The Determined Bachelor (21 page)

When the Prince had passed quite down the line, he moved off to the next room, where the banquet table was ready set, in solid gold plate! His chair had been set up in the middle, and there he ensconsed himself, smiling, and waving for us all to take our places. I did not know which way to look at first, for there seemed no accomodation for a governess. When I saw my own charge settled—the children were all seated at one side, and their elders at the other—I whispered to a footman, who stared back as if he had not heard. But the Princess Lieven took me by the arm, for which I was most grateful, and propeled me toward a chair next to her own. I found myself between
that
elegant lady and Miss Newsome, who is certainly the most vulgar creature I ever knew. Having made one brief inquiry into Sir Basil's health,
she turned away and did not address another remark to me all the while. I was saved from boredom, however, by the Princess.
She
could not say enough, whether in praise of Nicole, or my employer, or even of myself, questioning me closely in the most extraordinary fashion. I did not comprehend at first what she wished to know, but very soon guessed. I would not whisper a hint of it to any other living soul, my dear Ben, but to you I must confide everything. Can you imagine? I am perfectly certain she believes that Nicole is the natural daughter of Sir Basil. That implication—never voiced, of course—shocked me so much, and certainly enraged my loyalty to Nicole, if not to her guardian, that I scarely knew where to look. But when I had gleaned a further imputation—oh! so subtly made—that Lady Cardovan was the mother, I nearly got up from my place and ran out of the room upon the spot. How was I to reply? The idea is too ludicrous to even consider, never mind contradict. And yet here was this gentlewoman—a lady in every respect, my superior in age, station, and elegance—querying me in the most outrageous manner. I kept my seat, endeavoured to change the subject, and finally managed to subdue my outrage. At the time it was extreme, as you must imagine. But in the last day and a half, I have had time to think upon it more soberly.

Sir Basil detests women, which is universally known, and yet he nearly idolizes the great Lady C. They are such intimate friends that she alone advises him upon every subject. It was she, as you remember, who first engaged me for this post, she who governs Nicole's education more even than Sir Basil or myself, she who dresses, reprimands, and serves generally as benevolent godmother to the child. Her affection for Nicole, once more, is so extreme—far surpassing the natural warmth of a woman for a little girl who is not her own—that I am torn equally between outrage and credulity, at the Princess's implications. Most certainly I am intrigued, as you must guess. And infinitely sorry for the child, should any of this ever come to light, moreso even than for Lady Cardovan, who is the finest creature I ever met. I cannot believe it, and yet my incredulity strikes me from time to time as founded solely upon wishful thinking. All the facts point to the truth of the Princess's suspicions, and yet in my heart I cannot believe it.

What perplexes me most, as you must imagine, is not whether or not the suspicion is true, but how to deal with the rumour, should it sooner or later come to light. Lady C. must
never hear of it, and yet would not it be preferable if she did, than to hear of it through some less sympathetic channel than myself? I cringe to think what might be her reaction to such a piece of news—true or false; and I would not for all the world be the bearer of it. Sir Basil ought to know, however, if only to protect his own and the lady's honour. So far I believe I am the only one who guesses, for I am sure the Princess Lieven was only endeavouring to get some proof from me the other day—with which attempt you can be sure I would not help. I only pray that before I had guessed what she was about, I did not inadvertently say anything to keep her fire ablaze, or make it grow. She had so ingratiating a manner that I could not help but speak freely to her, though saying nothing, if I recollect aright, which could by any stretch of the imagination have increased her suspicions. From having admired her as the most elegant woman I ever saw, I am now reduced to an extreme horror at her mind. Who would have thought there would be so much evil and conniving within that beautiful head?

I fear my letter must be as confused as my brain at this moment. Every day has brought such violent changes in my attitudes, every moment so increased my humility before the maze of human conduct, that whatever I once had of certainty, right-thinking, or clear-headedness is utterly lost. When I recollect the complacency with which I arrived in London only a fortnight ago, I can only smile. Sir Basil's character has so much defeated me that I am incapable of attempting a satire of him. My few inadequate pages were torn up long ago, and even my former confidence in the handling of children is gone up in smoke. I hope you will not be very ashamed of your poor Anne when she creeps home, defeated and rebuffed by her own illusions of grandeur!

My manuscript appears tomorrow in the form of a book. I am to collect two volumes from the printing house in the morning, and shall send you one direct. Only wish me success, and know that if it comes to pass, it will be our joint effort that made it so.

I remain your faithful, and much humbled,

Anne
                

Chapter XV

This was the content of Anne's letter, but not of her heart. It was the truth, but not all of it, for however much she trusted her brother, who was her dearest friend as well as closest ally, she did not trust her heart and all the conflicting emotions which were waging war within her. She did not, for instance, mention the new sensations which had begun to plague her whenever she was in the Ambassador's presence, for she was not herself sure of what they meant, but neither could she laugh them away with the old satiric mirth which had protected her from any vulnerability toward the male sex in the whole course of her life. Neither reason nor understanding served to make them comprehensible, for in many ways Sir Basil still seemed to her the very antithesis of what an amiable man ought to be.

But amiability, as any woman will attest, is not always the first requisite of a tender sentiment, and very often it is the exact opposite quality which first excites those instincts capable of making the feminine heart leap up. As to that, in fact, Sir Basil had already upset her first prejudice against him, which had been founded, if the truth must be known, as much upon her own vision as upon what that vision saw. He had proved himself, if not exactly disposed to warmth, at least less icy than she had first thought, and there had been moments, sometimes no more than flashes, when she thought she had detected something more. In any case, he was more in the way of a man than she had ever had to deal with: more experienced, more seasoned, more intelligent, and certainly more handsome. So many commendable qualities are seldom met with by a female without some slight emotion,
and Anne, for all her stubborn intractability, was no exception. But the quality which had first touched her, had been his awkwardness in the face of his new responsibilities. That such a man, a man used to dealing with great issues without a flicker of self-doubt, should have been brought up short before the idea of fatherhood, had amused her at first, and had gradually made him what nothing else could have done in her eyes—human. From there it was a short step to liking, and for all her determination to the contrary, she had found herself touched, moved, and flattered by the humility with which he had invoked her approval that night before the visit to Carlton House. Since then, there had been more to make her stop and think, more even than the issue of Nicole's parentage, which had certainly done much to sober her.

The very night of the visit to the Prince, Sir Basil had again requested her to stay with him after the child had been put to bed, and this time his conduct had been such that she could not help liking him. The suspicion in her heart, founded upon the Princess Lieven's peculiar conversation that afternoon, however, had ruined her enjoyment of the interview, which ought to have been the cause of some elation. But all Sir Basil's geniality toward herself, all his interest in her opinions and invitations to express her ideas, had been marred by the confusion in her heart.

Sir Basil seemed to have no point in requesting the interview, and commenced it by excusing himself.

“I hope I am not keeping you from some more enjoyable occupation,” said he in a rather muffled tone as soon as they had been served their coffee.

“Oh, no!” responded Anne, perhaps too quickly

“Are you sure? You need not stand upon ceremony, you know.”

“I am perfectly sure, Sir Basil,” replied Anne, smiling now. “I was only going to read a book. But I am so much stimulated by the day's events that I doubt I should be capable of any concentration.”

“Ah! Did you enjoy yourself? I hope it was not too dull.”

“Dull! No, nothing like it! I believe I was more amused than Nicole.”

Astonishingly, Sir Basil put back his head and laughed.

“Sir?” inquired Anne.

“I was just thinking of what the others must have thought when she asked if the King was better.”

Anne smiled uncertainly. “The Prince did not take any offense.
He looked rather more amused than angry. It was only the others———”

“Ha! I can imagine. I should have done a great deal to see Lady Jersey's face.”

“It
was
rather comical, Sir.”

Sir Basil smiled and turned about his coffee cup upon its saucer. There was a moment's pause.

“And what did you do, whilst the little ones stuffed their mouths?” he demanded in a moment.

“I was very well looked after by the Princess Lieven, Sir. She took me under her care during the whole of tea, and asked me a great many questions.”

Anne glanced uncertainly up. Sir Basil, however, was still immersed in his coffee cup, and gave no sign of any keener attention than the outward response required. For an instant she was tempted to blurt out what she suspected, but a moment's thought made her keep her peace.

“A very beautiful woman, Livvy.”

“Exceedingly beautiful, Sir. And exceedingly charming.”

“Makes a profession of it. She has two or three children herself, but I cannot fathom where she finds the time to see them. She is so much in demand about Town, I hardly think she glimpses her own husband above once a week.”

“She was most interested in Nicole.”

“Was she? How kind of her.” Sir Basil smiled ironically. “I did not know she was a lover of orphans.”

Now Anne was sorely tempted to divulge the matter which had been uppermost in her mind all afternoon, but again, refrained. She satisfied herself by saying, instead, “Of
some
orphans, I suppose. She spoke in glowing terms of
you
, Sir.”

“Did she?” The Baronet raised an eyebrow. “Well, well. That would not be the first time Livvy ever spoke
glowingly
of anyone.”

Anne hesitated. “She spoke very highly of Lady Cardovan as well.”

“Ah! Well, of course. Lady Cardovan is deserving of high praise from everyone.”

“Indeed, Sir.” Anne felt a sudden sinking sensation, the cause of which she could not fathom. “Lady Cardovan is the greatest lady I have ever met.”

“You show very good taste, then, Miss Calder,” replied Sir Basil with feeling. “She is the greatest lady
I
have ever met, as well. Had it not been for her—ah, well. . . .” The Baronet's voice trailed off.

Anne had leaned forward eagerly, ready to catch whatever Sir Basil, in his instant of ingenuous confidence, would tell her. But the instant passed, the Baronet's face mirrored a change of heart, and a moment later he had struck up the conversation again on quite a different note.

“So! Now you have seen the Prince. And what do you think of him?”

Anne, rather disappointed, replied that she had been amazed by him, but that “as to her reaction she could not tell on such short acquaintance.”

Sir Basil laughed, a hearty, frank laugh which brought a smile to Anne's face as well.

“You are too reserved, Miss Calder. By Jove—I never thought I should say that to you! But you must feel under no obligation to dissimulate with me. Goodness knows, I have spoken freely enough to
you
. And now you must do me the honour of responding in kind.”

“Sir?”

“Tell me, Miss Calder, under pain of dismissal, your true reaction to the Regent.”

“That is very strict, Your Excellency. Am I under pain of dismissal to think poorly of him, or well?”

For a moment, their eyes met. There was an expression of astonishment in those of the Baronet, one of challenge in Anne's.

“The truth, Miss Calder, I demand the truth. I believe I may count upon
you
to be honest.”

Anne smiled, a trifle ironically. “Well, I am glad of
that
at least, Sir. I thought him very fat, which was no surprise, and rather jolly, which
was
. I cannot be a judge of his rule, Sir—but as a most expansive and genial host, he outdoes every expectation.”

Sir Basil's eyes narrowed as he continued to stare keenly at the governess, whose cheeks grew hot beneath their gaze. His words, spoken a moment later on an expulsion of breath, however, were hardly critical.