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Lester’s ministrations and a change of clothing soothed his troubled spirits, but his rage had not fully abated by the time he joined the ladies in the drawing room, where they were languidly passing the time until the dressing bell. Angie had been lounging on a chair with her feet on a footstool, but she sat bolt upright as he entered.
“You were out in your curricle,” she said accusingly.
“Indeed I was. What of it?” he said. The dog was sprawled out in the middle of the floor, fast asleep, so Will stepped carefully around him to find a seat.
“You promised me I could go with you,” she cried.
“I did and you can and will, but at a time of my choosing, little sister.”
“I expect Will had other matters to attend to, dear,” Stepmother said. “He cannot always be driving round Hyde Park.”
“Wheredidyou go?” Angie said. “Do tell, for dinner is so late here that we are all bored to pieces.”
Will hesitated, but there was no point in obfuscating, for Billy, his groom, would tell all the grooms and they would tell the multitude of footmen andtheywould tell the maids, and sooner or later everyone in the house would know of it. Nevertheless, he chose to ride slowly over boggy ground. “I did in fact go to Hyde Park.”
Angie pouted. “You went therealone?When you could have taken me?”
That brought another hesitation, but there was no help for it now. “I was not alone, little sister. You and Rosie are not the only ladies in town, you know. I took Miss Whittleton out for a drive.”
“Who on earth is Miss Whittleton when she is at home?” Angie cried, jumping to her feet, hands on her narrow hips. “And by what right doessheget taken to Hyde Park instead of me?”
“Really, Angie, do display a little decorum,” her stepmother said. “A lady never expresses her disappointment, and certainly not in such… robust terms.”
“I beg your pardon, Mama, but it is too provoking for words! We do not know any Miss Whittleton… do we?”
“She is a cousin to Lady Carrbridge,” Will said. “A poor relation, acting as her ladyship’s secretary this season. A charity case. You met her yesterday, although I am not surprised she made no impression upon you. A mouse of a woman. I felt sorry for her, that is all.”
That seemed to dispose rather satisfactorily of the unfriendly Miss Whittleton.
“You have been to Marford House?” Stepmother said with a frown. “But we have not yet made our return call there. Such an attention will look very particular, and you will not wish to be drawn in by a poor relation.”
“Good heavens, I am hardly likely to be drawn in by such a woman as that,” Will said, offended. “What kind of a gullible fool do you take me for? Besides, she does not like me above half, and only agreed to drive with me because Lady Carrbridge insisted upon it. She told me plainly she will not do so again.”
“I should hope you will not ask her again,” Stepmother said swiftly. “One should never pay too much attention to these charity cases, for they are inclined to encroach rather. You do not want a woman like that hanging on your sleeve, all because you were once kind to her. Sometimes, Will, I wonder if you are a little too generous in your dealings with such people.”
“One cannot snub her, not when she is a cousin of a marchioness.”
“Very true. An excellent point. Will, you have not forgotten that we are entertaining again tonight? Please try to dress in good time for once.”
“It is no one in particular, is it? No one who matters?”
“Will!” Rosie said, shocked. “Surely all our guests matter.”
“Naturally,” Stepmother said smoothly, “and we would never wish to put forth less than our best efforts, no matter who we invite. But there is no doubt that certain guests, if we should be so fortunate as to see them at our table, would merit special consideration.”
Rosie frowned at this muddled piece of reasoning, but Angie was distracted by the prospect of an evening of unalloyed pleasure, and so nothing further was said regarding special guests, or Miss Whittleton, or outings in the curricle, before the dressing bell set the dog barking and sent them all scurrying upstairs.
The evening turned out to be pleasanter than Will had anticipated. Their guests were what Stepmother described as‘the best of the bunch’from Lady Carrbridge’s afternoon party. Mr Hartnell was a ship builder or owner or something of the sort from Bristol, but his great attraction was his wife, who was the daughter of a baron and therefore an honourable. Stepmother was quietly pleased to be feeding an honourable at her table. Two daughters and a son completed the family. Pa had insisted on inviting the Malpas family, and Will’s two oldest friends were added to offset the excessive number of ladies. They sat down fifteen at table, which was enough to fill the dining room without feeling too crowded for comfort.
When the ladies had processed back upstairs, the men settled with a visible air of relief to port, brandy and male talk. The three older men talked business and politics and the shocking state of the roads away from London, in accents which immediately betrayed their origins. Their garments, although expensively made, were cut for comfort not fashion. They were at ease with each other, their concerns much the same. They were all wealthy, happily married, content with their lives. Unambitious.
The younger ones were different. Their topics of conversation were those of leisured young men everywhere — horses and boxing and tailors and then horses again. Women featured little, for none of them was ready to settle down to domesticity just yet. Their accents were those of Harrow or Eton, Cambridge or Oxford, and they dressed in the fashionable styles of the day. Will’s friend Hattersley, or Hatts, effected the subdued palette favoured by Mr Brummell, so he dressed in a dark coat, with only a white neckcloth and a ruby pin and ring to relieve the monotony. Tibbs preferred a more flamboyant style, with vivid waistcoats and a dazzling array of fobs. Mr John Hartnell was more of a fop, his coat cut too tight, the shoulders padded to emphasize a nipped waist and the tails of his coat ostentatiously long. Will hoped he was fashionable without excess, for that was his aim. He felt that the four of them could stand comparison with any nobleman, even with the Marquess of Carrbridge and his brothers. What more did such men have apart from the title and a certain patrician air? Nothing, and as with the older men, the younger too were at ease, wealthy, content.
But they were ambitious. Here and there, amidst the general good-natured chaffing, there would be a hint that something more was wanted. Will was quizzed about Chadwell Park. John Hartnell told his interested audience of the high-ranking men who did business with his father. When they spoke of women, it was in terms of dowries, accomplishments, connections. Yes, they had ambitions.
“Your sister is very pretty, Fletch,” Tibbs said eventually, in rather tentative tones.
“Bothsisters,” Hartnell said firmly.
