Lady Susan Plays the Game (32 page)

By now he was apologising to Mrs Vernon for his sudden intrusion. Once would have been polite, but he repeated his apology over and over again until she gave up responding. With Frederica he made no advance, though from time to time he addressed remarks to her bowed head.

Was she enjoying her stay in the country?

No answer.

Did she ride out often?

She slightly shook her head.

He had called again at Madam Dacre's Academy and had been sad to hear she had left so suddenly, but he imagined for such a young lady … He trailed off. Even he was beginning to realise that he could not make Frederica respond.

Lady Susan rescued him again and again from her daughter's silence until, feeling fatigued, she proposed that, since the day was so bright, Sir James might like to see the pleasure gardens. Despite her annoyance she was amused to remember that these had so recently been the scene of Reginald's rapture. Although Charles Vernon had carefully selected the plants in the winter beds, perhaps only Frederica had noticed his choice with any interest, otherwise the gardens seem to exist mainly to receive the overspill of human emotion from the house.

Lady Susan's suggestion was accepted with alacrity, and the women went off to put on warm outdoor clothes. When she came in from her walk with Reginald she had removed her pelisse and handed it to the footman. It was a happy circumstance, for it allowed the three women to leave the room together while the gentlemen remained a while behind.

Neither group was at ease. Reginald had watched the proceedings without gaining much clarity. He had seen Frederica's stricken look and heard the young man's fruitless attempts to talk to her. This was apparently the approved suitor. On the surface it was a reasonable match – but clearly not much to the girl's taste.

Reginald was not someone who could chat amiably while thinking through a problem, so, while waiting for the ladies, he studied some hunting prints on the wall that had never before attracted his attention. He wished Mr Vernon had been present, for he had no wish to engage Sir James in conversation – or rather listen to him, for the man showed some desire
to tell him of his journey, his speed and the prowess of his bay horses. But Mr Vernon had gone off riding round the estate early in the morning.

Lady Susan used her time to better effect. Frederica had immediately fled to her own chamber leaving the other two women to move more sedately up the stairs. Lady Susan seized her moment. It was necessary to give some explanation to Mrs Vernon, who had remained ominously silent, except when initially assuring Sir James of his welcome to Churchill. She could not prevail on her sister-in-law, but she might manage to plant a doubt in her mind, which could in time counter the evidence of her senses.

So, as soon as they were alone Lady Susan began, ‘May I, dear Mrs Vernon, have the quickest word with you in private in your dressing room? There is something very particular I want to say to you.'

Mrs Vernon was cross at finding herself forced into yet another
tête-à-tête
with Lady Susan – she had not got over the previous one – but she silently assented. The two women walked up to her dressing room and the door closed behind them.

Mrs Vernon motioned her sister-in-law to a seat but Lady Susan remained standing. She had her back to the window and occasionally looked out of it with a pensive expression flickering across her face.

‘I am quite as bewildered by the arrival of Sir James as you must be,' she began, turning her eyes earnestly on Mrs Vernon. ‘I had by no means expected it.' She paused. ‘I really cannot say to you how sorry I am for what must seem an unpardonable intrusion. However,' and she sighed a little before proceeding, ‘it is flattering to a mother.'

She smiled gently to allow Mrs Vernon to adjust her thoughts. ‘As I am sure you have fathomed, dear sister, Sir James is warmly attached to my daughter and it seems he could not bear another moment without seeing her.'

Mrs Vernon roused herself. ‘But Frederica,' she began. ‘Surely she—'

Lady Susan was now looking out of the window, shading her eyes from the wintry sun. Then, as if she had not heard Mrs Vernon, she spoke over her. ‘I think the little you have seen of the young man will have convinced you what a superb match he would be for any young lady. He speaks too much perhaps – he rattles – but he is young and will grow out of the habit. His temper is good and in all ways he could not be more eligible. It has given me
the greatest pleasure as a mother to find that dear Frederica has attracted a man of his status and calibre.'

‘This is very sudden, Lady Susan. You have mentioned Sir James as a suitor, but now he is here it is not clear that your daughter much welcomes his suit in the way you had led us to believe.'

Lady Susan sighed again. ‘It's so difficult to know what Frederica welcomes and does not welcome. She's so closed; she hides so much from me. But, as you see, she is too old for restraint: indeed she's thrown it off in a rather dramatic way.' Here Lady Susan looked frankly into her sister-in-law's eyes and smiled conspiratorially, woman to woman. ‘I don't propose to try for any other school for her – I doubt any would take her – and so it has occurred to me that, although I would not have countenanced Sir James appearing like this, it may now be the best thing to bring the possibility of this match into the open.'

‘But are you sure that such a match would ever be agreeable to your daughter?' cried Mrs Vernon more aggressively than she'd intended. She gave Lady Susan a stony look. Lady Susan greeted it with another smile.

‘Dear Frederica is, I fear, not quite mature. If I thought there was anything exceptionable in this connection or that she had any rooted and appropriate dislike, I would of course drop the idea in an instant. But until now I had not known how warm was the affection Sir James held for my poor girl. This would surely touch the heart of any woman. I myself feel quite sure.'

They were both silent. Catherine Vernon determined not to speak again. She didn't trust herself. ‘One day, dear sister,' resumed Lady Susan, ‘you will find a man who is all that you could wish in character and circumstance and see your sweet Arabella given to him. You will then know the kind of exultation as a mother that I now feel. But of course' – and here she paused, giving another glance into the outside world while Mrs Vernon continued to be silent – ‘in the case of your daughter you will not need to be so grateful to fate, for she will have fortune enough to make a choice. As you know, to be comfortable, to be settled in life in a rank suitable to her birth and upbringing, Frederica must attract a man of the substance of Sir James – and, heaven be praised, she has done so. I do hope,' and now Lady Susan moved from the window towards the bell rope beside the door (it was time to end the talk by
summoning Barton to fetch her pelisse from her chamber), ‘I do hope that you can feel able to congratulate me on this favourable circumstance.'

Mrs Vernon felt trapped. ‘Indeed, Lady Susan, if it is all as you say, then I must indeed congratulate you, and yet …' Mrs Vernon stumbled over her words. Lady Susan seized the moment.

‘Thank you, thank you, dear sister. I know that you have the welfare of both me and Frederica at heart and I am most sincerely grateful.' With a look of warm affection, she left the room.

Mrs Vernon got up, took her thick cloak and walked slowly down to join the men, who were being helped into their greatcoats. She was discontented with herself.

During the walk Frederica loitered miserably just behind the party as her mother led with Sir James. Reginald engaged his sister. Mrs Vernon had tried to include Frederica in a trio but the girl hung back; meanwhile Reginald pulled Catherine forward so that he could keep close to Lady Susan, who was vexed that he was near enough to hear the conversation she was having with Sir James.

As a result, since his sister was almost silent, Reginald heard the visitor prattling on. Sir James was foolish: there was no hiding the fact, and he must seem a very odd choice as son-in-law, however large his acreage. Lady Susan talked as much as she could without offending decorum, but her companion refused to be silenced.

‘The horses were not lean,' he said, ‘just right for the coach but not for a phaeton. They must be lower in fat, you see. I fancy townspeople put sleekness before speed,' he giggled.

Lady Susan came in quickly, ‘It has been so wet recently that—'

‘Yes yes,' he exclaimed. ‘Horses, especially the mares, don't like rain. People don't think of that you know,' he tittered again. ‘They think horses are just things in front of a carriage but they feel you know. My horses, bays, just a little different in hue you notice—'

‘The mud this season here,' said Lady Susan ‘has been quite amazing.'

Sir James laughed his high-pitched laugh; spittle was starting to form on the side of his mouth in his excitement. ‘Mud, mud, indeed,' he cried. ‘Country mud is one thing, town mud another, I can tell you. You know in London my carriage wheels were thick with grime, thick I say, worse than Lincolnshire, and some people think Lincolnshire is all mud.' He interrupted himself to laugh heartily. ‘A coach in town is impossible to keep trim. It's like keeping an elephant in a parlour, an elephant in a parlour, you know. That's very comical, isn't it, Ned said it, but it's true. It was all over scratches when we got home and filthy …'

When they re-entered the house after a stroll none of them had enjoyed, Frederica dashed to her room. Her head reeled. She couldn't escape from here as she had from Madam Dacre's. There was nowhere to go and she had learnt the futility of flight without a haven. Also she was with the parent who was supposed to be her defence.

She turned over in her mind whether Lady Susan could actually have sent for Sir James. Surely her mother could not be promoting a match now so obviously abhorrent to her. She thought of her dear father and his kindly words about his wife: could he have so misjudged? Her mother must want what was good for her; she must just not understand. And yet, as she remembered the many tears shed in her presence, Frederica wondered that none had prevailed or even affected her mother – except to exasperate her further. Now the only course was to keep resolutely out of Sir James's way; he must be gone after dinner.

She thought of Mr de Courcy, so gentle, considerate and refined, so very different a man. He had still hardly spoken to her, but she had seen more of him lately when they were all together in the drawing room or dining room, and then he said such sensible things. One evening when he, her mother and the Vernons had been chatting about drawings, he'd turned to Mr Vernon and, with a book of nature prints in his hand, said, ‘Look at this fine one of polyanthus primrose. It's from John Hill's
Eden:
a wonderful book, do you know it, sir?'

Charles Vernon replied that he did but had not acquired it for his library.

‘I would like banks of such flowers planted at Churchill, on the south-facing slope near the house,' Reginald continued eagerly. ‘They are a something between a wild and a cultivated flower.'

Frederica had not dared say anything but her heart was full. She and her father had so loved this book when they had botanised together at Someyton. She had not heard of her mother's recently proclaimed fondness for wild flowers.

Sir James was not deterred by his tepid welcome. He had taken to heart Lady Susan's assurances that Frederica would be won in time and the sight of the mother always increased his certainty about the daughter. He felt fired up. In this ebullient mood he informed the surprised Vernons that he would be staying for a few days.

The self-invitation displeased them all. Lady Susan wished she had had him alone before he made a fool of himself. But it couldn't now be helped. He would stay and they had to make the best of it. The Vernons were forced into the position of hosts but at least, thought Charles Vernon on whom their new guest had not yet impacted fully, he might be a good shooting companion. Reginald enjoyed the sport but his mind was often elsewhere.

The news horrified Frederica. What was she to do? She had promised her mother that she would never tell Mr and Mrs Vernon what had happened in London – or anything else about their immediate affairs. She was bound by her word. She racked her brain as she sat alone in Lady Susan's dressing room, an unread book on her lap. She had long given up playing the pianoforte even when her mother was absent.

How had the Emelys and Emmelines acted in this predicament? If escape was no option, there could only be an appeal to someone who wished them well. The numerous images of weeping, kneeling and pleading girls swam into her mind. The phrase about ‘wishing well' reminded her of the night in London and she blushed violently. But this was no time to indulge in painful memory. She must know a person somewhere who could help. And yet, was there such a being? If they knew how disobedient she had been and wanted to be, no one in the house or outside would pity her or speak up for her. She began to weep quietly, her head against a cushion, her tears seeping into its dark green velvet cover; the book slid from her lap on to the floor. The tears were warm, even pleasing on her face.

Lady Susan entered the room, saw her daughter and groaned. ‘Well, my girl, this is fine behaviour. You behave like a baby. For goodness' sake grow up. If I say you will have Sir James, you will have him and there's an end of it. You are very unlikely to have another chance like this.'

‘Oh, Mama …' Frederica got up, knelt down and clung to her mother's dress. Exasperated, Lady Susan pushed her off; Frederica steadied herself, then fell back in her
chair, her foot against the open book on the floor. ‘Mama, I am so very, very miserable. I cannot, I really cannot …' Her sobbing interrupted her words.

Lady Susan let out a long sigh. She was so tired of these self-pitying moods. The girl was turning out to be more unmanageable than she'd ever envisaged. Even when she herself had been at boarding school in Bury surrounded by such simpletons as Charlotte Dawlish and Sophie Alderson, Lady Susan had never encountered a child so completely clueless in the ways of the world as Frederica appeared to be – and yet so stubborn and histrionic with it.