Without a Summer (19 page)

Sir Prescott rose to receive them with delight, then drew up another set of chairs so they could join the group at the fire. “You already know Miss Godwin, I believe. Allow me to introduce you to her mother, Mrs. Godwin.”

“How do you do, madam.” Jane dropped a curtsy before taking her seat. While she had known that one of Miss Godwin’s parents must be Indian, it still surprised her somehow and she endeavoured not to be so rude as to let that surprise show. Unbidden, Lord Verbury’s words floated though Jane’s head.
It is not as though she is Irish.
She felt abruptly ashamed.

“So charming. Mr. Colgrove has spoken highly of your family. I am pleased to have the opportunity to meet you.” Mrs. Godwin’s voice danced, rising and falling with a modulation that flattered the ear.

Melody smiled at them both. “Likewise. Your daughter has been kindness itself to me. She knows ever so many more people than I do, and has been utter graciousness in making introductions.”

“You hardly need introductions.” Miss Godwin leaned over to her mother. “Lady Vincent and her husband are the Prince Regent’s glamourists.”

“Are you really?” Mrs. Godwin clapped her hands and beamed at Jane. “Oh! Well, this is not the time, but at some point I would very much like to talk to you about arranging the glamour for a wedding breakfast.”

Remembering Vincent’s disdain for wedding glamours, Jane attempted to put Mrs. Godwin off. “I am flattered by your consideration, but I am afraid that we are not in the habit of performing at weddings.” A veil of reserve came over Mrs. Godwin’s features. Sudden fear washed through Jane, that Mrs. Godwin thought that she was declining because of her heritage. “Indeed, we declined the honour of Princess Charlotte’s wedding.”

Sir Prescott cleared his throat and Jane’s mortification deepened that even he seemed to notice her inadvertent gaffe. “They—ah—they are often busy. We hired Mr. Moyer for the glamural here, and he did a fine job.”

“Oh, but for family…” Mrs. Godwin looked back to Jane. “Surely you could fit in a family wedding.”

Her daughter blushed at her mother’s presumption in discussing business at a social call. “Mama … we have not properly announced it yet. It is too soon to make plans.”

Jane finally understood why Miss Godwin and her mother were calling upon Mr. Colgrove. Her jaw did not drop, but it took her a moment to form the appropriate response. One only need meet Miss Godwin to realize the value of her company, but Jane could imagine her mother’s astonishment at the connection. Jane herself was delighted with Miss Godwin, of course, but she had met her.

As she had met Mr. O’Brien. As she had met his parents and knew them all to be of stout cloth and worthy acquaintances.

Melody clapped her hands, beaming at their cousin and his intended. “Oh! Oh—am I to understand that we may wish you and Mr. Colgrove joy? That is too, too wonderful.”

Wonderful, indeed. And yet, with Miss Godwin’s thirty thousand pounds, society would find their engagement no wonder at all. If Mr. O’Brien were merely Irish, then there would likely be no impediment to his advances to Melody. It was the fact that he was Catholic that was the true problem. She had done the correct thing to separate them, as he could not offer his hand.

They spent the rest of the call exclaiming over Miss Godwin and making all of the appropriate sounds of delight that one makes to the newly engaged. Freed from restraint by the acknowledgement, the two lovers were free with their affections.

Internally, Jane crossed Mr. Colgrove off her list of suitors for Melody. The need to expand their circle of acquaintances was perhaps more pressing than she thought.

*   *   *

Before Jane could arrange
a dinner at her own home, she first had to endure the promised dinner at Lady Penelope’s home.

Though Lady Penelope had said that it would be a small family affair, Jane did not want to presume that they could attend in the half dress they favoured at home, but Vincent was no help at all in recommending the degree of formality to expect at dinner. Left to his own devices, he would have gone in his working clothes.

Consulting Melody proved far more efficacious. Together they decided that, since there had been the mention of meeting Lady Penelope’s young son, a simple round gown was the safest course. Jane chose her pomona green one, and Melody settled on a figured white silk. Adorned with shawls, pearls, and a minimum of feathers, they achieved elegance without dressing above their station. Jane had contrived to get Vincent to wear his blue superfine coat and breeches by mentioning how appealing she found the combination. He acquiesced with only a small amount of grumbling.

Even given the circumstances, Jane felt a degree of anxiety toward the event that surprised her. She half expected Lord Verbury to be in attendance, so by the time they called for the carriage and made their way to Essex House, she was in a state.

Vincent’s sister lived in a grand town-house stretching eleven windows across, facing Grosvenor Square on the fashionable end of the small park. The windows of the ground floor were bright with candles or the illusion of candles.

When they came into the entry hall, a flurry of footmen stepped forward to take their wraps. Jane nearly stumbled on the hem of her dress, staring. Each man wore the livery of Essex House: a deep green coat and knee breeches she had seen before. One of the men also looked familiar.

He was the servant who had been speaking to Mr. O’Brien.

The footman saw her and paled to the shade of his wig, leaving no doubt as to his person. He averted his eyes and took Melody’s wrap.

Vincent steadied Jane as she regained her balance. She opened her mouth to whisper to him, but at that moment, Lady Penelope came out of the drawing room to receive them. Jane bit the sentence off before she could utter it, determined to alert Vincent at the first opportunity. What in Heaven’s name had one of his sister’s footmen been doing with Mr. O’Brien?

Governing her expression, Jane greeted Lady Penelope with a smile.

Vincent’s sister wore a full evening gown of amber crape over white satin, ornamented with rich silk trimming in Austrian blue. A profusion of ostrich feathers fluttered above her head. “My dears! How lovely you look.”

“Thank you so much for inviting us.” Jane fought the urge to pat her own hair and surrender the single plume she had placed there.

“Come, I want you to meet my family.” She led them into the drawing room, all smiles.

Lord Verbury stood in the centre of the room in an attitude of relaxed enjoyment. On the couches and chairs in the elegant parlour were a profusion of lords and ladies. Although Jane had thought that the Earl might make an appearance, the reality still sent a jolt through her senses. She and Vincent had been promised a small family dinner, but it seemed Lady Penelope had included Vincent’s parents and all his brothers and sisters.

Vincent stopped on the threshold, and Jane very nearly turned to go.

Lord Verbury smiled with cold civility. “The fault for your surprise is mine. I told her that if you knew, you would not come.”

“Then perhaps that should have been reason to tell me.”

“Oh, Vincent … must you?” The oldest of the ladies present stood with admirable grace. “Your father is apologising.”

Vincent swallowed and looked at the floor. Jane, in agony for him, felt that a retreat would only delay the reckoning. Melody shifted uncomfortably beside them. Jane tightened her pressure on Vincent’s arm.

Gathering himself, he drew Jane farther into the room. “Mother, may I present my wife, Lady Vincent, and her sister, Miss Ellsworth. My mother, the Countess of Verbury.”

Vincent’s mother was, as he had once reported to Jane, very beautiful. The Lady Verbury had a tall, upright figure, which had lost none of its vivacity with age. Though she had borne five children, she had the grace of a maid. The white column of her throat supported a face that would well-suited to a gallery, with a fine Grecian nose and full, soft lips. Where Jane could see her mark on Vincent most clearly was in her hands, which had an eloquence about them that seemed to draw pictures in the air, even without glamour.

As she took the part of hostess over from her daughter, Lady Verbury introduced them to each of her other children in turn. Jane felt confounded trying to remember them, though there were not so many names to recall.

Sir Waldo Essex, husband to Lady Penelope, was a stout figure of middle height and an unexceptionable manner. He was, fortunately for Jane, the only gentleman in the group who had lost his hair, and was therefore easy to remember. She was introduced in turn to Lady Merrick, Vincent’s eldest sister, who he had called Caroline. She looked enough like Penelope to be a twin, save only that she had a few silver strands mixed among her brunette hair and faded blue eyes. Her husband, the Marquess of Merrick, was a small fox-faced man who watched the assembly with obvious forbearance.

Vincent’s two brothers, of whom Jane had heard much, were cast from the same model as Vincent, though expressed in different ways. The eldest had followed the usual route of assuming one of his father’s lesser titles and was styled the Viscount of Garland. Like Vincent, Lord Garland was tall, with a firm and upright figure. His face, though, had grown coarse and red from an excess of drink. His wife, Lady Garland, was a slender blonde whose colouring was so fair as to appear bleached, as if she were a glamour imperfectly rendered. The impression was strengthened by the want of regard that the rest of the family seemed to pay her.

Mr. Richard Hamilton, the middle brother, had a delicacy to him that Jane found difficult to place—the movement of his hands, perhaps, or the softness of his features—which may have been some evidence of the “propensities” that Lord Verbury feared use of glamour might produce in Vincent.

Once the introductions were finished, the assembled guests stood and looked at each other. Jane had the uneasy sense that they had placed a bet as to who would break the silence first.

The answer to that came from Melody. “Are we too late to see your son, Lady Penelope? I had most particularly wanted to meet him.”

“How lovely of you.” Lady Penelope shook her head sadly. “Alas, he has an ague, so Nurse is keeping him from us. He is such a delightful boy. So well-grown and forward for his age.”

“Spoiled, you mean.” Lord Verbury looked down his nose at where his daughter sat on a divan.

“But of course, Papa.” She laughed, as though taking his remark as a joke. “Who could mean anything else with boys?”

“I find it so myself,” Melody said. “Our neighbours have the most charming little twin boys. They are forever getting into mischief, but one cannot mind them because their spirits are so irrepressible.”

A footman stepped into the room to announce that dinner was ready, saving them from further discussion of little boys. Lady Penelope stood and clapped her hands gaily. “Now, the question is … since Vincent is now Sir David, does that mean he precedes you, Richard?”

Lady Penelope, for all her seeming good humour, was playing games with the order of precedence to deliver a sting to her family. By strictest rules, a knight did not rank above the son of an earl. If they were both Lord Verbury’s sons, then Vincent’s knighthood would push him above his brother in precedence in spite of the disparity in their ages. But if Vincent were to stand by his decision to cast off his family name, then he was not to be treated as Lord Verbury’s son, and would rank below Mr. Richard Hamilton.

Lady Penelope had, with a seemingly innocent question, laid open the entire trouble of this familial gathering.

Mr. Richard Hamilton, who seemed to feel his sister’s wit quite as much as anyone, said, “Vincent should lead in, of course. As prodigal, his presence must be honoured. I shall take my usual place at the foot of the line.”

With a tilt of his head, which reminded Jane uncomfortably of Vincent, Lord Verbury gestured to Melody. “Perhaps you might sit with Richard, then. After all, he is, strictly speaking, a commoner.”

His words might have been meant for his son, but Jane felt them for her sister. Melody’s cheeks flushed. Wrinkling her nose and giving a little laugh, Melody snapped her fan open. “La! Lord Verbury, you would have me think you are trying to make a match. How forward of you. But I will take the compliment as you meant it.”

Vincent, who, after the initial introductions had remained silent, coughed and covered his mouth. His face was quite red. For the first time that evening, Jane thought he was masking a smile. She wanted to commend her sister’s ready wit, for even if Melody did not know the history of the family, she must be sensible of the tensions in the room.

Jane followed Lady Penelope into the dining room, taking precedence beyond her rank as the wife of the prodigal. The table was as elegant as she had come to expect from the establishment of a lady of fashion such as their hostess. Glamour had been used to dim the corners of the room so that the attention was on the candlelit tablecloth. A footman stood behind each chair, and the quantity of plate on the table was almost enough to blind.

As Lady Penelope took her place at the foot of the table, she caught Jane’s arm. Lowering her voice, she gestured to the head of the table. “Do sit by Sir Waldo. He understands what it is to be an outsider in this family. I am sorry that our teasing does not make it easy for you.”

She seemed so sincere that it was hard to credit her barbed wit but moments before. Still, Jane did not suspect she would find a safer place at the table than by their host’s right hand. Melody sat across from her, seeming to have a similar thought as the other ladies took their places down the length of the table.

As the gentlemen processed in, Sir Waldo smiled upon seeing her. He pulled out his chair, saying, “I had hoped we might have an opportunity to converse.”

“As did I.”

The chair to her left scraped as a footman pulled it out. Jane turned to her neighbour. Lord Verbury sat beside her. He inclined his head, and then turned his attention to Lady Garland, as was proper at a formal dinner. She would have to face him eventually, but for the first course, Jane was grateful that custom meant she had Sir Waldo as her dinner partner.