*
If Lady Eastonhad been shaken by the talk going round about Miss Upton, Bramley was not less so. Who was this young lady? She was like a violent storm come in to blow them about in all directions. And then Lord Easton had been part of the upset too.
That was on top of dealing withBemmy, as she insisted she was called. Lady Easton was so approving of the woman, but Lady Easton did not hear the maid’s effronteries at the servants’ table. How was he even to respond upon being informed that Lady Easton and Lord Bertridgedid not laugh enough. Who did she think the lord and lady were? Punch and Judy?
It felt as if all he had worked toward with Lady Easton as his stalwart ally, all the regularity and timetables and calm proceeding forward, was going down a drainpipe with alarming speed.
He surveyed the dining table and reviewed the menu in his mind as the family came in. At least he could take comfort in the knowledge that whatever disasters were to befall the house next, he could still ensure a very good dinner.
As it was Tuesday, fish would swim to the forefront as it always did on Tuesdays. Even in the dead of winter, when they were down to salted fish made into a chowder, Lady Easton would brook no substitutions. Though, that particular dish was inevitably passed off to the servants’ table where it would be glared at.
Fortunately, it was not winter and if there were one positive about residing in this town it was the proximity of fresh fish.
They would dine on clear consommé made from the chicken bones from the evening before, which could not be helped as Cook refused to throw out perfectly good chicken carcasses. But once that anomaly was cleared, in would march the stars of the repast: mackerel with fennel and mint, roasted cod with thyme, and smoked herrings with onion and crème fraiche.
Along with those standouts, he would serve baked aubergine, new potatoes in a parsley sauce, salad with radishes and cucumber, and finally, a cheese board and a strawberry tart. It was a very fine spread.
That, and Lady Easton’s clocks ticking reliably throughout the house, were the only shreds of sanity he had left to hold onto.
*
Richard had beensomewhat soothed that Miss Upton had arrived to the drawing room promptly. She was dressed in a simple white muslin, one she had brought from home, he thought. She looked exceptionally charming and he could almost forget what chaos she had managed to introduce to the house.
He did notice, as she made pleasant conversation, that his opinions on the matter had begun to shift. He began to think that, aside from the strange habits whose fault must be laid at her father’s door, she had not really done anything so untoward. It was his uncle who must take the blame for the rumors going round about Miss Upton dancing on a table and participating in some bizarre scavenger hunt with candles blown out. She had not been guilty of any of it and should have relied on the judgment of her elders. Lord Easton should never have taken her there. How was a young lady to know how to proceed if those who were meant to guide her were so inept?
He supposed he’d been rather inept in the effort himself. He certainly had not seemed to have made much of an impression. Perhaps it had been his tone. He might have been guilty of addressing her in a manner more befitting directives to a child. He could not excuse her calling him Bertie, but perhaps he owned part of the fault. Perhaps he’d goaded her into it.
Beyond that, he could not help but to admire how she held up against the rumors that swirled round her. Another lady might have been still weeping in her room and railing against fate and looking for who to blame. Miss Upton had calmly descended to dinner. If one did not know there was something amiss, one would never have guessed. She had greeted his uncle warmly, though he did not deserve such courtesy.
All of her mistakes really could be attributed to another. Now, when she was left to compose herself as best as she could, it seemed she had the instincts of a real lady. A fine lady knew how to carry on unruffled and that was exactly what she was doing.
He could not help but admire it and felt a touch of shame that he had condemned her so early without giving careful examination to the facts. He felt he had almost been rash, which was not at all in his nature.
And then, she was so very lovely. Nobody could deny it.
As they were seated, Lord Easton said, “Caroline, you will be happy to know that the Regent is outraged by the talk that has gone round and he has made his opinion widely known. As he said very publicly this afternoon, “Let the man who invented such tales quake in his boots, for if I discover him he will not be welcome anywhere I frequent and doors will slam against him from here to London.”
“That was very kind of the Prince,” Miss Upton said.
“I expect word of it has reached the culprit and he is indeed quaking in his boots,” Lord Easton said. “He will be discovered.”
“How can you be so certain?” Lady Easton asked.
“It was a small party, my dear. Those who were first told by someone in attendance will think carefully if they wish to join the villain in having doors shut against them. One of those persons will go to the Prince. Nobody will wish to ruin their place in society over a story.”
Lady Easton nodded thoughtfully. “Excellent,” she said. “In the meantime, we have taken our own steps. Caroline is to be escorted everywhere by my friends. Let the talkers dare to impugn the judgement of the ladies Redfield, Featherstone, Mendleton, Heathway, and the duchess.”
“Hah!” Lord Easton said, with a laugh. “You bring your forces, very good, yes, that will do very well.”
Richard was surprised that Miss Upton did not look as interested in the scheme as he would have thought. It would be an honor to be always in the company of those ladies and therefore endorsed by them.
“Miss Upton will be very well cared for under those matrons’ watchful eyes,” Richard said.
“It is, of course, very kind. But I really do not require it,” Miss Upton said. “Bemmy is quite capable of walking with me when I go out.”
“Bemmy is a rare gem in this basket of stones called Brighton, I do not dispute it for a moment,” Lady Easton said.
Richard could not help but notice that Bramley’s face wrinkled in marked distaste over hearing that Miss Upton’s maid was to be a rare gem. He supposed the servants’ hall was unsettled over the move to the seaside, which the butler assuredly would not like.
