Lady Susan Plays the Game (5 page)

Lady Susan blushed for her younger self. Unfortunately Mrs Charles had learnt of her efforts.

The sale of Vernon Castle also told against her. But there she knew herself in the right. However Charles and his new family regarded the matter, as she'd explained to him privately on his visit ‘it would be a constant reproach for
poor Frederick to see his younger brother living in the family home. Such a blow to his honour – though we thought very long about it all. Indeed, Frederick wavered until the very last moment. But then we felt it better to sell to a stranger like Sir Philip Valmain. And besides,' she had lowered her melodious voice even further here, ‘we were very
distressed for money – you know how unworldly Frederick is – and Sir Philip was more than happy to pay far beyond the value of the property.' She gave her tinkling laugh. ‘He even
took some of the portraits and paid for them – or rather,' she added when Charles looked pained, ‘he paid handsomely for copies of the pictures of Mr Vernon and myself. Strange, of course, but a whim and we had to humour him.'

She thought back on the hateful will. How much had Frederick known of her London life? Surely there could not have been bitterness. When she saw him on her visits to Someyton he never mentioned any gossip. In that way he was far too well bred. Could he have heard rumours of her and Jack Fortuny? She doubted it.

She was so unused to looking back in this way that the unwanted memories affected her mood and, after a late night of play, brought on something like melancholy in the early hours of one morning as ghostly shadows flickered from a single candle. For this brief period she gazed at a bleak future. Would there be a day when she had to shop with other impoverished ladies in Temple Gate or in the bazaar where silk stockings went below ten shillings a pair and good muslin could be had for three and six a yard? Would she have to lodge up two flights of stairs? Worse, would there have to be months of every year with the Charles Vernons in the depth of the dull wet countryside? And would she then seem a poor relation, a hanger-on, dependant on people with not an ounce of her skill and charm?

A dose of laudanum, some sleep at last, and the memories and melancholy evaporated. Most of the time she knew she could make a great deal of her resources. If she could not command much money at the moment, she could command what would bring it in. If brown hair, hazel eyes, simplicity and youth could not immediately be sold, then the superior appeal of her own dove-grey eyes and lustrous pale wavy hair would have to go to market. But she need not bring the latter into play just yet.

Lady Susan had arranged to meet the former Charlotte Dawlish, now Mrs Manwaring. The meeting had been organised by Alicia Johnson from her house in Kent, where she filled up long boring evenings by keeping up correspondence with her old school friends and organising occasional meetings when they coincided in London. Alicia also knew of Charlotte through Mr Johnson, who had been Charlotte's guardian – although in recent years the pair had not been close. According to Alicia, Charlotte was much changed since their school days, but she had inherited a great deal of money and might now be useful to her friend whose circumstances she guessed. Although a little older, Charlotte had once been a worshipper of Lady Susan, following her around like a spaniel, as Alicia reminded her. There'd been several girlish admirers in school and they'd become interchangeable in Lady Susan's mind, but she did now recollect Charlotte Dawlish as the lolloping fat girl with freckles.

Through notes sent from her place in Kent, Alicia had set up the encounter for all of them in the circulating library at the Temple of the Muses in Finsbury Square. It was not a completely genteel meeting place but Alicia was a great reader and had to visit often – and husbands were less likely to be found there. The three ladies could then proceed to take tea at one of the shops displaying silks and brocades. Alicia knew a pretty one that served good green tea, a favourite of Lady Susan.

Then, as arranged, at the last minute Alicia found herself mired in Kent and could not join them: Lady Susan and Charlotte would meet by themselves. They would walk together, drink tea, talk over the past, and just possibly a visit might be suggested.

Lady Susan arrived at the appointed time. She browsed among the books displayed, keeping her best side towards the doorway in case a stranger should enter.
She looked to greatest advantage in right profile and the manoeuvre had become automatic.

While she waited she picked up a novel from Cadell's and turned the pages. It held little interest. She didn't much care for fiction, at least not English fiction. French novels and memoirs were another thing. She spied a translation of
Liaisons dangereuses
and thought of Henriette. She felt no particular sadness – she had hardly known this child of her father's second, French wife – but she had some little curiosity about her. Why had she not escaped? It seemed a carelessness to allow one's head simply to be cut off by savages.

The arrival of Charlotte disturbed her reverie – if the woman coming towards her with a smile of recognition was indeed Charlotte. Her appearance was a shock to Lady Susan. What could be the matter with her? The fat girl had grown scrawny. The freckles had faded. Or were they covered with thick powder?

‘My dear Mrs Manwaring,' exclaimed Lady Susan. ‘How absolutely lovely to see you. It has been far far too long,' and she kissed both wan cheeks.

‘Dearest Susan,' replied Charlotte Manwaring, ‘you are as lovely as ever. The black suits you. But of course …' and she stopped, pained at her own indelicacy. For a moment Lady Susan feared that she saw a tear shimmering in her eye. ‘Of course appearance can be nothing to you, your loss, how terrible, so young. How can you bear it?'

‘Very terrible indeed,' replied her friend, ‘so sudden. But one must go on, you know. Frederick wouldn't have wanted it otherwise. And' – she paused – ‘I must keep up my spirits for my daughter. She and Frederick doted on each other.'

‘Ah, your daughter,' said Charlotte Manwaring, ‘what consolation she must be. It's dreadful to lose a husband – I don't know what I would do if anything
happened' – and the poor thing seemed even to tremble – ‘to Mr Manwaring. But a daughter is of course a comfort. I know mine would be.'

The conversation continued in this vein until Lady Susan felt able to change the subject. They had moved out of the rotunda into the brighter sunlight. There Charlotte looked even more drawn than inside. Of course there was a daughter. She vaguely remembered now that Alicia had mentioned this when she described their old schoolfellow's family. She had no idea of the name, probably Ann or Emily or Jane, something homely.

Over tea she resumed the subject of daughters, which she could see would be a welcome one. ‘You have only your daughter?'

‘Yes,' replied Charlotte Manwaring in a lowered voice. ‘I have, we have. I have desired a son, prayed for one, but after two – mishaps – none has come. It's my greatest sorrow. I know that Mr Manwaring wanted a son above all to carry on the name. But now I doubt it will happen. So many years have passed.'

She trailed off and was silent. Lady Susan looked all kindness.

After a pause she resumed, ‘He's so very dear to me, but perhaps now I am not quite so dear to him because of this.'

‘Rubbish,' countered Lady Susan. ‘How could anyone not love you completely? You were always so good and cheerful. We all loved you at school.'

Lady Susan assumed that Charlotte wouldn't notice the tense. She thought, but did not add,
And you brought him so large a fortune that he should have paid in love for the rest of his life.
Having never had the pleasure of bestowing a fortune on anyone, she imagined that gratitude, if fairly managed, might be very serviceable in a marriage.

While they conversed, Lady Susan was forming no great opinion of Mr Manwaring. How ridiculous to worry about family name and sons when he had had not a penny to bring to the match. He must be a vain, silly sort of person.

‘I am so sorry,' Charlotte was saying yet again as, after taking tea, they stepped into the shining black-lacquered Manwaring carriage, upholstered in black and crimson. With her black-gloved hand Lady Susan stifled a yawn. ‘To be widowed so young and to have all the guidance of a daughter laid on you. You know, we have been so very out of touch that you have never told me the dear girl's name.'

‘Frederica,' smiled Lady Susan seating herself, ‘after her father of course. Dear Frederica is a comfort now that I am alone. I have her here with me in London, though' – and she added hurriedly – ‘I will soon be placing her in one of London's most expensive academies. It's so important for her to have company of her own age and rank.'

‘It must be so hard for you to part with her and at such a time,' replied Charlotte laying a thin hand on Lady Susan's elegant one. Lady Susan lowered her eyes.

Mrs Manwaring was touched. She had been in awe of Susan when they were sixteen and seventeen. The younger girl was so good at everything, spoke French and Italian so easily, danced so elegantly. But now, despite her blooming appearance, she must be suffering so. Charlotte Manwaring felt immeasurably sorry. She thought of Lady Susan's family. She'd never met them, for none had come near the school, but there had been some scandal over a dead mother and a father marrying a French mam'selle. To schoolgirls it seemed thrilling and a bit disreputable. Lady Susan's present isolation appeared heartbreaking.

‘You will be alone,' Charlotte was saying in that pitying voice Lady Susan now remembered being rather fond of when they were children. She'd found it soothing then, less so now.

‘But you must enjoy the country. I hear you have given up your town house.'

‘I have. It was an expense that I felt I could not carry now that I face the launching of Frederica. A girl needs so much, and' – she paused round the words and lowered her voice confidentially – ‘I don't like to say it, but my husband's affairs were not left quite as ordered as they should be. The dear man could spare his girls nothing – he called us his girls, you know – and I'm afraid he was not always prudent. We should have the best horses and carriages. But …' she trailed off and turned away to pat the corner of her eye with her white handkerchief, embroidered just at the very edge with a pattern in black silk.

There was a pause. Lady Susan waited.

‘I have just had a thought,' said Charlotte Manwaring, her kind eyes almost tearing with pity. ‘I hesitate to mention it, but I will since we are old friends. We're going to our country place, Langford, for the hunting. It's a little distant, in Hampshire, and perhaps not as grand as you are used to, but I know my husband, and certainly I, would take it as the greatest compliment if you and Frederica could come to stay with us for as long as you wanted.' She warmed to her own words. ‘You would both be so welcome. It would delight me above anything. And the girls would be company for each other. We go there the day after tomorrow but you could come whenever you wished. We'd send our carriage for you so that you would not need to use your own.'

Lady Susan paused. During most of the meeting and especially during the last part of the ride to her lodgings in the luxurious Manwaring coach, she'd been
intending the invitation. It would be useful to avoid incurring school fees and Frederica would be less of an embarrassment in the country. Also there might be opportunities even there and with less competition. But for herself – she wondered if something better might not turn up. She had been in town only two weeks.

Yet, a bird in hand. And two weeks was an age in London. No one had rushed forward with an invitation. She supposed some weaker spirits had been frightened by gossip. And, besides, Charlotte Manwaring had such wealth that Langford might be grander than she was making out. If the house suited the carriage it would be to Lady Susan's taste. And surely where there was money there would be decent company. One could not stay in town into the winter in widow's weeds. It looked so particular.

‘My dear, it's too kind. I could not impose.'

‘No imposing at all. Mr Manwaring loves company. We will be a small party of course; my nerves don't allow us to entertain as much as I would wish. But my dear daughter Mary will be there with the man to whom she is about to become betrothed, Sir James Martin. You may know him; he has estates in Lincolnshire.'

Lady Susan did not – and rather wondered why she might be expected to do so, unless Charlotte Manwaring was as poor at geography as she'd been at French and thought Someyton in Lincolnshire – but any ‘Sir James' was hopeful. So the girl's name was Mary, homely just as anticipated.

‘And of course I would love the company,' Charlotte continued, ‘though I fear I may be a little dull at times. I expect you find me changed. My health has not been good.'

‘Not at all, dear friend, you seem the same to me as the day we parted in Bury, only a little trimmer. And it suits you.' Lady Susan touched her friend's thin arm
affectionately. There was something wrong. Was it nerves? She did seem a touch fretful.

‘I am after all a poor widow,' said Lady Susan. ‘I don't need much entertaining. My present state of mind demands privacy and quiet.'

A few more polite phrases and it was decided.

‘Since you are so insistent, I think we must accept. It will be a pleasure to meet Mary. She is older than my Frederica but I'm sure they'll be great friends. And if it will please Frederica, it will please me. I must think of her first, you know.'

‘I admire you so much,' replied Mrs Manwaring. ‘It must be such a weight on your shoulders to have the sole care of a child. I should be terrified without my dear husband. But you were always so strong – and so unselfish.'

‘Such kind friends do compensate a little,' murmured Lady Susan.