Gayle Buck (3 page)

Michele smiled faintly. “Whereas I am so staid and worldly?”

Mr. Davenport hastily reassured her that he had not meant to give affront. “I assure you, no such thing. It is just that you do not appear in the least flighty, which Lydia most certainly is. I do hope that I may rely upon you to gently guide my daughter whenever the occasion to do so might arise.”

“Of course, uncle.” Michele gave a throaty laugh. She did not enlighten her uncle as to the reason for her amusement. She had now been enlisted by both Lydia and her father to look after the best interests of her young cousin. It only needed Lady Basinberry to confide in her, thought Michele.

When dinner was over and the covers removed, Lady Basinberry rose to lead the young ladies from the dining room so that Mr. Davenport could enjoy his port in solitude. But he waved aside the courtesy. “I shall come along with you to the drawing room, dear sister. It would be too lonely for me tonight.”

“As you wish, Edwin,” Lady Basinberry said with a shrug of her elegant shoulders.

When the company entered the drawing room. Lady Basinberry expressed a desire for music. Lydia offered to play the pianoforte and her aunt bestowed an approving smile upon her. “That will be most enjoyable, Lydia,” she said.

Lydia went to the pianoforte and began to play softly. Mr. Davenport settled himself in a wing chair to listen. Lady Basinberry indicated that she wished Michele to sit with her on the settee. When they were seated, she said, “I am happy to have this chance to speak privately with you, Michele. We had such a short visit this afternooon when you arrived. I hope that you have been made to feel comfortable?”

“Indeed, ma’am. The accommodations are quite pleasant. I am grateful for the warm welcome that I have received,” Michele said politely, wondering where the conversation was headed. At first meeting she had judged her ladyship to be one who seldom acted without an object in mind, and the past hour and a half in her company had but reinforced that initial impression.

Lady Basinberry smiled slightly. “How could it be otherwise, my dear? You are part of the family. I am only sorry that I have not kept in closer touch with your dear mother. And with my brother-in-law also, of course. I hope that we may become good friends while you are with us.”

“And I also, my lady,” said Michele with a smile. She had noted that her father was mentioned almost as an afterthought by Lady Basinberry, and it amused her. She had heard her father express himself unenamored of his sister-in-law because she was willful and extremely managing. Apparently Lady Basinberry returned her father’s dislike in full measure.

“I wished particularly to speak to you on a subject that perhaps may cause you some pain,” Lady Basinberry said.

Michele lifted her brows, somewhat startled. “Indeed, my lady? And what is that?”

“I am aware of your unhappy history. So, too, is your uncle. Our sister confided her concern for you to us. I shall not offer you platitudes, Michele. I myself have but recently come out of mourning and therefore I have every sympathy for the feelings which you have harbored over these last several months. I tell you this so that you may better understand what I shall say next,” Lady Basinberry said.

She reached out and placed her hand lightly over Michele’s loosely clasped fingers. With every appearance of sincerity she said, “My dear, one must put aside one’s feelings in the course of doing one’s duty. I do not say to forget. That would be insensitive in the extreme. However, your mother wishes for you to again take up the life of a well-bred young woman. Perhaps that shall one day include the usual pattern of marriage and family. That is not my particular concern at this juncture. What I do ask is that you carry out your duty to your uncle and me and in particular to Lydia.”

“And what might that be, my lady?” Michele asked, her dark eyes holding only cool curiosity.

Lady Basinberry sighed and withdrew her hand. “My dear, I ask only that you do not stand in the way of Lydia’s happiness. She is impressionable and of a romantic turn of mind. She needs someone other than me, someone nearer her age, to confide in, someone who can show her by example how she should go on. I hope that you will fill that very important role.”

Michele was silent a moment. On the surface, what Lady Basinberry had asked was innocuous enough and no more than what had already been voiced by Mr. Davenport. However, Michele sensed that there was an underlying intent on Lady Basinberry’s part, one that she could not quite put her finger on. But at the moment she had little choice but to assure Lady Basinberry of her cooperation, or run the risk of appearing uncivil. “Of course, my lady. I already count myself one of Lydia’s friends,” she said.

Lady Basinberry smiled. There was a look of satisfaction in her eyes that told Michele that her instincts had been correct.

“I am so glad that we have come to an understanding.” Lady Basinberry turned her head to address Lydia. “Thank you so very much, Lydia. That was most entertaining.”

Taking the hint, Lydia finished with a flourish and then stood up from the pianoforte stool. She swept a curtsy. “I thank you, ma’am,” she said, flashing a pert smile.

Mr. Davenport, who had fallen asleep in his chair, came to himself with a series of snorts. “What? What? Oh, I say, that was marvelous, Lydia,” he said.

Lydia ran over to fling her arms about his neck. She laughed at her father. “You know very well that you were snoring away, Papa. You always do when I play.”

Mr. Davenport patted her arm. He said with aplomb, “There you are, my dear! I could not pay you a higher compliment. Your lovely music is so soothing that I cannot help myself.”

Lydia whooped. “Dear Papa, you are such a Banbury man!”

Michele smiled broadly as Mr. Davenport strenuously denied the allegation and protested his utmost sincerity.

Lady Basinberry shook her head, her own thin lips curving. “Edwin, I must congratulate you on your sense of preservation,” she said dryly.

Mr. Davenport got out of his chair, his stays creaking. “It was rather quick-witted of me, I must say,” he said agreeably.

“I see by the mantel clock that the hour is well-advanced. I suppose it is time to say good night all around. I fear I am not as indefatigable as I once was.”

Lady Basinberry looked at her brother. “I shall take that as a hint, Edwin.” Ignoring her brother’s bewildered apology, she rose and took affectionate leave of her niece. With a kind word for Michele, she swept out of the drawing room, calling for her carriage.

“I, too, shall wish you all good night. It has been a very tiring day,” Michele said. Though she was truly exhausted, she suspected that she would lie awake for some time to reflect upon the household that she would stay with during the months ahead.

Lydia announced that she also intended to seek her bed. The company walked upstairs, leaving the butler to bank the fire in the drawing room and to snuff the candles.

Chapter Three

The ensuing week saw the gradual settling of the household. Lady Basinberry sent out instructions that her things were to be brought to the Davenport town house and that her own establishment was to be closed for the Season. Her brother eyed with misgivings the mountain of baggage and furniture that descended upon his home, and he questioned the necessity for her moving in.

Lady Basinberry fixed him with a quelling stare. “My dear Edwin, it makes little sense to attempt to bring out two young ladies from a distance. Besides, I cannot justify the expense of keeping open my place when I shall be spending most of my time here.”

As Mr. Davenport watched his favorite chair carried out of its usual place and regulated to a back sitting room, he could not find it in himself to agree wholeheartedly with his sister’s reasoning. He began to realize that he had opened a Pandora’s box by enlisting his sister to act as his hostess and to sponsor Lydia and Michele into society. He would be the loser, since it appeared that his comfortable habits were to be completely overturned.

Mr. Davenport was the only one of the household who viewed a week of wet cold weather as further proof of a gloomy future. Lady Basinberry was in her element, rearranging the household to her taste and generally earning for herself the reputation of a veritable tyrant.

Lydia and Michele managed to fill the time very well in getting to know each other. Though the cousins were but two years apart in age, Michele was much more mature. Her early life had been as sheltered as had been Lydia’s, but Michele had seen more during the last battle of the recently ended war and its aftermath than Lydia was ever likely to experience in her lifetime. Lydia had at once established Michele as her confidante and sounding board. As for Michele, she accepted her sisterly role with a shrug, aware of feeling faintly protective of Lydia’s fresh naiveté.

After being immured by the weather for several days, the young ladies began to feel restless. When the sun finally peeked through the gray clouds and the sky looked to be clearing, Lydia begged that they be allowed to go out. Lady Basinberry agreed to a drive about the park that afternoon if the weather continued to improve. The treat was looked forward to by Lydia and Michele with high spirits.

It warmed considerably during the course of the day and the ladies opted to ride with the top of the landau down. However, Lady Basinberry admonished her nieces to make use of their parasols to protect their delicate complexions.

Michele offered to sit with her back to the horses. Flashing her bright smile, she said, “I do not mind in the least seeing where we have been, for the sights are all quite new to me.’’

“Nonsense, Lydia shall do so,” Lady Basinberry said firmly. Lydia agreed at once, and despite Michele’s protests, she laid claim to the least-desired seat in the carriage. Michele gave way with good grace, and in answer to Lydia’s subsequent query as the landau threaded its way through the London traffic, she admitted that she was glad to be able to see the sights as they approached instead of as they disappeared.

Judging from the number of carriages in the park, the sunshine was a relief to several others besides themselves after a dreary week of rain. Some brave souls even dared the damp grass to promenade the walkways. It was the fashionable hour, between five and six o’clock, to be seen in the park. Lady Basinberry had chosen to yield to her nieces’ entreaties, not only on account of the clearing weather, but also because a drive through the park was the quickest way of easing into society. Lady Basinberry bowed to friends and introduced Lydia and Michele to those who stopped to exchange pleasantries.

A young man on a chestnut cob glanced at the occupants of the passing landau. His head swiveled for a second look;then he swung his mount around and hailed the carriage. Lady Basinberry’s driver stopped the landau. The gentleman spared hardly a glance for Lady Basinberry’s inquiring expression or for Lydia’s wide interest. He stared instead at Michele, and a grin swept over his face. “Michele! By Jove, it
is
you. I could not believe my eyes for a moment,” he exclaimed.

Michele smiled, her eyes friendly, and held out her gloved hand to him. “Sir Lionel! It had not occurred to me that I might meet you in London, but of course I should have realized.”

Lady Basinberry asked pointedly, “I assume that you are well-acquainted with this gentleman, Michele?”

“Pray forgive me, Lady Basinberry. In the instant of meeting an old friend, I forget my manners,” Michele said. “Lady Basinberry, this is Sir Lionel Corbett. Sir Lionel, my aunt. And my cousin, Miss Lydia Davenport.’’

The gentleman pressed Michele’s fingers warmly before letting go her hand. He bowed low in the saddle to the ladies, his carefully disordered locks glinting fiery gold in the sun. “It is indeed a pleasure, my lady. Miss Davenport, your servant! I recall that Madame du Bois spoke with affection of her English family, and upon meeting you this morning, I can readily understand why she should,” he said with a wide smile.

Lady Basinberry was not entirely proof against his obvious charm. She unbent enough to bestow the slightest of smiles upon him. “Indeed! So you are acquainted with my sister, sir?”

“Sir Lionel was an officer in the Duke of Wellington’s cavalry and was among those who could be counted upon to even up a lopsided dinner party,” Michele said with a laugh.

Sir Lionel shot an intent look in her direction. “Quite true! I was but one of your niece’s large circle of admirers. But how is it that you come to be in London, Michele? When last I spoke with you, you were quite determined to remain in Brussels. My hopes were quite dashed, if you will recall.”

Michele felt her face warm at his pointed reminder of their last communication. It had been difficult to turn down his passionately phrased proposal of marriage. She was glad to note that her voice was completely steady. “My dear parents thought it time for me to become acquainted with the English branch of the family, and also with England. And you, Sir Lionel? You are not still in the army?”

“Not I. I resigned my commission the instant I set foot back in jolly old England. I have become an idler, as you see,” Sir Lionel said cheerfully, gesturing at himself. The scarlet riding coat he wore was of superfine cloth and was accented with bright gilt buttons. Its excellent cut molded tightly to his form and obviously owed nothing to buckram padding of the shoulders. His pantalooned legs were encased in high riding boots with the immaculate white tops that had been introduced by that former leader of gentlemen’s fashion, Mr. Brummel. His moderately high starched shirt points rose out of a cravat tied with a
degagé
style that set the final stamp on a somewhat dandified appearance. Yet there was a sense of alertness about his neat figure that hinted at great physical power even through the mask of indolence he affected.

Michele smiled and shook her head. “That I do not believe. You will not have given up your sporting. As I recall, you had an ambition to raise the finest jumpers in the isles.”

Sir Lionel smiled and there was a softened light in his eyes. “I am flattered that you should remember.” He turned his gaze on Lady Basinberry and Lydia, who had been listening to the exchange with patent interest. “I shall take my leave for now, but I hope that we shall meet again. If it is not too forward of me, I should like to call on you one day.”