CHAPTER SEVEN
“Charles is to accompany us? Good heavens. You cannot have explained the evening to him properly.”
Verity was curled up on her friend’s bed, watching her complete her toilette. She did not see how anyone could stigmatise Julia as bubble-headed when her attention to the details of her costume and hair was so devastatingly accurate. She must have nestled the pearl sprig amongst her blonde curls quite half a dozen times until she was satisfied.
“I did explain. I even warned him about the music. Julia, you are so beautiful. Why are you still unwed and not queening it as London’s top political hostess?”
“No title. Small dowry. Nobody has asked me, or not that I know of. Also, there is my slight handicap...”
“Which you nevertheless manage to hide from the polite world.”
“With the help of my friends.” She blew Verity a kiss in the mirror. “This is really very unlike Charles. I am quite intrigued. Did you also tell him of Lilith’s aunt’s Italian poet?”
“I may have neglected to mention that. Have you thought Charles might be escorting us in order to observe Lieutenant Crisp?”
“Now that would be underhand indeed,” said Julia. But she spoke absently, paying more attention to the precise size of her satin bow and the fall of her pale pink gauze overdress than to the prospect of her brother rending her supposed swain limb from limb during the evening’s recital.
Verity noted her unconcern, more than ever convinced that her friend had another scheme in train entirely. “Who else will we meet tonight?”
“Everyone who is not going to the Athertons’ party or the Silverwood ball. You will be able to tell the ones who did not receive cards for either. They will put on a simpering expression and say earnestly that there is something so uplifting about listening to music in quiet appreciation, rather than shouting to make yourself heard over the crush in the refreshment room. That is the ladies, you understand. The gentlemen will play cards wherever they are.”
“Lady Fitzgilbert is not so eccentric as to ban the card room then? That at least will please Charles.”
“Heavens, no. She’d never attract anyone. Besides, Benedict wouldn’t let her. It is his house since his father died and though Lady Fitz may think she orders things still, it is Benedict and Lilith who see to it all. Lilith says it is not so bad when it is only her stepmother inviting starving artists to dinner, but when her aunt sends her own dreadful protégés to London for the family to promote, it is the outside of enough..”
Verity frowned. “The protégés do not live in the house?”
“No, Benedict is a baron now, don’t forget. There are limits. But the protégés call on Lady Fitz and frequently neglect to leave. And with her and Lilith’s aunt being bosom friends...”
“Goodness, and I thought I had problems with Reverend Milsom laying siege to Mama. No wonder Lilith was looking oppressed yesterday. It explains why she was so eager to join in with my rational-behaviour programme.”
Julia gave one last critical look at herself in the glass and turned to go. “I advised her to direct the poet to the kitchens so he can scour dishes in exchange for his keep. I doubt she will though. For someone so inquiring and studious, she is ridiculously conventional. Hey ho, let us go down to dinner and see whether Charles has thought better of his offer. I wonder if he thinks to look for a rich wife and that is why he is escorting us?”
“Charles wishes to marry?”
“He hasn’t said so, he always keeps his own counsel. But why else would he put up with poor music and bad poetry for an evening? I do not think he earns a great deal as an attorney though he is always well turned out, don’t you think? Heavens, Verity, have you looked at yourself since you dressed? Sometimes I despair of you.”
Verity scrambled off the bed and submitted to having her hair ornament reset and her gown pulled straight. The idea that Julia might be right about Charles made her uneasy. She hadn’t forgotten his start when she’d mentioned Lilith’s name, and Lilith would be quite a catch in a financial sense. But fortune hunting did not accord with the intent, caring man she had seen with her own eyes today, even if it would give him more of an income to expend on helping the poor.
Lady Fitzgilbert’s soirees were a byword for informality, Julia had informed them as the carriage bore them towards Bedford Square. This, reflected Verity after they had been there for half an hour, was something of an understatement. A quantity of spindly gilded chairs had been scattered in artistic groups about the well-lit, cream-panelled room. People stood or sat as they pleased, being served lemonade, ratafia and what Verity guessed from Charles’s face to be an indifferent wine.
“Julia tells me the cook is very good,” she teased, after he had made a perambulation of the room and failed to find anything better.
“I look forward to it,” replied Charles. “Always assuming we are allowed to eat without being given indigestion.”
Verity made a face. He had a point. Lady Fitzgilbert’s creative muse seemed to function by causing her to clap her hands at erratic intervals and announce a performer plucked from the circulating hopefuls. Invariably this occurred just when Verity had succeeded in starting a conversation. Being obliged to leave off a discussion in order to listen to the entertainment made for a very disjointed evening.
Charles, rather to her surprise, had not disappeared into the card room at the first warble of the flute, nor at the powerful, if muddled, lament that followed. Nor, from what she had seen of his movements (not that she had been watching, naturally) had he seemed to be seeking out well-dowered ladies or paid any particular attentions to Lilith. She was about to reward this good behaviour by confiding another tip from Julia when Lady Fitzgilbert clapped her hands again.
Verity sighed and composed her face into one of attentiveness.
Charles listened to the new musician for a full ten seconds before turning to Verity. “What is this appalling noise?”
“Hush. He is a violinist, Charles.”
“Are you sure? Has your friend checked that the kitchen still has its full complement of cats?”
Verity bit her lips together. “You heard Lady Fitzgilbert’s introduction. The poor man fled from Napoleon to be here tonight.”
“I had not realised the emperor was so much of a music lover. Nor that it commonly takes two years to cross the channel.”
Verity directed a hasty, apologetic smile at the scandalised ladies nearby and drew Charles to a row of chairs at the side of the room out of earshot.
“These are the most hideously uncomfortable chairs I have ever had the misfortune to sit on,” he grumbled.
“That is hardly my problem. I did warn you, Charles. Why did you come with us when you knew what it would be like?”
“The reason escapes me. The music is bad enough, but was there some reason why you did not also warn me about the poet?”
“Oh dear. Was he introduced to you? As I understand it, Lilith’s aunt - her late father’s sister - collects exigent artists abroad and sends them to Lady Fitzgilbert in order that London society may marvel at their genius. This has not turned out to be a very rational evening, has it? Would it help if I passed on the information that Lilith’s brother keeps a very good cellar for the more discerning visitor, quite separate from the refreshment served to his stepmother’s soiree guests? Julia says you simply murmur Lord Fitzgilbert’s claret to the footman and the proceedings will then take on a far rosier hue.”
Charles looked at her in amazement. “How did she discover that? I cannot believe her ineffectual lieutenant is one of Lord Fitzgilbert’s close circle. I see he and his friends have escaped the barracks again to be with us tonight.”
“Don’t be unkind. Julia always knows everything. She always has. It comes of being interested in people. She watches and listens and has an excellent memory. Also Lilith is our friend.”
“Even so, I should not presume on Lord Fitzgilbert’s hospitality until I have received permission.”
“Then go and ask him! See, he has just entered by the far door. I shall listen to the music for both of us.” Verity fixed a soulful expression on her face and let her gaze wander the room. She saw Charles and their host shake hands. Good. Now he would be less acerbic about the company, though she secretly rather enjoyed the turn his wit took when he was disgruntled. Dear Charles, it was very good of him to have stayed in the main room so long. She was still watching him fondly when she saw Lord Fitzgilbert pocket a folded note that Charles appeared to have slipped him.
She stiffened, outraged. That was why Charles had accompanied her and Julia tonight. It was not out of regard for herself or concern for his sister or duty to Uncle James’s bequest. He had some sort of covert understanding with Lilith’s brother whilst pretending all along that they were barely acquainted. It took her a moment to recognise the emotion that beset her as chagrin. Well really, Verity Bowman. How perfectly ridiculous.
The violin stopped wailing, much to her relief. Verity blinked to clear her vision and focused on Julia at the centre of a laughing group, having her hand kissed, presumably in response to some pleasantry she had made about the music. Her admirer was the officer who had given her that long look at the waltz practice. Julia withdrew her hand and let it flutter chastely over her bodice.
Verity’s eyes sharpened for a second moment of disbelief. Unless she was very much mistaken, a scrap of paper had been tucked inside the neckline as Julia’s fingers had rested there. Was everybody in this salon passing notes to each other? She stood abruptly and was taken by surprise when Charles appeared back at her elbow.
“You were right,” he said, toasting her with a glass of deep ruby wine. “We must thank Julia.”
“Charles, are you using me?” demanded Verity, too jolted to be subtle.
He did not pretend to misunderstand. “Ah. Only as much as you are using me. I apologise. I must be losing my touch. Did anyone else notice?”
“I do not believe so. It was not you who gave it away. I saw Lilith’s brother hide the note.”
“How very clumsy of Fitz. I must tell him you rumbled us. That will hurt his pride. Verity, I have no right to ask this of you, but could you perhaps forget anything you might have seen in that corner of the room tonight?”
She looked at him, even more hurt by this request than by the original deception. “You have no need to ask it of me either. I will forget until it suits me to remember.”
“I beg your pardon. I should have known. And now may we discuss programmes of rational study with your friend before we leave?”
Verity glanced across the room to where Julia and her mysterious suitor were now talking to other people. “I think that would be a very good idea,” she said.
Just then, Lady Fitzgilbert gave another of her sharp claps.
“Oh dear,” said Verity, turning to look. “I am very much afraid we must wait until after the poet has had his turn.”
Charles grasped her elbow. “Not on any account. I have listened to his utterings for ten full minutes already,” he said, and towed her masterfully across the room. “Miss Fitzgilbert, I wonder if I might trouble you for a morsel of food for Miss Bowman. She has been overcome by the quality of the performances tonight and requires a quiet seat and some sustenance, the better to reflect on them.”
“Charles, you are completely shameless,” said Verity, once the supper room was attained.
“But wonderfully enterprising,” added Lilith, looking at Charles with approval, “I can now be solicitous towards Verity and not have to look interested in that wretched Italian’s outpourings. I suppose it is too much to hope that you will come to all our soirees this season, Mr Congreve?”
Verity opened her mouth to say something caustic about only if Charles wanted to contact Lord Fitzgilbert, but closed her lips in time, wondering at herself both for the near-loss of discretion and for the idiotic way the circumstance rankled. Charles’s regretfully evasive reply answered the tone of the exchange far better.
She took refuge in a glass of lemonade and a selection of patties from the refreshment table. At least Charles did not seem to be making a play for her friend, she thought, then stopped, appalled at herself. Charles would make an excellent husband for any lady. She should be encouraging him if he liked Lilith. Was she was still out of sorts from this morning? Surely she was not such a poor creature? With an assumption of enthusiasm she gave her full attention to her friends and enquired about the Somerset House exhibitions.
“So this is where you have got to,” said Julia, dropping down into the chair next to Verity as the doors were opened signalling a wave of people coming through from the other room. “Glorious voice, your poet,” she added to Lilith, “but substance sadly lacking, I feel. Not that I am an expert in the Italian tongue.”
“You spent a deal of time talking to him, Miss Congreve.” The lazy observation was made by the older lieutenant. It was clear he was the leader amongst Julia’s escort of officers.
“I was listening to him, Lieutenant Neville. There is a difference. Now, who will fetch me a... oh, thank you, Lieutenant Crisp, how very thoughtful. I declare I am quite parched. Are you as quick with all your military duties?”
Verity listened affectionately as her friend teased the young men. Even here, in this undistinguished company, she had a light address and a way of drawing people in that made the occasion sparkle.
Charles did not appear so impressed. “Are you still overset, Miss Bowman? Would you rather we took our departure as soon as my sister is ready?” His tone was so attentive that Verity would have been touched were not for the fact that she had not felt unwell in the first place and her role here was clearly to opt for a swift exit.
“Oh, pray do not leave so early,” said Lilith. “I’m sure Verity is much recovered. Look, here is my brother come to join us. Benedict, you know Mr Congreve, I feel sure. Will you take him off to the card room as a reward for bearing with the proceedings so far and play a rubber or two of piquet together? I am depending on Julia to hasten everybody away at the end of the evening. She does it with a far more natural air than I ever manage.”
Lieutenant Crisp cleared his throat. “If Miss Bowman wishes to leave early, I should be very happy to be honoured with the privilege of escorting Miss Congreve home.”
Charles regarded him sardonically. “Yes, I daresay you would.”
“Silly,” said Julia. “If my friend is unwell, I would naturally go back with her myself, but I thank you very kindly for your offer.”
“And as I am quite recovered, the question does not arise,” said Verity. She then felt ashamed of herself for being snappish as she remembered Charles had a full day in his chambers ahead of him tomorrow. She laid a hand on his arm. “I am grateful for your concern, but I assure you I am well able to sustain myself for the length of a rubber of piquet.”
Charles gave her the merest lift of an eyebrow before turning to Lord Fitzgilbert. “Then I accept your sister’s offer with pleasure, if it suits you.”
Lilith’s brother shrugged. “It is a sight more pleasant playing cards than it is listening to wandering pipes and impassioned poetry. A penny a hundred suit you? I should not like to fleece you on my own property.”
Good, now Verity could observe Lieutenant Neville and his interactions with Julia properly. She settled down to so, but was thwarted when he rose to his feet and sauntered towards the card room likewise. Two of the others followed. Lieutenant Crisp flushed unhappily and made to rise. Julia put a playful hand on his arm. “No no. I cannot have my whole escort abandoning me for the baize. Tell us more about your foreign manoeuvres. Is it safe, yet, to go to France? I have heard one can now take tours of the battlefields, which I cannot help considering a little lacking in respect. What do the army think of them?”