Belgrave Square Read online

Lord Anstiss was one of the last to arrive. He came up the stairs almost alone and stopped behind Fitzherbert. He was a man of barely average height and sturdy build not yet run to fat although he was probably in his early fifties. He was balding, with fine side whiskers, but no mustache or beard, leaving his blunt, candid features plainly visible. His appearance was commanding because of his obvious strength of will and intelligence. One had only to meet his eyes once to be aware of his personality and to sense his confidence in himself, springing from achievement. He needed no one else’s praise to bolster his self-worth.

  Fitzherbert collected his wits rapidly and with grace, turning on the spot to smile at Lord Anstiss and apologize for causing him to wait, and moving with alacrity across the floor and into the reception room.

  Charlotte turned back to the stairhead with a butterfly of nervousness high in her stomach.

  “Good evening, Lord Anstiss,” she said, swallowing hard and smiling. This man mattered intensely to Emily’s plans. “We are so pleased you were able to come. I am Mrs. Pitt, Mrs. Radley’s sister. Unfortunately she was taken unwell, which has given me the honor of standing in her place for the evening.”

  “I am sure you will do it with grace and skill, Mrs. Pitt,” he said courteously. “But please be so kind as to convey my sympathies to Mrs. Radley, and my hope that she will be restored to full health very soon. I trust it is nothing serious?”

  Mindful that a member of Parliament needs a wife who is not delicate or liable to fail in her duty, Charlotte had already worked out what to say to him.

  “I am sure she will,” she said with conviction. “It is a malady which affects women only in the first month or two, but if we are to provide heirs for our husbands it seems inevitable.”

  “I am afraid it does,” he said with a slight bow. “I am delighted it is for such a fortunate reason.” He glanced at the momentarily empty staircase behind him, then offered her his arm. “May I escort you to the ballroom? I hear the sounds of music.” And indeed the band had already begun the opening quadrille.

  So far all was well. Everyone who was of importance had accepted her. Now she must make sure she spoke to everyone, passed some small exchange that seemed personal and yet not intrusive, offended no one, and ensured that everyone felt welcome, no one was insulted or overlooked, and that there were no social disasters, the refreshments lasted, the champagne was cold, and the music in time.

  “Thank you, I should be charmed,” she accepted, and sailed across the landing and into the ballroom amid the flowers on his lordship’s arm. They did not join the quadrille, being a trifle late, but dallied in small talk for a while, made trivial comments and smiled at everyone. Then after a suitable pause the band struck up the lancers and she was swept onto the floor. She could only just recall what to do with her feet and the train of her gown. Then familiarity reasserted itself, the years vanished and it was as if she were a girl again being traipsed around fashionable balls in hope of finding a husband. Although to be truthful, her mother had never taken her to a function as distinguished as this. It was considerably above the Ellisons’ social station. They had never aspired to the aristocracy, only to gentle birth and comfortable income.

  When the music was finished she thanked his lordship and curtseyed, then excused herself. Duty called. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Jack and smiled fleetingly, before introducing herself to a group of ladies she knew were influential. She had taken great heed of Emily’s detailed instructions.

  Since she knew very little of fashion, it being quite beyond her budget, and to speak about it only rubbed salt in the wound, she was unable to hold a conversation of any detail. Similarly, since she knew nothing about who was courting whom, who had rebuffed whom, been admired or insulted, or what drama was currently playing at which theater, she had decided to exert her charm entirely by asking other people their opinions and listening intently to their answers. It was a ploy which sat ill with her nature, but it was forced upon her by necessity, and it worked astoundingly well.

  “Indeed?” she said with wide eyes as a thin lady in blazing sapphires expounded her views on the drama currently playing at the theater in the Haymarket. “Do please tell us more. You make it sound so vivid.”

  The lady required no second invitation. She had disliked the play and was bursting to assure her that everyone else did also, and for the same reasons.

  “I am not narrow-minded, you understand,” she began vigorously. “And I hope I can appreciate literature of all sorts. But this was totally self-indulgent, every conceivable horror was there and unimaginably vile appetites. It is hardly an excuse that each sin was punished in one manner or another. We still observed things which would outrage every moral instinct.”

  “Good gracious!” Charlotte was amazed and fascinated. “I wonder they were able to perform it in public.”

  Her eyes widened. “My dear Mrs. Pitt, that is exactly what I said myself.”

  A young man walked past them laughing, a girl giggled and blushed on his arm.

  “I am so pleased I did not take my daughter,” another woman in gold said fervently, shivering a little and setting her diamonds sparkling. “And I had intended to. Good drama can be so uplifting, don’t you think? And a girl has to have something intelligent to discuss. Silliness is so unattractive, don’t you agree?”

  “Oh most,” Charlotte said sincerely. “The prettiest face in the world can become tedious quite quickly if the owner has nothing of sense to say.”

  “Quite,” the lady with the sapphires conceded hastily. “But this, I assure you, was beyond a decent person’s desire to discuss, and quite unthinkable for any young lady hoping to attract a respectable gentleman. If she discussed this it would appall any person of sensibility that she was even aware of such subjects.”

  Another couple swept past, the girl laughing loudly.

  Great-Aunt Vespasia joined the group with a gracious inclination of her head.

  “So fashionable, Mrs. Harper,” the sapphire lady observed, watching the couple retreating, heads close together. “Don’t you agree, Lady Cumming-Gould?”

  “Up to the minute,” Vespasia granted. “Lovely, until she opens her mouth.”

  “Oh! Is she vulgar—or foolish? I had not heard.” There was implicit criticism in her tone.

  “Neither, so far as I know,” Vespasia replied. “But she has a laugh like a frightened horse! One can hear it two streets away on a calm night.”

  Someone giggled, and suppressed it hastily, unsure whether it was appropriate or not. There was a hesitant silence. Suddenly all the other sounds intruded, the slither of leather soles on the polished wooden floor, the rustle of taffeta, tulle and satin bustles and trains, the murmur of talk, the chink of glass and in the next room one of the violinists retuning his instrument.

  “What is the title of the play?” Charlotte inquired innocently.

  “Titus Andronicus, but it was said to be Shakespeare,” the sapphire lady answered quickly. “So I went in the belief that it would be noble and uplifting.”

  “Was not the language fine?” Charlotte asked.

  “My dear Mrs. Pitt, I have no idea.” She bridled slightly. “But if it were, that is no excuse. Far too much is excused these days on a point of style, as if style mattered! We are losing all our values. There is scandal everywhere.” She sniffed. “I feel so sorry for the Princess of Wales, poor creature. She cannot help but have heard what people are saying.”

  “I doubt it,” Vespasia said dryly. “She is as deaf as a post, poor thing—but it may save her the malicious whisperings that would otherwise be bound to wound.”

  “Yes indeed,” said another woman, in pink, who nodded her head and set her tiara blazing in the light. “It is fearful what people will say. What with her husband keeping mistresses quite openly for all the world to see—Lillie Langtry—I ask you! The woman is nothing better than a—” She shrugged and refused to speak the word. “And her son a complete wastrel, of which she can hardly be
unaware. Do you know I even heard that the Duke of Clarence was creeping out of the palace at night and visiting women of the streets. Can you believe it?”

  “I heard it was one particular woman.” The sapphire lady raised her eyebrows very high and her face took on an expression of great knowledge. “And that the affaire was far beyond the mere satisfaction of one of the less forgivable appetites.” She lowered her voice confidentially. “Of course it is only speculation, but some say that it had to do with those fearful murders in Whitechapel last year. The Ripper, you know.” She avoided Vespasia’s eyes and her tone became critical.

  “Of course I was always dubious about the value of a police force. My grandfather was irrevocably against it.” She shrugged. “He said they would be expensive, intrude into a man’s dignity and independence, interfere where they had no business, and do very little good. Which seems to be the case.” She looked from one to another of them. “If such a thing could go on in the heart of London and six months later they have caught no one at all, it rather proves my point, does it not?”

  Vespasia kicked Charlotte just as she was about to explode in defense of Pitt in particular, and the police in general.

  “Your logic is impeccable,” Vespasia said with a wry smile. “I should do away with doctors also. They are clearly quite useless. They could not even save the Prince Consort. In fact when I come to think of it, absolutely everyone I ever knew of died in the end.”

  They all turned to stare at her, none of them except Charlotte quite sure how to take this last, totally ridiculous remark.

  Vespasia’s face was marvelous. Not a muscle moved and there was not even a glimmer of humor in her beautiful silvergray eyes.

  Charlotte waited with her breath held. She would not spoil the delicious moment.

  “Ah … er,” the sapphire lady began, then stopped. Everyone looked at her hopefully, but she had exhausted her aplomb for the moment and fell silent.

  The pink lady fidgeted, opened her mouth then changed her remark into a cough.

  At last Vespasia took mercy on them.

  “It is a hard world,” she said sententiously. “The surgeons and physicians cannot prevent mortality, they can only ease pain and help a few accidents and diseases here and there; and the police cannot get rid of human iniquity, they can only apprehend some of the perpetrators and see they are punished, which discourages the rest.” She avoided meeting Charlotte’s eyes. “Even the Church has not got rid of private sin. The pity of it is I cannot think of a better idea.”

  “I … er … I—” Again the sapphire lady did not know what to say.

  “Has anyone seen Gilbert and Sullivan’s latest opera?” Charlotte came to the rescue, but did not dare look at Vespasia.

  “Ah indeed, Ruddigore,” the pink lady said gratefully. “A little sad I think, don’t you? I much preferred the Pirates of Penzance. And I didn’t understand Princess Ida. I am not sure whether they are for women’s education or against it!”

  “Women should be educated in the gentilities, nothing more,” the sapphire lady said decidedly. “Academic subjects are of no use and only disturb the mind. We are not designed for such things, either by God or by nature!”

  “Are they not the same?” Charlotte inquired.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “God and nature,” Charlotte explained.

  The sapphire lady’s eyebrows shot upward. “I hardly think—”

  In the distance the band had begun the valse.

  “If you will permit me?” Charlotte seized the opportunity to abandon the subject and move away.

  But they would not permit her to escape so easily.

  “Did you enjoy it, Mrs. Pitt?” the pink lady inquired with great interest.

  “I beg your pardon?” Charlotte was totally confused.

  “Ruddigore!” the lady explained patiently.

  “I regret I have not seen it,” Charlotte admitted. “I wonder—”

  “Oh you must! I am sure—”

  “Of course.” Vespasia cut across and took Charlotte by the arm. “We are monopolizing you, my dear. Come with me, I shall introduce Lady Byam to you. I am sure you will find her most agreeable.” And without permitting anyone to interrupt her again, she swept Charlotte away.

  “You did that on purpose,” Charlotte whispered fiercely.

  “Of course,” Vespasia agreed without a shred of remorse. “Laetitia Fox is a fool and not a particularly pleasant one. She bores me silly. But you will like Eleanor Byam, and her husband is a most important man. He has great power not only in the Treasury, but within political circles in general. His approval will help Jack. Although of course Lord Anstiss is the one whose patronage you really need.”

  “Tell me more about him,” Charlotte requested. “I know he is a great patron of the arts and has benefited many galleries and theaters, and that he has also given a great deal of money to charities of all natures, but what is he like as a person? What are his tastes, his likes and dislikes? What shall I speak to him of?”

  “You want a great deal, my dear.” Vespasia nodded courteously to people as they passed. She knew and was known by almost everyone who mattered in society, although few of them could claim more than an acquaintance with her.

  Charlotte glanced at the band, who were still playing vigorously; the center of the floor was swirling with dancers.

  “Regina Carswell,” Vespasia said absently as they passed the Carswells engaged in conversation with a group of elderly gentlemen. “Agreeable woman, and more sense than many, but three more daughters to marry, and that is no easy task, especially when they are all much the same.”

  “But she has both position and money,” Charlotte pointed out as they skirted around a general in scarlet and two subordinates.

  “Indeed. Addison Carswell is a magistrate,” Vespasia agreed. “But three daughters is still a formidable task. It is to her credit that she has kept any sense of proportion at all.”

  “Lord Anstiss,” Charlotte prompted.

  “I heard you, Charlotte. He is a man used to great power, great wealth and the respect that those things bring with them, the ability to support arts and sciences as he wishes.” Vespasia accepted a glass of chilled champagne from a footman in livery. “To patronize individuals and causes,” she continued, “which of course means people court his favor. All this considered, he is remarkably gracious and restrained.” She nodded to an acquaintance. “There is nothing vulgar about him and he abhors ostentation, although he does enjoy good company and is not so noble as to despise admiration.”

  “Very good,” Charlotte said softly. “Do you like him?”

  “That is irrelevant,” Vespasia replied.

  “You don’t.”

  “I neither like nor dislike him,” Vespasia said in defense. “I know him only publicly. He has qualities I admire, and his acts I certainly approve. Personally I have spoken with him little.” She sipped her champagne. “Although he has intelligence, and that always appeals. No my dear, you will have to make up your mind yourself. Just remember he has great power, never forget that, and at the moment it is Jack who matters.”

  “I shan’t.”

  Vespasia smiled.

  “Thank you,” Charlotte said sincerely.

  “Then you had better be about your duties,” Vespasia prompted, and Charlotte obediently took her leave, at least temporarily. And since Emily had also stressed his importance, she felt it obligatory to make a specific effort to speak again to Lord Anstiss and assure as far as it was possible that he was in good company and aware of his welcome.

  She found him with little difficulty, standing with a wineglass in one hand and talking with Lord and Lady Byam and a thin woman with flaxen fair hair and a marvelous emerald necklace. They moved aside to include Charlotte as soon as she approached them.

  “An excellent affair, Mrs. Pitt,” Anstiss said courteously. “Of course you know Mrs. Walters?” He inclined his head slightly, indicating the woman with the emerald
s.

  Charlotte had no idea who she was.

  “Of course,” she murmured; she would not admit to ignorance, it would be too insulting. “How charming to see you, Mrs. Walters.”

  “How kind,” Mrs. Walters replied noncommittally. “Lord Anstiss was speaking of the opera. Do you care for music, Mrs. Pitt?”

  “Indeed I do,” Charlotte answered, hoping they would not ask her for a list of the performances she had seen lately. Such things were quite beyond her finances. “I enjoy all forms of music, from one person singing to please himself through to the grandest choruses.”

  “I had great voices in mind, rather than merely large numbers,” Mrs. Walters said coolly, and it crossed Charlotte’s mind that in some way this woman resented her intrusion. She wondered what the conversation had really been. She looked more closely at Mrs. Walters, and saw the fine lines of irritation in her face, as if her habitual expression was one of anticipating anger. There was a mixture of eagerness and tension in her now, and she seemed acutely aware of Lord Anstiss. Her eyes flickered to him as if she was uncertain whether to speak or not.

  Charlotte smiled at her sweetly, and indeed she felt a certain sympathy.

  “I was thinking of type rather than quality. Perhaps I expressed myself poorly. I apologize. Have you seen anything of great interest recently, Mrs. Walters?”

  “Oh—” Mrs. Walters shrugged. “I saw Otello a few weeks ago. Verdi, you know? It is his latest. Have you seen it?”

  “No,” Charlotte admitted readily. “I have been rather preoccupied with other things. Was it excellent?”

  “Oh yes. Do you not think so, Lord Anstiss?” She turned to him with a bright glance.

  “Indeed.” Anstiss gave a lengthy, informed and sensitive opinion of the work and of the particular performance he had seen, his face full of power and animation, his choice of words individual and obviously colored by his own intense feeling. No one interrupted him, and Charlotte listened with interest. It made her wish dearly that such events were within possibility for her. But it was never going to be more than a dream, and this was a game, a few days out of Emily’s life. Charlotte should enjoy them for what they were, and do her best to acquit herself honorably.