Elizabeth Kidd (4 page)

Miss Julia Wilmot and Miss Hester Coverley resided together in a small house on Berkeley Square, the door to which was opened by their aged butler, who betrayed only by a slight slackening of the wrinkles around his rheumy eyes that he was pleased to see Lady Kedrington.

“Good morning, Webster,” said her ladyship, breezing past him into the hall. “Are the ladies at home?”

This was a rhetorical question, as Miss Wilmot never left her house other than on two journeys a year to and from her home in Berkshire. Miss Coverley never left it before noon, although after that hour, she might be found anywhere in the city, for her acquaintance was as widespread as it was varied. Nonetheless, visitors were received only on Sundays, with the exception of family members, who attendance was desired much more frequently, every day being the goal of the aunts, if the bane of the male members of the family. Antonia did her best to keep her husband in his aunt’s good graces by anticipating every summons and avoiding it by regular visits, however brief.

“Miss Julia is in the drawing room,” Webster informed her, whereupon Antonia said she would announce herself and left him standing in the hall as she opened the first door to her left. She found Julia Wilmot sitting in a chintz-covered chair, a teacup in one hand and her half-glasses on her nose, reading the
Morning Post
by the sunlight coming in the window that looked out onto the square.

Julia always looked elegant, in a way that Antonia hoped she might grow into at that age. Today, she was dressed in her customary gray, but it was a light shade, trimmed with narrow blue ribbons at the hem and sleeves, and she wore over her shoulders a fringed gray shawl which gave her an almost dashing appearance. Her complexion, nearly unlined, was that of a woman thirty years her junior, and her eyes were clear and sharp with interest in the world. Antonia knew that rheumatism kept Julia from going about in society as much as choice did, but to see her sitting gracefully in her own parlor, eager to receive visitors, one would not know she labored under any restrictions.

“Good morning, dear,” Julia said, lifting her cheek to be kissed. “Have a cup of tea with me. Were you at the Drummonds’ reception last night?”

“Good heavens! Never tell me it was written up in the
Post
,” Antonia exclaimed, seating herself and picking up the teapot and one of the extra cups Julia kept at hand for the convenience of family visitors.

“Certainly not, foolish child. Hester told me that you and Duncan had been invited. Was Elgin there?”

“No, but a great many other people were, and I shall tell you all about it presently. But I have more important news—Carey is engaged to be married!”

“Tosh. That is not news. Who is it this time?”

Secretly pleased to be beforehand with this wonderful story, for Julia always seemed to know everything that went on in town before anyone else did, despite her self-imposed seclusion, Antonia delayed the tantalizing particulars as long as possible.

“This time I believe he has found precisely the right girl for him. She is neither insipid nor stupid—although not so clever that she feels obliged to flaunt her learning—and while yet young, she is not your typical beauty.”

“Good gracious, not that horsey Manderville girl?”

“No, Aunt Julia, how can you insult Carey’s tastes so? He never looked at Sybil Manderville.”

“She has enough money to make her a diamond of the first water in some eyes. Does this new girl possess any fortune at all? What’s her name?”

“I believe she is in possession of a modest fortune, but Carey need not look for an heiress. He is not extravagant.”

“Perhaps not—although one would not guess it from that coat he had on when he called here last. And that estate of yours is not yet reaping sufficient profit to keep him in waistcoats, much less coats by Weston. Why isn’t he home tending to his tenants, by the by?”

Antonia could see that Julia had changed her tack. Knowing that criticism of her brother, however mild, never failed to raise Antonia’s defensive bristles, she would keep it up if Antonia continued to be coy about the name of Carey’s intended bride. She decided to waste no more time in roundaboutation.

“She is Elena Melville.”

This gave even Julia pause, although Antonia did not suppose that the brief silence which greeted her announcement betokened that Julia did not recognize the name.

“Well,” she said after a moment. “This is unexpected.”

Antonia smiled. “So you see why I say this time is different. I do believe Carey sincerely loves her, and I should not be surprised if she turned out to be precisely the right wife for him, despite the—er, unusual appearance of the match.”

“You’ve met her, then?”

“Yes, last night at the reception. To be sure, we spoke only very briefly. That is why I have come to you, dearest Aunt.”

“Do not cut a wheedle with me,” Julia advised forthrightly. “You know I will give you my advice whether you ask for it or not, and slicing me up sweet will not make it any more palatable if it is not the advice you seek.”

Antonia smiled, more at Julia’s twisting of the slang she heard at second-hand from Hester than at her scarcely concealed curiosity about Miss Melville.

“I would not dream of doing such a thing,” Antonia protested. “I only hoped for a suggestion from you as to how I might begin to entertain Elena, to make her feel welcome. I have the liveliest dread that my usual style of party would not be to her liking at all.”

“Has the engagement been formally announced?” Julia asked.

“No, and that is another matter I wished to consult you about. Shall we put an announcement in the
Times
at once?”

“I suppose Carey would happily shout it from the rooftops,” Julia remarked, somewhat mollified nonetheless by the assurance that her self-sufficient niece-by-marriage did occasionally need her advice in social matters.

Antonia smiled. “I have no doubt he would, but I believe he will defer to your advice in this matter. I suspect he is still a little unsure of his good fortune and even wary of causing Elena to think badly of him.”

“It appears that your scapegrace brother is coming to his senses at last. Perhaps this Miss Melville will be a good influence on him. I should advise making friends with her first, even if you feel you have done so already. Not everyone is so readily intimate with others as you are, Antonia.”

“Yes, Aunt Julia,” Antonia said meekly.

“Then you may bring her to see me,” Julia went on. “Say, for nuncheon on Friday. That will give me a few days to see what more I can learn about her family—discreetly, of course.”

“She is of Greek extraction, an orphan, and the ward of Mr. Arthur Melville.”

“We do not know him, I believe,” Julia said, and Antonia wondered if the plural included Miss Coverley—which seemed unlikely, given Hester’s wide-ranging acquaintance—or was, even inadvertently, royal. Antonia did not doubt that Julia could not only look at a king, but stare him down.

“You may in the meanwhile invite her to Brook Street for dinner,” Julia went on. “Just you and Duncan and Carey, and perhaps one or two amiable friends. She cannot be so timid as to find that prospect daunting.”

“Oh, I do not believe she is timid,” Antonia ventured. “Only—reserved. She certainly did not seem overwhelmed by the Drummonds.”

“That is a promising sign,” Julia conceded thoughtfully. “Perhaps—”

But whatever she might have said next by the entrance into the room of Miss Hester Coverley, the second occupant of the house, Lord Kedrington’s aunt on his mother’s side and a lady who could not have been more different from Julia Wilmot had they been born on different continents instead of merely in different counties.

Hester had been one of the celebrated Coverley Girls in her youth, the other being Lord Kedrington’s mother Cecily, and despite her gray ringlets and plump figure, she still retained some of the beauty and all of the vivacity of her youth. As usual, she was dressed in a youthful style and shade of blue and carried a darker silk pelisse over her arm, obviously in preparation to go out. Antonia suspected that a matching bonnet await her in the hall, but Julia disapproved of Hester’s frivolous taste in headgear, so Hester did not inflict it upon her if she could avoid it.

Hester put her head in the door and trilled, “I’m off now, Julia, dear,” before noticing their visitor and stopping in her tracks.

“Antonia! What a delicious treat!” Miss Coverley bustled in to give her dearest Duncan’s pretty wife a hug and express herself delighted to see her.

“Were you telling Julia about the Drummonds’ reception? Oh, I do hope I have not missed too much. Do go on.”

Hester tossed aside her pelisse and sat down, eager to be regaled. Antonia glanced at Julia, whose expression conveyed that she should do as she was told, leaving the announcement of Carey’s latest betrothal to her. Antonia guessed that Julia wished to tell Hester that news in private and to instruct her not to spread it all over town, as she had cheerfully done with Carey’s previous entanglements, not always to Carey’s benefit. Hester could become mulish if Julia told her what to do in front of anyone else, family or no, and agreed that it was better to leave this discussion to the two ladies to conduct in private.

“Only if you tell me about Lady Jersey’s ridotto,” Antonia said. “I daresay you chose the more entertaining event to grace with your presence, for indeed, the talk at the Drummonds’ was boringly political, and Lord Elgin did not even deign to appear.”

She gave the ladies a catalogue of the persons who had attended the reception, as well as a description of the ladies’ gowns, the decoration of the house, and the drawings of the marbles on display in the upper gallery.

At this point, as Antonia had guessed, Hester lost interest in the reception and plunged into a lively description of the ridotto, particularly of all the handsome young gentlemen and charming young ladies who had been present. Hester had a knack of knowing even before the persons involved did themselves which lady would make a match with which gentleman, and while she rarely took an active part in bringing about a match herself, she delighted in watching love’s progress across the London social scene.

She waited until Hester came to a breathless pause in her narrative before rising and saying she must be off.

“May I drive you somewhere, Aunt Hester? I have no other urgent business.”

Julia accepted this assessment of her niece’s visit at face value, and Antonia knew then that Elena would find an ally in her. She smiled thankfully at Julia.

“Oh, thank you, dear,” Hester gushed. “I should like to go first to Hatchard’s to reserve Miss Austen’s new book. It is called
Emma
, and I am told that I will quite sympathize with the heroine, but it is quite impossible to obtain a copy from the lending library, so I will have to pay my guinea if I am to read it before it is quite out of fashion….”

Chattering happily in this fashion, Miss Coverley allowed Lady Kedrington to take her up in her carriage and deposit her in Piccadilly, although she could not persuade dear Antonia to accompany her into Hatchard’s and waved good-bye with regret.

* * * *

“I hope she will forgive me for keeping the news about Carey and Elena from her,” Antonia said to her husband that night, after he had come into her room and slipped between the covers with her. “I had no earthly excuse for doing so, except that Julia seemed to wish it.”

“Hester never holds a grudge,” Duncan said, blowing out the candle beside the bed. He had listened patiently, as he did every night, to Antonia’s recounting of her day’s activities, but she knew his signal when he had had enough. And in truth, she was fatigued as well, having spent the time since parting from Hester in ordering provisions for the dinner party for Elena and Carey and in being fitted for a new gown to wear at it.

She persisted a little longer nonetheless. “Have you given any further thought to Elena’s odd reaction to that drawing last night?” she asked.

“I expect the mystery will clear itself up one day—if we put our minds to other matters in the meanwhile.”

“Excellent advice. I shall put my mind to planning our dinner party to announce Carey’s engagement.”

“Is this the event which was formerly a soirée?”

“Oh, what does it matter what it is called. It will take place in the evening and there will be food. You know I never know what to call my little gatherings until someone tells me the next day what they were.”

“I thought Julia advised going slowly. Surely a formal dinner party will put Elena uncomfortably in the center of attention.”

“But I would not invite anyone with whom she has not become acquainted—and so she would be among friends.”

“Or at least acquaintances.”

“I shall introduce her to my friends before that, and so they will be her friends as well.”

“Do not exhaust yourself in the cause, my love.”

“You always say that, and I never do. You know I enjoy it. Anyway, I shall save my ambitious plans for the wedding.”

“You have made up your mind to approve of this match, then?”

“Wholeheartedly—don’t you?”

“I bow to your genius in these matters, my love.”

She sighed and wondered briefly if her vaunted genius was as dependable as he thought. “Well, I must approve, as my only wish is to see Carey as happy as I am.”

He squeezed her hand and reached over in the darkness to kiss her. “Are you happy, Antonia?”

She frowned, then quickly erased it, hoping he had not seen it in the dark. “Of course I am. Do you doubt it?”

He made no reply, but kissed her again, and then again, languidly but relentlessly. Very soon she felt all thought leave her mind, until only sensation remained, and she succumbed again to the wonder of her husband’s touch.

Chapter 4

Dissatisfied with the mere representations of Lord Elgin’s marbles which were on display at the Drummonds’ reception, the Kedringtons resolved to visit the real thing as soon as possible. This proved to be several days after the reception, during which time Mr. Fairfax had brought Miss Melville to the house several times, and Lady Kedrington was encouraged to believe that she was becoming comfortable in their company.