Lord Tyneham departed, with chill politeness. After a few minutes there was a polite knock, and Bembridge entered. He saw his young mistress pale and distrait, and assumed it was reaction to the traumatic events.
‘I was wondering whether you might not like a nice cup of tea, my lady, as a restorative. Very restoring is tea, after a nasty shock, and you have had a bad day, my lady, a bad day.’
‘Thank you, Bembridge, that would be very nice.’
If only a nice cup of tea would mend matters.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
It could not be said that the household settledimmediately after this upheaval. Harriet was quiet and kept to herself as much as possible, and when she was, perforce, in the same room with her cousin, it was clear that she did not relish the company. She might, she told Sophy, have understood a little if Susan had fallen madly enamoured of the Life Guards officer, but she had not. She had simply used him, wound him about her finger as she did with men, and he had gone along with it. It had not been hard for Harriet to see his actions in taking Susan into Buckinghamshire as noble, but she blamed Susan for putting him in a difficult situation, and for effectively trying to ruin his life by making him marry her.
‘How could she be so heartless, Sophy? And she knows that I am … very partial to him. It is cruel.’
Sophy made no attempt to deny this.
‘The scales are most certainly lifted from his eyes, though, Harry. You can be in no doubt that he feels in no way inclined to Susan.’
‘No, no, he cannot. But … How will I face him? I am sure I will not manage a single word.’
Sophy hoped that words might be unnecessary.
Lord Edward was perfectly used to obeying orders, and as he saw it, Lady Sophronia’s words to him had been just that, a set of orders. However, in order for him to ‘not go away’ he had to actually see Harriet, and for several days both she, and the other two ladies, were ‘indisposed’, according to the hostesses to whose invitations Sophy had sent hastily penned apologies. Without anyone knowing the origins, one reason put forward was that the indisposition was the result of putrid sore throats, whilst another suggested dubious crab meat in a course at dinner. Whilst Lord Edward had more reason than most to guess the truth of the matter, he still sent round a bouquet, carefully worded to apply to both Hadlow ladies, wishing them a swift recovery and in the meantime paid a visit to his father.
His duties, and the independent attitude that the army had fostered, meant that Lord Edward might meet his sire in his club, and his mother at parties, but he was not a frequent visitor to their house in Grosvenor Square. He was made a very adequate allowance, which he did not exceed, and his grace would have been surprised at the arrival of his youngest son upon his doorstep had not his eldest daughter given him a very accurate representation of the current state of affairs, minus certain ‘Susan aspects’ immediately after his visit to her. Discussion with his duchess had confirmed that Lady Harriet Hadlow was an unexceptional young woman who was regarded as sweet-natured and neither irritatingly ignorant nor unpleasantly bookish.
‘I think she will suit Edward very well,’ declared his duchess. ‘The Chelmarshes are a good family, even if her father has this rustic obsession with livestock, and it is not as though, with two elder brothers, it is vital that Edward marry dynastically. There is the Tyneham chit, who seems set to try and tarnish her cousins’ good name with her own, but … No, Edward could do a lot worse, and you never know the sort of women that army officers can meet. We must consider ourselves fortunate his choice has fallen upon a young woman of breeding and class.’
The Duke therefore greeted his son with affability, invited him to take a seat and not stand as if about to make a report of troop movements, and to ring for a bottle of burgundy.
‘So, you have decided to get leg-shackled, eh?’ He laughed, as his youngest offspring stared at him as though he had performed an act of clairvoyancy. ‘Come, my boy, you have a sister and mother. Such things cannot be kept hidden from the distaff world.’
‘Ah, I suppose not. The thing is, sir, that I thought I would speak to you first, not that I require your approval, but … I think it the decent thing to do, and I would like the approval so that if accepted, I could be sure of Harriet’s reception.’
‘If? You are in some doubt of the young lady’s affection?’
‘No, and, temporarily, yes.’
Reluctantly, Lord Edward explained the true state of affairs to his father, who remarked, sapiently, that if the chit accepted him after all that she was besotted.
‘I am rather hoping she is, sir. I … I am, despite what may have appeared to the contrary. Harriet is the sort of girl who is generally happy, affectionate and makes a fellow feel … comfortable with life. That may sound damning with faint praise, but there is a great deal to be said for the warm glow of … feeling like that. I want to cosset and care for her, see her happy, that sort of thing. There are women like her cousin who could never do that, not for me. To be honest, I can see us being very happy. I thought I may sell out, actually live on my estate at Staythorpe, set up our nursery, and generally settle into domesticity. The army has been tremendous fun and all that, and I have seen a bit of action, but now, with peacetime, the ceremonial palls after a while and—’
‘You need say no more, my boy. I understand perfectly. All I need say is that if your Harriet accepts you, your mother and I will be exceedingly pleased. I would offer my felicitations, but at this juncture they might seem precipitate.’
‘Yes,’ sighed Lord Edward, his face falling, ‘I just hope I can persuade her to see how I really feel.’
Perhaps his message or the bouquet of flowers were efficacious, because two evenings later Lord Edward saw the object of his affections at a party at Bedford House. At least, he saw Lady Sophronia, and he could not imagine that she would have come alone. His next problem was to get close to Lady Harriet without seeing, or being seen by, the disgraceful and disgraced Miss Tyneham. He therefore did what was really more the task of light cavalry; he reconnoitred. Miss Tyneham, stunning in jonquil silk, was stationed at Lady Sophronia’s side. She was not there out of choice, he thought, seeing the look upon her face. Lady Harriet was not present. He worked upon the principle that she must therefore be upon the dance floor, and his opportunity lay in ‘ambushing’ her as the current dance ended. He made his way to the forefront among the onlookers. Lady Harriet was dancing with Lord Bollington. If she did not look as stunning as her dark-haired cousin, she looked, to him at least, infinitely prettier, though her cheeks were a little pale as though she had indeed been ill. A wave of guilt swept over him. Had he made her ill through upsetting her? It was a chastened Lord Edward Wittenham who approached her from the blind side as she left the floor. He bowed.
‘Your servant, Lady Harriet. Evening, Bollington, I believe our hostess was looking for you a moment ago. I would be glad to escort Lady Harriet back to her sister.’ With this barefaced lie, which he salved to his conscience by terming it aruse de guerre, he managed to get the charming Lady Harriet to himself. She kept her eyes very slightly averted until he addressed her directly.
‘I wondered if I might have the honour of the next quadrille, Lady Harriet?’
Harriet looked reproachfully at the supplicating cavalry officer.
‘Why, sir? Has my cousin filled her dance card already?’ She sounded bitter, and he was both taken aback and hurt. She dropped her gaze, flushing at her own temerity.
He had expected reproach, but not words so sharp. He was stung, and responded far more firmly than he had intended.
‘I have no idea, ma’am. I did not ask her. I am asking you.’