“Clara,” Lady Featherstone said, “your note did sound almost frantic.”
“Or lively, one could call it,” Lady Redfield said, always looking to soften the blow.
“Certainly,” Lady Featherstone went on, “you have not been here long enough to encounter any serious difficulty. What has happened?”
Lady Easton poured the tea and said, “Easton, who you will remember has suddenly become insistent on having ideas, decided we must go to the Regent’s rout.”
“Oh dear, I do avoid them myself,” Lady Featherstone said.
“My eldest is always keen to go, though he has yet to be invited as he is not quite elder enough, even though he’s the baron now,” Lady Redfield said.
“The point is,” Lady Easton said, hiding her irritation, “we were forced to go and the Regent pronounced Caroline charming and lovely. Now Alvanley has invited her and Easton to dinner. Only them, mind you! Not me! Apparently, there is only room for two more people. And then, it has come to my attention that Caroline does not fully understand how a young lady is meant to comport herself and even if she did, I do not have the first idea of how to launch her in this swamp. It is all most irregular and not at all what I planned. The only thing that has gone at all smoothly is the maid I hired for her.She, remarkably, is an absolute treasure.”
“I see your problem, Clara,” Lady Featherstone said.
“You bear it wonderfully well, though,” Lady Redfield said, her tone all encouragement. “And, how lucky to find a treasure of a lady’s maid. This is something, is it not?”
Clara ignored the encouragement. Cecilia would encourage an elephant to fly to the moon if she felt it had its heart set on it.
“Cecilia, Clara does not wish Miss Upton to be pulled into the Regent’s set by way of Lord Alvanley,” Lady Featherstone said.
“Yes, exactly,” Lady Easton said. “What am I to do about it?”
“We all know the Prince rules in Brighton,” Lady Featherstone said, “and that’s about the only rule there is in this town.”
“I do wish I could convince the boys that we ought to go to Ramsgate,” Lady Redfield said wistfully, “but then my husband always did love it here.”
Clara ignored Lady Redfield. After all, how many times could it be pointed out that the man was dead? Who cared now what he once loved? As for her boys’ opinions, Cecilia had been better served to get in the habit of telling them what to think, rather than allowing them to willy-nilly come up with their own opinions.
Lady Featherstone said softly, “Your baron won’t care about Brighton now, Cecilia.”
Lady Redfield nodded and said, “I suppose it’s a shame there is not another leading set she might be pulled into. Then you might just switch the sets.”
Clara considered the idea. For once, Cecilia might have hit on something. “Perhaps that is the answer. We put together our own set. A set hallmarked by sedate dignity. There must be dozens of people who would delight in escaping the Prince’s entertainments. Or at least, have a choice when one felt not quite up to royal high jinks. I am certain Richard will help us weed out the undesirables on the male front, and as for the female, well, we know what we’re looking for.”
“Should we put it about?” Lady Featherstone asked. “Let people we deem acceptable know that we put together a rival set.”
“Certainly not,” Lady Easton said. “We must not be seen to challenge or insult the Regent. It must be done subtly. We will simply have a dinner with all the right people. The thing will take off on its own and we need say nothing.”
“It’s very clever, Clara,” Lady Featherstone said. “Surround Miss Upton with respectability.”
“Yes, indeed,” Lady Easton said. “She will meet someone suitable to marry and she will pick up those good habits she sees an example of. Yes, it will be quite the thing.”
The ladies were enormously satisfied with the idea and went about making a list of the new set. Between them and what Lord Bertridge was able to add later, they pieced together a guest list of twenty exceedingly staid people known to be in Brighton. It was a very good start.
*
Caroline admired herdress in the looking glass and Bemmy fussed with her hair. Mrs. Belle had promised Lady Easton that she would send dresses as they were completed and three had already arrived. The one she wore this night, a silk of the palest blue with a delicate white gauze overlay dotted with embroidered shells in silver thread, was everything denoting the seaside.
The past days had been rather thrilling. She and Bemmy had been given leave to walk everyday and had made it a habit to slip into St. Nicholas church and peer out the windows of the tower. Whatever small sense of guilt or uneasiness Caroline had experienced that first day had been soothed away by Bemmy’s assurances. After all, it was just in good fun and they did nothing particularly scandalous. At least, not scandalous to a rational person.
Naturally, they were far more careful now and were not spotted by wandering eyes again. There had been one exciting day when the Prince’s chair faced in their direction but, as he never did look up, they got through it wonderfully well. Lord Bertridge, on the other hand, did sometimes glance their way and it became a bit of a game to avoid being spotted.
The boxing practices had progressed to longer sparring matches where Mr. Jackson selected a pair of gentlemen and then gave them pointers as they worked. Both Lord Bertridge and Lord Alvanley held their own very well, though Caroline thought Lord Bertridge had a slight edge. Alvanley was athletic, but he had not the height or broadness of shoulder that Lord Bertridge had.
Caroline’s feelings about Lord Bertridge were mixed and confused and jumbled up. He was both the physical man on the green and the buttoned-up gentleman to be found in the house. She could not make him out. She could not make herself out. She did notice, however uncomfortably, that she thought about him quite a lot. She thought about him boxing, and she thought about him talking to his dog.
She’d several times overheard him having a conversation with Edgar. It seemed the beloved dog could not do wrong, even when he was doing very wrong. There was something stirring about Edgar being so approved of by one so generally disapproving. It was as if anybody meeting with the lord’s approval must somehow feel the distinction of it. It was also as if Lord Bertridge could drop his guard and make allowances for those he loved.
