The Belle Dames Club (4 page)

After the quiet existence she had led with her sister in Royston, Clarissa found herself pitched headlong into a social whirl which left her little time for reflection. Following the Orpington ball there were any number of invitations to be answered, visits to the mantua-maker and milliner and such drapers and emporia as could be guaranteed to furnish any young lady of fashion with the fabrics, gloves, fans and
dancing
slippers required for her stay in town. On the day
assigned to the next meeting of the Belles Dames Club, Clarissa was engaged to drive out with Lady Sarah and she was therefore unaware of the unusual activity in Charlotte Street. Lady Wyckenham held several prolonged meetings with her steward; delivery men toiled up the stairs to the drawing-room with additional pieces of furniture, while the servants gasped and giggled and shook their heads at the ways of the Quality when they were instructed to put
themselves
at the disposal of a heavily veiled female who arrived on the doorstep at noon.

Clarissa returned to the house with only enough time to change for a quiet dinner with her stepmama. During the meal Lady Wyckenham made a half-hearted attempt to persuade Clarissa that she would not wish to join the meeting that evening, and when that failed, she bowed to the inevitable and led the way to the drawing-room.

‘Oh heavens!’

Clarissa clapped her hands to her mouth as she looked around the room. The heavy curtains had been drawn across the windows and the room was warm with candlelight. The sofas had been replaced by numerous chairs arranged in groups around small card tables, while in the centre of the room stood a round, green-baize table. Nearby was a long bench bearing a highly polished wheel, its centre divided into sections of red and black.

‘Mama-Nell, what is all this?’

Lady Wyckenham’s blue eyes twinkled with mischief.

‘I thought it would be amusing to learn a little about the gaming hells that the gentlemen enjoy so much.’ She
beckoned
to a tall female in a sacque-backed gown of mustard yellow to come forward. ‘My dear, let me present to you Mrs Nugent.’ Lady Wyckenham’s voice trembled a little. ‘Also known as Fleet-fingered Poll. She is to be our guide for the evening.’

Mrs Nugent dipped a curtsy as Clarissa took in her heavily powdered hair and whitened face. The eyes that stared back at her were intelligent and held such a gleam of amusement that Clarissa warmed to her immediately.

‘You must be wondering what her ladyship is doing invitin’ me here.’ She spoke in a voice that reminded Clarissa of the scrunch of gravel underfoot, so deep it was.

‘Well, yes.’

The carmined lips parted to display a chequer-board of yellow and black teeth. ‘I’m to teach you the finer points of the gaming tables, and my lady couldn’t have found a better teacher, even if I do say so myself. I’ve been working at the tables since I was a slip of a girl. I can tell a Greek just by lookin’ at him, and I’ve rubbed shoulders with all manner of great gentlemen, some of ’em who blew their brains out after a bad night’s losses.’

‘R-really?’ Clarissa regarded her with a fascinated eye, but before she could question her more the door opened to admit the first arrivals, sisters Georgiana Flooke and Emily Sowerby, followed shortly after by Lady Maramond, who had taken up Alicia Greynard in her carriage. Lady Sarah Matlock and Julia Norwell came in with Lady Gaunt, with Mrs Leighton-Kettering following closely behind.

As the members of the Belles Dames Club arrived, Clarissa was amused to observe their reactions. They were very much as her own had been and it was some time before the general exclamations died down, wine had been served and the ladies were ready to hear what was in store for them.

Mrs Nugent moved towards the round table at the centre of the room.

‘Gather round, ladies, for tonight I am going to teach you some of the secrets of the gaming table.’

‘Oh goodness,’ giggled Lady Sarah. ‘I have never played anything more serious than whist or silver loo.’

Mrs Nugent nodded at her.

‘And nor should you, my lady, if you knows what’s good for you. But Lady Wyckenham here thought it might be interestin’ for you to know just what your menfolk gets up to when they’re out at all hours. For you ladies, though, I’d advise that you keep to the dance floor at Almacks, where a single rouleau would cost you fifty guineas.’

As she spoke she pulled on a pair of linen cuffs and arranged them to cover her fine lace ruffles. ‘I’ve been working with elbow shakers since I was a slip of a girl, and I’ve learned to spot a Captain Sharp, the cheating bullies who prey on the unwary; I know every rig and row used by the Greeks who think they can cheat their way to a fortune. M’lady has asked me to come along tonight and teach you a few tricks so that you don’t become pigeons, dupes who lose everything and end up in the hands of the gull-gropers – money-lenders,’ she explained, seeing their blank looks. She picked up a small leather box. ‘So let’s start now with St Hugh’s bones – the dice, my dears. Let us begin with hazard.’

Julia Norwell gasped.

‘I have heard Barnabus speak of it as the Devil’s own game.’

‘Aye, my dear, so it is: it’s called hazard because it can make a man or undo him in the twinkling of an eye.’

Fascinated, Clarissa and the other ladies watched and listened as Fleet-fingered Poll explained the mysteries of the game. She told them the best numbers to call as a main or a chance, and how to calculate the chances of winning. She spoke of Fulhams, up-hills and down-hills, which they were to
understand
were loaded dice, and how to spot the diversionary tactics of those who would cheat them.

‘What happens if the dice roll on to the floor?’ asked Clarissa.

‘It would be a no throw,’ replied Mrs Nugent. She fingered the bevelled rim of the table. ‘That’s why the edge is raised. ’Tis the same if a die should hit something on the table, an elbow, perhaps, or a fan.’ She looked towards Julia, who quickly
snatched her fan from the green baize. ‘Thank you. So, shall we play?’

Lady Wyckenham put out her hand.

‘Just a moment: we all know that one can lose thousands on a throw: I’ll have no one leaving my house a sous the poorer tonight.’

Lady Gaunt tutted.

‘Shame on you, Helen: where will be the fun if we cannot bet?’

‘Indulge me, Dorothea. I know full well that you like deep play, but some of us are quite new to this. We shall write out our vowels and they will all be burned afterwards.’

Mrs Norwell and Lady Alicia exchanged looks of relief, but Lady Sarah cried out against such poor-spirited behaviour.

‘Well, at the end of the evening we shall have a reckoning, and whoever has lost the most shall be asked to pay a forfeit,’ declared Lady Wyckenham.

Lady Maramond’s sharp eyes narrowed.

‘What sort of forfeit?’

Lady Wyckenham waved her fan.

‘Oh, I have not thought of it yet, Augusta, but you may be sure something will come to me. I know – we shall ask whoever has won the most to set the task.’

Clarissa looked at the dice lying on the table.

‘Is it true, Mrs Nugent, that men can become addicted to these games?’ she asked.

‘Aye, miss. I’ve known young men drop a thousand pounds at a sitting and vow they will never return, but they are back the following night. Now, I’ll pass the box to the lady on my left….’

A noisy hour was spent at the hazard table, where the ladies played with much spirit but very little calculation, then Mrs Nugent led them on to the card tables.

‘Of course if we was in a real club there would be a new pack of cards called for at every deal,’ she said. ‘The old ones are thrown upon the floor until by the end of the night you would not be able to see the floor.

‘Now, for the card games. Whist you will all be familiar with: piquet calls for skill and a calculating mind, but at all costs avoid “put”, my dears, if you wish to keep your fortune, for ’tis the game of the sharpers. We’ll begin with faro.’

By the time the party broke up for supper, Clarissa’s head was reeling with talk of punters and bankers, the
carte anglaise,
how to spot someone fuzzing the cards or reversing the cut.

‘I am sure I shall not remember the half of it,’ declared Sally Matlock, taking Clarissa’s arm as they went downstairs for a light supper.

‘For my part I think it is most instructive,’ remarked Mrs Leighton-Kettering who was following behind with Lady Alicia at her side. ‘I am eager to play at roulette after supper.’

‘I am not at all sure that this is legal,’ murmured her companion.

‘I am very sure that it is not,’ laughed Clarissa. ‘I must hope that my stepmama will have the evidence removed first thing in the morning, if we are not to be locked up for keeping a gaming house.’

The candles were burning low in their sockets by the time the party broke up. The ladies gathered together and counted the
pieces of paper each had won during the evening.

‘And who has fared least well?’ asked Georgiana. ‘Who must pay the forfeit?’

‘It should be me,’ sighed Julia. ‘I am a very poor card player.’

‘No, it is Clarissa,’ announced Lady Wyckenham. ‘Dorothea seems to have fared best, but even she has not amassed a fortune.’

Mrs Nugent gave a hearty laugh.

‘It’s few enough fortunes is won at the gaming tables, my lady: far more is lost to the sharps and Greeks.’

‘A very useful lesson, then,’ remarked Mrs Leighton-Kettering. ‘And what is to be Clarissa’s penalty?’

The room fell silent. Lady Gaunt tapped her fan against her cheek, her eyes narrowed.

‘Dorothea, you will not suggest anything outrageous,’ Lady Wyckenham warned her.

‘No, no, of course not. I
did
consider suggesting a promenade along St James’s Street….’

‘Dorothea, you could not!’ gasped Julia Norwell. ‘Only … only….’

Lady Gaunt finished the sentence for her in her forthright style.

‘Only Cyprians and light-skirts are seen there. Yes, I realize that. But a forfeit needs to be something challenging—’

‘But respectable.’ Lady Wyckenham was adamant. ‘I will not allow Clarissa to go beyond the bounds of propriety.’

‘Very well,’ said Lady Gaunt. ‘She shall collect trade cards from the silk mercers – nothing improper in that.’

‘That is very acceptable,’ said Clarissa with a smile. ‘I am sure I can do that.’

‘Very well, tomorrow you shall collect ten – no, twelve – trade cards from different mercers in town, each one signed and dated to prove you were there.’

Clarissa nodded.

‘Very well. Mama-Nell, is that respectable enough for you?’

Lady Sarah clapped her hands.

‘How delightful, I adore visiting silk warehouses.’

‘Perhaps you would like to help me?’ suggested Clarissa.

‘No, that would not be allowed,’ said Lady Gaunt. ‘And you will not have all day for your task, Clarissa, that would be too easy for you. We will meet up with you at, say noon, tomorrow. Now, where shall we meet … somewhere out of town … Julia, may we agree to meet at Norwell House?’

‘Of course. Come and take tea with me.’ ‘Then it is agreed.’  

Lady Gaunt signalled to her page to bring her more wine.

‘When the viscount returns to town I think I shall ask him to have a roulette table installed: a most entertaining game.’  

‘I admit I quite enjoyed playing,’ offered Mrs Norwell in her soft voice. ‘However, I do not think I should like to risk my money on a card, or the throw of the dice.’  

‘That is where we differ,’ said Lady Gaunt, taking a pinch of snuff. ‘I find the whole thing quite, quite dull without the risk of losing a fortune.’  

‘That is because you are a wicked woman,’ smiled Lady Wyckenham. ‘Besides, Gaunt is as rich as Croesus. If you lost a fortune you would merely apply to him for another.’  

‘Well, Emily and I have no fortunes to lose, so we are quite safe,’ laughed Georgiana from the other side of the room.’  

‘Now that’s where you are wrong, ma’am,’ said Mrs Nugent. ‘Handsome young women like yourselves have other assets that men will take instead of money.’  

‘Oh heavens!’ murmured Mrs Greynard. ‘I never thought of that.’  

‘Don’t be a goose, Alicia!’ snapped Lady Maramond. ‘You and I are well past the age of worrying over our virtue: it would be a very odd man to want
that
from us!’  

‘I know it will seem very tame after this evening, but I do hope you are all coming to my supper party next week?’ Mrs Leighton-Kettering looked about her hopefully.

‘Your soirées, Letitia, have the distinction of bringing together many people of strong intellect and decided opinions,’ declared Lady Maramond. ‘I am heartily sorry that I cannot be there, but I have a long-standing engagement that cannot be gainsaid.’

‘Oh, you will be missed, Augusta. I have such a treat for you all. Oswald has persuaded Sir Joseph Banks to loan to us the paintings and sketches that have just arrived from the Society’s latest voyage. Sir Robert Ingleton has agreed to release them to my care for the evening and we have high hopes of finding more sponsors for the Royal Society. I depend upon you all being there to support me.’

Clarissa looked at Lady Wyckenham to see how she reacted to the mention of Sir Robert, but the lady appeared to be deep in discussion with Mrs Nugent. She turned and smiled at Letitia.

‘Well, Augusta might not be able to attend, but I assure you Mama-Nell and I will be there. Julia, what about you?’

‘I should dearly love to be there, but Lady Norwell and Barnabus’s sister are arriving and it will not do for me to be away from the house.’

‘Well, I am coming, and I believe Matlock is accompanying me,’ said Lady Sarah.

Letitia Leighton-Kettering nodded. ‘So most of the Belles Dames will be there to support me – thank you. And pray be early, my dears, for I fear it could be a dreadful crush!’

‘Ooh, miss, I don’t like the look o’ this weather, to be sure I don’t.’

Clarissa sipped her hot chocolate and looked towards the window.

‘Is it raining, Becky?’

‘Aye, miss. The road is awash, so it is.’

‘Then you had best put away the apricot muslin and find my blue walking dress. And boots. I think we shall need them.’

Becky stopped and looked at her.

‘We?’

Clarissa tried not to laugh at the look of horror on the abigail’s face.

‘Yes, Becky. We are going shopping today. It is a pity about the rain, but it cannot be helped.’

Lady Wyckenham’s carriage rolled into New Bond Street at an unfashionably early hour, Clarissa hoping to avoid the crowds. Unfortunately, although the ton was not yet abroad, the street was packed with drapers’ carts and wagons delivering goods, and the carriage was soon snarled up in the traffic. Clarissa descended to the flagway, followed by her reluctant maid, and instructed John Coachman to meet her at that spot again at half-past eleven.

‘Thank goodness we have an umbrella,’ she said. ‘I had hoped we might be able to take the carriage from one shop to another, but I see that will not work. We will be obliged to walk.’ She laughed as Becky pointedly stepped around a puddle. ‘Come along. The sooner we collect these trade cards the sooner we can get dry again.’

The task proved much harder than Clarissa had imagined. Although New Bond Street had its share of milliners and modistes, jewellers and hatters, there were few silk mercers, and by the time she had walked the length of the street and back again on the other side, she had only four cards to her collection. A helpful assistant in the last shop directed her to a silk mercer in Piccadilly and Clarissa set off there on foot, ignoring Becky’s mutterings that they should not walk so far in the rain. From there it was but a step to King Street in Covent Garden, where Clarissa was relieved to find an abundance of silk merchants all eager for her business.

‘We should have come here first,’ she said, counting up her trade cards. ‘I knew of King’s, of course, and Hinchcliffe and Croft, but I never dreamed there were so many other silk
merchants to call upon.’

‘No, miss, and you shouldn’t be calling on them, neither,’ retorted her maid, trying to hold up an umbrella over both of them. ‘They should be calling on you.’

‘Oh, Becky, don’t show me that Friday face. Admit it, this has been amusing.’

‘Amusing! Getting soaked to the skin and wearing out good boot-leather, all for a silly wager.’

Clarissa realized that her maid was seriously displeased. She resolved to make it up to her, and was trying to decide on a suitable present when she heard the church clock chiming the half-hour. She stopped.

‘Heavens! We should be in Bond Street to meet John Coachman by now! We shall never reach Knight’s Bridge by noon.’

‘And what did I tell you?’ muttered Becky with gloomy
satisfaction
. ‘Never heard of such silly goings-on.’

Clarissa ignored her.

‘We must find a hackney carriage, or—’ She stopped.

To Becky’s amazement her mistress suddenly left the shelter of the umbrella, picked up her skirts and dashed across the road, not waiting for the crossing sweeper to make a way through the dirt.

Clarissa reached the flagway before looking up at the driver of an elegant town chaise drawn up at the side of the road.

‘Is your master with you?’

The rain poured from the broad brim of his hat as the
coachman
looked down at her. ‘Aye, madam. He’s here now.’

Clarissa turned to see Lord Alresford coming out of the watchmakers. His head was bent against the rain and she was obliged to step in front of him before he saw her.

‘Miss Wyckenham!’

‘Good morning, my lord, I wonder if I might beg a favour of you.’ Clarissa ignored the mutterings of her abigail, who had by this time caught up with her and hoisted the umbrella once more over her head.

‘Of course, madam, I am at your service.’

His prompt response was very encouraging. She gave him her sunniest smile.

‘My lord, I am desperate to get to Norwell House by twelve o’clock, but my carriage is at the far end of New Bond Street.’

‘Then let me escort you. It will be as quick if I take you there myself, rather than try to get you back to your carriage with all this traffic.’

‘Thank you, sir, you are very good.’ She looked round. ‘You may go and find our coach, Becky, and tell the driver to come on to Norwell House for me. Oh, and you had best keep the umbrella.’

‘It is very good of you to take me out of your way, my lord.’ Clarissa settled herself in the chaise and untied the ribbons of her chip hat, which had gone sadly limp in the rain.

‘It is no trouble, ma’am, I had finished my business. Your urgency – I hope Mrs Norwell is not ill?’

‘Oh no, nothing like that.’ Clarissa turned her head to look at him, reading the concern in his face. She said lightly, ‘I have an appointment with her, and I do not wish to be late.’

She noted a very slight softening of his look, as though he approved of her diligence. She wondered what he would say if she told him the truth. She removed her bonnet and regarded the wet chip straw with a rueful smile.

‘I fear my poor hat will not recover from its soaking.’

‘You seem to have been out in the rain for some time.’

‘Yes. We started in Bond Street very early this morning. My maid was not at all pleased, but it had to be done.’

‘You mentioned that your carriage was in New Bond Street – so how did you come to be in King Street, Miss Wyckenham? Surely it is a long way to walk in the rain.’

‘We had several calls to make on the way … I have been collecting trade cards from the silk mercers, you see.’

‘Trade cards!’

‘Yes, the small cards they give out to advertise their wares.’

Something like a growl escaped him.

‘I know very well what they are, ma’am. I am amazed that you did not wait for a better day.’

‘Oh no, that was impossible. It is for a wager, you see.’ The words were out before she realized she had said them: Clarissa risked a glance at his face and saw that the harsh look had returned. She tried to look contrite. ‘You will think that a trumpery reason for importuning you, my lord.’

‘Not at all, madam. It is, perhaps, a trumpery reason for being out in such weather.’

That made her smile.

‘I shall not melt from a little rain, sir. Besides, gentlemen will go to much greater lengths for their wagers … or so I
understand
.’

‘I believe they do, Miss Wyckenham.’

The humour in his voice surprised her, and she turned again to look at him, and noticed the reassuring twinkle in his hard eyes. She realized she was smiling up at him in the most idiotic way, and felt the blush stealing into her cheeks. She looked away, for the first time aware of the dangers of riding alone in a closed carriage with a gentleman. To her relief the coach turned off the road and into the drive of Norwell House. Lord Alresford took out his watch.

‘It still wants ten minutes to the hour. You are within your allotted time, Miss Wyckenham.’

The carriage drew up; the earl jumped down and turned to hand her out while a footman in Norwell livery held up a
sheltering
umbrella.

‘Thank you for conveying me here, my lord.’ She paused. ‘I really should not have imposed upon our slight acquaintance.’ Her fingers were gripping his and she quickly withdrew her hand: he would think she was flirting with him! He gave a stiff bow.