Sally James (9 page)

The awkward moment passed, and soon Judith gave the signal for the ladies to depart. In the drawing room Mrs Trent beckoned Miranda to sit beside her and skilfully, without appearing to ask many questions, led Miranda on to tell her story for the second time that night. Mary, seated nearby, listened with interest.

“Do you speak French?” she asked. “I am trying to improve mine, for Richard talks of travelling now that the wars are finally settled, and Europe has had a few years to settle down.”

“No. My father would never speak it, and of course he died some years ago, I read it, but I am afraid all I speak is some very limited schoolgirl French,” Miranda responded.

“What a pity. I had hoped to converse with you in that language. But we shall have to make do with our own, for I would so like you to come and visit me. Perhaps we can go driving before the weather turns too cold?”

Miranda was delighted, and Mary immediately appealed to Judith, who smilingly assented to the plan. Then the other girls suggested making up another party, and the older ladies drew together.

After some gossip about their friends and acquaintances, Mrs Willshaw mentioned a name that caused Judith to look quickly at her.

“Lady Carstairs was at the theatre with Mr Crabbe again last night,” she said.

“Again!” It was Mrs Trent. Mrs Willshaw nodded.

“Is her husband still in Canada?” Judith asked.

“Yes, and while he has been gone she has been a trifle indiscreet, I fear. She is seen everywhere with the man.”

“Is he not many years older than she is? Maybe he feels she needs an escort while her husband is away,” Judith remarked resourcefully, knowing her defence of the woman would stimulate further disclosures.

“He is in his fifties, and she cannot be thirty yet. They were seen together often before Sir Henry went away, but he was occasionally with them.”

“Then it would seem open enough.”

“It’s my belief she’s regretting her marriage,” Mrs Willshaw declared. “It was well known he only married her for her fortune, and her father, mad to use his money to get into society, threw the girl at Sir Henry when she was barely sixteen. That was the year my George was born, so – yes, she must be just thirty or so, for he is fourteen.”

“They have no children, I believe?” Mrs Trent asked.

“No.”

“Did I not hear Sir Henry had been associated with Henry Bennet’s Bill in the Commons to forbid climbing boys?” Mrs Trent said suddenly.

“Yes, he made a speech about it, that someone told me of.”

“Then I must think the better of him,” Judith said slowly.

Emma had heard part of the conversation, and turned to her young friends.

“If they ban climbing boys, how shall we ever have the chimneys swept?”

“Climbing boys? What have they to do with chimneys?” Miranda exclaimed suddenly, and they stared at her in surprise.

“The boys that climb up the chimneys to clean them,” Mary explained. “Surely you have heard of them before?”

Miranda shook her head, realising she had made a slip, but she was so horrified she cast caution to the winds, and demanded to be told more.

Mary told her. “They have to be small, and though it is supposed to be illegal to employ them under eight years old, many sweeps use boys as young as four. It is said that as soon as they understand what to do and are agile enough, they are sent up the chimneys.”

“That is horrible!”

“Many of us deplore it. Mr Bennet and Sir Henry Carstairs are trying to stop it by promoting a Bill in the House.”

“But how would chimneys be swept?” Emma repeated.

“My uncle, who read the Select Committee’s report, said there was no need to use boys, for the chimneys can be swept with some sort of machines. He described the brushes they used once,” Mary suggested.

“But then the boys would not have jobs, and would starve. Just like the men in the north who caused so much trouble by breaking the machines that had taken away their jobs,” Emma commented.

“When I was little I watched our chimneys being swept,” Caroline volunteered. “The boy screamed and would not go up at first, but they pushed him up and sent an older boy after him to stick pins in his feet. Then I think he got stuck, and the sweep lit a fire of straw in the grate to force him to go higher. I declare I had nightmares afterwards, for I was but a child.”

“Was he hurt much?” Miranda asked, fascinated by the horror of what she was hearing.

“They said his feet were scorched, but that was all.”

“All! But it’s horrible!” Miranda shuddered, feeling her own situation had been fortunate compared with that of these boys.

“How is it you have never heard of them?” Caroline asked curiously.

“I – I lived in a very isolated part of Cornwall,” Miranda replied. “I do not even remember seeing a sweep. I suppose the chimneys must have been swept, but I could not have remarked it.”

The men had entered the drawing room unperceived by Miranda, and Denzil had approached her, and overheard the last words.

“Why in the world are you talking of chimney sweeping?” he asked, and seeing the distressed look in Miranda’s eyes, drew her aside, while the other girls, only too ready to abandon so gloomy a topic, turned to the other young men.

“I have made the most stupid mistake, for I did not know what climbing boys were, and I was so horrified by what they told me I made a fuss. Denzil, it’s wicked!”

He tried to comfort her, and she smiled tremulously while he talked, allowing her time to regain her composure.

“But these men, Mr Bennet and Sir Henry Carstairs, must be kind,” she commented after a while.

“What?” he demanded, startled at her mention of that particular name.

“Because they are attempting to put a stop to it,” she explained, and he realised the connection.

“Well, yes, indeed they are trying to pass a Bill through the House,” he agreed slowly, “but men can be philanthropists in public and exceedingly cruel in their private lives.”

She looked unconvinced. He changed the subject, and Miranda’s attention was soon claimed by Richard Fellowes. She was able to dismiss the distressing thoughts to the back of her mind, and enjoy the rest of the party.

* * * *

When the guests had departed, Judith sat back with a sigh of satisfaction.

“That was a decided success, I believe,” she remarked to her husband, and Lord Beverley beamed at her fondly.

“Your parties always are, my love,” he said easily.

“I meant for Miranda. Did you enjoy it?”

Miranda nodded. “Exceedingly, and I do thank you.”

“We shall now be overwhelmed with invitations, my dear, and when the gossips have been busy, everyone will wish to make your acquaintance. You have already planned some entertainments, have you not?”

“The girls have made plans, and David Stone, when he heard Miranda was taking riding lessons, urged me to allow him to be her instructor,” Denzil said with a grin. “He had the sheer impudence to say I should not be a good teacher.”

Judith laughed. “How did the others attempt to ingratiate themselves?”

“Timothy wants to drive her out, though if I were you, Miranda, I should insist that he goes no faster than a sedate trot, for he is cow-handed with the ribbons! And all Richard could devise, poor man, was to show her the old buildings of the City!”

“I think I should like that the best of all,” Miranda commented reflectively, “for I have, you must know, read much about them and seen pictures. I so long to see them in reality. That was one reason why I first told you I wanted to see London.”

“Richard will be a good guide for them, for he is bookish. He used his time at Oxford for learning, which is more than most of us did!”

“His sister said they wished to travel now that the wars are over. I wonder he has not gone before.”

“He is over-cautious, I think, and wanted to ensure Bonaparte could not escape from St Helena as easily as from Elbe. Now, I suspect, he deems it safe.”

They laughed, then Judith stifled a yawn.

“I must go to bed. What have we for tomorrow?”

“You planned to make a few calls, I thought,” Lord Beverley reminded her.

“Oh yes. I must present Miranda to some of the old dowagers, or they will think us lacking in respect for them, my dear, and that would never do! Then is not Denzil to give you a riding lesson?”

“Indeed, unless you prefer David’s company?” Denzil asked, but Miranda shook her head.

“No, thank you, for I feel completely safe with you. Please do not desert me.”

He looked at her enigmatically for a moment, then made his farewells and departed.

* * * *

Miranda proved to have the happy knack of pleasing old ladies as much as young – and old – men, for her charm was no threat to them. Her ingenuousness and readiness to listen flattered and pleased them, so that the round of calls on which Judith escorted her the following day was most successful, apart from one difficult moment when a very old lady brusquely inquired of Judith when Denzil proposed to offer for the Floode girl.

Judith glanced anxiously at Miranda, and saw she was talking with another of the ladies present.

“I cannot say, Ma’am, for I am not in my brother’s confidence, regarding his intentions,” Judith replied in a low voice, hoping Miranda had not heard. She was coming to wish Miranda would supplant Araminta in Denzil’s affections, for she had grown to love the girl as well as be sorry for her, and would infinitely prefer her to Araminta as a wife for Denzil.

But Miranda had heard, though she evinced no sign of it, and wondered a little forlornly when she would meet this girl who was so obviously regarded by most of their acquaintance as Denzil’s future wife.

Chapter Seven

The inevitable meeting was not long delayed, for Araminta arrived back in town the following day. It was late when she arrived, so apart from enquiries about the cousins she had been staying with, and a few general remarks about some of their friends, Mrs Floode refrained from mentioning Denzil or Miranda that evening, but insisted her daughter retired early to rest.

The next morning Araminta’s maid brought her breakfast tray to her, telling her Mrs Floode was especially desirous of speaking with her before she went out.

Puzzled, for she would in the normal way have seen her mother soon anyway, Araminta drank her chocolate and ate the wafer thin slices of bread and butter, then dressed and went in search of her mother.

“Come in, my love, and sit down.”

Mrs Floode sounded portentous, and Araminta looked enquiringly at her as she seated herself beside her mother on the satin covered sofa.

“Is your mind still set on Denzil Trewyn?” Mrs Floode asked abruptly.

Araminta stared. “Why, you know it is,” she replied.

“There has not been anyone else that caught your fancy? You said there were some pleasant young men staying in Essex. Were none of them suitable?”

“Not in that I liked them better. Why? What in the world has happened?”

Mrs Floode informed her tersely.

“I have no notion where he can have picked her up, or what she is,” she declared angrily. “She cannot be what I first suspected, for Lady Beverley would never countenance her. If she were I daresay we would have less to fear! But I have never heard a whisper of him having a ward! And they are all mighty close about her family. I tell you, Araminta, I am exceedingly concerned.”

Araminta was disturbed, but still confident of her hold over her admirers.

“I will surely be able to recapture his interest now I am back in town,” she exclaimed.

“Do not be over-confident. He did not offer for you before, as everyone expected.”

“No, but he paid me quite particular attentions, and hinted more than once what he intended. I feel sure it is simply that Denzil has been courted by matchmaking mamas and ambitious daughters for so long he is hesitant finally. I have no doubt he will speak soon.”

“I fear it is more than that, child!”

“However pretty she is, he will return to me,” Araminta boasted. “You say she is shy and without address. That is not in the least Denzil’s style.”

“She has no town polish, to be sure, but that will come. She appears to be just out of the schoolroom. But do not therefore underestimate her, Araminta!”

Araminta laughed. “I have only to beckon Denzil to my side, and he will desert her, leave her stranded!”

“No!” Mrs Floode was vehement. “That is precisely what you must not do! He feels some sort of responsibility for her, why I know not, but if you were to show you thought her a rival, and competed with her for his attentions, he would be bound to consider her in that light, whether he does now or not. You would but harm yourself that way. I have a better notion. You must show her friendship, and be amiable towards her. We will invite her here, by herself, and contrive to have you together as much as possible.”

“But how will that aid me in Denzil’s eyes?”

“For one thing, he will be grateful to you. Then he will see you are not jealous, and if there is one thing a man like Denzil cannot abide, it is a jealous wife. I have warned you before he is not the sort of man to remain faithful to you!”

“Pooh!” Araminta brushed that aside, sure of her charms. “But I do see what you mean about cultivating her friendship.”

“It will also enable her to confide in you, and if you are clever you can discover what is to be known about her background. Although she is pretty, there is no need for you to fear comparison in her company. Fortunately you are dark, and she is, well, a trifle insipid in her fairness, in my opinion!”

Araminta considered this. She liked fair-headed friends, so that the contrast with her own dark beauty was enhanced when they were together. She could see no flaws in her mother’s strategy.

“How shall we begin?” she queried, anxious to see this rival, and take what steps she could to ensure the prize did not in the end elude her.

“Lady Devoran is giving a musical party this evening and we are invited, as well as the Beverleys and this girl. I will contrive to introduce you. You must appear friendly and we will invite her here to a small dinner, I think. We must move gradually. Now, I thought we would go to Bond Street this morning and buy some new lace and ribbons to trim your blue silk. There is no time to have a new evening dress made, but that one suits you admirably, and will have to do. We will call in on Miss O’Brien on the way home and order a new walking dress too.”