Lady Madeline's Folly Read online

  "Well, upon my word, is that what you think of me?" she asked, too surprised at first to take offense, "Have I ever demanded an accounting of your time—your evenings, for example? I assure you, my only interest in you is to see you respectably established."

  "But what is in it for you?”

  "It is my hobby, avocation, if you like. It is enjoyable to have friends in various careers, doing all manner of dif­ferent and interesting jobs. I keep in touch with my fledg­lings after they have flown the nest. Why you sound as though I were..."

  He looked at her narrowly; then a reluctant smile peeped out. "You must think me a dashed conceited fellow. I cer­tainly did not mean to imply you were dangling after me. I know well enough Lord Fordwich's daughter with a dowry of a hundred or so thousand pounds would not be casting her cap at a mere nobody like myself."

  "You overestimate both my dowry and your own worthlessness, Henry. I have only thirty thousand to call my own, and you are an intelligent, educated young man, in whose career I take a cousinly interest."

  He lowered his head and looked chastened. "I'm sorry. I spoke out of line. Can you forgive me?" She hunched her shoulders and dismissed it with a smile.

  He arose and moved to a chair closer to her. "What really bothers me, you know, is that I..." She gazed at him with curious fascination, noting the shy shadow that was in his eyes. "Oh, damme, Madeline, it is no secret that every man you take an interest in falls in love with you on the spot. You are so beautiful, so charming, so self-assured, so far above us earthbound mortals, like a star shining in the sky. I don't want to have my heart smashed and tossed over your shoulder, like all the others. If I have been a little reluctant to be led by you... well, that is the reason." He looked at her, uncertain.

  "That is a very good reason. I promise I shan't smash your heart, Cousin," she said with a teasing smile.

  "I'm sure you never do it on purpose," he answered gallantly.

  "Perhaps I have a solution to the problem. I shall invite some eligible young ladies to our Christmas party. Miss Gresham, I believe would make an excellent heart-smasher for you."

  "No, no. If it is to be smashed at all, I would like to have it done by the best. You."

  "Miss Scott has a dot of—"

  "Please!" he said, raising a hand to ward off her sug­gestion. "I have no intention of marrying a fortune for the sake of a fortune. Should I find myself in love with a lady of means who was inclined to have me, that would be a different matter. I suppose it would be foolish to let that stand in the way of making an offer, but I refuse to become a gazetted fortune hunter. I despise the breed."

  "Then I shall just invite a few pretty girls to brighten up the party. Tell me who would please you—just someone to flirt with."

  "Aren't you coming? Who else should be required to brighten any party you are attending, Maddie?" he asked, in a playful spirit.

  She approved of his reply, as she approved of his scruples in dangling after herself, particularly when those scruples were possible of being overcome. She also approved of his next suggestion of going to the visitors' gallery at West­minster to listen in on a session of Parliament. When he was agreeable to accompany her to a rout party that same evening, she approved again.

  "Come to dinner first," she invited. "There will be only Papa and myself and a few of his crones. I shan't invite Tilsit. It would look too contrived."

  "No, don't invite him. I don't want to appear too anxious, or he won't offer me a good salary."

  "Conniver!" she charged, but in a smiling way, still with approval.

  She was perfectly happy with the world when her next caller was announced. It was Lord Eskott, who had not lessened his visits when he discovered it was four pence to a groat he would find Aldred with her, but did take less pleasure in them. Aldred took none at all.

  "Is the boy not here holding your hand?" he asked in a sardonic voice.

  "The boy has just left to audit a meeting at Westminster. I see he will not have the pleasure of hearing you speak. Why are you shirking your duty at this perilous time?"

  "All work and no play, et cetera," he answered, taking up his customary seat beside her on the sofa before the grate.

  "You have come to play with me, have you? How nice. What will it be: piquet, jackstraws?"

  "Dutch uncle," he replied with a sapient look. "I am going to give you some unwelcome information with regard to your new boy."

  "Meaning?" she asked, coming to sharp attention.

  "I don't believe the fellow is playing straight with you, Maddie."

  "I presume you have some basis for this extraordinary statement?"

  "Yes, that old whore, Rumor, is my basis. Though shaky, it is one a lady seldom disregards. Rumor has it the boy is making inquiries with regard to employment within the ranks of the Whigs. He came to London with a letter in his pocket from his father, an ardent Whig, introducing him to Neville and some of the lesser lights amongst us. Of course he is not quite top draw socially, and could hardly be expected to know the top dogs."

  "Kind of you to describe my cousin as 'not quite top drawer,' Eskott. It is news to me if sons follow the politics of their fathers. It is the exception rather than the rule when they do."

  "To be sure, I never took Aldred for an exceptional man in any way. Extremely common, I should say."

  "You are at pains never to take him for a man at all, but always to describe him as a boy."

  "Your boy is my customary term."

  "Where did you hear this rumor? Have you spoken to Neville?"

  "No, it would not be a rumor if I had. I confess I have the story second or third hand."

  "What does rumor decree he has done about this letter? Has he been actively looking for a spot in your party?"

  "He presented the letter to Neville. Neville, out of regard for his father, offered him the sort of minor post his lack of experience and acumen entitled him to. Aldred said nei­ther yes nor no, but indicated he would think about it. For the past ten days he has been deeply cogitating the matter, while angling to see whether you haven't something better to offer. A plain old opportunist. He did not mention the matter to you, I take it?"

  "Nothing. He knew I would dislike it."

  "I should think you would like the secrecy even less."

  "I do dislike it. I shall ask him about it."

  "Be sure to tell him where you heard the rumor."

  "You are at great pains to see he dislikes you!"

  "I don't want the unpleasant chore of telling him I don't have a soft berth for him."

  "I thought such a chore would be very much to your liking. Not that you're likely to have the pleasure of refusing him. Tilsit has just recently made him an excellent offer."

  "Has he indeed? My worries were in vain then. I am happy for you. What is the position to be?"

  "It is not quite decided yet. He has to call on Tilsit to arrange the details."

  "It is his intention to compare the offer to Neville's. You may lose him yet."

  "He will accept some offer from Tilsit. The only uncer­tainty is whether he will become an M.P. through the cour­tesy of a seat belonging to Tilsit or act as secretary for him."

  "There is nothing to prevent his doing both."

  "I know that," she said angrily, though her anger was truly directed at her cousin for his lack of frankness with her.

  "You don't have to snap my nose off!"

  "I feel the need to snap off someone's. You happen to be here."

  "It does bother you then, his duplicity?"

  "It is not duplicity, only a lack of openness. Henry will have some explanation."

  "I expect the boy is well versed in explaining away a lack of openness."

  "The boy is twenty-four years old, only one year younger than myself."

  "Strange, is it not? Twenty-four is young for a man, while twenty-five is old for a woman."

  "Very strange indeed. One of the wonders of the physical world. Stranger yet when you take into consid
eration that women generally outlive their husbands by a decade or so. One would think women would choose husbands ten years younger than themselves."

  "Perhaps they would, if they had the choosing, but that is a man's prerogative, like paying the bills. Am I to gather, as you introduced the comparison of your ages, that you are thinking in terms of making a match with the boy?"

  "That subject again! What must I do to convince you, buy a herd of apes?"

  "You give every appearance of being enamoured of him. Trotting with him four nights a week to routs and balls."

  "You know I always show my protégés the ropes. It is a part of their initiation."

  "How extremely tiring for you. Ratting on Aldred behind his back was only part of my reason for coming. I want to offer you a respite from your work. I am taking a party to Kent for the Christmas holiday. I would like you to join us.

  “Your father, I know, will not like to come, but he is busier than usual this year, and will not miss you here. I have made it a non-political party, in your honor. No rampant politicos, but a nice heterogeneous blend of literati: Tom Moore has a young friend he wishes to bring along—chap named Byron. He has been abroad and has some verses he is about to publish on his travels. Some social lions and lionesses, a few sports-minded individuals, and of course a brace of dandies to entertain the ladies. Brummell has in­vited himself, and I am inviting you. Your Aunt Margaret is welcome to come along, if she likes. I have a ball planned to see in the new year, a few country dancing parties, skating on the pond if the cold weather holds up, but I hope it don't, skating notwithstanding."

  It was a party designed to tempt her. For a minute she regretted her own party, already under preparation, the in­vitations not only out but accepted. It was clear that her wishes had been considered in the arranging of Eskott's do. "It sounds lovely, but we have already made plans for the holiday. We are off to Highgate."

  "And you didn't invite me," he said with mock offense. "Change your plans. There is time yet."

  "No, it's too late. We go home for a week or ten days." As she compared her own dull party, comprised mostly of crones of her father, she wished she could cancel it.

  "The boy goes with you?" he asked, a black brow lifting.

  "Yes—that is, he has been invited." Oh dear, and if Henry did not come, after arranging the whole for him...

  "What is the problem then? He will hardly refuse, when the thing was orchestrated with his career in mind, if I know anything."

  "There is no problem. He will come. It is only that he had some thought of going home to visit his family, and must write his mama to tell her."

  "I know nothing of his mother, but I warrant his father won't want him spending the holiday in the bosom of the enemy. I refer to political enemies, of course."

  "I wonder if that is why he was reluctant," she said, really thinking aloud, though Eskott jumped on it at once.

  "Oh ho, got yourself a reluctant boy this time, have you? That will be a change. Hardly a welcome one either."

  "I admire his respect for the feelings of his family," she defended.

  "No doubt, but the reluctance is less admirable, if I judge your scowl right. You definitely cannot come to me for the holiday then?"

  "You can see it is impossible," she said, her disappoint­ment lending a curt tone to her words.

  "I'm sorry I went to the bother of arranging it then. That will teach me to count my guests before they're asked. I was really looking forward to a week's flirtation. Whom shall I ask instead? Lady Susan..." he began enumerating as he regarded her closely for reaction.

  "Why not? She always seems an acceptable substitute—that is, an acceptable companion for you lately."

  "She is the most agreeable substitute I have found yet. A substitute is never totally satisfactory though. I shall keep looking. I shan't wish you a merry Christmas yet. I expect we'll meet about here and there before we leave," he said, arising. "Any errands for me today? The wind is chill; you will not wish to go out."

  "I am not a flower, Eskott. I don't mind a little breeze."

  "Very well then, you ungrateful old weed. This is the thanks I get for looking out for your interest, and trying to entertain you. It makes it rather difficult for me to ask the favor that was my other reason for this visit. I was hoping to cadge your box at Drury Lane tonight. My Aunt Hilda and her dreary spouse are in town. Nothing will do them but Drury Lane, when I have chosen Covent Garden this year. Are you using your box?"

  "No, take it by all means," she said, rising to fetch her ticket

  She was relieved, after he left, that there had been this amiable end to the visit, when the rest of it was so unpleas­ant. More unpleasant even than the prospect of missing his party was the unsettling news about Henry.

  * * *

  Chapter 6

  There was no opportunity to quiz Henry about his appli­cation to Neville. He sent around a note that afternoon telling her he was going home at once. His mother was not well, and he was leaving that same day to visit her. This naturally made it impossible for him to attend her house party. He hoped she understood, and so on. She was feeling a trifle peaky herself, and did not go to the rout party she had planned to attend.

  Eskott, not having seen her on the town, dropped around one morning to make his farewell before leaving for the country. "I have brought a small token of my esteem," he said, tossing her a book. "From the house guest I mentioned, Lord Byron. It won't be out till the new year, but I know you like to be in advance of all the vogues, and am lending you my review copy. It's rather good, if you care for that sensational sort of thing."

  She glanced at the title, Childe Harold, before setting it aside. "Thank you, Eskott. Do sit down, if you're not in a great rush."

  "To put so many miles between you and myself? Never. Oh, did I tell you I bumped into Hopper the other day? He was put out with you, milady," he said, waggling a finger at her.

  "Hopper? Good gracious, I'm glad you jogged my mem­ory. I wrote to the Admiralty about him. I meant to follow it up."

  "Too late."

  "Why? What has he done?"

  "Switched jackets."

  "He sold out his commission, the idiot. I told him not to."

  "He did, but that was not the jacket I referred to."

  "I had a post in mind for him."

  "If the post you refer to is the sinecure at Plymouth, you left it too late. It's been taken."

  "Who got it?"

  "Some cousin or nephew of Lady Hertford. I don't recall the name. I do know, however, that there was no compe­tition for the post. Quite sure you wrote that letter?"

  "Of course I'm sure," she said, but even as she spoke, she had no real recollection of having posted the letter.

  "Don't worry about Hopper. I got him something."

  "You?" she asked with quick suspicion.

  "Yes, I found him a bright, knowledgeable fellow. He's giving a hand to our party, a sort of scribbler for Rundell, while waiting for a vacant seat to come up. We mean to put him into the Commons, where he can be heard."

  "You're going to use him to speak against the Orders in Council!" she charged, her eyes sparkling dangerously. "That is poaching, Eskott! I didn't think you would be so low."

  "He found the grazing lean in Tory preserves. I didn't think you would be slow in helping an erstwhile friend and favorite. Neither did Hopper. The lad has no money to speak of. He needed work. You sat on your thumbs for a month, despite his repeated urgings. What was he to do? And in any case, what he has to say is too important for mere partisan feelings to enter into it. He is a gold mine of in­formation, experience, on the curst Orders in Council."

  "I'm tired of hearing about them. They are the law. They must be executed."

  "No, the law must be changed. They are leading us inexorably into war with America. Quite apart from the morality of it, it is unthinkable to stretch our resources any thinner at this time, when we are contending with Napo­leon."

  "Napoleon iss
ued his decrees first. What were we to do, let him sail all over us?"

  "Some rational course could have been devised. It is irrational to expect the Americans to sit still while we board and search their ships, taking their men by force to serve on our own vessels. You may imagine how eager they are for the work. A great pleasure to their captains, I'm sure. It is no secret we have also licenced privateers to prey on American ships. At latest count, sixteen hundred American ships were lost in this way. Their export trade was cut to a quarter in one year. Whom are we trying to punish—the French or the Americans?"

  "Whom are we trying to protect—the Americans or the English?"

  "Ourselves, primarily. A stroke of genius on the gov­ernment's part, robbing us of our needed raw products, and in turn robbing us of the lucrative American market for our manufactured goods. We'll never totally recover. The col­onies are fast becoming self-sufficient. The Yanks have gone halfway, reducing their Embargo Act to the less strin­gent Non-intercourse Act. We ought to at least meet them halfway. It is madness to go on as we are. They might listen to a man like Hopper, who has firsthand experience."

  "Did Hopper go to you, or did you go after him?"

  "That's not important, Maddie. The culprit in the case is yourself. You didn't stir a finger to help him, after you promised you would. As a matter of fact, I looked the fellow up, planning only to pump him for anything I could learn about his experience. He mentioned he was still waiting to hear from you, after having written to jog your memory. He happened to mention the position he was waiting for. I checked with the Admiralty, and they had heard nothing from you. I went back and told him the position was taken, which it was. He was desolate, worried to death, with an­other child on the way and no roof over his head. It is unconscionable the way you have treated him. I think we both know what has deterred you from doing your duty."

  "It's not my duty to find him a job."

  "When you give him your word, it is your duty to carry it out."

  "Well, don't bother dragging Henry into it. I was wrong, but it's not his fault."

  "For once, your defense of him is just. I am happy you're man enough to admit it." He drew a deep sigh and continued: