Enlightening Delilah (12 page)

If he had been teaching Amy, Monsieur Duclos might have felt bold enough to broach the subject of Yvette. But it was Effy who was his pupil. Effy flirted with him, and Monsieur Duclos knew the value of keeping his middle-aged pupils happy. At least Effy was pretty and dainty and not like Mrs Cullen, the wife of a colonel, also one of his pupils, who was fat and gross and breathed heavily and found every excuse she could to lean against him while pretending to study her books.

He was just leaving the drawing room a week after the disastrous news of the squire’s forthcoming marriage when he felt he was being watched and glanced up the stairs. There, at the turn of the stair, stood Yvette, looking down on him.

He glanced quickly about and then bounded up the stairs to Yvette. ‘Where can we talk?’ he asked. ‘Follow me,’ she said softly, and led the way to her room.

Mr Haddon returned to Holles Street and to a great welcome from Amy and Effy. He gratefully sank back into the comfort of all the old flattery and attention and then asked how Miss Wraxall was getting along.

‘She is behaving very prettily,’ said Amy. ‘We have nothing to complain of. Quite a reformed character. We have, in fact, become very close friends.’

But Delilah had a plot, a plot she had no intention of telling Amy about. She remembered her father’s words, that Sir Charles, like himself, would be anxious if anyone from their village showed signs of being about to make a bad match. To that end, she had been talking at balls and parties to other débutantes, finding out, not who was suitable, but who was entirely unsuitable. At certain of these functions, she saw Sir Charles, but he did not come near her and that spurred Delilah on to action.

Delilah could have gained the information she needed much more quickly had she been a wallflower and had spent more time with the other débutantes. As it was, it took her a whole month to learn that the most dangerous man on the London scene was Mr Guy Berkeley. On the face of it, Mr Berkeley was a catch. He did not look at all sinister. He was in his late twenties, rich, handsome, and had an open and engaging manner. He was tall, with hair as black as Delilah’s own; he had deep-blue eyes and a good figure and a square face and strong chin. His nose bordered on the snub, a small defect in an otherwise perfect appearance. He was a heart-breaker. He was a philanderer. Worse, he did not just flirt, he seduced. His charm lay in the fact that for a brief spell he genuinely fell in love with his victims. He had enough money for parents to persuade themselves that the rumours about him were untrue, and enough looks and charm for their daughters to wish to be just as blind. He was a close friend of the Prince Regent, which was the reason he had been forgiven all.

Sir Charles was not present at the ball where Delilah first met Mr Berkeley, but Lord Andrew was. He had ruefully accepted that he had no hope with Delilah, but he was startled to notice that Delilah, who had appeared to have given up flirting, was behaving quite disgracefully with Mr Berkeley. Amy did not see it. Effy had the headache and had stayed at home, and Mr Haddon, who had been invited, had escorted Amy. They talked and talked like the old friends they were and forgot about Delilah. Amy was now so used to Delilah behaving herself that she had ceased to watch her every move.

Lord Andrew broached the subject of Delilah with Sir Charles the next day. ‘Miss Wraxall was flirting quite shamelessly at the ball last night,’ he said crossly.

Sir Charles looked amused. ‘Miss Wraxall usually flirts shamelessly,’ he said. ‘Who was her victim?’

‘I think, in this case, she is the victim but does not know it. Mr Guy Berkeley.’

‘Who is he? Oh, I remember. One of Prinny’s cronies.’

‘And that friendship is why he is still in this country instead of hiding away on the Continent from irate parents. He is a womanizer. His last victim was little Miss Pettifor. She tried to kill herself, but her parents stepped in, and gossip has it that Prinny stepped in, too, and a marriage with Lord Carey – you know him, always in need of money – was arranged. Miss Pettifor went to the altar heavily pregnant, and it is highly doubtful that the child was his, for he had not set eyes on the girl until a fortnight before the wedding, or so it was believed. Special licence. Rushed job of work.’

‘I have no doubt someone will soon put Miss Wraxall wise,’ said Sir Charles. ‘I cannot imagine those two dragons she lives with allowing her to make a cake of herself.’

‘Guy Berkeley is rich and good
ton
,’ said Lord Andrew. ‘You would be amazed how many people are prepared to believe only the best of him. The Town is thin of eligibles at the moment.’

‘I am persuaded that Miss Wraxall has a good amount of common sense,’ said Sir Charles.

‘I overheard Berkeley offering to take her driving today,’ said Lord Andrew. ‘Why don’t you go along to the Park this afternoon and have a look at ’em?’

‘I think it’s a case of if you can’t have her, then you’re not going to allow anyone else a chance,’ said Sir Charles.

‘And I could have had her, my friend, had you not introduced me to a dice game.’

‘Come, now, confess your only interest in her was her money.’

‘No, I cannot confess that. You seem blissfully unaware that your village maiden has taken the Town by storm. She is the most beautiful creature anyone has seen this age.’

Sir Charles felt annoyed. When he was not with Delilah, he remembered her only as the rather plump and endearing seventeen-year-old of so long ago. He had, he admitted, kept out of her road, but it had piqued him that she did not appear to have noticed that fact, or even to have been aware that he was in the room.

‘I suppose,’ he said slowly, ‘it is my duty to make sure she does not make a fool of herself. Perhaps I shall go to the Park, although I doubt if I shall be able to find her in all the press.’

But he had no difficulty at all in finding Delilah. Mr Guy Berkeley was driving a showy swan-necked phaeton as high as the first storey of a house. Beside him sat Delilah, so entranced with Mr Berkeley’s company that she seemed unaware of the sensation she was causing or that several gentlemen were standing on their chairs to get a better look at her.

Sir Charles felt himself becoming furious. Delilah was behaving like a demi-rep. As a friend of her father’s, the least he could do would be to call at Holles Street and read her a lecture.

Before he reached there, Amy and Effy were already discussing Mr Berkeley. ‘I do not know what Delilah is doing encouraging that young man,’ said Effy. ‘I find he has a bad reputation. How could you bring yourself to give him permission to take Delilah driving?’

‘I trust Delilah,’ said Amy. ‘She is merely enjoying herself. She has not taken a serious liking to any gentleman so far.’

‘But our job is to see that she does,’ said Effy crossly. ‘I should have gone to that ball, but my headache was quite terrible. Poor Mr Haddon! How he must have missed me.’

‘I don’t think he even noticed you weren’t there,’ said Amy. ‘We had so much to talk about.’

‘He must have noticed and asked the reason for my absence,’ said Effy, ‘for I received such a pretty bouquet of flowers from him this morning.’

Amy felt as if she had been plunged into cold water. Mr Haddon had never sent
her
flowers.

‘You must stop this ridiculous business of fancying men to be in love with you,’ said Amy. ‘Only look at the way you flirt with that French tutor. How can you expect Delilah to behave when you set such a bad example?’

‘I do not flirt with Monsoor Duclos,’ said Effy. ‘He admires my mind.’

‘It is part of his business to flatter his silly clients,’ said Amy. ‘I don’t know what you want to speak French for anyway.’

‘
C’est toot la maud
,’ said Effy crossly.

‘Whatever that means,’ said Amy. ‘I hear Delilah now.’

Delilah came in. She was about to ask the sisters what Monsieur Duclos was doing descending from the upper regions at this time of day, but Amy made her forget the Frenchman.

‘I have to tell you,’ said Amy roundly, ‘that Berkeley ain’t suitable.’

‘Why?’ asked Delilah, unpinning her bonnet. ‘He seduces gels, he don’t marry ’em.’

‘Perhaps he has never been in love,’ said Delilah.

‘I suppose that’s what he told you,’ said Amy cynically. ‘Be warned, Delilah. One minute he’ll be paying you pretty compliments, and the next, he’ll have his leg over you.’

‘Amy!’ screamed Effy, fanning herself vigorously.

‘Odd’s cock-fools! I speak the truth,’ said Amy, losing her temper, not really over Delilah and Mr Berkeley but because of those flowers Mr Haddon had sent Effy.

‘Sir Charles Digby,’ announced Harris.

Amy noticed the sudden look of satisfaction on Delilah’s face.

Sir Charles came in, made his bow to the ladies, and then said, ‘I would like a few words in private with Miss Wraxall.’

The sisters hesitated. ‘I am an old friend of the family,’ said Sir Charles. ‘Pray allow me only a little time.’

The sisters exchanged glances and then Amy said, ‘Well, only a few minutes, mind. And leave the door open.’

‘What is it you wish to speak to me about?’ asked Delilah as soon as they were alone.

‘I am come to warn you about Mr Berkeley,’ said Sir Charles.

‘Pooh!’ said Delilah. ‘You are come too late. I have just
been
warned.’

Sir Charles’s face cleared. ‘Of course I might have known I could rely on the Misses Tribble.’

‘I find Mr Berkeley very engaging company,’ said Delilah airily, ‘and I never listen to rumour.’

‘Now, don’t be silly . . .’

‘How dare you address me in such a tone, sir! I am not a schoolgirl. Nay! Neither am I an innocent seventeen-year-old, prepared to listen any more to your long and boring monologues. So tiresome in the country, is it not? One has so little choice of gentlemen that one finds oneself putting up with the most awful bores.’

‘For the friendship and affection I have for your father, Miss Wraxall, I will not stand by and see you make a fool of yourself. I put it to you plain. Mr Berkeley means to take your virginity, not your hand in marriage.’

‘Perhaps he cannot take what has already been lost,’ said Delilah lightly.

Sir Charles’s face flamed and he seized her by the arms and glared down into her eyes. ‘Are you trying to tell me that . . . ?’ he began threateningly.

Delilah laughed. ‘I am not trying to tell you anything, sir. I am simply trying to shock you into taking your boring and interfering presence elsewhere.’

He looked down at her laughing, mocking eyes. He muttered something and crushed her in his arms and kissed her hard on the mouth, a punishing kiss that ended up punishing the punisher as Delilah’s lips melted and burned against his own and her body became soft and pliant in his. He could have gone on kissing her until the end of time, but a screech of ‘Sir Charles!’ from two outraged voices made him release her quickly and step back.

Amy and Effy stood at the entrance to the drawing room, looking as if they could not believe their eyes.

‘Is there not something you have failed to ask us, Sir Charles?’ demanded Amy sternly.

Delilah had turned away and walked to the window. Sir Charles looked at her in a bemused way and then looked back to the sisters. His own voice seemed in his ears to be coming from very far away.

‘I beg your pardon, ladies,’ he said. ‘Pray give me leave to pay my addresses to Miss Wraxall.’

Amy and Effy beamed with pleasure. Delilah slowly turned around.

‘No, Sir Charles,’ she said. ‘I don’t want you.’

Sir Charles made a stiff jerky bow and walked from the room.

‘Oh, dear,’ said Amy weakly. ‘Let me sit down.’

‘Will you never stop flirting?’ raged Effy. ‘You had no right to let that poor man kiss you and then turn you down flat.’

‘
He
kissed
me
,’ said Delilah. ‘I didn’t kiss him.’

‘Well, now you’ve got your revenge,’ said Amy, ‘we can all be happy.’

Delilah burst into tears and ran from the room.

‘Some folks never really know what they want or who they want,’ muttered Amy, and went after Delilah to see what on earth was the matter with her.

. . . there is nothing better than skating. I should be very glad to cut eights and nines with his lordship, but the only figure I should cut would be that of as many feet as would measure my own length on the ice.

Thomas Love Peacock

As if to compensate for a lazy, sunny autumn, grim, freezing winter descended on London, bringing with it choking seas of fog or hard white frosts that turned the buildings into black-and-white etchings. The skeletal trees in the parks looked so stiff and frozen, you would think a puff of wind would make them shiver into so many brittle pieces of kindling. Smoke belched up from thousands of chimneys, which caused a gentle rain of soot to fall on nobleman and pauper alike.

Conversation during calls was usually about the best way to clean clothes. Sometimes the fog was so thick, it crept into the houses and lay in smoky layers on the chilly air. Winter brought back the great fear of consumption as tubercular coughs racked the city.