The Regency (15 page)

‘
And I think, what does it matter? What does it matter
whether I get up at all? Without Weston, there doesn't seem
any point to anything.’

Her eyes filled, and Brummell halted and turned her to
face the nearest shop window while he drew his handkerchief
from his sleeve. 'Here, have this, and pretend to be admiring
the display in the window. A pity it should be nothing more
fascinating than brushes, but perhaps I might be explaining to
you the essential differences between badger and hog. My
dear ma'am, what are you thinking of? You really cannot cry in public! And particularly not when I have been giving you
my arm the whole length of Bond Street! What would people
think? A woman on my arm is supposed to be enjoying the
most uplifting experience polite society can offer. You will
utterly ruin my reputation, you know.’

While he chattered to protect her, she pressed his handker
chief to her eyes, and blew her nose as discreetly as possible.
The handkerchief was of spotless white linen edged with lace, and was subtly scented with the same elusive fragrance which hung about the Beau himself; and a surge of affection for him
warmed her, and helped to dry the tears at source. Seeing her
more herself, he went on in more serious vein.

‘
You have had a very poor run of luck, dear ma'am, and
you know you have my every sympathy. But you must not
give way to self-pity, which besides being unhelpful to oneself
and tiresome to one's friends, also has the effect of intro
ducing disagreeable lines to one's face.' She gave a watery laugh. 'That's better! Consider, dear Lady Aylesbury, how
many friends you have, who are being deprived of the twin
pleasures of talking
to
you, and
about
you behind your back!
We need you to brace us and scandalise us again!'

‘I never did,' Lucy said indignantly.

‘
You have been doing nothing but since you first came to
Town! Don't forget, you are the woman who beat the Prince's
driving time from London to Brighton; and your record, by
the by, has never yet been broken! I think you should set
yourself another challenge of the same sort. We are all dying for something new to wager upon. Alvanley, you know, is to
make another attempt to run a mile in less than six minutes.
One would never take him for an athlete, by the look of him,
would one?' He sketched a circle in the air with one exquisite
hand.

‘
You cannot mean me to challenge Lord Alvanley to a
running race,' Lucy said amused. Brummell noted the new life in her eyes, and smiled with inward satisfaction.

‘
I would not put even that past you, when you are in your
normal spirits! But I think something in the riding or driving
line might be more suitable. You still have that man-eating
horse of yours, haven't you?'

‘You mean Minstrel? Yes, of course.'

‘
Well, then, why not challenge somebody to a point-to-
point race? It will amuse us all, and even if you don't win, it
will give you something to do to keep your mind occupied.'

‘
If I do it, I will certainly win,' Lucy said with spirit, and at
that moment a hesitant voice from behind them interrupted
her.

‘Lady Aylesbury?’

They both turned, to see Robert Knaresborough standing
poised as if to flee, evidently deeply uncertain of his reception.
The scandal of his relationship with Lucy's husband had bro
ken so immediately before the latter's death that there were
those who believed Lord Aylesbury had taken his own life.
The scandal had been hushed up, Robert had departed the
capital for the far North, and Lucy, at that time in a state of
shock over the death of Captain Weston, had never under
stood all the details; but it took a great deal of courage for
Robert to accost her at all, and particularly when she was in
the company of George Brummell.

Knaresborough was wearing the bands of half-mourning,
and in the time since Lucy had seen him last, he seemed to
have grown taller and heavier, and aged five years.

‘
Why — Robert,' she said cautiously, and then on an
impulse held out her hand. 'How do you do?’

His shoulders relaxed, and he took it gratefully. 'It's very
good of you to ask,' he said. ‘Mr Brummell, sir.' He bowed
almost reverently to Brummell, who, for Lucy's sake gave
him a civil nod, but did not smile.

‘I see you are in mourning,' Lucy said.

‘
My mother died in January,' he said, and a shadow crossed
his face.

‘
Good heavens! I had no idea she was ill,' Lucy said
unguardedly.

Robert looked a little reproachful. 'She often complained
of her delicate health, but I think many people believed it was
only her imagination. I know Lord Ballincrea tried to hint as
much last year when Mama was taken badly just before the
Carlisle meeting, and I had to stay and look after her.'
Lucy coughed, and exchanged a fleeting glance with Brummell. 'But what happened, Robert? Was it her old
trouble? Did the physicians find out what was wrong with her?
Robert shook his head sadly. 'They were always baffled by
Mama's symptoms, and so it was at the end. It was very sud
den. She had been upset during the evening because I was going away for a few days on business to a small estate of mine about fifty miles off. She didn't come down to break
fast, but sent a message saying she felt too tired, and that I
need not come up to say goodbye, as she knew I was in a
hurry to get away. I —' He hesitated, his cheeks reddening.
'I'm afraid I took her at her word, and didn't disturb her. I
set off on horseback for Headsham, and I was only half-way
there when I was overtaken by a servant. She'd been taken ill
as soon as I left. I turned back with him at once, but it was
too late.' He swallowed. 'She was dead before I arrived.'
Lucy looked at him with pity. 'Oh poor Robert!' she said.
She had never had much imagination, but she could read
between the lines of this story easily enough. The suspicion
that his mother was a
malade imaginaire
must at last have
begun to impinge on him, as it had long ago occurred to the
rest of the world. For once in his life he had taken a stand and refused to give in to her velvet-gloved blackmail; and she had
died, and he was riven by remorse and guilt.

It was entirely possible, Lucy thought with loathing, that the old witch had died of rage, or simply to spite him, but of
course one could not say that to Robert. Lucy had always
hated bullying, and her indignation on his behalf made her
speak to him more kindly than she might otherwise have done.
‘So you have come to London? Well, that was sensible. No-
one can be dull in London. Do you make a long stay?'

‘
I was thinking of living here permanently,' he said shyly. 'I
have nothing now to keep me in the North, apart from my
estates, and they run themselves with only occasional supervi
sion from me. I thought I might take a house, and settle
down. I might get married, even, if anyone will have me.’

Brummell looked more approving, and said, 'You wilt have
no difficulty there, Mr Knaresborough. You have only to
murmur your income in the right ear, and you will find all the mamas consider you most eligible.’

Knaresborough smiled a little ruefully. 'Yes, I suppose that
is all that matters.'

‘
It matters most, but not exclusively,' Brummell said. 'You
need also to belong to the right clubs. I believe you once had a
desire to join Watiers? If you are still of the same mind, I
should be happy to put you up for membership.’

Lucy glanced approvingly at her friend and squeezed his
arm in gratitude. Robert, astonished and pleased, stammered
his thanks.

‘It's most awfully good of you, sir,' he said.

‘
Yes, it is, isn't it?' Brummell agreed. 'And perhaps Lady
Aylesbury might advise you on which young women to bestow
your attentions.'

‘
Me? No, nonsense! My children are all too young for me to
have that sort of interest,' Lucy said.

‘How are the children, ma'am?' Robert asked eagerly.

‘
They are very well. I have them in Town with me. Why
don't you call some time and see them? They were very fond
of you; and Roland in particular often asks after you.'

‘
Does he? Oh, I should like it above all things. I missed
them dreadfully when I — went away. Thank you, Lady
Aylesbury, thank you indeed!' They exchanged a few more
words, and then he took his leave, walking away down the
street with a lighter tread.

Lucy and Brummell watched him go, and then turned the
other way.

‘
Well, that was a good deed on our part,' Brummell
remarked. 'I wonder why we should both have been seized
with the desire to be kind to that young man?'

‘
Oh, there's no harm to him really,' Lucy said. 'It was his
ogre of a mother who ruined his life.'

‘
Hmm,' Brummell said, as if unconvinced. 'I wonder. It's
true that the particular manner of her death made me feel
quite sorry for him, but when I tell you that I almost offered
to walk to the end of the street with him —'

‘Really?' Lucy said, startled.

‘
I managed to restrain myself,' Brummell nodded, 'but the
impulse quite unnerved me. And if I put him up for Watiers
after having made a point of refusing him, everyone will think
I have run mad.'

‘
No-one will remember that; and if they do, they will only
think you are being capricious, as usual.'

‘
I am never capricious,' Brummell corrected her sternly. 'I
am interesting.’

Lucy grunted. 'But why did you refuse him, when my
husband put him up?' she asked. 'I never did understand.’

Brummell looked at her affectionately. 'No, you never did.
And you never would. That is one of the things I love about
you, dear Lady Aylesbury, so please don't try. One cannot
always predict the outcome of one's actions,' he added
thoughtfully, as though to himself. 'Suffice it to say that if
there is any peace to be found in making reparation, I am not
one to spurn it.'

‘
I don't understand you,' Lucy frowned. 'What repara
tion?’

He kissed her hand. 'Nothing in the world,' he said. 'Here
are your horses again, and the good Parslow, so I will take my
leave. You are looking happier than you did ten minutes ago. I believe you haven't thought about yourself for the past fifty
yards at least.'