Talk of the Town (7 page)

Beau flashed a satirical smile at the young beauty who had been annoying him. “I shall hover a foot above the ground on wings of delight and anticipation till morning, when I shall come to earth and plant both feet on your doorstep. Your obedient, ladies,” he bowed, and returned to Lady Melbourne to report success.

“What a plain-looking little fellow he is,” Effie said to Daphne. “Mr. Pealing used to talk about him a good deal—said he was the height of elegance, and he with never a bit of a jewel or a thing to him.”

“But possibly with the best-cut jacket that was ever invented,” Daphne replied, admiring the departing back of the Beau.

“Yes, and a pity there isn’t more of him to fill it. Standington now; there was a gentleman that made a jacket look like something. But he has very nice manners, this Beau. I daresay it’s the manners that have put him over.”

Miss Ingleside found his manners the most objectionable part of him but grudgingly admitted he had a certain sort of wit.

Mrs. Pealing’s signal success was bruited about town. To have held Brummell’s attention for fifteen minutes set her up higher than ever, and the news eventually leaked itself back to Charles Street, where Lady Elizabeth Thyrwite heard it with mixed feelings. She took the decision that as the Leveson-Gowers and other quite unexceptionable persons were being blackmailed like herself into inviting the Pealing to their homes, she would go along. She sent off a card to an informal afternoon tea, and if the repercussions were not too violent, she would also send cards to her ball. That should buy their silence. The tea for Larry’s flirtation with the lady, and the ball for his loose lips.

During these days St. Felix spent more time thinking about Miss Ingleside than his concern for Larry’s welfare warranted. Not for one moment did he intend to let Bess knuckle under to them, yet their having crashed the barrier to Society put his sister in an untenable position. He felt some compulsion urging him back to Upper Grosvenor Square and soon found an excuse to give in to it. He would “feel them out” was the way he justified it to himself. The silence had been long and resounding since Bess had briefly acknowledged receipt of her cheque, and he was curious to know what they were planning.

For some reason unknown to himself, he did not inform his sister of this second visit, and, for a reason known very well to herself, Bess didn’t tell Dickie of the card sent to her afternoon party. Dickie would thunder and scold and call her a ninnyhammer. Easy for him. He was not about to be lampooned in an infamous book for the whole of London to titter over.

St. Felix presented himself again to Upper Grosvenor Square, and once again Mrs. Pealing declared it utterly impossible she should meet him. Miss Ingleside, on the other hand, was quite eager to cross swords with him again and point out to him that his dire warnings of ostracism had come to nought.

He noticed during the seven minutes he awaited her arrival in the Blue Saloon that the room had been refurbished and silently calculated how much the ladies had raked in. His first words when Miss Ingleside eventually entered, wearing an ironic smile, were, “I see business prospers, Ma’am.” His eyes silently pinpointed the new acquisitions.

“Indeed it does. We have instituted a few renovations to make the place more habitable, and more visitable, for some people have expressed a desire never to return.” A pert glance reminded the Duke that he was one of these. “And pleasure prospers as well, despite your fears of our being barred from it.” With a wave of her hand she indicated a newly covered chair, where he took a seat and let his eyes wander around the room. No glimmer of approval escaped those eyes, and, in fact, his face was a perfect mask of disapproval.

“I read in the paper you are to attend the Queen’s Drawing Room,” he said.

“Just so. Not everyone is so nice in her notions as you had feared. And one would have thought that if anyone would take exception to a pair of blackmailers it would be Her Majesty, who is so strict in all her ideas, but she was very understanding in the matter. We hadn’t a single thing to threaten her with, either. Her charity was entirely voluntary.”

“You haven’t made your bows yet, and if the Queen hears of your doings, you never will.”

“I have come to place little reliance on your lovely threats. Surely no one would be so surly as to go whispering malicious gossip into Her Majesty’s ears.”

“I must confess I am looking forward to the publishing of this book. Your aunt must have some racy stories to be flying so high.”

“Yes, an interesting compendium of adultery, gambling, and so on—all the more amusing pastimes. But at the rate people are coming up to scratch, I begin to fear the whole will be comprised of one chapter, entitled Sir Lawrence Thyrwite. A pity, too, for it promises to be the dullest chapter of the lot.”

“That is why I am come.”

“You would like us to enliven it with a little fiction? I cannot think that would meet with Auntie’s approval. Someone—I forget exactly who it was—has spoken to us about libel, and we mean to tell no more than the simple truth.”

“Your solicitor, perhaps, was the one who mentioned it.”

“Some disagreeable person of that sort,” she agreed, smiling.

“I am here to discuss Sir Lawrence, not listen to insults.”

“Ah, I was beginning to mistake it for a social call. I had thought from your delightfully entertaining conversation you were come to take a glass of wine with me, Your Grace.” Her lips remained steady, but her eyes were full of mocking laughter.

His blood quickened, and a dangerous flash shot forth from his eyes. “What do you mean to do about it?”

“I am completely reasonable and mean to listen to what you have to suggest. I hear Sir Lawrence is rising in the world—a folio in Liverpool’s Cabinet is spoken of. Still, I suppose one’s physical appearance is of no importance in that. Liverpool himself looks a good deal like a hippopotamus.”

“What I suggest is that you pack your bags and return home before you are found out.”

“Found out? The whole town knows what foul deeds we are up to. There is no keeping it secret when the line of victims extends from Upper Grosvenor Square to Whitehall.”

“You will not find me in the line-up.”

“I wonder that I find you in my aunt’s saloon, to tell the truth, after your expressing no desire to return. Why is it Sir Lawrence does not come to do his own haggling?”

“He does not wish to.”

“Now that is the very sort of behaviour that gives Auntie a disgust of her victims. Top lofty. He wants a good raking down.”

“You persist, then, in demanding some payment to withhold the story?”

“If you will but consider, Your Grace, we have never demanded a thing of you or Sir Lawrence. You came of your own free will to berate us and try to push money down our throats. Five hundred wasn’t enough—you had to double it, and the insult. We returned the cheque with a very civil note, pretending we were not hurt and that there was some misunderstanding. But these repeated incursions upon our privacy are making us quite short-tempered with the pair of you.”

“When you set upon a course of this sort, you must be prepared for some unpleasantness.”

“True, but we had not thought the unpleasantness would come from someone we had not approached with our vile scheme. We had not thought people so eager to be blackmailed that they would come barging in twice, demanding the privilege of paying up.”

“I am here to tell you we have no intention of paying a sou."

 “No one asked you to pay a thing, but your obvious fear of what we might say makes me wonder whether I haven’t missed a chapter of the memoirs. I begin to think there is something Auntie is keeping from me. I shall go through the books with a fine-tooth comb and see if I have missed something.”

“No, I don’t think you miss a trick.”

She laughed aloud and said in a warning voice, “Bear it in mind, Your Grace.”

“Don’t think to threaten me. My hands are clean.”

“Ah, I see you have washed your hands, but is your conscience clear? No ladybird tucked away in a corner? No wild parties at your Leicester hunting box? No secret vices my avid curiosity might smell out? There is no saying the reminiscences will stop at 1800, as originally intended. I might personally add an epilogue pointing out that the sins of the fathers are visited on the children. I shall suggest it to Colburn.”

“Sir Lawrence is not related to me, except by marriage. It would seem more accurate to suggest the sins of the aunt are visited on the niece.”

“Auntie will be crushed to hear it is a sin to write a book.”

“The sin is in your extorting favours for suppressing your stories.”

“It seems it is a chaplain I require, not an attorney. My crimes have been elevated to sins all of a sudden.”

“There is no rational discourse to be had with you. I shall leave.”

“Without having accomplished a thing! I begin to think you came only to vex me. Take care, or you will find yourself having to return to this place.”

“Good day, Ma’am.”

“
Au revoir
, Your Grace,” she waved her fingers. “Till we meet again.”

He heard a silver tinkle of laughter follow him as he strode towards the door. He was about to turn around and light into her again but couldn’t think of a sensible word to say.

Chapter 6

St. Felix left the apartment in a state of vexation. He had managed affairs much more serious than this for his family without a qualm and wondered that he should let a saucy little chit bother him so. The worst she could do was to publish some spiteful nonsense in a year’s time, and Larry’s appointment was due any day. It was in no danger, and the other stories Mrs. Pealing would be telling were bound to eclipse the romance with Sir Lawrence.

The sense of frustration came from his not being able to get the upper hand over her. He was the man; he the one who ought to be running the show. She should be trembling in her boots at his empty threats, as any of his sisters or any normal woman would; but no, she laughed at him, and taunted him for returning when he had indicated he had no desire to do so. The most galling thing of all was that he knew damned well he would be back for more of her impertinence as soon as he could find an excuse. But he wouldn’t let Bess invite her to Charles Street. She would see who was running the show.

While he bolted along in his curricle, the young lady did as she had threatened and went to look over the memoirs, her eyes alert for any mention of Thyrwite. Her most careful perusal brought nothing new to light. Reading the chapters, however, she found some allusion to St. Felix, whose acquaintance with her aunt pre-dated Larry’s by some few years; and she reconsidered anew Effie’s relationship with the Duke. Effie had become more pliable since her new rise to fame. She was always smiling now, planning new outfits and her little soiree. Catching her in a happy frame of mind, Daphne again made a try.

“Aunt Effie, I wish you will tell me the story of your affair with St. Felix,” she said in a wheedling voice.

“Lud, Daphne, I’ve told you a dozen times..."

“Yes, I know you were just friends, but you didn’t feel it necessary to hide any other pages from me except those dealing with your ‘friend’, St. Felix. I know there was more to it than that, and you might as well tell me, for I am. imagining the most lurid things.”

“Is that what St. Felix came about?”

“No,” Daphne answered, her interest quickening that he might have done so. How she would love to have something to hold over that sneering face. “I am not standing in line—but you might be yet, Your Grace. I shall quiz him about it next time he does come, if you don’t tell me.”

“You’re making a mountain out of a mole hill. He was just one of my beaux, that’s all. When I was married to Standington there were a dozen of them hanging around.”

“For shame, and you a married lady.”

“Oh, the single ones weren’t allowed any fun at all, only the married ladies. But I was the only one who paid such a price for her affairs,” she said, a little sadly.

“Did you have an affair with St. Felix?”

“No, and not with half the others I was supposed to have had, either. He never suggested an affair—he was too much of a gentleman. We spoke of getting married when Arthur sued for divorce.”

“That was impossible—St. Felix was already married.”

“Oh, yes, and divorce was an even worse scandal in those days than it is today. Practically no one did it then. Bad enough I was divorced, but to lead St. Felix to abandon his wife, and he with three children! The present duke was on his way then, as well, and the eldest daughter getting up to the age where she was soon to be presented. I couldn’t let him do it. It was too great a sacrifice.”

“But he wanted to?” Daphne enquired, feeling a surge of exultant power over her foe.

“My, yes. I lived on at Half Moon Street all through the divorce. Arthur moved into a club. Mrs. Elders stayed there with me for the looks of it. St. Felix came every night for a week to try to talk me into running away with him, but I brought him to see it would not do,” she said and then laughed merrily.

“He was quite persistent, I gather?”

“I’ve never told a living soul this, Daphne, for Georgiana is dead now, and she is the only one I ever told. My, how she laughed, ready to split her sides. She was a love. What I did was this. I took a page from Prinney’s book—you remember his trick of pretending to commit suicide because dear Marie Fitzherbert wouldn’t have him? I pretended to St. Felix I meant to kill myself after the duel.”

“The duel!” Daphne gasped. “I heard nothing of a duel. Oh, but I suppose Arthur had to defend your reputation.”

“That wretch! No such a thing. He said he couldn’t be duelling with half the gentlemen in London, and he knew perfectly well it was only Ansquith I ever—Well, it was not Arthur who defended my name, but St. Felix.”

“Oh!” Daphne was stunned into silence. She had been cheered to hear of the romance between her aunt and the Duke, but a duel having been fought was more than she counted on, or knew quite what to do with. It sounded so very shady, and Effie’s own husband not being willing to fight made it worse. “How—how did it come about?” she asked weakly.