A Sisterly Regard Page 5

  The familiar visage was that of Mr. Reginald Farwell. Although not the sort of gentleman Chloe could consider for a husband, he was attractive enough. Dare she attract his attention? She became aware of her mother's vigilance, and did not attempt to do so.

  Mr. Farwell threaded his way amongst the dancers to make his bow to the Duchess. Chloe could not hear his words, but they obviously included Lady Mary. She saw him write his name on the girl's dance card.

  He then moved to bow in front of her mother. "Ah, Lady Gifford. How pleasant to see you again."

  He appeared to stifle a yawn. "And the Misses Hazelbourne. Are you enjoying Almack's? Delightful. So lovely to encounter you once more." He moved on without ever actually looking at either of them.

  Chloe's mouth fell open. Then she shut it with a click of teeth and her expression hardened.

  What a rude man.

  * * * *

  The evening dragged on. Her daughters had participated in most dances, but were obviously not the toast of the ton. Even Chloe was quite ready to leave when Lady Gifford suggested it. She had watched her elder daughter closely after Mr. Farwell's snub. She expected an explosion, and wished to get the girl at home before it occurred.

  Her expectations were realized. Chloe gave way to a grand fit of hysterics as soon as they arrived home. She accused her mother of dressing her like a dowd, of refusing to introduce her to any eligible men, and of wishing to keep her an old maid for the rest of her life.

  Nor was her sister spared. Phaedra, Chloe cried, had given her partners such a bad impression that she had ruined all Chloe's chances.

  Lady Gifford calmed her eventually, saying that this was only their first introduction to Almack's and that subsequent weeks would see both girls achieving a moderate success.

  "I do not wish to be a success at such a stuffy place." Chloe retorted. "Why can we not attend more lively entertainments?"

  Only the threat of being sent back to Gifford Court for the rest of the Season at last quieted the distraught girl and convinced her to retire. Lady Gifford wished her husband were in London. Chloe would never let her father see her in such a state, obtaining her way with him by cajolery and manipulation.

  Cousin Louisa, always the peacemaker, reminded her that George would arrive in a few days.

  "I can hardly wait," she said, with a sigh.

  * * * *

  In Chloe's bedchamber Phaedra opened her budget. "I will not have Mama made miserable by your tantrums, sister, you may be sure. If you do not moderate your behavior, I will endeavor to do exactly what you said of me and give all my dancing partners a disgust of me. Then where will you be? They will wonder if I am so detestable, why so might you be. I will behave as the most veritable bluestocking, which if the truth be known, I should chose to do anyway."

  She paused, to unfasten the tiny pearl buttons at the back of Chloe's gown. "I have promised you that I will attempt to be all that is charming and amiable, so as not to hurt your chances to fulfill your dreams of your Season. So I shall as long as you do nothing to distress our parents. But harken to me, Chloe. I will not keep my promise if you do not attempt to moderate your behavior and to be more courteous to Mama and to Cousin Louisa.

  "Oh, Chloe, do you not see how your present behavior is not to your advantage?" she continued, becoming more calm. "Whether you wish it or no, the ton has its rules for girls making their come out, and you must adhere to them. You would not be admired should you dress as you would chose, but rather be thought fast. And if you behave immodestly, the Prince Charming of your dreams will take you in such dislike that he will snub you."

  "He would not!"

  "Indeed he would. Had you behaved as you wished tonight, any true gentleman would assuredly have taken you in disgust. Furthermore, you have driven Mama to the brink of tears."

  Eventually Chloe ceased her stormy weeping and seemed to listen. "Truly, Phaedra, I do not mean to distress Mama, nor to go against Society's rules, even though I think them excessively silly. But when I see other girls being sought after and waltzing and being the center of the gentlemen's attention, I cannot contain myself. There is so little time. I must marry this Season. I could not stand it if I were to be left upon the shelf."

  "Then confine yourself within the rules of our society. If you wish to marry within it, you must live within it, both now and after you are married. While an excess of sensibility and an appearance of selfishness might be acceptable in an older woman, they will never make you popular with eligible bachelors or with their parents." She gave Chloe a nudge toward the bed. "Go to sleep now. Tomorrow will be better, and you will soon achieve the popularity which you so desire." She kissed her sister's cheek and tucked the quilts about her.

  In her own room, Phaedra admitted to herself that she was not as optimistic about their social success as she had appeared. So many of the girls at Almack's tonight were far more beautiful than she and Chloe. Their manners were all that were charming, their poise perfection. It was the latter that gave Phaedra pause. In company she tended toward silence, an onlooker rather than a participant. Chloe, fortunately, was more outgoing, but she was adventuresome and somewhat spoiled, though fundamentally good and kind. Hedged about with all the rules of the ton, might she not rebel? If that occurred, would anyone ever see the real Chloe?

  Phaedra did not mind the strictures placed upon maidens of the ton, for she was much more of a serene disposition and had not built up the Season into something impossibly promising. Indeed, she still was convinced that she would return to Gifford Court at the end of the Season, still unpledged to any man. Quickly she buried the small twinge of regret that thought caused. Surely somewhere there lived a man who could appreciate her for who she was, not how well she conversed, flirted, danced.

  What troubled her more than her own future was her sister's. She doubted her own ability to keep Chloe out of trouble, and could hardly wait for their father to arrive in London. With constant diligence, she might keep Chloe on her best behavior for the next few days. After that, her father's influence might prevent the sort of storm that had occurred this evening. But would even his presence hold his favorite daughter to the line, should she be disappointed in her expectations?

  Phaedra hoped so.

  * * * *

  Chloe's spirits were recovered by the next morning. While making a pretty apology to her mother and to Cousin Louisa, she blamed her unstable nerves on the excitement of attending Almack's at last, and assured them that she would behave more circumspectly in the future.

  Phaedra suspected that while neither lady believed her entirely; both seemed willing to give her the benefit of the doubt. Her sister chattered throughout breakfast, commenting on one or another of the gentlemen with whom she had danced. Some of her comments were derogatory, as when she ridiculed Mr. Martin's appearance.

  Phaedra called her to task for this, reminding her that appearances were often misleading. "You must know I found Mr. Martin polite and thoughtful. Indeed, it was most evident that he was quite taken with you. All he could speak of as we danced was your charm, your beauty, and your graciousness. I felt myself quite abused, you know."

  "Oh, he is nice enough, I suppose," Chloe said airily. "I think I shall keep him, for I think he will be quite attentive."

  "Until someone better comes along, I suppose," Phaedra retorted. "Chloe, you are sometimes not a very nice person. I hope that you will not come to regret your attitude some day."

  "Enough, girls," Lady Gifford interrupted. "You still have sewing to finish, so do stop dawdling. Chloe, Mr. Martin is a very nice young man and you shall treat him with kindness. It is not his fault that his appearance is less than pleasing. He resembles his father greatly. Do not trifle with his affections."

  "I shall not encourage him to offer for me, if that is what you mean, Mama. He has no title, after all." Chloe glided from the room in an exaggerated walk, her aristocratic nose in the air.

  Lady Gifford and her younger daughter exchanged rueful
smiles.

  "I hope, when my sister receives her comeuppance, it does not totally devastate her," Phaedra said.

  "So do I, my dear, but I am not at all hopeful." Her mother sighed.

  * * * *

  Several of the gentlemen with whom the sisters had danced at Almack's called that afternoon. Lady Gifford was somewhat taken aback when a person she knew only slightly arrived, her daughter in tow. The slim, languid Mrs. Graham was dressed all in black. Her blonde, rather plain daughter wore a beribboned and beruffled puce gown that became her not at all. The girl looked to be somewhat younger than Phaedra.

  "My dear Lady Gifford, so happy to see you again. Why, I was elated to see you at Almack's last evening. And such beautiful daughters. So sure to make a splash in society. Sarah so enjoyed meeting them last night and positively insisted on our coming to renew our acquaintance this morning."

  All this was spoken in a faint voice as Mrs. Graham settled herself upon a sofa with every appearance of staying there forever. "Sarah, do go and chat with the Misses Hazelbourne. I'm sure you girls will become great friends."

  Mrs. Graham continued to gush about the Season and the Duchess and her daughter's glowing prospects until Lady Gifford gave up trying to respond and simply nodded appropriately. She sat back let the woman's word flow past her. Louisa, why did I send you to the Pantheon Bazaar this morning? I need you.

  Chloe and Phaedra apparently were finding themselves with quite the opposite problem. After whispering a polite good morning, Sarah Graham simply sat and gazed upon their faces. Her response to Phaedra's politely interested questions was a silent blush. When Chloe ventured to compliment her on her really quite hideous morning dress, she simpered in confusion. The Grahams left after an interminable twenty minutes. Lady Gifford relaxed back into her chair and breathed a sigh of relief.

  Cousin Louisa entered a few moments later. "I met your callers on the steps," she said with a smile. "I wasn't aware you were acquainted with Mrs. Graham, Isabella."

  "I was not," Lady Gifford replied, still feeling somewhat exhausted from being overwhelmed with words, "and I must confess that I wish I were not now."

  "I was warned about her before I came to Town." Cousin Louisa seated herself on the sofa beside Lady Gifford. "In a way, her visit this morning might be seen as a good omen. It seems she has married off three daughters already, merely by attaching them to more popular girls and letting them pick up the leavings."

  "Do you mean that she actually came here because she wanted her daughter to follow mine about and meet all their beaux? How common!"

  "Oh, yes. She is very good at insinuating herself and her daughters into the crowd surrounding the Season's more popular young ladies. She shows an uncommonly astute sense of which of them will become successes. I should warn you that she is also an accomplished gossip who relishes even a hint of scandal."

  "But how do you know this, Cousin Louisa, when Mama did not?" asked Chloe. "You have not been in Town these past four years, you said".

  "Oh, I have several friends with whom I have kept in touch. Ask the Duchess to tell you of the woman's past adventures. The most likely reason for your mother not being acquainted with the woman is that she has never had daughters to present before. She would not have encountered Mrs. Graham in the ordinary course of events, for the woman does not generally travel in the first circles of Society.

  "Furthermore, I'll warrant that, once she has insinuated one of her daughters into a household, she becomes ill and plaintively requests Lady So-and-So to take pity on her poor health and please, take the poor child along to this fete or that. And Lady So-and-So, poor sympathetic fool that she is, does so, thus saving Mrs. Graham the exertion of chaperonage."

  Lady Gifford shook her head with some vigor. "She will certainly not try that trick on me. Thank you, Cousin Louisa, for giving us warning. I hope, girls, you did not encourage Miss Graham? It would not do for you to become friends with her, I think."

  "No, Mama, not a bit of it. Under other circumstances, however, I should not mind doing so," Phaedra said. "Poor girl, so sadly lacking in confidence. And so unsuitably dressed. I wonder how she feels about her mother's methods."

  "How could one be friends with a nonentity such as that? She spoke no more than five words during the whole visit," Chloe added. "But I pity the poor girl, nonetheless. Even riding on another's skirts, she will not marry this Season, I think. Not unless she overcomes her terrible shyness."

  "Yes, she must be quite unlike her older sisters, from all reports. They, I am told, combined the incredible brass of their mother with a liveliness and prettiness that made them almost acceptable. If this one is less lively, she must resemble her father who, I am told, was a studious, quiet man," Cousin Louisa said.

  Just then Edgemont opened the door to announce Mr. Reginald Farwell. Phaedra saw Chloe stiffen in her chair.

  Mr. Farwell was a vision in biscuit inexpressibles, a green and yellow flowered waistcoat, and a pale blue coat. The high red heels of his shoes made him seem even taller. He minced into the room and bowed gracefully over the hand extended to him by Lady Gifford.

  "So pleased, Lady Gifford," he murmured. "And your lovely daughters, too." His collar was so high that he was required to turn his entire upper body to look at the girls.

  "Good morning Mr. Farwell," Phaedra said with as much cordiality as she could master.

  Chloe repeated the greeting, but less cordially. Phaedra was tempted to pinch her.

  "I fear I was remiss in not requesting the pleasure of your company in one of the sets last evening," he said, aiming his words to the empty air between them and somewhat above the level of their heads. "It is so fatiguing. I could not bring your names to mind and did not wish to appear discourteous in admitting I had forgotten them. But this morning, oh, quite early, I called on Her Grace and she was kind enough to made them known to me. Please accept my abject apologies. I shall not forget them again."

  Phaedra bit her lip to keep from laughing aloud at this unbelievable excuse. She suspected he was testing them in some way, but for the life of her, she could not understand why.

  Her sister visibly preened herself and fluttered her lashes until Phaedra feared she would be blown away. "La, sir," Chloe almost simpered. "I will forgive you this time. But if you should forget again, I will not be able to forgive the second lapse."

  "How could I ever again forget?" he said. "Miss Hazelbourne, you have my word that your name and your face are engraved on my heart. As are yours, of course, Miss Phaedra," he continued, turning to her and waving a lace-edged handkerchief just under his chin.

  "I am impressed you arose so early, merely to ascertain our names," she responded tartly. "Was it an arduous task?" Instantly she felt her mother's frown directed her way.

  He appeared oblivious to her insult. "Not at all. How could I resist learning the identities of two such very different and lovely young women."

  Phaedra fell silent then, letting her sister carry on a flirtatious conversation with the gentleman. Chloe and Mr. Farwell did not seem to miss any contributions she might have made, for he and her sister continued to exchange pleasantries, most of them comprising fulsome flatteries from him and flirtatious responses from her. Phaedra wondered how anyone could converse thus, if conversing it could be called. Piffle. That's what it is. Just piffle.

  Her attention, however, was caught when Mr. Farwell said, "And do you have great expectations of your Season, Miss Hazelbourne?"

  "Oh, yes, I do, Mr. Farwell," Chloe replied before Phaedra could interrupt. "My intention is to become an incomp--Ouch! Phaedra, why did you pinch me?"

  "I thought I saw a spider on your arm."

  "You never did, not in Mama's parlor!"

  "Well, it looked like one. Tell me Mr. Farwell, are you interested in the theatre?" she asked, in an attempt to distract Chloe.

  "I am, Miss Phaedra. And you?"

  "Oh, yes, and I am so looking forward to seeing the great Kean in Hamlet. But I am ver
y curious. Have you heard the rumor that Mr. Shakespeare did not really write his plays?"

  "I have heard that rumor, yes. But I consider it a great calumny. The immortal bard should not be so impugned."

  "But do you not think that the evidence is great that at least some of the plays might have been written by someone else? Roger Bacon, for instance. Or Sir Christopher Marlowe."

  "I beg of you, Miss Phaedra, do not endeavor to involve me in a literary argument. it is all so fatiguing." He yawned, patting his mouth with the handkerchief. "Have you attended the opera yet?"

  "No, but we are to go tonight, with Her Grace and Lady Mary," Chloe interjected. "Do not mind my sister, sir. She is sometimes overly interested in intellectual subjects. Tell me about the opera house. Is it indeed as grand as I have heard?"

  Mr. Farwell spoke of the beauties of the Covent Garden Theatre for the remaining few minutes of his visit, then punctiliously took his leave. As the parlor door closed behind him, Phaedra rounded on her sister.

  "Chloe, how could you!" she demanded. "You almost told him of your ambitions, and you know Mama says you must never speak of that subject in public. What would he have thought of you?"

  "Phaedra, you promised not to be literary with callers. Oh, how could you? He will think we are all bluestockings!"

  "That will be enough, girls," their mother told them. "Neither of you went beyond what was proper in your speech, but you both came very close to it. Please keep a better watch upon your tongues, or you will disgrace yourself. And Phaedra, next time do not accuse me of harboring spiders in my parlor, if you please. You will quite ruin my reputation."

  "I am sorry, Mama, but it was the only excuse I could think of for pinching her," Phaedra replied, laughing.

  "Yes, and I am sure that you have bruised me."

  "No more than you would have bruised your own reputation, had you continued in the direction you were taking," Lady Gifford said. "Reggie Farwell is quite the pink of the ton and is received everywhere. If he were to take you in dislike, your future in Society would be blighted. Chloe, when you are as old as Lady Jersey and as famous, you may speak your mind. For the nonce, keep a damper on your tongue."