Prudence and the Romantic Poet (The Three Graces #3)

Chapter 25

25

Charity seized the opportunity to carry out her matchmaking scheme the next day when Lady Clementina and her son Rupert Lacey called in Curzon Street.

‘Darling, Pomona!’ greeted Lady Clementina, sailing into the drawing room in sable and rubies and embracing Charity warmly. ‘More radiant than ever, my flaming Titian. I like that amber silk on you excessively. Where is your sweet little sister?’

‘How do you do?’ cried Rupert, following his mother into the room. ‘I have not seen you an age. Where is that little fellow of yours? Upon my word!—what is that creature?’

This exclamation was directed at the appearance of Hannibal who ambled in carrying a grinning child on his back.

‘Alex, not in the house!’ scolded Charity, plucking her son from his mount. ‘Where is Nurse? Hannibal cannot come upstairs, you know that. Where are James and Matthew?’

A flustered Nurse ran in to find her missing charge, scolding Alex and apologising to her mistress while Matthew, the second footman, likewise came in apologising profusely over the dog escaping from the servant quarters as he tried to drag the enormous creature away.

Hannibal was delighted to find himself in forbidden territory with new people to greet, and after letting off a volley of deep barks to declare his pleasure he cleared the plate of delicate cakes that had been brought in with the tea tray. He then proceeded to slobber over Mr Lacey’s highly polished shoes and mistook Lady Clementina’s sable stole for another animal to be investigated with his large, black nose.

‘Prudence is taking a walk,’ said Charity, when dog, child, nurse, and footman had finally exited the room, and the tea tray righted.

‘Never mind tea,’ said Lady Clementina, picking black hairs from her sable stole as Charity rang to call for a fresh tray. ‘A glass of Madeira would be more the thing.’

‘A large glass,’ agreed Mr Lacey. ‘Never a dull moment in your house, Mrs Hart.’

‘What an imposing creature,’ said Lady Clementina, examining a long black hair with displeasure.

‘His looks bely his temperament,’ Charity assured her. ‘He is the friendliest animal in the world. Alex adores him. I am glad you are here before Prudence returns,’ she said eagerly, pausing while the butler brought in the decanter and glasses. ‘I have something I need you to help with me, dearest Juno.’

Lady Clementina’s eyes gleamed. ‘Are you in need of a matchmaker?’

‘I am. For my sister.’

‘Little Pru?’ said Mr Lacey. ‘She is young, is she not?’

‘She is two and twenty,’ replied Charity. ‘And turning into the frumpiest maiden aunt imaginable. ’

Mr Lacey and his mother frowned at this disagreeable news.

‘That will never do,’ said Lady Clementina.

‘Not a whit,’ said Mr Lacey. ‘You must do something, Mama.’

‘Your ball,’ said Charity. ‘That would be the perfect occasion to introduce eligible partis to her.’

‘Indeed,’ said Lady Clementina. ‘I can think of several bachelors who are looking about them for a wife.’

‘Oliver Cavendish,’ said Mr Lacey.

‘He will want a wife with at least fifty thousand,’ said Lady Clementina.

‘She has fifty thousand,’ said Charity eagerly. ‘And much, much more.’

‘She does?’ Her guests stared in surprise.

‘A great-uncle recently died and left everything to her.’

‘Well, well,’ said Lady Clementina, taking a sip of her wine. ‘That does make things more interesting.’

‘There are more than a few bachelors who would be very eligible if our Miss Grace has a tidy little fortune,’ said Mr Lacey.

‘A good deal more,’ agreed his mother. ‘Depend upon it,’ she assured Charity. ‘We shall have her at Hymen’s altar in no time.’

Glasses were raised to seal this with a toast, and moments later an unsuspecting Prudence came in.

Warm greetings were exchanged. Lady Clementina examined Prudence so intently that Prudence flushed a little and turned enquiring eyes to her.

‘I hear you have a darling gown to wear to my little festive gathering,’ said Lady Clementina. ‘Do tell.’

Prudence hesitated. ‘In truth, my lady, I have had so many new gowns commissioned that I cannot recall them all.’ She looked a little embarrassed. ‘I am not usually so extravagant, but my sister has taken me firmly in hand.’

‘My sister was in desperate need of being taken in hand in matters of wardrobe,’ said Charity.

‘Congratulations, Miss Grace,’ said Mr Lacey, ‘on your recent good fortune. And commiserations, of course, on your loss. A long-lost uncle, I understand?’

‘Charity has been filling you in, I perceive,’ said Prudence. ‘Lady Clementina, may I bring two young friends with me to your ball? You will like them, I am sure.’

‘Bring who you like, my dear child, so long as they are not ugly. I cannot abide ugly young people at my balls. And in exchange, I shall bring you my Monsieur Blanc.’

Prudence blinked at her. ‘Your… chef?’ she queried.

Mr Lacey laughed.

‘My favourite hair dresser,’ said Lady Clementina leaning back a little to view Prudence’s mountainous, unadorned knot of hair. ‘What colour did you say your ballgown is to be?’

‘I did not say.’ Prudence looked to Charity. ‘I think we settled on the lilac, did we not?’

‘No, my dear,’ said Charity. ‘The lilac was for that sweet little morning gown with the slashed sleeves. The ball gown was the light blue. I wanted imperial but you insisted on the light.’

‘Light blue is more appropriate in the circumstances,’ Prudence reminded her. Though Prudence did not wear black gowns for her late great-uncle, she felt restrained to wear modest colours and black gloves.’

‘So I ordered one for myself in the imperial,’ said Charity to Lady Clementina.

‘You will look divine in imperial blue,’ approved her ladyship. ‘Have you sapphires? ’

‘Sadly not. But I have my diamond set that Leon bought me when Alex was born.’

Lady Clementina sighed softly over the lack of sapphires but turned her attention back to Prudence’s ballgown. ‘What fabric is this light blue?’

‘Taffeta and satin,’ said Charity. ‘Some pretty cording on the bodice. Not so much as I would like, but there was not time for more.’

‘Jewels?’ queried Lady Clementina, who was famed for her jewels.

‘I have a set of pearls,’ said Prudence.

‘Acceptable, but understated,’ said Lady Clementina. ‘Unless they are particularly fine pearls, they will not declare heiress .’

‘Why should I wish to declare heiress ?’ Prudence looked puzzled.

‘Because that is what you are,’ laughed Mr Lacey.

‘But I have no wish to advertise it.’

Rupert laughed again, and Charity deftly turned the subject to a detailed discussion of shoes and fans.

Prudence was too discreet to challenge her sister in front of guests, but when Lady Clementina and her son had departed, she rounded on her.

‘I do hope, Charity, that you and Lady Clementina are not hatching any foolish schemes.’

‘Whatever do you mean?’ Charity was the picture of wide-eyed innocence.

‘I mean matchmaking . I won’t be thrown in gentlemen’s paths as a prospective bride. I shan’t even dance at this ball.’ Before Charity could protest against this she forestalled her, saying, ‘I dare say it will be made widely known that I have recently come into an inheritance, and if it were likewise known just how recent that event was, I should be considered very fast and improper to be dancing within weeks of our poor uncle’s death.’

‘Fiddle,’ said Charity. ‘It is a private ball with close friends, and no one would care to ask when our relation died. I shall dance, for I never even met the man. We lived our whole lives without him caring a button for us.’

‘I am not such a goose that I don’t know what Lady Clementina’s balls are like,’ argued Prudence. ‘It will be teeming with guests, and I shall barely know half a dozen people. Even if I were not in private mourning for Uncle Sealy, I would hesitate to dance in such a crush. The Bath assemblies were large enough for me. Lady Clementina’s party will be twice the size at least.’

Charity could not argue this point, for Lady Clementina’s parties were always the busiest gatherings in London. ‘Well don’t think that I am going to let you sit among the chaperones and old tabbies,’ she scolded. ‘If you won’t dance, you will at least circulate and talk to people.’

‘I have no objection to talking with people. But do not make a point of introducing me only to unmarried men, Chari. I warn you, you will be sadly disappointed with your scheming if you do so.’

On first impression, Monsieur Blanc did not present himself as having genius in the art of dressing hair, for his own pate was bald, though he did have impressive side whiskers and a waxed moustache. But the assistant he brought with him had the most perfectly tousled hair in the Cherubin style.

Prudence wondered that this fashionable assistant should be carrying not only a case of styling tools, which he laid out on a black silk cloth, as though they were jewels rather than scissors and combs, but took from a second case a violin.

Monsieur Blanc raised his comb, and his assistant began to softly play.

Prudence let down her hair, and Monsieur Blanc gave a long ‘ Aaah ,’ of satisfaction at the mass of brown hair spilling over her shoulders and down her back.

‘Now, this is something I can work with,’ he murmured, lifting a tress in each hand and examining it as though reading the hair in the way a gypsy at a fair might read palms. ‘Look at me,’ he commanded, and Prudence was startled into instant obedience, meeting his eyes in the mirror before her. He examined her closely, dropping her hair that he might use his fingers as a measuring instrument to gauge the proportions of her face.

‘Will you put your trust in my art, mademoiselle?’ he said, moving a hand in a slow beckoning movement and lowering his voice to a silky, accented drawl. Prudence, lulled by the music, yielded to his hypnotic charm as easily as she responded to his command. She nodded slowly.

‘ All your trust, mademoiselle?’

She watched the rippling movement of his hand and met his black eyes. She nodded again.

‘Not one par-ti-cle of doubt?’

She slowly shook her head.

Monsieur Blanc selected an enormous pair of scissors and pulled taut the full length of her hair. She could not see what he was doing behind her, but there came a gasp from Charity as the scissors were applied and Prudence heard a soft thump as her hair dropped to the floor.

Prudence closed her eyes, listening to the music rather than the snip snip and the murmurings of Monsieur Blanc. Gluck was played, then Mozart, followed by a Handel sonata. Monsieur Blanc gave a triumphant cry of, ‘ Finis !’ and the music ceased.

Prudence opened her eyes and looked at the stranger in the mirror. Gone was the elfin, childish face under a heavy curtain of hair. A young lady with a crop of soft, fashionable curls looked back at her, her face framed to perfection, transforming her from elfin to delicate sophistication.

‘How light I feel,’ she murmured, turning her head and wondering that her neck looked so long and graceful.

‘Why, Pru!’ marvelled Charity, ‘You look as elegant as a duchess! Monsieur Blanc, you are a magician!’

There was no time to sit wondering at her new hairstyle; Prudence was hurried away to dress.

Prudence looked for Miss Kimpshott as the Hart town carriage drew up outside Lady Clementina’s mansion and the sisters descended.

‘There she is,’ said Prudence, spying a youthful figure in a fur-trimmed evening cloak and hood. She stood illuminated by the rows of flambeaux outside the entrance pillars.

‘Who is that quiz beside her?’ said Charity, as they waited for Leon to escort them.

‘That is Miss Kimpshott’s cousin and guardian, Mrs Codd-Phelps.

‘Is it a trick of the torchlight, or does the young lady have the look of a goddess?’ Leon enquired. Miss Kimpshott had happened to turn her head quickly so that her hood fell back revealing her perfectly symmetrical features. The torchlight cast a glow to her silvery blonde hair.

‘She is a beauty,’ said Prudence .

Prudence caught Miss Kimpshott’s eye as they neared, and gave her a little wave.

‘Miss Grace!’ exclaimed Miss Kimpshott, coming forward to greet her. ‘I did not recognise you at first glance. How different you look! Cousin Phyllis, what do you think of Miss Grace? Is she not elegant beyond everything?’

‘Like an Arabian filly,’ agreed Mrs Codd-Phelps. ‘How do you do, Miss Grace? Very pleased to receive your invite. A party in the first circles. I understand there will be an earl’s son by the name of Cavendish here?’ Mrs Codd-Phelps glanced about her as though expecting to see this sprig of the aristocracy walk by.

‘Let me introduce my sister and her husband,’ said Prudence, ‘and then we must hurry out of this cold.’

‘Indeed,’ said Mrs Codd-Phelps. ‘I can’t have Regina getting red in the nose tonight. She must be in tip-top condition.’

The introductions were quickly made, and the party hastened inside. The ladies disrobed in the cloakroom, and Miss Kimpshott admired Prudence’s gown. Prudence could not avoid catching sight of herself, for the ladies’ cloakroom had full-length mirrors on every side. Miss Kimpshott took her arm and made her pause before a mirror to look at the picture they made. ‘Don’t we look well?’ said the smiling Miss Kimpshott. ‘I never saw you in such good looks before. I always thought you pretty, but now you are quite a beauty.’

Prudence laughed away this compliment, saying that it was only fine feathers, but even she was a little surprised at her own reflection. She had always felt her own modest looks were quite eclipsed in Miss Kimpshott’s glory, as were most ladies, but now she was perfectly passable by Miss Kimpshott’s side .

‘Passable, indeed,’ scoffed Miss Kimpshott when Prudence spoke her thoughts aloud. ‘You outshine me, for brunettes are infinitely more fashionable. But I am truly sorry that you shall not dance tonight.’

Prudence assured her friend that she was very happy to give over all her dance partners to her.

On leaving the cloak room and returning to the enormous entrance hall they were met by Mr Shelbourne, whose face lit up at the sight of Miss Kimpshott.

‘At last!’ he murmured. ‘I am a man emerging from desert lands. Let me drink in the sight of you and quench this torment of thirst.’

‘It has only been a day since we met,’ said Miss Kimpshott, with a graceful curtsey.

Prudence put out her hand to shake his in greeting, and he started in surprise as he looked at her for the first time.

‘Miss Grace!’ He gaped so comically that the ladies laughed at his expression. ‘I hardly recognised you!’

‘Is she not a beauty?’ said Miss Kimpshott.

‘Indeed!’ agreed Mr Shelbourne.

‘Ah, it’s you , Shelbourne,’ said Mrs Codd-Phelps, coming up. ‘Do not be monopolising Regina tonight. There are viscount’s sons and all manner of gentlemen here.’

Mr Shelbourne scowled. Prudence saw her sister beckoning to her from across the hall and said, ‘Shall we go up and meet our hostess? I shall introduce you to Mr Lacey,’ she told Mr Shelbourne. ‘He is Lady Clementina’s son, and knows everyone. He will be glad to introduce you to his acquaintance.’

‘Is there a Mrs Lacey?’ said Mrs Codd-Phelps with interest, looking about at the display of fabulous wealth demonstrated by the marble columns and the crystal chandeliers of the entrance hall .

‘Oh, this is like old times,’ said Miss Kimpshott, taking Mr Shelbourne’s offered arm and putting her other arm through Prudence’s. ‘How I have missed you, my dear friends.’

‘Have you?’ said Mr Shelbourne, his scowl melting. ‘Have you really?’

‘I would not say it if it were not true.’

‘And you will keep the first dance for me? And the supper dance? And the waltz?’

They were slowly mounting the stairs. The staircase was wide enough to easily accommodate the three of them. Charity and Leon were ahead, and Mrs Codd-Phelps had fallen into a conversation with a bluff looking gentleman behind.

‘I can only promise you two dances, and no more,’ said Miss Kimpshott. ‘My cousin will have no hesitation in dragging you bodily from the ballroom floor if she were to see us standing up together more than twice.’

‘Lady Clementina is as famed for her well-equipped gaming tables as she is for her punch,’ said Prudence after a quick glance back to ensure that Mrs Codd-Phelps was still engaged in conversation.

‘That is gratifying to hear,’ said Miss Kimpshott.

‘I warn you not to take the punch, however,’ said Prudence. ‘Only hardened constitutions can suffer it and remain sensate.’

It was a novel experience for Prudence to be the object of admiration. She had been used to melting into the background at public gatherings, or to be sought out as company for elderly widows and chaperones.

‘How do you bear with everyone looking at you?’ she whispered to Miss Kimpshott as they were equally subjected to open stares, and numerous quizzing glasses were raised to examine them in detail .

Miss Kimpshott gave the lightest of shrugs. ‘I am so used to it that I never regard it.’

The dancing had not yet begun. The guests were milling about, talking and laughing and watching each other. The series of large reception rooms, all interconnected and leading to the ballroom at the rear of the mansion house, were decorated with evergreen wreaths and candles. Winter jasmine and hyacinths scented the air, mingling with the smell of mulled wine, pot-pourri bowls of dried oranges and cloves, and pinewood fires.

‘How wonderful everything is,’ remarked Miss Kimpshott. ‘It is more like a palace than a townhouse.’

‘My cousin said it was one of the best houses in London,’ said Mr Shelbourne.

‘Sir Robert has been here?’ Prudence felt a pang as she spoke his name.

She received no answer, for Rupert Lacey hailed her at that moment. ‘Miss Grace, is that you? Upon my soul, Mama was not exaggerating, for you are a veritable diamond tonight. And who, pray, is this?’

Mr Lacey raised his quizzing glass to peer at Miss Kimpshott with evident admiration. Prudence made the introductions.

‘Ah, the famous Miss Kimpshott,’ said Mr Lacey. ‘I have heard all about you.’

‘Have you indeed?’ said Mrs Codd-Phelps, casting aside her companion to thrust herself between her young ward and Mr Shelbourne. ‘And you must be the Honourable Rupert Lacey, sir, for I have heard all about you .’

‘Indeed?’ drawled Mr Lacey, dropping his glass. But he was a man of good manners, and so he bowed politely as Prudence made the introduction.

‘Mr Lacey,’ said Prudence. ‘My friend Mr Shelbourne is new to town. Would you be so kind as to introduce him to some of your acquaintance? He is a literary gentleman.’

‘A literary fellow?’ said Mr Lacey. ‘Then I know just who to introduce you to. Come with me, sir.’

Mr Shelbourne was borne away, casting a backward glance of regret at Miss Kimpshott who remained behind. She did not remain standing long, for Lady Clementina bore down on them with a pair of elegant men either side of her. Behind her came Charity and another gentleman. Prudence, seeing the determined gleam in her sister’s eye felt a pang of dismay. She was going to have men thrown at her all evening by the looks of things.

‘Miss Grace, Miss Kimpshott,’ said Lady Clementina. ‘Allow me to introduce Lord Cole. The second gentleman was introduced as Mr Cavendish. The third gentleman was surely too old to be considered a prospective suitor, but Prudence soon saw her sister’s plan in action. No sooner had Mrs Codd-Phelps exclaimed in a loud whisper that everyone heard, ‘Is Lord Cole, the earl of Leicester’s son?’ and made a move towards the aristocratic young man in order to break all boundaries of etiquette in introducing herself to him, then Charity deftly introduced her to Mr O’Gormley, a twinkling man of fifty or so with a soft Irish brogue who said, ‘Not Mrs Codd-Phelps the owner of Rumgumption?’ and bore the flattered Mrs Codd-Phelps away, talking energetically of race horses.

Prudence had to silently acknowledge that this was a masterly stroke of her sister’s, and was glad for Miss Kimpshott’s sake that her cousin was distracted away. While Mrs Codd-Phelps was steered in the direction of the gaming rooms, Miss Kimpshott was escorted to the ballroom on the arm of Lord Cole.

Prudence was left with Mr Cavendish, a fashionable man of about thirty who towered over her .

‘I understand from Lady Clementina that you are refraining from dancing, Miss Grace?’ said Mr Cavendish. Prudence had no chance to confirm or deny this before Mr Cavendish continued, ‘I understand from Lady Clementina that your bereavement is not a close one. That must be some consolation to you. I was unfortunate to lose a close relation a little over a year ago.’ She was about to say that it was her great-uncle, but Mr Cavendish pre-empted her by telling her that he understood that it was a great-uncle on her mother’s side. ‘And I understand your mother was a Miss Sealy?’ he added. ‘The Sealy’s were a most respectable family. A pity the line has ended with your great-uncle.’

Prudence perceived that it was not necessary to affirm or deny this either, and wondered how much more information Lady Clementina had furnished Mr Cavendish with; no doubt he knew all about her inheritance.

‘Oliver, darling,’ said Lady Clementina. ‘Take Miss Grace for a turn about the conservatory. She has not seen my orchid collection yet.’

‘I should be delighted,’ said Mr Cavendish with a bow. ‘May I have the honour, Miss Grace?’

Prudence could not very well refuse him, but he did not wait for an answer as he put out an arm for her to take. She had to stretch her arm a little to reach his with her hand. She threw a sharp look at her sister as she walked away, for Charity was looking very self-satisfied.

‘I understand you have been in Bath, lately, Miss Grace.’

’I—’

‘I was in Bath last winter. I thought the new assembly rooms very elegant, if a little too easy of access for persons of a lower rank than one would wish to have forced upon one’s acquaintance. Here are Lady Clementina’s famous orchids. Can there be anything more elegant than an orchid, Miss Grace?’

At these last words a gentleman standing a little out of view, perusing an orchid, made a sudden movement, as though startled. The movement drew Prudence’s eye towards him, and she said in a slight gasp of surprise, ‘Sir Robert!’