The Regency (56 page)

‘Go away?' James said. 'What on earth for?'

‘
Oh, it is the new thing amongst people of fashion, didn't
you know? To go away from home for a month in the summer
is
de rigeur.
They go to the seaside, you know.'

‘
Oh, do they? Well, I'm not going to Scarborough, if that's
your plan,' James said quickly. Scarborough was increasingly fashionable, but it had bitter memories for him.

‘
No, love,' Héloïse said with a soft smile. 'I thought we
might just take a few servants and go and stay at Plaisir for a
little while, all on our own.'

‘At Plaisir?' His face brightened.

‘
Just as if it were our honeymoon. For we never had one,
did we, my James?' She looked up at him with shining eyes.

‘
No, Marmoset, we didn't,' James said, folding his arms
round her. He thought of the little cottage in the tiny village
at the foot of the North York Moors; of living with her in the
intimacy of a small house, and the simplicity of few servants;
of recapturing the delight of the magical time they had once spent together there, stolen out of the main flow of life, and
the sweeter for it. He felt younger just thinking about it.

He kissed the crown of her dark head. 'We'll do it,' he said
decisively.

*

Fanny set off for Manchester in high spirits, with all the bustle
and consequence she could hope for. She had a smart new
bonnet and pelisse, which she was sure made her look at least
seventeen, and a waiting-woman of her own, even if it was
Letty the housemaid upgraded into lady's maid. Letty had
been given strict instructions, amounting almost to threats,
from both Ottershaw and Mrs Thomson, as to the responsi
bilities of a lady's maid, and Miss Fanny's maid in particular;
and she sat rigidly beside her new mistress with her hands
clenched in her lap, trying simultaneously to look dignified
and calm, and to rehearse mentally the list of her new duties.

Fanny would rather have liked to travel post, but was soon
reconciled to travelling in the family coach, and convinced
herself that there was even more consequence in having your
own coachman and footman, to say nothing of a couple of
outriders, who had been added to the scheme at the last
minute by James's paternal solicitude. The times were hard,
and there were such things as footpads and highwaymen,
after all. Edward had nothing to say against it, though he felt that the outrider's task would be rather to keep Fanny in than
robbers out.

With two trunks strapped on behind, a purse of guineas in
her reticule for present expenses, and a promise of more
whenever she wanted them, Fanny had nothing more to wish
for, and she leaned out of the carriage window and waved
goodbye as the coach drew out of the courtyard, and laughed
in sheer high spirits.

When the last waving hand was out of sight, she settled
back against the squabs with a sigh of contentment, and
observed to Letty, 'Now the fun begins!'

‘
Yes, Miss,' Letty said, believing her, but unsure whether to
be pleased or apprehensive at the prospect.

*

The following day, with much less ceremony, Héloïse and
James set off for Plaisir. Stephen and Marie had gone on
ahead with luggage and provisions, to open the cottage and
air it; and apart from them, they were taking only Durban.
Barnard had been almost tearful at the idea of Héloïse's cooking for herself, or relying on Marie's help at best.

‘
You will starve, madame!' he cried tragically. 'It must not
be!'

‘
But you forget, dear Monsieur Barnard, that Marie and I
cooked for ourselves for many months, years ago. We are
quite capable of preparing meals for such a small household.
You are needed here.’

Barnard remained unconvinced. 'Only send word, and I
shall come at a moment's notice,' he promised with a moist
eye. 'I shall walk if necessary.' And he consoled himself by
packing a hamper for Stephen to take with him which, he
calculated, would keep them going for three days at least —
long enough for them to realise the folly of their decision, and
either send for him, or better still, come back home. This
desire for the rustic life was unnatural and unhealthy, he
thought. Queen Marie Antoinette used to like to pretend to be
a dairymaid and milk her own specially-washed cows, and
look what happened to her!
James and Héloïse set off early in the morning in the
phaeton, with Héloïse driving her bay ponies, the pair which
replaced the now retired cream arabs. Kithra sat at her feet,
and Castor on the seat between them, grinning his wide
spaniel grin and waving his plumy tail like a banner. Durban
rode behind, leading Nez Carré and Vanity. Nez Carr& was
twenty-five now, a great age for a horse, and Héloïse had
been surprised that James wished to take him instead of his
usual road-horse. James was surprised at her surprise.

‘
I don't suppose we'll be doing much riding — nothing
strenuous, anyway,' he said. ‘I couldn't go away with you on
our honeymoon without old Nez Carré, could I?’

Matty waved goodbye to them from the steps, with
Nicholas in her arms, and Héloïse had to bite her lip at the
thought of not seeing her little boy for two or three weeks. She
had felt from the beginning that it would not be a proper
honeymoon unless they were quite alone, but parting from
him was harder than she expected.

‘
But you can come back any time it gets too much for you,' James had pointed out. 'We'll only be twenty miles away,'
Edward stood beside Matty to see them off.

‘
Old Ned's getting as grey as a badger,' James remarked
cheerfully as they started off. 'I feel rather bad about leaving
him all alone; but then, he works so hard, he probably won't
notice we're gone. And it's only for a few weeks, after all.’

They crossed the drawbridge, and Héloïse turned the
ponies onto the track. James looked back and waved, and Ned lifted his hand briefly in salute, before turning to go back into
the quiet house to collect his hat and gloves and set off about
his day's business.

 
On 18 June 1811, the Prince Regent was to give a lavish
dinner and ball which was expected to be one of the most
spectacular entertainments ever witnessed.

There was a great deal of argument about what the occa
sion was meant to celebrate. Some said that it was in honour
of the French Royal Family, in exile in England; others that it
was for the poor mad King's birthday, though what pleasure,
even vicariously, he might be expected to gain from it was not
explained. The Prince himself was reported to have said that
it was meant to benefit 'those artists who by the illness of their sovereign and the discontinuance of the accustomed
splendour of the Court had been deprived of many advantages
in their respective pursuits'. Since, however, the Prince's
inability to pay the bills of either tradesmen or 'artists'
was legendary, this was held to be a piece of frivolous
invention.

Most people concluded that the real reason for the party was to celebrate the beginning of the Regency. The Queen
certainly thought so, and holding it to be in bad taste, refused
to attend. The Princess of Wales was not invited, though most
of her household was; and Mrs Fitzherbert sent back her
invitation when she was informed that she would not be given
her usual seat at the top table.

Lucy attended with her accustomed cicisbeo, Danby Wiske.
Two thousand guests had been invited, and simply to get
everyone into the house was a difficult and time-consuming
business. The first coaches began to arrive early in the morning,
and by eight o'clock the queue reached from Carlton House
to St James's Street. To avoid lengthy delays, everyone had been told at what time to arrive, but inevitably
_,
the
instructions were ignored by some. By nine o'clock, when the
gates were opened and the carriages began to crawl forward
at last, the queue stretched all the way to Bond Street. The
heat was intense, and the smell of horse-sweat and dung,
made it inadvisable to open the carriage windows. The streets
were lined with spectators, who had ample opportunity to
gawp at and discuss the occupants of the carriages, who
were often trapped stationary at one point for fifteen minutes.

‘
If it weren't for the crowds, I'd get out and walk,' Lucy
said at one point. 'It would be heaven to stretch my legs.
What do you suppose would be said of me in the
Chronicle
tomorrow, if I arrived for a State reception on foot?'

‘
Lady Aylesbury displayed her usual propensity to shock
and dismay,' Danby quoted with a quirk of the lips.

Lucy looked at him critically. 'You look very handsome in your Hussar rig, Danby. Much more distinguished than in an
ordinary suit of clothes. I'm glad it's formal and you can go in uniform.'
 
Danby blushed a little and looked away. 'The Prince is sure
to be in uniform,' he said.

‘As Colonel of the China Tenth?'

‘Field Marshal, I've heard,' Danby said shortly.

Lucy snorted at that. 'Damn these feathers,' she said after a while. 'They keep catching on the roof. It would be almost
worth having Prinny king at last, to leave off wearing feathers
to every State reception.’

Danby turned to look at her with a softened expression.
‘Always think you look so well in them. Takes a certain sort of
woman to wear feathers. Most of 'em just look like moulting
chickens.’

Lucy grinned. 'I believe you're flirting with me, Danby!’

‘
Could be,' he smiled.

‘
Well, it's too hot to be wearing satin and all the family
jewels, at any rate,' she said. 'This tiara scratches my head.
And the Chetwyn diamonds are particularly hideous — the
worst sort of Jacobean settings. I shan't be sorry to resign
them to Roland's wife, when he comes to marry.’

Wiske tried to think of something to say to amuse her.
‘Know what I read somewhere? Goin' to be 14 dukes, 15
duchesses, 15 marquesses, and 16 marchionesses at this
reception.’

Lucy was intrigued. 'Who could have counted them? Some
petty secretary in the Prince's household I suppose. How
clever of you to remember the numbers, Danby.'