The Regency (43 page)

A heart whose love is innocent!

Lord Byron:
She Walks in Beauty

January 1811

 
Having taken a stroll in the Park to clear his head after a long
session in the House, John Anstey walked to Upper Grosvenor
Street to call on Lucy. He arrived just as she got back from a
drive, and was about to enter the front door, with Thomas at
her heels like a faithful hound.

‘
Is that your new team?' Anstey asked, looking with interest
at the four handsome black horses harnessed to the curricle
standing at the kerb. 'I haven't seen them before, though
Tonbridge was talking about them at the club last night.'

‘
Yes,' said Lucy. 'I mean to race them against Carlyon's
greys in a few weeks' time, when I've got the measure of
them. Carlyon's been having it all his own way of late. It's
time someone cut him down to size.’

Anstey grinned at this manly statement, so at odds with her
small size and fashionable appearance. In her smart driving-
coat with the Hussar frogging, and a very saucy
demi-bateau
hat,
with a green hackle in the ribbon, she looked every inch a
leader of the
ton,
and not more than five-and-twenty years
old.

‘
If anyone can do it, you can,' he said, taking another critical
look at the team as Parslow drove off towards the mews. 'I
may have a few guineas on the race myself. They're certainly well-matched.'

‘
That's because they're all Morland bred,' Lucy replied.
‘The wheelers came straight from home — I bought them
from Edward a fortnight ago — but the leaders are the pair
he sold to Robert Knaresborough last year.'

‘
And why has Knaresborough sold them to you? Don't say
he's another one gone bankrupt! There've been so many
failures this past year.'

‘
Lord, no! He'll be as rich as a nabob, now he's married the
Fletcher fortune.'

‘I thought it was a love-match? It was talked of as one.'

‘
Well, I don't say he isn't fond of Julia, but I hardly think
he'd have married her without her fortune. A lot of the Knares
borough money was bound up in sugar, and you know how
Boney's embargo has ruined the West India trade. The
Fletcher fortune's very safe. Planters may fail; manufacturers may fail, for the matter of that; but brewers just go on getting
richer and richer.’

John laughed. 'How caustic you are, dear Lucy! Don't you
like the new Lady Knaresborough?’

Lucy looked surprised. 'I neither like her nor dislike her —
she's just the sort of goose-brained, feather-witted, missish
female I never think about at all.'

‘You mean she's perfectly feminine?'

‘
If you say so,' Lucy said indifferently. ’Do you mean to
stand here on the doorstep for ever, or are you going to come
in?'

‘Since you ask me so nicely, how can I refuse?' he said, and
followed her in. Hicks and 01lett took their outdoor things,
and Lucy led the way up to the drawing-room on the first
floor.

Will you take a glass of sherry, or madeira?' Lucy asked.

‘
Sherry, thank you.' Anstey was intrigued to note the auto
matic way that little Thomas went to pour the drinks and
hand them, and then took his place on a low stool by Lucy's chair. Not so little Thomas now, of course. At seven he was
tall for his age, and had grown into a handsome boy, rather
grave and reserved, which made him seem older than his
years. Lucy took him everywhere with her — riding, driving,
walking, on morning calls — and at home, although he was
supposed to share lessons with Roland under Roland's tutor,
he was more likely to be found at Lucy's elbow, attending her
like a page, or running small errands for her.

Of course, there had been other great ladies with pet chil
dren: Mrs Fitzherbert, for instance, had her Minney Seymour, and the Princess of Wales her William Austin; but these were
childless women. Some people thought it odd in Lucy to prefer
Thomas Weston to her own children; and though he had been
trained to address her as 'ma'am', there were plenty of gossips
to suggest that Captain Weston's son was not as complete an orphan as he appeared. Lucy, as always, was oblivious
to gossip, and no-one was quite brassy enough to ask her
questions directly; and as Thomas had exquisite manners and
an enchanting, though rare, smile, he was generally judged to
be quite acceptable in the morning-rooms of the fashionable.

‘So,' Anstey said when they were settled, 'again, why has
Knaresborough sold you his pair? I thought he was so pleased
with them? I saw him driving them for ever last summer.'

‘
So he was; but now Julia's in the family way, she's full of green fancies, and believes they're going to bolt with him, or
turn him over, so she's persuaded him to get rid of them. He
was going to send them to Tatt's, but I stepped in and bought
them privately.'

‘
At a good price, I imagine, if I know my Lucy,' Anstey
said.

She shrugged. 'If he wants to be fool enough to give in to
that kind of nonsense —' she said. 'But in any case, I don't
suppose he'd have much use for a pair like them, now he's
gone into the country for good.'

‘Where is it, again, that he's going to live?'

‘
Some dismal place one's never heard of — oh yes,
Mansfield,' Lucy said vaguely.

‘
I've heard of Mansfield,' Anstey said indignantly, and she
grinned.

‘
Well, yes — I believe it's all coal-mines and manufactories,
so you would have! God knows what Robert will find to do
there.'

‘
He'll do what all gentlemen do in the country: hunt, shoot,
and raise a parcel of brats.'

‘
Ah yes, I've heard there's good hunting around there,'
Lucy said betraying her knowledge, 'and I suppose even
brewers must have horses. I wonder how he'll like living with
his father-in-law?'

‘
I expect he'll keep him in order. At any rate, your Mr
Brummel will be glad that Knaresborough's married at last,
and gone from London. That's one young man he never liked.
I believe it tried him sorely to have to admit him to Watier's.’

Lucy frowned. 'I don't know what everyone's got against
Robert. He seems to me perfectly harmless — even rather
pathetic.'

‘
I expect that's what everyone has against him. People like
him tend to give others a great deal of trouble in keeping
them out of it. I think Mr Brummell only countenanced him
at all for your sake.’

Did you hear what Brummell said yesterday?' Lucy said
with an obvious effort to change the subject. 'Fred Byng went
past us, driving those new greys of his — Siddington's break
downs, you know. Much too good for him, by the way. I'd
have had them myself if I hadn't been committed to this pair.
I had a real fancy to them — but I dare say Parslow's glad I
didn't get them, after all. Greys are so much hard work to
keep clean.' She faltered. 'What was I talking of?'

‘
The wit and wisdom of George Bryan Brummell, I think,'
Anstey said with a grin.

‘
Oh yes! Well, Fred Byng had just had his hair cut, and of
course his poodle was sitting up beside him in his phaeton, as
usual. Well, with that short curly crop, you could hardly tell
them apart. Brummell pointed at them and said, "Ah, a
family vehicle, I see!" Byng heard him, of course, and he was
furious — you know how vain he is of his hair! And lots of
other people were close enough to hear. I don't suppose he'll
ever live it down.'

‘
You at least should be kind to Byng's foibles — you have a
mascot yourself,' Anstey pointed out.

She stared a moment, and then caught his drift. 'Oh, you
mean Thomas? But I never worry what people say, you know
that. Besides, after all this time I don't suppose people even
notice him, any more than they notice Parslow. And at least I
can't be nicknamed for him, like poor Poodle Byng. Really,
Brummell will go too far one day! But he's very fond of
Thomas,' she added inconsequentially, looking down at her
son, who gazed up at her intently, almost reverently. Adoration
of her was what he had put into the emptiness inside him, where Maman and Sophie and home had been. He had not
seen them for over three years — half his lifetime — and
their memory was growing dim now.

‘
But I didn't mean to be talking nonsense to you, John,'
Lucy said, rousing herself from her reverie. 'I want to hear
about the Regency Bill. Have you been in the House today?
Are the amendments going to go through? Is it to be a full
Regency, or a conditional?'

‘
The final vote isn't until tomorrow,' John said. 'I think it's
going to be a close-run thing. There's a lot of sympathy for
the Prince. After all, a conditional Regency might have
been appropriate in 1788, when he was only twenty-six, and
wild —'

‘He's wild now,' Lucy interrupted.

‘
He's fifty years old,' John countered, 'and he's behaved
very well since the King went mad again: perfectly correct,
dignified, and restrained.'

‘
Yes, that's true,' Lucy admitted. 'MacMahon says he's
given no audience of any sort to any politician; no intrigue or
jobbery; and he's behaved perfectly properly towards the
Queen. But I hear that the King is already much better. If it
was really only Princess Amelia's death that sent him mad, he
might recover at any time, mightn't he?’

John shook his head. 'I wouldn't count on it. The doctors
are divided in their opinion; but the fact remains that the King
had been growing strange for some time, and the Princess's
death only precipitated the crisis. He's a very old man now,
remember, and almost blind, and growing deaf. I don't
believe he'll ever be fit to rule again.'

‘Well, in that case, surely —'

‘
Oh, I'm sure the Bill will go through unamended. It will be
a conditional Regency for the first twelve months. Spencer
Perceval will talk them round. You should have heard him in
the House today! Such fire and conviction! Sam Whitbread
called him 'as bold as brass' — of course, he believes Perceval
is simply trying to make sure that government remains in his
hands.'