The Regency (76 page)

Then there followed the familiar dance of ambition,
through lobby and club and private house, as the great men of the day grouped and regrouped, bickered and postulated,
made and unmade alliances, bargained and betrayed; until at
last, when all possible combinations had been tried and failed,
there was nothing left but for the Regent to step in and ask
Lord Liverpool to take office again, with the same ministers
as before.

Little of this impinged on the three young women in the
large, hired house in Grosvenor Square. The coming-out ball
had been a great success. Three hundred and sixty of the four
hundred invitations had been accepted, and well over four
hundred people came, making it certain that it would receive
the final accolade of being voted 'a sad crush'. James had
looked on in amazement at the preparations beforehand. He
had thought Fanny's ball at Morland Place grand enough,
but it was nothing to Lucy's.

A striped awning was erected over the pavement to the
road, and under it a red carpet led up the steps into the hall,
sure sign to passers-by that something worth watching was to
happen. From quite early in the day, idlers gathered on the
flagway, to watch footmen staggering up the steps with huge
pots of plants and greenery for the decoration of the ball
room, cases of champagne and baskets of delicacies. As the
time for arrivals approached, footmen were stationed at inter
vals around the square to direct the coaches, and to divert any traffic not meant for the ball; while a dozen link-boys
had been hired to attend at the door after dark.

The dinner beforehand was set for forty people, and James
was able to appreciate how Lucy's high connections would
make a difference to the way Fanny was launched. As well as
members of the
ton
and the nobility, they sat down to dinner
with highly-placed Members of Parliament, representatives of
the diplomatic service, senior army officers, and two admirals.

Not only that, but Lord Melville and the Rutlands were coming
to the ball, having been already engaged to dine elsewhere,
and the Duke of York had promised to look in at some point
in the evening, giving the ball a royal seal of approval.

After dinner came the moment that James had long been
anticipating. He and Lucy stood at the top of the stairs leading to the ballroom, with the three girls at their side, receiving the guests who flowed upward in a flood of jewels and distinction.
His own partiality aside, he could not help thinking that
Fanny looked the best of the three. On Lucy's advice she was
dressed all in white — white spider-gauze over a plain satin
slip, with her mother's pearls round her throat, and another
string wound in the knot of her hair. She carried her birthday
fan, and a reticule sewn all over with spars, which glinted and
caught the light. Her long, tawny eyes glowed with excite
ment, and the fresh colour in her face made her look
vibrantly alive. His little girl, he thought, had grown up into a
beautiful young woman; his eyes were a little misty, and no
compliment directed towards him could have been too
extravagant for him to believe.

Flaminia, small and plump, with her reddish hair and
green eyes, could never outshine either of her companions;
but she was too good-natured to wish to. Whatever happened,
her future was secure, for with her title and her dowry, there
was not a doubt of her marrying well. Hippolyta, on the other
hand, standing beside Fanny, would have outshone any girl but her. James had to admit that Polly was beautiful, as her
mother had been. Her alabaster skin, her perfect features, her
vivid blue eyes, and her shining black hair, combined with a
tall and graceful figure, and a complete composure, made her
seem like an exquisite Greek statue. But perhaps she was
rather too like a statue, he thought. She had always, even as a
little child, been grave and mature for her years; now her
upbringing, her dependency, and her knowledge of how small
her dowry was likely to be, had made her even more reserved.

Lady Flaminia Chetwyn might have the title, and Miss
Haworth the classical beauty, James thought, but of the three young women, there was no doubt in his mind as to who was
going to make the splash that Season. Bright-eyed, smiling,
energetic Miss Morland of Morland Place would have been
his choice of partner if he had been a single young man at
that ball; and before the evening was out, he was to have
the pleasure of seeing that young men nowadays were not so
different from him in their judgement.

*

Having been launched into society, the three young women
were bent on enjoying the Season to the full. There was a
succession of private balls and routs, and public assemblies
to attend; there was the theatre, the opera, the ballet, the
concerts of Ancient Music, and the exhibitions at Somerset
House. There was Almacks, where they must make their mark,
and where, thanks to Lucy's friendship with Mr Brummell,
they were sure of acceptance; and later on there would be
presentation at the Queen's Drawing-Room, with all the
absurd glories of satin, hoops and tall feathers. There was
walking and riding and driving in the Park to be fitted in; and
above and beyond all, there was shopping. Fanny's taste of its
joys in Manchester had not prepared her for the exquisite
delights of London. She found herself, rather like the despised
Miss Prudence Pendlebury, thinking about clothes
all the
time.

One day in June, the three young women were in the
morning room, waiting for Lucy to come back from her ride so
that they could go out. Rosamund was also present, hanging
over the back of a chair and kicking its rail idly, waiting to be
collected by Miss Trotton, who was busy writing a letter.

‘
What are you going to wear to Lady Tewkesbury's
tonight?' Hippolyta asked Flaminia.

‘
I don't know,' Minnie answered predictably. 'What do you
think?'

‘
If you wear your lavender silk, could I borrow your gauze
scarf?’

Before Minnie could answer, Fanny said, 'You can't wear
the lavender silk, because I'm going to wear blue, and we'll be
too much alike. You'd better wear your green crape, Minnie.’

Minnie nodded, perfectly happy to do what she was told, as
long as she didn't have to think for herself, but Hippolyta
said, 'Don't be so unkind, Fanny. She can't wear green — you
know it doesn't suit her.'

‘
Nonsense, redheads always wear green,' Fanny said
firmly, with a hint in her voice of the contempt with which
she had always regarded red hair. 'Petersfield said to me theother day that he thought you ought to wear green.’

Minnie grew pinker. Though she regarded most people in
her life in the same vague and woolly way, she had actually
managed to achieve a slight partiality for Viscount Petersfield.
'Did he really?'

‘
Certainly. When we were going down the set at the
Assembly the other night. "I do think Lady Flaminia ought to
wear green," he said. "Really, Lord Petersfield?" I said. "Oh
certainly," he said. "Pomona green crape, with ruched velvet
trim, would look vastly well on her," he said.'

‘
How strange,' Minnie said with a gasp. 'Pomona green,
with velvet trim — but that exactly describes my gown!'

‘
Fanny, stop it,' Polly said crossly, and Fanny burst into
laughter.

‘
Oh you goose, Minnie! Don't you know when you're being
roasted?’

Minnie looked from one to the other. 'Well, if Lord
Petersfield likes green, I'm sure I don't see why I shouldn't
wear it,' she said. 'It's very good-natured of Fanny to tell me.’

Rosamund snorted. 'I don't know which of you is the
sillier!' she said energetically. 'All you can do is talk of gowns
and men! Anyone would think you didn't know there was a
war on.'

‘
Don't kick the chair, Ros,' Hippolyta said in automatic
reproof.

‘
Well, I can tell you, Minnie, it don't matter what gown you wear, you won't be marrying Fred Petersfield. He's as
good as engaged to Lady Mary Fleetwood.'

‘
How do you know that?' Fanny said sharply. It sometimes
annoyed her that Rosamund knew things she didn't, but she
was always willing to make use of any source of information.

‘
Because I heard Mr Brummel tell Mama so the other
day. She was asking him if Petersfield would "do", and Mr
Brummell said that Petersfield was hanging out for Lady Mary,
because Fleetwood was worth four votes in the commons.
So you may as well wear the lavender, Minnie, for you look
hideous in green.'

‘Little cat,' Fanny muttered.

Rosamund stuck out her tongue.

‘
Don't do that,' Hippolyta said with a frown. 'It isn't
lady-like.'

‘
I don't care if it isn't. I don't want to be a lady. I'd far
rather be a soldier,' Rosamund said promptly.

‘Don't be silly,' Hippolyta said. 'You can't be a soldier.'

‘
Well, Mama was a sailor when she was my age. I don't see
why I shouldn't run away to the war. If Marcus gets his
colours, I'll cut my hair and go with him as his servant.'

‘
Oh, don't talk so shocking, Rosamund!' Minnie said, wide-
eyed.

‘
Marcus wouldn't want you anyway,' Fanny said con
temptuously. 'What use would you be? He'd want a proper
servant.’

Rosamund's cheeks were pink with anger. 'He would want
me! He said the other day that I was a regular little trump,
and I sewed his shirt for him, and he said it was the best
sewing he'd ever seen, so there!
And
011ett's shewn me how to
bone and polish boots, which is more than you know, Fanny
Morland!’

Fanny shrugged. 'Marcus won't get his colours, anyway.
Everyone knows his mother doesn't want him to go to the
war.'