Amanda Scott (11 page)

“No, I suppose not. She might have accepted the lease of an elegantly furnished house in town, however.” His tone was musing, as though the notion had only just occurred to him.

Carolyn laughed again. “Are you wishing you had thought of it at the time, sir. I assure you, such a scheme would not have answered even if such houses existed, which they do not. The only elegantly furnished ones are occupied by their owners, who are all so firmly entrenched that they have no notion of selling. The ones available to lease are shabby genteel remnants of the days when Bath enjoyed an influx of the
beau monde
each year, and those were not precisely elegant even then.”

“I suppose not, but you have not explained why you should wish to set up your own household. It would not answer, you know. You are still too young.”

“I am determined not to argue with you today, sir, and so I shall not tell you what I think of that statement, particularly in view of the fact that I have not the least desire to set up my own household, now or in the future.”

“Then, what on earth—”

“’Tis the fact that I could not do so if I wanted to,” she said, moving her king’s rook. “Your queen is in check.”

“So it is,” he said amiably without glancing at the board. His gaze was fixed upon her face. “Explain yourself, Caro. I am fascinated. You do not wish to set up housekeeping, yet you are vexed that you cannot do so. What else do you not wish to do that distresses you by its impossibility?”

She sighed and leaned back in her chair. “I suppose you mean to make me laugh at your absurdities, but ’tis truly no laughing matter. People make much of a young man’s coming of age, but much less of a young woman’s. Indeed, they are more likely to commiserate with her than to congratulate her. Do you know that I am nearly upon the shelf, Sydney? I have been twice betrothed, of course, but since I cried off both times, I have dwindled into spinsterhood, a fact that more than one kind soul will doubtless point out to me at my birthday celebration.”

“Then we are still to celebrate the day?” There was amusement in his eyes but there was also understanding, and it warmed her heart to see it. It was like him not to dwell on the fact that it was her own fault she was not married. He was kind and gentle, and she had come to cherish such quiet times as this with him and to wish they were more frequent. He listened to her as no one else did, and seemed to think her opinions and thoughts worth hearing. Even his teasing was a comfort to her.

“Perhaps you think I should prefer not to celebrate,” she retorted, “but the fact is that it has been weeks now since the hotel assembly, and the weather has been so bad these past few days that no one calls and Godmama does not go out. I should resist strenuously should anyone suggest cancelling my birthday rout party. Still, it would be pleasant if the date were really a milestone and meant that I should now have control over my own destiny. Do you think me foolish for wishing such things?”

He shook his head. “No, indeed. I have often thought it unfair that women have not more freedom to do as they wish. To be sure, it is worse in China, where ladies have no freedom at all and are wholly subject to their menfolk. Englishwomen are fortunate by comparison, but it is absurd when men in this country pretend that the women are not as capable as they are, for I’ve known any number of my own sex who are perfect cod’s heads at managing their estates, or their day-to-day affairs, for all that, and many women who could do better.”

“Of course they could,” Carolyn agreed. “History shows any number of females taking the reins for one reason or another and doing very well. Only look at our queens! I’m glad you agree that it’s unfair, Sydney.”

“Oh,” he said with a twinkle as he moved his queen at last, “it does no harm to agree. Agreeing changes nothing, after all.”

“You!” Glaring at him, she would have given anything to have been able to move just one single piece and checkmate him, but she could do no such thing, and the fact that half an hour later he was forced to agree to a draw was small comfort.

As her birthday drew nearer, activity in Bathwick Hill House increased accordingly, for there were preparations to be made and Lady Skipton desired nothing so much as to augment her younger son’s status with the
beau monde
by the excellence of the food and entertainment. Although she received little encouragement from Sydney in this endeavor, neither did he attempt to dissuade her, even agreeing with his customary serenity to the information that she had accepted, on his behalf, an invitation for the week following Carolyn’s birthday celebration, for them all to attend a house party at the Duke of York’s estate at Oatlands.

“The duchess is a friend of mine, you know,” Lady Skipton said complacently after informing him of the treat. “I was present at her wedding—the one at Queen’s House, not the first one in Berlin—and we have been friends ever since. I don’t approve of York—as selfish a man as his brothers—but I should not wish to be remiss in my duty toward Frederica. You like Oatlands, Sydney, and we can take dear Hercules with us.” She patted the little spaniel, curled up on the settee beside her. “You will like that, will you not, my little man?”

The dog, being engaged in the important and rather noisy task of cleaning one forepaw, did not respond, but Sydney’s attention was well and truly caught. “Take your dog, ma’am?” he exclaimed. “Surely not! The duchess cannot—”

“The duchess,” his mother informed him firmly, “dotes on dogs. She has a great number of them herself, as you must know, and they are allowed the run of the house. No one minds them.”

Carolyn, biting back a laugh, dared to look at Sydney. That he was actually struggling with his emotions for once was perfectly evident, but when he spoke, his tone was carefully even. “You have said that the house party is to be a large one, ma’am, that the Regent himself will attend.”

Lady Skipton was unperturbed. “Certainly he will,” she said, “since Frederica means to give a ball in his daughter’s honor. Even a man so consistently inattentive as he is to his only offspring would not wish to court the disapproval of the
beau monde
by ignoring his duty toward her upon such an occasion, particularly when it is Frederica who gives the ball. I believe several of York’s brothers mean to attend, but they will not disturb her peace. She never allows them to do so.”

“But you cannot take your dog,” Sydney said patiently.

Carolyn, seeing that the dowager was entirely prepared to explain at length why Hercules ought to go, said gently, “You know, ma’am, it is not altogether unreasonable to fear that the duchess might mistakenly believe you intend Hercules to be a gift. Do not people frequently bestow pets upon her?”

The dowager looked shocked, and although she said she thought she could explain the truth of the matter very well, thank you, Carolyn saw that the point had gone home and did not think she need say any more. Discovering that Sydney had relaxed and was regarding her with lazy approval brought a blush to her cheeks, and she looked away, taking the first opportunity to change the subject to the preparations for her rout party.

In the few days remaining before that event, the weather proved particularly inclement, making some occupants of Bathwick Hill House wonder if any of the invited guests would come. Only the dowager was unconcerned.

“No one,” she declared at the dinner table two days before the rout party, after Miss Pucklington had expressed anxiety on Carolyn’s behalf, “will wish to miss the opportunity of being entertained in this house. Everyone is well aware of what a superior house this is, and will welcome the opportunity to see the foreign oddities that Sydney has collected in his travels. ’Tis a pity, I think, that Matilda and Skipton have chosen this of all times to visit her mother, for they might have brought the children, you know, and now I shall not see them until we visit them at Swainswick for Christmas. I have been thinking, Sydney,” she added before anyone had thought of a suitable reply to her last, daunting statement, “that you will wish to arrange a few tables of display in the library.”

Sydney said calmly, “I don’t think I will, ma’am. Bathwick Hill House is no museum and I do not intend that it shall become known as one. I don’t mind showing my treasures to those who appreciate their value or who wish to seek my advice regarding some intended purchase of their own, but I have no wish to flaunt my things before all and sundry.”

The dowager stiffened, and Carolyn, expecting to draw her fire and not knowing precisely why she should wish to do so, said hastily, “Might not persons who do not understand your generosity of spirit describe such a display as vulgar, ma’am?”

“Nonsense,” the dowager said haughtily. “Why, the Regent himself seeks Sydney’s advice when he wishes to add a new trifle to his collection. If he considers him to be an authority on such matters, surely our guests will be more than delighted to be granted an opportunity to view Sydney’s own little collection.”

Carolyn blinked at hearing the vast assortment of articles Sydney had acquired during his sojourn in China described in such a way, but Sydney, taking snuff with a delicate twist of his wrist, said with amusement, “One fears the display you intend would suggest instead that we had prepared a sale of goods. No, no,” he added, smiling at the outraged expression on his mother’s face, “I was only funning. Nonetheless, and though I have no wish to distress you, my belongings are not for public view.”

Carolyn held her breath, but she was not so astonished as she might have been several weeks before, when the dowager nodded regally and said, “It shall be as you wish, of course, though I am sorry you should have disliked the notion, for many of our friends, I am convinced, will be very much disappointed not to have the opportunity to view your treasures.”

“My friends have seen what they wished to see, ma’am.”

“Oh, your intimates, of course, but I shall not quibble, my dear. It shall be as you wish.”

“Thank you.”

Nodding, she returned her attention to her dinner, and Sydney turned to Carolyn. “Have you any special request for your birthday, Caro? You have not expressed a wish for any particular gift that I know about.”

“I can think of nothing that I need, sir.”

“Oh, but on such an occasion, need is not important. Surely, it is the right of any young woman who reaches her majority to ask for a special gift, perhaps even one she believes to be unattainable or outrageous.”

“Is it?” She grinned at him. “And how do you know so much about it, sir? Do you think I will demand the moon or a few stars? I shall not, for I don’t know what I should do with them if I got them. I should infinitely prefer a bouquet of spring flowers, but when one’s birthday comes in late autumn, one cannot wish for such things. In books, of course, one can,” she added with a teasing look at Miss Pucklington. “If one can gather blackberries in springtime, no doubt one can also collect spring blossoms in autumn, but not, unfortunately, in real life.”

When Miss Pucklington blushed and glanced guiltily at the dowager, Carolyn, realizing that she must not yet have finished reading about the adventures of Laura Lovelace and Sir Bartholomew Lancelot (although she herself had long since done so), quickly changed the subject. Lady Skipton did not appear to notice anything out of the way, but although Sydney accepted the change of subject, he gave Carolyn such a quizzical look that she decided some sort of explanation was due him.

She waited until they had gathered in the drawing room after dinner. Then, while Lady Skipton and Miss Pucklington, sitting comfortably near the blazing fire, put their heads together over the invitation list to determine which guests had accepted or declined, Carolyn accepted Sydney’s challenge to a game of picquet and joined him at a table by the window.

“Poor Puck,” she said in an undertone when they had begun their second hand and she was certain the others were too involved in their task to pay her any heed. “I nearly gave her away, and I would not do so for the world. I declare four.”

“No good,” he replied. “Gave her away?”

She explained as they scored the rest of their points and began to play the hand out, and when he chuckled, she said, “You may laugh, but I daresay she would rather be reading that book right now than counting guests for my party. Your discard.”

Sydney studied his hand. Then, throwing a card, he glanced toward the fire and said, “She appears content enough.”

“I should hate being so dependent. It must be dreadful.” Taking the trick, she hesitated over her lead, trying to remember what points he had declared earlier and what he had played.

“It could be worse,” Sydney pointed out, “but in a better world, I daresay Cousin Judith would be happier keeping a shop.”

Carolyn stared. “A shop! Puck? You must be joking.”

“Can you not imagine her as a stylish modiste? I can. Even Mama does not despise her suggestions when choosing a wardrobe.”

“True.” Carolyn frowned at the card she had selected. “It is too bad, isn’t it? Puck does exquisite plain sewing and fancywork, and her knitted creations are beautiful. Yet if she suggested selling one of them for extra pin money, people—the right people—would be very much shocked, so she is condemned to a lifetime of walking that dreadful Hercules and attending to your mother’s whims.”

“I do not believe she is unhappy, however. Is that your lead? If it is, I wish you would play it.”

“I daresay you do,” Carolyn said, putting down the ten of spades. “No doubt it is the very one you hoped I would throw. Oh, what a beast you are!” she exclaimed when he took the trick. “I had forgotten you declared three knaves, and now I shall be lurched. But I’ll be revenged, sir, before the night is done.”

“I’ve no doubt of that,” he said, smiling at her. There was a look in his eyes just then that she had not seen before, that made her pulse beat faster and made it somehow impossible to look away. But then he blinked, and the expression disappeared before she could decipher it. As she watched him deal out the next hand, she dismissed the moment from her mind.

They chatted amiably while they played until the tea tray was brought in and it was time to put the cards away, but Carolyn remembered that conversation again the night of her party when Miss Pucklington, attired in a puce evening gown and draped with an assortment of her best shawls, entered her bedchamber half an hour before it was time to go down to greet the first guests.