Enlightening Delilah (9 page)

‘Listen to both of you,’ jeered Delilah. ‘
You
are supposed to tell
me
how to go on? You have the manners of the gutter, Miss Amy.’

‘And you have the manners of a slut,’ shouted Amy.

‘I am going to write to my father now,’ said Delilah, ‘and I am going to ask him to come to London immediately and take me away.’

She swept from the room.

The sisters looked at each other in dismay. Amy sat down and tugged at her hair.

‘We handled that very badly,’ said Effy quietly. ‘We cannot afford to lose Delilah. It seemed like a miracle to have work for the Little Season and not to have to wait until the real Season begins.’

‘We’ll manage,’ said Amy gruffly.

‘You are overset because for some reason you expect the squire to propose marriage,’ said Effy. ‘He will not, Amy. Oh, I know he likes you, but there is nothing of the lover there.’

Amy looked up. ‘It’s no use hoping it ain’t true, Effy. He said I made him think of marriage.’

Effy began to cry. ‘What will I do?’ she cried. ‘I shall be left here on my own to manage savage girls.’

‘Now, now,’ said Amy. ‘Don’t cry. You can come and live with us.’

‘But the country!’ wailed Effy. ‘I hate the country. Oh, are you really sure of this, Amy? What of Mr Haddon?’

‘Mr Haddon is fond of both of us, Effy. But face facts. He’s an old stick of a bachelor and will always be that way.’

Delilah penned a letter to her father and then instructed Harris to have it sent express. Then, when her fury died down, it was replaced by a recurrence of the miserable thought that all her flirting and romancing had been discussed and worried over behind her back. It seemed to Delilah as if the whole of Kent was discussing her humiliation at the hands of Sir Charles and assuming she had turned down so many because she could not have him.

She now hated Sir Charles. He had walked back into her life – calm, handsome and indifferent. She was stranded in this odd house with these odd sisters, one of whom was about to become her stepmother. There was no going back to her old life.

Baxter came in and began to lay out Delilah’s gown for the ball. Delilah looked at her in surprise. She had assumed, after all the shocks and revelations, that she would not be going and neither would the Tribbles.

But she felt too upset to face any more rows by declaring she was staying at home. In a stony silence, she allowed Baxter to dress her and fix her hair.

She went down to the drawing room to join Amy and Effy, her face set in hard, haughty lines.

Delilah was nearly bowled over by Amy, who rushed forward and clasped her in her arms. ‘I am a boor and a beast,’ said Amy. ‘Please say you forgive me, Miss Wraxall.’

‘Yes, do forgive us,’ said Effy quietly as Amy released Delilah and stood back. ‘It must have come as a shock to you to learn your father was paying for our services. We quite understand your wish to leave. But do consider, we can have a little fun and perhaps enjoy ourselves.’

‘You must need my father’s money very badly,’ said Delilah.

‘Oh, yes,’ said Amy seriously. ‘It is very hard to have to work for one’s money. One is so at the mercy of people’s whims.’

Delilah looked at the odd pair of sisters: Effy, so delicate and pretty, Amy, so tall and masculine. ‘Tell me,’ she asked curiously, ‘how did you plan to . . . er . . . reform me?’

Amy thought quickly. They had not, in fact, had any plan of campaign, merely hoping to refine Delilah’s behaviour as they went along. But she said slowly, ‘I think, you know, we would have encouraged Sir Charles to call here as often as possible and may even have held a dinner in his honour.’

‘Why?’ exclaimed Delilah.

Amy wrinkled her brow. ‘You see, you were seventeen the time he left for the wars. Your papa told me you were pretty then but hardly as beautiful or modish as you are now. Sir Charles was twenty-eight then and a mature man worrying about going to the wars. He is now thirty-four and you are twenty-three, so there is less of an emotional age difference between the two of you. I think, you know, you would find it very easy indeed to make Sir Charles Digby fall in love with you. Then
you
could spurn
him
and perhaps that would change your mind and encourage you to settle down.’

‘I do not know why everyone insists on damning me as a heart-breaker,’ said Delilah. ‘Sir Charles means nothing to me.’

But Amy’s words about making Sir Charles fall in love with her were like balm to Delilah’s angry soul.

‘In any case,’ put in Effy, ‘it will be a most unpleasant house to live in if we are all at loggerheads. Do forgive us, Miss Wraxall.’

‘Of course I do,’ said Delilah. ‘You were only following my father’s instructions. I shall take the matter up with him when I see him. But why am
I
damned as so bad? Plenty of women flirt; it is the fashion.’

‘Flirting is an art in itself and forgivable in most,’ said Amy. ‘But beautiful people should not flirt. You see, they don’t need to. Their beauty is enough. If they add flirting to it, then they break hearts. Everyone knows when a plain girl is flirting, but every man thinks a beauty must surely be in love with him. Wishful thinking is a pernicious thing.’

‘As you should know,’ muttered Effy, but Amy ignored her and cast an expert eye over Delilah’s appearance.

Delilah was wearing a white muslin gown edged with gold embroidery. Pearls threaded on gold chain were wound among her black curls. Her hazel eyes were very large and flecked with green and gold under thick black curling lashes.

As they set out for the ball, the spirits of all three began to rise. Now that Delilah knew the real reason for her visit to London, it did not seem so very bad. It had been hard to remain angry when these odd ladies had begged her forgiveness. She was looking forward now to meeting the challenge of demonstrating to London society that there was nothing up with her at all. And as far as London society knew, the Tribbles really were friends of her father. It was not the main Season, and so that added credence to the lie.

Effy and Amy were looking forward to the sensation Delilah must surely make at the ball. Amy was dreaming of how life would be after she married the squire. No more worries and frights about money, no more waiting each morning for the post, hoping for a new client, a new difficult girl to ensure them security for another year. Perhaps, thought Amy, she and Effy might save money by taking lessons from all these tutors themselves. That way they could train their charges themselves in French and Italian, music and painting.

Effy was hoping that there might be some gentleman at the ball who would fall in love with her. Effy’s bright hopes had remained undiminished down the years. She had only to put one little foot on some red-carpeted staircase leading to a ballroom and hear the sound of the fiddles for her heart to rise, for a suffocating excitement to grip her throat.
He
might be there, that dream gentleman might be waiting there, to become reality.

London was coming to life for the night ahead. It had its own particular night-time smell, a mixture of patchouli, whale oil, bad drains, pomatum and hot hair from all the tresses that were being frizzled by the curling tongs in hundreds of rooms.

There was never very far to travel anywhere in the West End of London, but to arrive on foot was a social disgrace, and to arrive in a hack, something worse. So they waited patiently as their carriage inched forward through the press, stopping and starting. Delilah was reminded of that first journey through the fog.

At last they were able to alight in front of a tall double-fronted mansion with liveried footmen holding torches lining the steps. A red carpet was stretched out over the pavement in front of the house, a heady luxury. Behind the flares of the torches stood a crowd of people, waiting to see the rich and great arrive.

Delilah caught a glimpse of them as she walked up towards the house and wondered what they thought and whether they were ever angry at the sheer unfairness of life, where just one of these guests’ jewels could keep a London family in comfort for quite a long time. Delilah, like everyone else, knew that the churches said that men and women were placed by God in their appointed stations, and to cry out against such a state of affairs was ungodly. But she could not help thinking that if she were one of those unfortunates, she would be very tempted to turn to a life of crime to even the score.

Standing in the ballroom with Lord Andrew, Sir Charles saw Delilah arrive. He had expected her to be outshone by all the London belles, but all about him he heard exclamations at her beauty. ‘I had better move fast,’ muttered Lord Andrew. ‘My heiress will slip through my fingers if I am not careful.’

He hurried to Delilah’s side. Sir Charles frowned. He had promised his friend not to interfere in his pursuit of the girl, but, on the other hand, surely his loyalty to Delilah and her father came first. It would do no harm to warn Delilah against fortune-hunters in general. Someone else came up to talk to him and kept him quite ten minutes so that by the time he looked up again, Delilah had taken the floor.

Amy and Effy noticed Sir Charles watching Delilah and put their heads together. ‘I swear he is not indifferent to her,’ said Amy. ‘I think it would be easy for Delilah to get her revenge if she wished. Here he comes. I think he wants to speak to us.’

‘How handsome he is,’ sighed Effy. ‘Do but look at his legs, Amy.’

Sir Charles bowed before them. Both sisters rose and curtsied and then all three sat down together. ‘Miss Wraxall is a sensation,’ said Amy.

‘I suppose I am too late now to have the pleasure of a dance with her,’ said Sir Charles.

‘I should think so,’ said Effy. ‘But she is just beginning to learn the steps of the quadrille. I do not think she will try to dance it this evening, so if you were to approach her when it is announced, you may be able to sit out with her.’

‘I shall do that,’ said Sir Charles. Delilah was dancing with Lord Andrew. She had been determined not to flirt, but old habits die hard, and as Sir Charles looked, Delilah gave Lord Andrew a definitely flirtatious glance.

‘Is it generally known that Miss Wraxall is rich?’ asked Sir Charles.

‘Not yet,’ said Amy. ‘But it will be. A lady who is known to have a large dowry can quickly have her choice of suitors.’

Sir Charles surveyed the sisters in some irritation. ‘Would it not have been better to have kept such a fact quiet?’ he demanded. ‘Miss Wraxall is beautiful enough to attract many men without having to fend off fortune-hunters.’

‘Lord Andrew is hardly a fortune-hunter,’ exclaimed Effy.

‘Any man who gambles is a fortune-hunter these days,’ said Sir Charles. ‘Ladies are at a disadvantage. Now, men can see the betting books in the clubs and know who has lost a fortune and who has gained one. Take the Honourable Freddy Ribble over there. He is accounted rich, is he not?’

‘Yes, an eligible,’ said Amy, who kept a book of what she called ‘the runners’ at home.

‘He lost thirty-five thousand pounds at Watier’s playing macao last night.’

‘Good heavens,’ said Amy. ‘Who won?’

‘The money was won by Lord Freemount, who is not only sixty and a lecher but who is like to lose the whole amount this very evening. He is a true gambler, which means he cannot rest until he has lost it all again.’

‘What a useful source of information you are!’ exclaimed Effy. ‘It is most unfair that you should not only be handsome but intelligent as well.’ She rolled her eyes up at him and rapped him playfully with her fan.

‘Such delicacy and beauty as yours, ma’am, must surely inspire any man,’ said Sir Charles dutifully.

Effy let out a trill of laughter and hid her imaginary blushes behind her fan.

‘Really, Effy,’ said Amy crossly. ‘How are we to stop Delilah flirting if you set such a bad example?’

‘Is that your aim?’ asked Sir Charles. ‘To stop Delilah flirting?’

‘It’s not that Miss Wraxall is precisely a flirt,’ said Amy. ‘It is just that with her looks and money she does not need to encourage anyone.’

‘Squire Wraxall should never have brought her to London,’ said Sir Charles. ‘There are men a-plenty in Kent.’

‘But I gather she has turned down practically every eligible man in that county,’ said Amy. ‘Perhaps she needs gentlemen who are more worldly wise and fashionable.’

‘We are not all yokels and bumpkins in the country,’ said Sir Charles.

‘But perhaps you lack a certain finesse,’ said Effy slyly. ‘No one in London society leads any lady to suppose their intentions are serious unless they themselves are serious.’

‘That is nonsense.’

‘It is true. Gentlemen flirt outrageously with the fast matrons and the demi-reps. The Fribbles pay court to the latest belle, but even she knows not to take their attentions seriously. A London gentleman, for example, would never kiss a lady unless he had obtained permission first from parents or guardians to pay his addresses.’

Effy thought she was being very subtle and clever, but it told Sir Charles in plain words that the Tribbles had learned he had kissed Delilah. With a sinking heart, he realized he had behaved thoughtlessly and carelessly to a young girl. Delilah was now a beautiful woman and much desired. He hoped she had forgotten that episode but decided it would be better if he apologized for it in case she had not.

He took his leave of the Tribbles and went off and danced a few reels and waltzes until he heard the quadrille being announced. Delilah, who had been promenading after the last dance with her partner, as was the custom, looked up as he approached.

Her partner bowed and left. ‘Do you dance the quadrille?’ asked Sir Charles.

‘Not yet,’ said Delilah. ‘It is a very hard dance. My dancing master tells me that the ladies who perform it are expected to do entrechats, but every time I try them, I fall on the floor.’

‘Then let us have some refreshment,’ he said, guiding her towards the room set apart for the guests to eat and drink.

They found a table in the supper room. Delilah said she would like champagne, as lemonade seemed too ordinary a drink for London.