Chapter Four

Madeline had spent a deal of time rehearsing what she would say when she called upon the Duchess of Ralston. Her mother had been dubious over the whole idea. Though she had, in the end, agreed that a summons from the duchess could not be ignored.

The countess had toyed with the idea of accompanying her daughter on the call, but had thought better of it. Or, as she said, “If you are to receive a comeuppance regarding this harebrained idea, I’d rather not be included in the scolding. You may tell the duchess that I have been against it from the start and spoken to you sternly about it.”

This did not put off Madeline in the slightest. The duchess had seemed very kind in inquiring about her charity.

She’d since donned her very best muslin day dress, been very careful that there were no ink stains on her hands and she set off for Bedford Square.

The duchess’ residence was situated in the middle of the southeast side of the square and featured the architect’s signature Coade-stone doorway.

Her groom opened the door to help her down to the pavement. Madeline placed her spectacles on her nose. She had debated on whether she ought to wear them or not, but she had come to the conclusion that they would suit the seriousness of the discussion ahead.

A very distinguished butler with the most marvelous head of salt and pepper hair showed her into the drawing room.

She had imagined she’d be left to wait at the duchess’ convenience, but the elegant lady was already there in front of a tea tray.

“Lady Madeline,” the duchess said. “Wagner, that will be all.”

The distinguished butler nodded and closed the doors behind him.

“Your Grace, I am very honored by the invitation,” Madeline said with a curtsy.

“Goodness, everybody I even look at claims they’re honored—I cannot think why,” the duchess said, pouring Madeline a cup. “Do sit.”

“Oh! Well, you are a dowager duchess,” Madeline said, taking the chair to the right of the duchess. “It is the highest title in the land, but for the queen.”

The duchess laughed heartily and said, “Many a duke would be surprised to hear I now outrank them. Now tell me, are you nearsighted or farsighted?”

Madeline pushed her spectacles higher on her nose. “Regular sighted, I’m afraid.”

“I suspected so,” the duchess said, handing Madeline her tea. “Though that does raise the question of why you have thought to perch spectacles on your nose.”

Madeline slid them off, as she now felt a bit silly to have worn them. “I supposed they would lend seriousness to the discussion,” she said.

The duchess smiled. “And now you see they’ve only provided some amusement. Lady Madeline, never depend on a prop to speak for you, depend upon yourself.”

Madeline nodded, and really, she suspected it was the wisest piece of advice ever given her.

“Now tell me about these impoverished pupils that are much on your mind.”

For the next quarter hour, Madeline spoke about her experiences teaching at the village school and what she imagined her charity could accomplish. She found that while she had felt her nerves in sitting down with the duchess, once she was talking about recognizing and realizing all human potential, her nerves settled.

The duchess set her teacup down. “It appears to be a worthy effort, indeed,” the duchess said. “You have identified two pupils from your own village school that would benefit from some financial investment. Tell me, who would be next?”

“Next, Ma’am?” Madeline asked, not at all having thought of who would be next.

“You must have a supply of needy pupils, yes? It will not do to set up an elaborate charity to fund two pupils. If that is the case, you might just ask your father for the money.”

“Oh, I see,” Madeline said. “How would I grow it? Goodness, I was so intent on thinking of how to bring money in that I haven’t given any thought to where it would go out.”

The duchess nodded. “My advice is, map out where these needy pupils will come from. Then, you can begin to think of ways to fund them. If you come to me with a more developed idea, I will be happy to support your efforts.”

“That is very kind, Ma’am.” Madeline was determined to do exactly that. She did not know how, just at this moment, but she would think of something.

“That’s settled,” the duchess said. “Tell me, how did you get on with the Marquess of Souderton?”

“The marquess?” Why on earth would the duchess inquire how she got on with the marquess?

“I could not make it out at Almack’s,” the duchess said. “You looked very well together, but I did get the sense that your conversation might not be as genial.”

“He does not think much of my ideas regarding the impoverished pupils, I’m afraid.”

The duchess waved her hands as if that were the least important thing about the marquess. “Do you like the look of him, though?”

“Oh, well I suppose everybody must like the look of him.”

“I will take that as a yes,” the duchess said, nodding.

Madeline did not answer. Of course, she did very much like the look of Lord Souderton. However, she could not forget how stinging his words had been. Or how close she’d come to weeping in public.

“And yet, you seem much affected by his lack of interest in your charity,” the duchess said.

“It was far more than lack of interest,” Madeline blurted out. “He was…dismissive. Of me. Of me having the conceit to come up with the idea. As if I am too inconsequential to dare it.”

The duchess sat back. “All of that?”

Madeline nodded sadly. She rather wished she had not expressed things so straightforwardly. It was embarrassing to admit the marquess’ opinion of her.

“Gracious,” the duchess said softly. “Well I suppose we will see what he chooses to do next.”

Madeline kept her own counsel regarding that idea. She was quite sure the marquess would not choose to do anything next. She expected Lord Souderton would give Lady Madeline Cole a very wide berth going forward.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Owen had hoped to ride his horse to Lady Thurston’s poetical tableau, thereby having the means for a speedy exit, but his mother had insisted he ride in the carriage with her and the duke. It felt as if he were a well-coddled prisoner—he was always looking for an escape out from under the affectionate gaze of the duchess.

The duke shifted uncomfortably in his seat on the other side of the carriage. “Blasted long evening ahead.”

“My dear,” the duchess said, “if you will only get into the spirit of the thing—our Lady Thurston has been saving up some sort of vitriol and it is set to explode like Mount Vesuvius in one glorious and amusing blast.”

“Not very amusing for Lord Thurston, though,” the duke said. “I understand he is often the victim of Mount Vesuvius. And who knows what else we’ll be faced with. I hope we are not to be lectured by Lady Madeline Cole again—she is a very scoldy sort of girl.”

“She did not scold, dear,” the duchess said. “She…well…all right, it was a little off-putting.”

Owen felt a great need to defend Lady Madeline. Even though there was a bit of the scold in the lady.

“Perhaps she is just young and na?ve,” he said.

The duke looked rather incredulous. “Well then, I would wonder why a young and na?ve lady is set on seeing people educated above their stations! Why should a tenant farmer’s boy be reading about the Greeks? Everybody in the world knows that if people become dissatisfied with their lot in life it is the end of civilization as we know it! The pitchforks are out, the guillotine blades sharpened, and we are all running for our lives.”

The duchess patted her duke’s hand. “A bit dramatic, do not you think?”

The duke snorted. “Ask a French duc if he thinks that is dramatic. Oh, never mind, you cannot because he’s dead!”

Fortunately, it was at this moment that the carriage rolled to a stop. Owen had not at all wished to attend Lady Thurston this evening, but he found himself grateful to have arrived to her house. He knew from experience that once his father got on the subject of the doomed nobility of France, things could only go from bad to worse.

Owen understood from his mother that when the news of the Reign of Terror began reaching England, the duke had been nearly paralyzed by it. He’d begun looking suspiciously at the servants as if they were planning his demise and refused to go into the village. So many of the English nobility had since left the news behind, as if it had never happened, but not his father. He claimed he would be stupid to forget, for who would the rabble come for first? The nearest duke they could find.

Lady Thurston greeted them at the door, cloaked in a voluminous white velvet cloak. “My dear Duchess, Duke, and you have even brought the marquess, how charming.”

“This is our first season in Town in ages,” the duchess said, “of course we would not miss it.”

“That’s what I was told,” the duke said grudgingly.

Lady Thurston tapped her fan on the duke’s arm. “Always so amusing.”

They moved on, and Owen found himself relieved that Lady Thurston took his father’s words as a jest. Had she known better, she would have understood that he did not jest in the slightest.

They entered the ballroom, which had been transformed to resemble a theater. Two tiers of boxes, all labeled with brass plates naming the people who would occupy them were on either side. At the near end of the ballroom, long sideboards were set up for refreshments. At the far end, a stage had been erected where Lady Thurston would assault them all with this year’s Mount Vesuvius.

Owen searched the room for Lady Madeline. He had an apology to make and he would like to get it over with. It was the stupidest thing in the world, but he did not feel as if he could face his valet without having accomplished it.

“Wine,” his father said, heading directly to the sideboards. His mother drifted after him, no doubt intent on keeping the duke’s mind off the doomed French nobility.

Owen’s search came to an abrupt stop. There she was. Blast, she really was something to look at. Her dark hair framed her dark eyes and just now she smiled at something Lord Gentry said to her.

Why was Lord Gentry making himself amusing?

Owen strode toward them. He bowed, “Lady Madeline, Gentry.”

“Ho there, Souderton,” Lord Gentry said. “You are acquainted with Lady Madeline? She’s a thinker, she is. Got some interesting ideas about the poor.”

Owen nodded but did not respond to Gentry’s gibberish. That fellow would not have given one second’s thought to the poor or anybody else. He was a self-indulgent fop of the worst sort.

Though Owen wished to apologize as quickly as possible, he would not…he could not, do it within Gentry’s hearing.

“Lady Madeline, I would escort you to the sideboard. Lady Thurston has made a particularly inspired choice of wines,” he said.

The lady looked surprised, as no doubt she would. She would probably be even more surprised when they actually got to the sideboard—he highly doubted that anything Lady Thurston had chosen was inspired.

Lord Gentry merely seemed annoyed, which Owen did not give a toss about.

Lady Madeline nodded and he held his arm out. She laid her hand gently upon it.

They left Lord Gentry in his pique. Owen said, “I wished to locate you as soon as possible, Lady Madeline. I am afraid I owe you an apology. A contrite and sincere apology. My words at Almack’s were intemperate and said more as a result of my defensiveness on the subject of gambling than about anything else. Again, I beg your pardon.”

He could not guess what the lady had imagined he might say, but he could see very well that it had not been an apology. She seemed entirely taken aback.

“There is no need for an apology, I’m sure,” she said. “Consider it forgotten.”

“That is gracious, but there was a need I’m afraid. The efforts you described regarding impoverished pupils were worthy. I presume the Duchess of Ralston is firmly in your corner regarding the idea.”

Lady Madeline looked pensive for a moment. “The duchess was very kind, but she did point out a rather large gap in my plan. You see, I have been spending all my time thinking of how to raise money and none of my time thinking of where these impoverished pupils were to come from. I only know of two—where will I find more? I do not suppose you have any knowledge in that direction?”

“Uh, I am afraid not,” he said. “Our butler puts an advertisement in the newspapers when he is looking for staff, but I haven’t the first idea how one would go about finding impoverished pupils.”

They had reached the sideboard and based upon what he viewed there he hoped Lady Madeline did not know too very much about wines. There was nothing at all inspiring. He poured her a very middle-of-the-road hock.

“Well, never mind,” the lady said, as if it were very expected that he’d be no help at all. “I suppose you look forward to Lady Thurston’s poetical tableau? My mother says it is always very amusing. Though, I cannot think it comfortable for Lord Thurston, as I understand he is often the subject of complaint.”

“That is my thought exactly,” Owen said. “It seems to me that if the lady has complaints…”

“That she should say them privately.”

“Yes, that is it. Privately.”

“Hmm,” Lady Madeline said, tapping the adorable dimple on her chin. “It seems to me that a marriage should be two people who may terribly disagree over things, but when they turn to face the world, it must be as a united front.”

Owen found himself rather struck by that idea. It was a succinct way to express an idea he’d had all along but had never put to words.

“Lady Madeline,” a gentleman’s voice said behind him. Owen turned and found a rather nondescript gentleman standing there smiling.

“Lord Bumbledon,” Lady Madeline said. “Are you acquainted with Lord Souderton? If not, now you are.”

Owen bowed. “We have not had the pleasure of being introduced previously.”

“I imagine we travel in different society, my lord,” Lord Bumbledon said. “I tell no tales when I mention being well known in intellectual circles.”

Owen stared at the man. What did he mean by it? Did he mean to say that the Marquess of Souderton would not be welcome in intellectual circles?

“Lady Madeline, I have come to collect you. Your father has been so kind as to insist that I sit in your box and he directed me to fetch you.”

Owen narrowed his eyes. Why should this Bumbledon character sit in Lady Madeline’s box?

Lady Madeline nodded. She curtsied to Owen and allowed herself to be led away.

What a mismatched picture that was! She, a diamond of the first water, and he a…bumbling blowhard with nothing physically to recommend him.

Lady Burberry called from the stage. “Everyone, please find your box and seat yourself. We are ready to begin.

Owen sighed. His mother and father were already seated, his father held a very full glass of wine in one hand and a bottle in the other. It was not a bad idea.

He refilled his own glass and made his way over to them.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Madeline had been much struck by Lord Souderton. He looked glorious, as was to be expected. But his words had been even more glorious! He’d sought her out and apologized for his remarks at Almack’s.

She’d told him it was not necessary, and it was all forgotten, but that had not been the truth—her eyes had stung every time she’d thought about it. Which had been more than a few times. He’d sensed it and said his apology was necessary, then he’d asked how she’d got on with the dowager duchess.

All in all, she found herself very cheered by the whole thing.

She was a bit less cheered by Lord Bumbledon. It had been very odd for him to mention he was a noted intellectual upon the introduction to Lord Souderton. It sounded as if he was advertising his accomplishments, which was not very attractive.

Lady Burberry stood on the stage, glaring at the stragglers who were still situating themselves in their boxes.

“Excellent,” Lady Burberry said. “We are ready to begin. Every year we gather together to hear what poignant ideas have been brewing in our dear Lady Thurston’s mind. This evening, I give you Betrayal, or How One Lady Survives a Certain Discovery. ”

Madeline was aware that Lady Thurston’s usual complaint was regarding the amount of her pin money. She was rather taken aback to hear it named a betrayal, which did seem a bit strong.

Lady Burberry left the stage and Lady Thurston stepped forward. She was still cloaked in white velvet, as she had been at the door.

Four ladies dressed just the same stood on either side of her.

“As it happens,” Lady Thurston shouted, “a certain person has tortured his lady wife with poverty, he has denied her a new carriage and her own modiste and jewels befitting her station, merely as a…DISTRACTION!”

Madeline’s eyes drifted toward Lord Thurston in his box. The lord had leapt from his chair and stood wild-eyed. He waved his arms over his head, as if to get his lady’s attention before she went further.

A distraction? What was the distraction that seemed to affect Lord Thurston in such a manner?

“Oh yes,” Lady Thurston said. The ladies surrounding her nodded their agreement.

Whatever was the distraction, Lady Thurston’s friends seemed to know all about it. Lord Thurston remained standing and he’d gone white as a sheet.

“It was craftily done,” Lady Thurston said, glaring at her lord. “Keep your wife’s eyes on her lack of pin money and those eyes have no time to look elsewhere. Well! They have looked elsewhere and what they have seen—”

“Do not you dare,” Lord Thurston shouted at his wife.

“What they have seen is a DALLIANCE—”

“Stop where you are!” Lord Thurston screeched.

“A dalliance with an actress!” Lady Thurston said, pointing at her husband. At that moment, the ladies on either side of her pointed at Lord Thurston too.

Lord Thurston sunk back to his seat, as no matter how much he’d warned that his wife ought not dare it, she had dared it.

Madeline hardly knew where to look. How extraordinary that a lady would announce the existence of a mistress so publicly. To look at Lady Thurston was embarrassing. To look toward Lord Thurston was even more embarrassing.

“Naturally,” Lady Thurston went on, her voice tight with fury, “there can be no money for dresses and jewels and carriages and a personal modiste when it is all going to a set of apartments for an actress! Perhaps my lord prefers that sort of low and garish style. Perhaps Lady Thurston ought to present herself in that sort of low and garish style.”

At that moment, Lady Thurston threw off her cloak to reveal that she was dressed in breeches, as if she were an actress on stage portraying a man. Her friends threw off their own cloaks and they had not gone quite that far. Though, they were dressed rather tastelessly. Madeline supposed they were meant to be actresses too.

“And what is the frothy top to this shameless syllabub?” Lady Thurston said over the gasps of her audience. She dramatically paused, and then shouted, “She is not even famous!”

Lord Thurston stormed out of the ballroom. Madeline presumed he left to seek solace in the arms of his not-famous actress.

Whatever she had thought she would view this evening, it had not been this.

Lady Thurston, looking not at all alarmed over her lord’s flight from the house, deeply curtsied to her audience, thereby signaling that the entertainment had come to its conclusion.

After the rather startled applause had dwindled, she said, “Ladies and gentlemen, do proceed to the dining room for a supper.”

“Gracious. I think we will not stay,” the countess said. “I will claim a headache.”

“I imagine claiming is not necessary,” her father said. “I actually do have a headache. What was Thurston thinking, allowing his wife to discover a dalliance?”

“Bad business,” Lord Bumbledon said.

Madeline’s mother looked askance at her earl. He seemed to notice that his sentiment was not appreciated. “Come now,” he said, “you have no fears on that front. Even if I wished it, which I do not, I am not half energetic enough to attempt it. All I say is, he ought to have increased her pin money years ago and he would not have found himself in this embarrassment.”

The countess still did not look particularly approving. Though, Madeline knew full well that her mother did not have any fears that her father would stray. The earl was far too much a homebody to be out getting himself into such a situation.

“Let us go,” the countess said. “I really do not feel that this was a suitable entertainment for Madeline.”

“I heartily agree with that assessment,” Lord Bumbledon said.

“I do not think it was a suitable entertainment for anybody,” Madeline said. “Will Lady Thurston be censured over it?”

“There will be some who do, no doubt,” the countess said. “But then, there are many who have always sympathized with Lady Thurston’s complaints and this particular complaint condemns Lord Thurston more thoroughly than anything in years past.”

“I would expect a lady of any sort of consequence to suffer in silence. It is the feminine way of things,” Lord Bumbledon said.

Madeline could not agree with that sentiment. Though, it would have been best if Lady Thurston had confronted her lord less publicly. However, she supposed that was not Lady Thurston’s way.

She found her thoughts in a whirl over it. How could a marriage descend into such circumstances?

As she considered it, she noted Lord Souderton. He was looking at her. He was approaching. He really looked very well this evening.

Madeline realized that now that the sting of his prior disapproval had been removed, he seemed even more handsome than he had done.

“Oh dear,” Lord Bumbledon said softly, in viewing Lord Souderton.

Madeline turned and looked inquiringly at him.

“Well, what does he really have to offer?” Lord Bumbledon said by way of explanation.

Madeline forced herself not to laugh. What did he have to offer? Did Lord Bumbledon not have eyes? Or notice that Lord Souderton was a marquess? What did he have to offer, indeed.

Lord Souderton bowed. “Earl, Countess,” he said. He turned to Madeline. “Might I escort you into supper, Lady Madeline?”

Madeline was on the verge of agreeing when her mother said, “It is a kind offer, Lord Souderton, but we will not stay after this…performance. We all have headaches, if you understand me.”

“Ah yes, I see. Of course,” Lord Souderton said.

“Our sensibilities have been struck, you understand,” Lord Bumbledon said.

It occurred to Madeline that when Lord Souderton had approached, he’d not even acknowledged Lord Bumbledon. He did not seem too eager to acknowledge him now.

“Yes, I did comprehend the countess’ hint,” he said coldly.

Lord Bumbledon sniffed in response.

“I wonder, Lady Madeline, if you have thought of applying to Lady Reddington to have your charity included in the Join Forces rout?” Lord Souderton said. “Each year, she dedicates rooms in her house to worthy charities—there is a sheet of paper that describes what the charity is and a bucket for donations.”

“Goodness! That sounds rather perfect. Mama, are you acquainted with Lady Reddington?”

“Only glancingly,” the countess said. “But Lord Souderton, I do not believe Madeline’s charity is ready for such exposure.”

“I’m certain it will be, though,” the lord said.

Madeline was very touched by his faith in her abilities. He’d seemed to do an entire about face regarding the impoverished pupils.

“I’ll mention it to Lady Reddington,” Lord Souderton said. “She is always on the lookout for new charities to include.”

The lord bowed, turned on his heel and set off toward the supper room before the countess could say anything else discouraging about it.

“I do not like the sound of this,” the countess said.

What else was said against the idea, Madeline did not hear. Her thoughts had taken flight—there was so much to do! There was every likelihood that her charity would be collecting funds in short order. Her very first task was to discover how to find more impoverished pupils, as she knew of just two at the moment.

Lord Souderton had mentioned his butler advertising in the newspaper—perhaps she might proceed that way?

Indeed, it really was a rather smashing idea. There would be dozens of schoolmasters who would see it and write her a letter informing her of promising pupils who were in need of funding.

Gracious. Recognizing and realizing all human potential was suddenly within reach!

Despite the embarrassment that Lady Thurston had offered up this evening, Madeline found herself very glad she came.