Lady Barbara's Dilemma (2 page)

“And about time.”

“Now, what is worrying you about Barbara?”

“I don’t know exactly,” confessed his wife. “That is,” she continued, as Simon groaned again, “I know that she is not herself, that she is unhappy, but she does not talk about it. In fact, she hardly talks to me anymore except about the least important matters. And she told me the other day that she is going to discontinue her studies with Signor Cavalcanti.”

“She may only feel that she needs a break from her practice. After all, she has been working with him for four years.”

“But that is precisely it, Simon. Barbara has been devoted to her music for as long as I can remember.”

“Do you think she is in love?”

“I don’t think so. Although that itself may be the problem,” added Judith thoughtfully.

“She spent quite a bit of time with Peter Rushcliffe during the Little Season, didn’t she?”

“Yes. I am sure that he was developing a
tendre
for her. Whether she did for him, I don’t know. But she certainly gave him more attention than she has anyone for years. If he chooses to come up for this Season, I am sure he has a good chance of winning her. I only want her to be as happy as we are, Simon.”

“We are, aren’t we, Judith?” said the duke, gently stroking his wife’s hair.

“Frighteningly so.”

“Nothing to be frightened of, my love,” replied her husband, pulling her closer and burying his face in her neck.

Lady Barbara Stanley absently fingered the keys of the pianoforte. She had been in the music room for the better part of an hour and still had not been able to put her mind to her practice.

Two weeks ago she had turned twenty-six. Each Season since her first had gotten less and less enjoyable. Early on she had seen her contemporaries married off, and now there was a new generation of young women. Not precisely a new generation, she reminded herself humorously, but it felt that way. Seasons had come and gone, suitors had filled her dance cards, sent her flowers, and a few had gone even so far as to make her offers. She had been attracted by none of them.

The trouble is, she thought, I have been holding Simon and Judith’s marriage before me as a model of what I want. And that is foolish, for their marriage is a rare thing in our circle. The young ladies that come and go are not holding out for a love match.

At the thought of Simon and Judith, her fingers became still. The fact that her closest friend was so happy should make her happy. And it had, for a year or two. She had felt a part of the magic, and when Sophy was born, become her beloved godmother. But Judith’s interests were different now, centered around her family and her new pregnancy. It was not that the Suttons were not inclusive: they had always made Barbara feel like a member of the family. But Judith was less interested in discussions about art and literature and more in conversations about when a child should begin to learn her letters and how one felt in the early months of pregnancy. In fact, she had become quite friendly with the new Countess of Alverstoke, who was expecting her first child the month after Judith her second.

Barbara liked Miranda; who could not? But she was young, completely wrapped up in her husband and expected child, and found Judith to be a great support, just as she had been in the weeks before Miranda’s marriage. Whenever Barbara called on Judith these days, it seemed that the countess was there before her, playing with Sophy or engaging in conversations with Judith about the details of labor and delivery. Or talking about the paradoxical reactions of doting husbands when faced with the reality of a first child.

Barbara would drink her tea and eat her cake during these conversations and feel like a spinster of advanced age. It was not that Judith was willfully ignoring her. It was just that her family concerns were so absorbing. As well they should be, thought Barbara. I have no right to feel resentful.

But she couldn’t help it. She did feel both resentful and jealous…and even angry. In fact, sometimes when she walked into the house on Brook Street, she almost hated Judith and Simon for their happiness, and it was all she could do to utter polite comments and keep a spiteful tone out of her voice.

Where once she had shared all her deepest feelings with Judith, now she was afraid to talk to her at all for fear she would reveal her ugly anger and jealousy. How could one say to one’s best friend: “I resent your happiness,” when that friend was always trying to share her happiness? How could one say: “I feel excluded,” when Simon and Judith were always encouraging her to join them? Above all, how could one say, like a small child: “I thought
I
was your best friend, but now you spend your time with Lady Alverstoke”? And so Barbara said less and less and was careful to visit when there was likely to be company so the gradual loss of their intimate talks was less noticeable.

For a while, before her emotions had reached their present state, her music had been her refuge. The past four years she had concentrated on her studies with Signor Cavalcanti and made remarkable progress. Barbara knew she was now the equal of any professional performer. But what was the point of knowing one was good enough for the concert stage when one could never walk onto one? And so, for the past few months, practice felt meaningless, until she finally decided to give it up. “Oh, only for a few months,” she had assured her teacher and her brother and her friends. “I need a short rest, after all these years.”

She had thought she would miss it, but she didn’t. She had wandered into the music room this morning to see if she could rekindle her interest, but here she was, as blue-deviled as ever, and music was not going to lift her mood.

The only times her mood lightened at all these days was when she thought about the coming Season. She had noticed Peter Rushcliffe’s growing interest in her this past autumn, and of all the men who had come her way over the years, he interested her the most. When they waltzed, she had felt pleasure in their closeness, and enjoyed their conversations. She was determined to look upon this Season as a decisive one. If she was very lucky, she would find a potential for passion with the Marquess of Wardour. At the very least, she would discover whether their feelings for one another could support a marriage. She thought they could, hoped they could, for if he made an offer she was determined to accept. It would be delightful if she could love him, but she knew she could respect him and was ready to settle for respect and affection. She was tired of being “Auntie Barbara” to Sophy and to Robin’s two boys. It was time she had a husband and children of her own.

The Season started slowly, with Lady Harlech’s ball the third week of April expected to be the first real crush. The Duke and Duchess of Sutton planned to attend, for Lord Harlech was a noted Whig. It was likely to be one of Judith’s few large events this year because of her pregnancy, and for that reason she was determined to make the most of the occasion and host a small dinner party of friends beforehand.

“Robin and Diana. Jeremy and Miranda. Nora and Sam. Barbara…whom shall I invite for Barbara, Simon?” asked Judith as she wrote out her invitations.

“Wardour?”

“No, no.”

“I thought you said he appeared interested?”

“Yes, he did, but it would be much too soon and too obvious,” Judith explained. “Can you think of anyone?”

“What about David Treves?” Simon suggested after a few moments’ thought.

“Yes, he would be perfect. Someone who shares an interest in music. A potential friend but not suitor.”

The evening of her dinner party all of the guests but one had arrived when Judith came down a little late and a little breathless. “Sophy always seems to demand one more story when she knows that guests are coming,” she explained. Diana gave her an indulgent smile. Judith had always been unconventional in her parenting habits, but Simon seemed not to disapprove. She herself, however, much as she loved her twins, was always grateful to turn them over to their nurse, and Robin, thank goodness, encouraged her to do so.

Judith sat herself down next to Viscount Vane and joined in the debate over Ireland. In a few minutes all, with the exception of Diana, Barbara, and Nora, who were discussing Miss Austen’s final novel, were caught up in the debate, and the butler had to announce the final guest twice.

“Sir David Treves, your grace.”

Barbara looked up first, for Judith had told her that Sir David would be her partner at dinner. Her friend had said it straightforwardly and with none of the assumed nonchalance of one who was making an attempt at matchmaking, so Barbara had decided Sir David would be older and not attractive. In reality, he looked only a few years older than she, and was very handsome, albeit in an un-English way. She wondered idly if he was Welsh on his mother’s side, for he had the black hair, brown eyes, and dark skin that occur amongst Celtic people. Or perhaps Spanish, she thought, as she noticed the clean, sharp planes of his face and aquiline nose.

Simon, who had finally heard the second announcement, stood up and made his way to the door. Sir David tactfully moved forward to meet him, Barbara noticed with approval, and extended his hand and greeted the duke so Simon would know immediately where he was.

“Come,” said Simon, “let me introduce you to a few of the ladies before I pull you into our debate.”

Although she had seen it again and again, Barbara always marveled at how easily, despite his blindness, Simon moved when he was in a familiar place. He knew the exact placement of the furniture and immediately located Barbara and her companions by the sounds of their voices.

“David, I would like you to meet Lady Barbara Stanley, Lady Vane, and Lady Stanley.”

David bowed.

“Lady Stanley and Lady Barbara are sisters-in-law,” Simon explained.

“I have heard you are a talented musician, Lady Barbara,” said Treves with more than polite interest.

“You have heard correctly,” interjected Simon. “I’ll leave you two to discuss your passion.”

“Do you play an instrument, Sir David?” queried Lady Vane.

“Unfortunately not. My father pulled me into the family business years ago, and so I am only an educated listener. But a passionate one, and I have had the opportunity, from time to time, of helping a musician on his way.”

“And your family’s business is…?” asked Diana in a tone that bordered on the impolite. Barbara looked at her sideways, puzzled by her sudden coolness and suspecting that she knew perfectly well what the Treves family business was.

“Mr. Joshua Treves is the head of Treves and Sons, which contributed so much to Wellington’s campaign,” said Lady Vane. “I am delighted to see you again, David.”

“And I you, Nora. I mean, my lady.”

“No, we had agreed on first names, David.”

“Thank you, Nora.”

“We were just discussing Miss Austen’s
Persuasion.
But perhaps you would prefer a more animated discussion,” said Nora, nodding her head in the direction of Simon and the others.

“I think I will stay here if I may? It is not every day that a man can be surrounded by both beauty and intelligence.”

The compliment was commonplace, and although Barbara heard it as sincere, she also had the feeling that some sort of challenge was being offered. Diana clearly disapproved of something in Treves’ background and had expressed it in the most convoluted and English of ways. Treves could have taken the easy way out and joined the others. Barbara was glad that he hadn’t. She loved her sister-in-law, but like Judith, couldn’t help noticing that the Diana who had been a bit wild as a young woman had turned into the most sedate wife with the most conventional of ideas.

Sir David was obviously someone who liked literature as well as music, thought Barbara as she listened to his conversation with Nora. Diana and Barbara had remained silent, Diana to show her disapproval and Barbara to see if she could learn something about her dinner partner. She wondered if Sir David was a less-than-subtle attempt at matchmaking on Judith’s part when he led her into dinner.

“Have you been acquainted with the duke and duchess for a long time, Lady Barbara?” asked Treves after they had been seated.

“I have known Simon all my life, and Judith since my school days,” she replied. “In fact, I feel partly responsible for their marriage.” When Treves looked at her questioningly, she said, “But that is a long story and I’m afraid it would bore you. Have you known Simon very long?”

“I met him briefly before Waterloo, and renewed my acquaintance over this past year.”

“Can I assume, then, that you are interested in the same political questions?”

“Yes, we have the same broad principles, and I have a particular interest of my own,” replied Sir David slowly.

“Have you ever thought of standing for a seat in the House yourself, Sir David?”

“I have thought of it often, Lady Barbara, but there are certain difficulties…” Treves let his voice trail off and Barbara was unwilling to pry further. Perhaps his family preferred him to stay with the business.

“Tell me something about your music, Lady Barbara.”

“There is not much to tell,” replied Barbara, conscious that for some reason she wanted to tell Sir David everything about her discouragement There was an air of sympathy about him and she had heard something in his voice just now that made her think that he too knew something about frustrated dreams.

“Somehow I find that hard to believe,” said Treves.

“You are right. There is a lot to tell. Too much,” Barbara said, her voice trembling slightly.

“Well, we do have a few more courses before the confections,” said Treves with an encouraging smile.

“I will put it in a nutshell so as not to bore you,” said Barbara. “I have been studying for many years, I have some talent, and because I am a woman I will never be able to exercise that talent in the way I wish. And so I have given up my lessons. There. I have said it. And to a complete stranger! But there is something about you, Sir David, that encourages confidence. And when you spoke of certain difficulties earlier, I had the idea that perhaps you too have wanted something you can’t have?”