to buy the new royal baby a present,’ Sophie explained.
‘What does she want a present for? She’ll not be short of the dibs.’
‘Oh, Teddy, don’t be difficult,’ Sophie said. ‘I want to go. After all, it is why I came to London.’
‘To go to subscription dances?’
‘You know what I mean. You’re not going to deny me, are you?’
‘No, sis, we’ll go to your dance and I’ll buy the tickets. Will that satisfy you?’
The look that Mark shot her brother might have puzzled her if she had noticed it, but as she was turning a beaming smile on her sibling, she did not see it. ‘Oh, you are the best of brothers. Thank you. Thank you.’
‘Talking of raising money,’ Mark said, ‘I have been busy today finalising the arrangements for a concert to raise funds for the Hadlea Home extension. I hope you will all attend. It is to be at Wyndham House next Saturday. I have hired some excellent musicians.’
‘Do we have to pay to come to that, too?’ Teddy asked with a grin.
‘Donations are voluntary, of course,’ Mark said. ‘But since you seem to be in funds, I hope to see a contribution from you.’
This remark was so pointed, Sophie looked from one to the other. ‘What is going on?’
‘Nothing,’ Teddy said. ‘I do not always have pockets to let, you know.’
‘I know that,’ she said. ‘I believe Papa gave you some money to top up my pin money should I need it.’
‘Quite right,’ he said, visibly relieved.
* * *
After they finished their meal, the two men did not linger long in the dining room, but joined Sophie and her aunt in the drawing room for tea, where the conversation centred around who might be present at the Rowlands’ dance. Mark pointed out that perhaps the elite might not wish to attend an event in which anyone could be present, but he supposed the high price of the tickets would keep out the riff-raff. He hoped the princess’s parents appreciated what was being done for their offspring.
‘How far down the line is she?’ Sophie asked.
‘Well, there’s the Prince Regent, then his brothers, all six of them,’ Mark said. ‘The new princess is presently the only legitimate child of any of them, but who is to say that won’t change, especially if the prince manages to divorce his wife and produce another child of his own.’
‘Who would want to marry him?’ Sophie said, with a shudder.
‘Almost anyone, I should think,’ Teddy said. ‘To be Queen of England must surely be a great lure.’
‘Well, I shouldn’t be lured by it.’
‘You are hardly likely to be given the opportunity,’ Teddy said. ‘You will have to satisfy yourself with a lesser title or perhaps none at all.’
‘It is not the title I’m concerned with, but the man.’
‘Well said, Sophie.’ Mark laughed. ‘Now I must take my leave. I have a cousin staying with me at Wyndham House and I have been shamefully neglecting him.’ He rose, bowed to Lady Cartrose and thanked her for her hospitality, kissed Sophie’s hand and was gone. This seemed to be the signal for Lady Cartrose to retire and left brother and sister to amuse themselves.
‘Which cousin can Mark mean?’ Sophie asked. ‘I collect there were several at his father’s funeral and at the wedding. I do not recall their names.’
‘No doubt we will find out when we go to the concert.’
‘Teddy,’ she said, ‘am I to rely on a concert that will be boring and attended by old people and dull married couples for some excitement?’
‘There is the Rowlands’ dance.’
‘But that’s a whole week away.’
‘What do you want me to do about it? I cannot conjure up excitement for you.’
‘You can take me riding. I do miss my daily rides in Hadlea. We could go to Hyde Park. That is where everyone goes, is it not?’
‘And what do we do for mounts?’
‘You can hire them. Jane made me a splendid habit in forest-green grosgrain taffeta and I can’t show it off if you will not take me riding, can I? You cannot expect Aunt Emmeline to do so.’
He laughed. ‘No, it would break the poor beast’s back, even supposing she could be got up on it.’
‘Then you will? Tomorrow morning early. You haven’t anything more pressing to do, have you?’
‘Oh, very well. But I had better go now and see about mounts, otherwise the good ones will be gone and we will be left with the rejects.’ He rose to leave her. ‘Don’t wait up for me.’
Left alone, she picked up her aunt’s latest library book, but it was not one that interested her and she decided to go early to bed so as to be up betimes the following morning.
* * *
Bessie had been unable to see anything improper about Sophie going riding with her brother and so she woke her early as instructed, bringing her breakfast on a tray. Afterwards she helped her into the riding habit. It had a very full skirt and a fitted jacket in military style with epaulettes and frogging. A white silk shirt, frilled at the neck and the wrist, and a black beaver with a curled brim and a tiny veil completed the ensemble. ‘There, Miss Sophie, you look a picture,’ she said. ‘But I hope you will ride sedately and not attempt to gallop.’
‘Oh, no, Bessie. I want to be seen at my best and that won’t happen if I dash off at a gallop, will it?’
She sat to put on her boots, then picked up her crop and went downstairs, expecting her brother to be already there. But he was not. Vexed with him, she sent a servant to wake him.
* * *
He came down half an hour later, dressed for riding.
‘Teddy, you are too bad. I have been waiting this age and you not even out of your bed.’
He yawned. ‘Sorry, sis, overslept.’
‘Why? What time did you go to bed?’
‘I disremember. Some time after midnight.’
‘Well, you are here now. Are you ready to go?’
‘Not until I’ve had some breakfast. You wouldn’t want a fellow to ride on an empty stomach, would you?’
She had to rein in her impatience while he ate, but she did think of sending a manservant to the mews to bring the horses round so that they might set off the minute Teddy had finished eating.
* * *
An hour and a half later than she had intended, they were riding through the gates of the park. It was too early for ladies in carriages, but the Row was full of riders, most of them men, but some were ladies riding with their escorts as she was doing. She was so pleased with life she beamed at everyone, turning now and again to speak excitedly to her brother. ‘Oh, this is capital. The sun is shining, the birds are singing and everyone is smiling.’
‘Of course everyone is smiling,’ he said. ‘You cut a very fine figure in that rig, even though I shouldn’t say it for making you more conceited than you are already.’
‘I am not conceited.’
‘Then stop grinning like a Cheshire cat. You are putting me to the blush. A little cool modesty, if you please.’
‘Oh, very well.’ She assumed a serious expression that was so comical it only served to make him laugh.
They were attracting the amused attention of other riders, one in particular. As they drew abreast, he bowed slightly towards her. She recognised him easily from the upright way he carried himself, the curl of his light brown hair, his brown eyes and strong mouth, twitching a little in amusement. She felt the colour flare in her face, but quickly brought herself under control and put her chin in the air and gathered up her reins to ride at a trot.
‘Who was that?’ Teddy asked, catching up with her after her unexpected burst of speed. ‘Someone you know?’
She slowed down again. ‘Who?’
‘The fellow on the bay. A magnificent creature.’
‘You call him a magnificent creature?’
‘The horse, silly, not the man, though I own he looks top of the trees to me. Who is he?’
‘I have no idea.’
‘But you smiled at him.’
‘I certainly did not. Whatever gave you that idea?’
‘He smiled back and bowed, as if he knew you. Is that why you wanted to come riding today, so that you might meet him?’
‘Certainly not. I have no idea who he is.’
‘Oh, I knew all that preening in front of everyone would cause trouble. Strange men smiling and bowing, it is not the thing, Sophie, really it is not.’
‘I couldn’t help him smiling at me, could I? I didn’t ask him to bow.’
‘You encouraged him.’
‘I did not. Why would I do that? He is conceited if he thought that, and if I ever meet him again I shall make sure he knows it. Not that I wish to meet him again,’ she added hastily.
‘No, of course not,’ he said with heavy irony.
‘Well, I don’t. Let us go home and see if Aunt Emmeline is up and about. I might prevail upon her to go shopping.’
‘Beats me what you ladies find to go shopping for,’ he murmured following her as she turned towards the gate. ‘You seem to have all the fripperies you need.’
‘Much you know about it,’ she said. ‘But you will find out when you marry and have a wife to please.’
‘Then I don’t think I’ll bother.’
She laughed at that, and they returned to Mount Street in good humour.
* * *
Adam, who had recognised her as the girl he had seen with the soldiers, rode on, wondering who she might be. She was unaccompanied by a duenna or a groom, probably out clandestinely, unless her parents or guardians, whoever they were, did not trouble themselves about propriety. She was lovely, and when she smiled or laughed her blue eyes sparkled. Out secretly with her swain and enjoying herself, he did not doubt, but devoid of all sense of decorum.
He had seen her the day before in a carriage with an older woman—a relation or guardian perhaps? Not a very protective one to let her out to be molested by common soldiers. He smiled at the memory; she was a feisty young lady, to be sure, and by no means cowed, even when her clothes were wet and muddy and she had lost her bonnet. He turned out of the gate and made his way back to South Audley Street. He had better put her from his mind; he had more important things to think of than a slip of a girl, however fetching. He had a speech to compose.
The foreman at the mill had warned him that Henry Hunt, known as Orator Hunt, was planning another great rally, but he had no idea where it was to be. He had a great deal of sympathy for the plight of the workers, who subsisted on very low wages that his fellow mill owners had no compunction in cutting when profits went down. Wages for a weaver, which had been as much as fifteen shillings for a six-day week in the boom year immediately after the war, had now dropped to five. Their hardship was not helped by the Corn Laws, which kept the price of wheat, and therefore bread, so high they were hard put to afford it.
Sir John Michaelson, a neighbouring mill owner, was particularly insensitive to his workers, many of whom had left him to come and work at Bamford Mill as soon as they heard he had a vacancy. It did not endear him to his neighbour, who’d come to him in high dudgeon the last time it had happened.
‘Look here,’ he had said. ‘You can’t go paying exorbitant wages. It gives the men a false value of their worth and makes them uncontrollable. You’re making them soft and undermining the rest of us. A little hunger never did them any harm. Makes ’em work harder.’
‘They are not just hungry, they are starving,’ Adam had answered, referring to Michaelson’s workforce. ‘Starving men cannot work well.’
‘So you feed ’em, too.’
‘If I give my workers a dinner, that is my affair, not yours, Sir John.’
‘If we don’t stand together, we won’t win,’ the man said truculently.
‘I have no doubt that is what the men are saying,’ he had said.
‘And you, no doubt, know exactly what they are saying. I am disgusted with you. You are a traitor to your heritage.’
* * *
Adam was soon back at Wyndham House and settled down in the library to write his speech. He was not a natural orator like Henry Hunt and had never made a public speech before, except to talk to his workers. He believed in keeping them informed of how the business was doing, telling them when a big contract had come their way and how long they had to fulfil it and congratulating them if they fulfilled it on time, paying them a bonus, as well. They worked the better for it. Now he had to make a speech to his peers, men who probably held the same views as Sir John and whom he had to persuade. He had covered several sheets of paper, all of which he had screwed up and thrown aside, when Mark came in.
‘You look as if you’ve been busy,’ his cousin commented.
‘All to no purpose. I can’t seem to find the right words.’
‘The words you used the other night sounded good to me.’
‘Two or three sentences when I have to write a whole speech. And my audience will be less sympathetic than you.’
‘Make your speech to me and I will act as devil’s advocate.’ Mark laughed. ‘I will even heckle you, if you like, and see how you deal with it.’
* * *
An hour later Adam was feeling a great deal better about the ordeal.
‘You are much more convincing when you speak from the heart,’ Mark told him. ‘You don’t need to write out the whole speech. Simple notes will suffice to get you going.’
‘Do you think I have a chance of swaying any of them?’
‘Those who are undecided, perhaps, but the diehards will be more difficult. You might have more luck in the Commons, if you could find a sympathetic member to take up the cudgels.’
‘I know neither of the members for Lancashire will do anything. They are in Sir John’s pocket. Two members of parliament for a whole populous county and two for a little place like Dunwich, which has all but disappeared into the German Ocean, is ridiculous. Parliamentary reform is long overdue.’
‘I agree, but you will hardly persuade the members for those rotten boroughs to give up their seats.’
‘Now, if workingmen could vote, that would be different,’ Adam went on. ‘And if they could also stand for election, we might have a more equitable means of governing the country.’
Mark laughed. ‘And that is what you advocate, is it? I advise you to take one step at a time, coz, if you don’t want to sink your whole argument. Now, you have done enough. I am hungry. What do you say to repairing to the club for something to eat? Then I will tell you my plans and you can advise me.’
