Lady Susan Plays the Game (27 page)

Her mind revolted. The idea was impossible. It was absurd to have entertained it. But she must do something to make sure it remained absurd. If only Mr Vernon would take the matter seriously, but he too seemed to be enthralled by his sister-in-law. If he were only firmer he could talk to Reginald and surely her brother would listen to him as an older, more experienced man.

She knew in her heart that, even if she could bring this about, it would do no good. If Reginald had got in so far with so much against him, he would not take heed of a brother-in-law of whom he often seemed – if she were candid – just a little contemptuous.

All she could think of was to pour her heart out to her mother. Perhaps Lady de Courcy could do something. Their blustering father would only make matters worse, but their mother might have some influence over her darling son.

As Mrs Vernon sat describing her fears to Lady de Courcy, it never occurred to her that Lady Susan might not wish to ‘catch' Reginald. Catherine Vernon had lived so long with the notion of her brother's manifold attractions and landed prospects that she could not imagine any woman refusing him, let alone one beyond youth and in need of money.

Yet Lady Susan, who was well aware to what pitch she had brought the young man, was considering just that course. The extra money that had come her way made her situation at present not as desperate as it had once seemed. She'd no intention of paying Frederica's fees unless Madam Dacre became publicly importunate, and she'd been living freely in Churchill for many weeks. So she really could contemplate a future in town for at least some months once the amusement with Reginald palled – as she imagined it would soon do. Marriage would probably have to be resorted to in the end with someone or other, that was unless lawyer Burnett kept finding new funds. But surely, though he could have made a mistake intentionally or unintentionally over some sums, he couldn't have overlooked the source of a regular income. It was strange but not worth spending much time on at this point; the man left rather an unpleasant taste in her mouth when she thought of him. The point at the moment was that she had funds and these could for the time being buy the life she wished.

What would it be like if she actually married Reginald? There would be pleasure in punishing the sister who'd been too willing to despise her. But this pleasure – and that involved in taming a prejudiced and haughty young man – would hardly compensate for the pains of matrimony. How long would she enjoy the triumph over Reginald and his family? When the feeling wore off she might find herself entangled with a man who had no idea how to deal with a woman like herself. He was vain of his attributes and person, and she imagined could be insolent. There would be disagreeable scenes before she brought him to heel.

That she was, despite her safer financial state, giving the matter a second thought was solely due to a letter from Alicia Johnson, to whom she'd written a spirited account of the Reginald affair, along with some expressions of her continuing tenderness for Manwaring. She hoped Alicia would not leave the letter lying about – though she supposed Mr Johnson could hardly think worse of her than he did.

Alicia Johnson had never quite recovered from her luck in securing a luxurious establishment despite modest charms. She thought marriage by far the most pleasurable way to ensure one's ease in life. So she'd skimmed through the usual Manwaring material in her friend's note, then settled on the account of young Reginald and his prospects. A conversation with her husband, in which she carefully inserted her queries, had made her aware of the desirability of the de Courcy estate, antiquated in farming methods but extensive, and the imminence of the old man's death. She'd hastened to write at once to her friend.

Lady Susan knew already much of what Alicia Johnson wrote, for Mrs Vernon had taken care on several occasions to make the importance of her family well known. ‘My father, Sir Reginald' was often in her mouth, as were allusions to the extensive de Courcy grounds. But Mrs Johnson also pressed on Lady Susan the fact that, although old Sir Reginald would certainly oppose his son's match with her, there was nothing much he could do since the estate was entailed and Reginald could not be cut off. He could stop the allowance in his lifetime but the son was said to have money of his own from a collateral relative. And it would not be long before her admirer would become mistress of a very pretty estate.

Mrs Johnson did not flatter when she declared no one worthy of dear Lady Susan – she really did regard her as beautiful, clever and invincible, and had thought her so since she
saw her charming the old housekeeper in their Bury school without laying out any of the money the rest of them had paid to keep her sweet – but Reginald de Courcy was well thought of among her husband's friends and would not disgrace Lady Susan as a husband.

Alicia Johnson had not seen her friend in love before and so did not pay much mind to the new lover, Manwaring. She was dutifully forwarding the letters to him which her friend sent through Edward Street, but she believed that, in the end, Lady Susan would look to her interests. Manwaring, about whom Mrs Johnson had heard so much from her disapproving spouse, would of course storm and rage – it was his selfish aggressiveness that had so appalled her husband when he'd first appeared and infatuated poor Charlotte. But Lady Susan could easily calm and control him, and, in truth, there was no reason why their intimacy should subside. There was certainly no point in holding out for him to be a widower.

Lady Susan agreed with this. She had, she admitted, fantasised a little, but she was experienced with pale nervous women like Charlotte who fancied themselves ill; usually they had the vapours and went on living much longer than their more robust sisters. Unless Charlotte was poisoned – and Manwaring had none of the cunning needed for such an act – there was little reason to suppose that he'd be freed from her for a decade or so, if ever. No, there was little sense in considering the possibility of marriage with Manwaring. Lady Susan had certainly no intention of putting herself beyond the pale in any other state.

For the moment she would go on working to bring Reginald to the point of proposing – that would be easy unless her skills were failing – then she would refuse him.

‘Let me fetch your shawl,' said Reginald as he sat beside her; both were watching from a window as the water played prettily in one of the dolphin fountains now the frost had been melting for a few days. The colourful bird embroidery lay in folds on Lady Susan's lap.

‘You are kind, but I am quite well without it.'

‘Some refreshment?'

‘Thank you, Mr de Courcy, my wants are happily simple,' she responded smiling but keeping her eyes on the fountain. ‘It's as well not to pamper the appetite.'

‘You hardly do that, madam,' he returned. ‘You have spent so much of your life in London and yet take such joy in the country I see.'

‘I'm afraid it is a kind of countryside methodised. I love rural walks over smooth grass by banks of wild flowers but am not charmed by wet muddy fields. You're right, though, in what you imply: I have no love for some aspects of town life; the ceaseless searching after novelty wearies me.'

‘It does me too,' he said eagerly. ‘But you are so well informed. I thought perhaps you missed the stimulation of a town.'

‘I am not learned,' she said turning to him. ‘I try to keep abreast with our country's affairs and books that are suitable for a woman to read. I value, even honour, learning, but it's nothing to a feeling heart and a happy temperament. I do know that, sir. And these may be developed in the country or the city.'

‘And yet,' he pursued, ‘a well-informed mind can help a happy temperament.'

‘Possibly, but perhaps the more we learn the less we wonder.'

This was the right note, she surmised; sentimental rhetoric had an erotic tinge. But it could be overdone. She must be careful.

‘You are an educated man, Mr de Courcy, and will have thought more on this than a woman living retired. I only know that my heart dissolves in pity at the sight of a sick child – or indeed animal – and I doubt that knowing the intricate cause of the illness or the workings of the diseased body would much affect my feeling.'

With slow, almost imperceptible movements he had brought his chair closer to hers. Through the corner of her eye she noticed that his hand trembled, the edges of his mouth were moist.

She contemplated the encroaching as from a distance. She'd no wish to allow Reginald the familiarities given to Manwaring – and which he'd so roughly and deliciously exceeded. The very memory stirred her. No, the enjoyment with Reginald was cerebral and should remain so. Despite his disappointing nose he was good-looking enough in a puppyish sort of way so that his attentions were not demeaning, but he didn't attract her. Also he was earnest and his flattery came from infatuation; he lacked the kind of naughty talk with which dear Manwaring accompanied his trespasses.

‘But perhaps one may know more, especially of the human mind, by thinking of it; this would not affect even feminine delicacy.'

While noting the phrase Lady Susan kept her expression constant; she would repeat it in capitals to Alicia when she next wrote. ‘No, certainly. Ignorance of human nature in man or woman is not to be commended. And yet too much learning in any area is not useful for our sex, I believe. I would not presume to try to trace the passions to their sources, and perhaps it's after all an idle subtlety for anyone.'

His voice was husky as he continued, ‘Yet to be human is to hunger, at least in imagination.' He stopped.

She suspected the word ‘hunger' had been arousing. She would continue the style. ‘We spend too much of our lives trying to satisfy different desires without knowing what will really delight us,' she said.

She wondered briefly about introducing religion but rejected the idea. Reginald didn't seem unduly pious and, in the context of desire, it might seem rather methodistical. ‘This fountain brings us joy. We can get much gratification peacefully watching the water cascade through the air. Imagination can hunger for more of course, but is there need?'

She was starting to bore herself. Serious prating with Reginald was less tedious than struggling with the defensive Mrs Vernon or listening to the accounts of shooting and estate improvement with which her husband sometimes regaled them; yet she was not sure she could keep up the moral talk much longer.

She excused herself abruptly and stood up so that her embroidery fell to the floor. Reginald stooped to pick it up. He returned it to her hand, touching the cold fingers as he did so. There was no blushing, no confusion, only gentleness in the expression with which she thanked him.

That evening she was on her best behaviour. She expected a proposal at any moment, most probably the next day. The waiting now had almost the excitement of the cards – with better odds.

It was in this contented mood that she looked next morning for a letter on the hall table from Manwaring. Bevan did not always bring it up to her as quickly as she wished.

There was none there, but she was surprised to see another letter in a female hand she thought she recognised. It was postmarked London. She wondered idly if it could be one
of those dear women friends she had forgotten. She doubted it for she'd never encouraged female correspondents beyond Alicia. She opened it and read: ‘Dear Lady Susan, I have the sad duty to inform you that your daughter has absconded from Wigmore Street …' She moved her eyes down to the signature at the end: ‘Aspasia Dacre.'

The note was longer than it need be since it explained on more than one occasion that the elopement of Frederica was not the headmistress's fault. A Sir James Martin had ‘unexpectedly and with no forewarning' arrived at the school and it was possible that the disappearance related to this visit. Madam Dacre was unsure.

Lady Susan had sometimes thought that nothing could shock her. But this letter succeeded. How dare the girl do anything so nonsensical? Where could she have gone?

Her vexation was so great that for a moment it stung her eyes. As the open letter drooped from her hand, Mrs Vernon happened to be passing on the stairs. Lady Susan told her what had happened and Mrs Vernon, seeing what she assumed tears of distress on her sister-in-law's face, hastened to assure her that Charles would set out at once. ‘He will find her, don't be distressed,' she said.

Lady Susan noticed the tone. Plain married ladies so enjoyed being able to command the services of devoted husbands. ‘How kind,' she murmured, ‘of course, dear Mr Vernon. It will be such a comfort to me.'

Just as Charles Vernon was about to leave for London, Lady Susan received three further letters. One was in a very familiar hand. The next was from Madam Dacre again. Its tone was more acerbic than her earlier one. It told Lady Susan that Miss Vernon had left the school voluntarily and that an unknown gentleman had written to inform them that the girl was at a tavern by the Haymarket from where she could be collected. Mrs Dick had been dispatched to bring her back but in these extraordinary circumstances the headmistress, who prided herself on the respectability of her establishment, could not possibly keep her. Her presence would corrupt the other girls.

Lady Susan wondered whether this was a demand for even larger fees, or an acceptance on the headmistress's part that she was now unlikely to receive her arrears.

She studied the third letter. Its bold writing was unknown to her. The seal was large and intricately stamped. Possibly, she thought, a missive from Reeve & Reeve, who had several clerks; she'd never noticed their seals. She looked a little closer: did she discern in its ridges a small lopped helmet, the sort her husband had once used for a seal? Anxiety was playing tricks on her. She broke the seal and pulled the letter open. Her eyes fell at once on the signature: ‘A well-wisher'. In mounting amazement she read the words.