The Baron and the Bluestocking (6 page)

“I understand you are in need of a good tailor, Mr. Blakeley.”

“So I am informed,” the man said with a rueful countenance. “Miss Whitcombe has informed you that I am to stand for Parliament at the by-election?”

“Yes. Are you willing to take a brisk walk this morning, or would you rather go by hackney to Bond Street?”

“I believe a walk would do me good after two days in the saddle,” he said.

They left the house and began their walk. “Just what kind of an impression would you like to convey?” Shrewsbury asked.

“I will be endeavoring to enlist votes from the property owners in the Chipping Norton area. Most are wealthy. Many are of your class. However, I most definitely do not want to come across as a fribble.”

“And what does Miss Whitcombe suggest?” he asked.

Blakeley’s figure stiffened. “She believes your style is worthy of emulation. She is convinced that I will gain far more support if I am, as she puts it ‘dressed properly.’”

“How flattering, to be sure. However, Miss Whitcombe does not have the vote. Why should her advice move you to take the rather large step of coming to London, consulting a man of whom you have no previous acquaintance, and laying out what will be considerable monies for a new wardrobe?”

The man, who was keeping up a good pace beside him, said, “Miss Whitcombe is well versed in the shibboleths of her class. I am not. I was raised to view clothing in a utilitarian manner—to cover my nakedness, as it were.”

Shrewsbury ruminated on these words. “But what is it about Miss Whitcombe that would make you trust her opinion as to the ‘shibboleths’ of the upper class? She is but a poor vicar’s daughter.”

Blakeley emitted a mirthless laugh. “You impressed her, my lord. She thinks if I am turned out like you that no one will dare to refuse me the vote.”

“Pardon me, but that seems a little double-minded for a woman with Whig or even Radical sympathies. I am surprised you paid her heed.”

Blakeley did not respond for several moments. “You think her to be mistaken, then?”

“I do.”

“You think my raiment sufficient for my purpose?” He looked down at his shapeless black clothes.

“I think we can improve upon it, but I would not go so far as to rig you out like a town beau.”

“That’s a relief! I was dubious about that, I must say.”

“That said, a good tailor is always a wise idea. We shall make Weston our first stop. He is the right one to cut your jackets. No one better.”

Fortunately, at this hour of the morning, the master tailor was free. Under Shrewsbury’s direction, Blakeley ordered three topcoats—one of gray worsted with black trim and another one of black superfine. For evening wear, the young man was persuaded to order a coat of black velvet.

Proceeding on to his tailor, Shrewsbury supervised the purchase of numerous waistcoats, all in conservative shades and patterns, a dozen white shirts, collars, and cravats, black and gray pantaloons, and a single pair of black velvet breeches for evening wear.

With this completed, Christian hailed a hackney and took the man to Brook’s for luncheon. Fortunately, the baron’s reputation in that quarter was good, so he was able to get the unpromising-looking Mr. Blakely past the doorman.

Over their chops, Shrewsbury thought it prudent to give the man a warning. “I promise you that I am a Whig in good standing in the Lords. As such, I would counsel you to take Miss Whitcombe’s more radical ideas with a grain of salt.”

To his surprise, the man grinned. “You don’t think it’s time for a Universal Education Bill, Votes for Women, etcetera?”

“Nor do you, I take it.”

“I listen to Miss Whitcombe for reasons other than her advice. I know well that with a Tory Prime Minister and majority in the Commons, we are unlikely to pass any revolutionary legislation. Too French.”

“It relieves me to hear you say so,” Shrewsbury said, pouring Blakeley another glass of claret. “I, myself, see nothing amiss in universal education; however, as you say, the Tories are in the majority, and anything proposed at this stage must be more in the nature of middle of the road legislation. Am I to understand that you have a personal interest in Miss Whitcombe?”

Blakeley’s face pokered up. “She is a fine woman in all respects. And though she does not dwell on it, I happen to know that she has had a very bad time of it, indeed. So bad, my lord, that her family actually went hungry.”

“In Ruisdell’s parish? I find that hard to believe!”

“The duke and duchess were in Town all this last year. They knew nothing of the Whitcombes’ circumstances other than that the vicar had died and lost the living.”

Shrewsbury was shocked. “Are there any members of the family now remaining in such poverty?”

“Miss Whitcombe’s salary is supporting her three younger sisters. They live in a rooming house in Chipping Norton. The brothers have found work, I am glad to say.”

Thinking of the slim wage paid to Miss Whitcombe, Christian frowned deeply, looking at his plate in reproach for the food that remained there. “Something must be done. I had no clue she was in such straits! I shall speak to Ruisdell immediately. He is a great benefactor; the largest single contributor to the orphanage, as a matter of fact.”

“That would be a relief to me. Until such time as we are married, I can do nothing for Miss Whitcombe or her family. She has refused my help.”

Shrewsbury felt as though something heavy had suddenly lodged itself in his chest. Hélène Whitcombe to marry Blakeley? Keeping his voice even, he said, “You are to be married?”

“I will not ask her until after the by-election. I am fairly certain of success. Miss Whitcombe would like to be married to an MP above all things, I think.”

Shrewsbury thought so, too. It would be a very good marriage for her, seen in that light. And the man’s wealth would be a boon to her family. Why, then, was he so opposed to the idea?

{ 6 }

HÉLÈNE WAS CONSIDERABLY SURPRISED when, two weeks into her teaching, the duke of Ruisdell appeared at the orphanage and stood in the rear of her reading class. On that particular day, they had reached the letter
n
in their study of the alphabet. On the table in front of her was a bowl of nuts, a drawing of a face (an arrow pointing to the nose), and a bright green number nine.

She was soliciting other words beginning with the letter from her class.

“Nobody,” said Sal, her brightest pupil.

“Nuffing,” said Mary.

“Naked,” said Eliza, the troublemaker, snickering. The class joined her.

“Knock,” Doris said.

Hélène said, “Sometimes the ‘n’ sound comes after the letter ‘k.’ A ‘k’ in this combination is silent in the English language. You just have to learn those special words, but it is not hard. It will not seem right to pronounce the letter ‘k.’ Another word that is like this is the kind of knight that wears armor.”

She passed around a book with a picture of a knight.

“Cor, ‘e’s funny looking!” Francie said.

The cowbell rang, announcing luncheon. As the girls raced out the door, the duke came forward into the yellow room. He was dressed in riding clothes with a days’ growth of sandy beard, giving him the appearance of a man who had driven hence with urgent business.

“Hello, Miss Whitcombe. Your teaching progresses well, it seems. How do you find your pupils?”

She swallowed nervously. “Some are eager to learn. A few make things difficult, but I am managing well enough.”

“Splendid! I should like to speak to you privately, if that is possible, on a matter of some importance.”

She offered him her chair and sat on top of one of the short, long tables used by her students as a desk, modestly crossing her ankles. “This room will do. It will be unoccupied for the next hour.”

“Well enough.” He fixed her with his eyes. Was he going to tell her that she was not suitable for the job? Had Lord Shrewsbury told him of her political ideas? Did he take objection to them?

The face he raised to hers wore an expression of sorrow. “I owe you my deepest apologies, Miss Whitcombe. Indeed, I feel so remorseful that I have no idea how to make up for the suffering you have endured.”

“Suffering? But I assure you, your grace, I have been treated exceedingly well.”

“I am referring to the length of time after your father’s death and before you were employed here. I understand from Lord Shrewsbury that your family was so badly off that you actually went hungry.”

Her cheeks colored and she looked down at the skirt of her serviceable black serge uniform. How roundly she had abused the duke during that period! Had Lord Shrewsbury come to hear of it somehow? Holding her head up, she looked him in the eye and said, “That is true, your grace.”

His forehead furrowed and his eyes conveyed deep distress. “It is no excuse that we were in Town and unaware of your plight. We should have inquired. I had no idea your father had left you
completely
penniless.”

Perhaps to make up for her earlier abuse of him, she tried to excuse his neglect. “The duchess did recommend me for this position, your grace. And you found work for my brothers.”

“In the meantime, you starved.”

She remained silent in her acknowledgement.

“I understand your sisters are living in Chipping Norton in lodgings, and that your salary goes to maintain them.”

Where had he learned this? Her question must have appeared on her face, for he said, “Your friend Mr. Blakeley was angry on your behalf. He related the details to Lord Shrewsbury, who was so appalled he wasted no time in making me aware of the facts. I came straight here. What has become of your mother?”

“She lives with her sister, who has a small jointure from her husband.”

The duke stood and paced. “I shall arrange a pension for her. And I should like to take you and your sisters into my household. I will provide a governess for your sisters. You, I should like to have a Season in Town. Anyone of your intelligence and beauty should be given the opportunity to marry well.”

His words raised such a conflict in Hélène that she could not speak. Undoubtedly, the offer of a season and the chance to marry well was very generous from his point of view. But it went contrary to everything she had come to stand for! Marriage as a way of finding security was not for her. She certainly did not want any part of a
ton
marriage.

“You are very kind, your grace. I thank you on behalf of myself and my sisters. I have taken a lesson from my misfortunes. It is our intention only to marry if we can see our way to becoming an equal partner with our husbands. Such a marriage would be impossible among the
ton.
”

The duke straightened and his eyes were suddenly fierce. “I can understand that such might be your view, for I am well aware that you espouse radical political beliefs. But is it really fair to impose those beliefs on your sisters? They are all under the age of eighteen. Your wage can only provide them the sketchiest of means. I cannot even begin to imagine the squalid rooms in which they must be living. At least give them the chance to decide for themselves.”

Hélène pressed her lips in a grim line. She supposed she could not expect this duke to understand the irony of the situation. It was precisely because of his neglect at the time of her father’s death that she was determined never again to be dependent on a man or the existing social system for her well-being. She and her sisters would be as independent as they could manage, society being what it was.

“Your grace, have you considered what is to become of my sisters? They cannot live forever on your largesse. Would it not be better if they continued to train under me to be teachers or governesses? They cannot be expected to see far ahead enough to make proper, well-thought-out decisions.”

He paced again, running a hand through his unruly light brown hair with its strands of silver. “I must, in all good conscience, visit your sisters and observe their living situation. If nothing else, I must give you a stipend for their care. You must see that.”

Hélène tried to view the issue objectively. Was it really fair that her sisters should live in such poverty when the means were available for their relative comfort? Even if the whole situation smacked of the feudal system? Oh, that the Enlightenment were truly here—that women might have more choices in their lives!

She stared at her feet. Her sisters must realize that the temporary ease they might enjoy in the Ruisdell household was not what they could expect from life when they became of age. “You may see my sisters, your grace. But please try to understand their true plight. If you offer them luxury, they are bound to accept. I beg you not to do so. It will be that much harder for them to accept a life as a teacher or governess when the time comes.”

The duke pursed his lips. “Surely you paint too grim a picture, Miss Whitcombe. You are bound to marry. At such a time they will live with you, will they not?”

“I do not know that I will marry. And should I do so, my husband may not have the means . . .”

“Cut line, Miss Whitcombe! You must know very well that young Blakeley intends to offer for you. He is wealthy enough to support any number of sisters.”

She could feel anger rush from her chest into her head. “Where, might I ask, did you get that idea?”

“Mr. Blakeley said as much to Lord Shrewsbury.”

“And all three of you take my acceptance of his suit for granted?”

The duke pounded her desk with his fist. “Why must you be so confounded difficult? Take my stipend then! You would not deny it if it were for your orphans, would you? Why should you and your sisters, who are also orphans, be denied funds simply because of
your
mistaken pride?”

Was it pride? The idea that it could be thus construed took the wind out of her sails. She and her sisters
were
a charity case. Just as surely as these girls from the East End. Like it or not.

“I will not offer you an exorbitant amount,” he continued. “I will ask Mrs. Blakeley to recommend a better situation for your sisters. When I have found it, I will arrange to pay for it. I will also arrange for their board. All that will remain is for me to leave with you money for clothing and emergencies, such as doctor bills.”