Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR

T he next day, Oakley stared with some dismay at the note in his hand, one with the Kemerton seal embossed on the top edge. The summons was not unexpected even if the rapidity with which it had been dispatched was.

Lady Kemerton requests the honour of your presence for dinner followed by Coriolanus in her box in Drury Lane on the sixth April at promptly five o’clock.

He tapped the card against his hand absently, thinking of what he knew of the lady Adelaide intended to introduce to him. Lady Charlotte Ivy was a golden-haired beauty with twenty thousand pounds and connections to the Duke of Ardmore. What troubled Oakley was the vagueness with which Adelaide explained the lady’s connection to herself and Kemerton.

“Kem has known the family for ages,” she had said, her attention on her baby, Susanna, who happened to be in her arms at the time. “Very kindly people, or so he says.”

“Yes, but what can you tell me about her ,” he persisted, prompting Adelaide to laud her beauty and accomplishments. “No, but…will I like her? Is she agreeable?”

Adelaide had simply shrugged that off. “No one knows anyone until they come out, do they? And her coming-out is now, so we shall all get to know her better together.”

In other words, I am being introduced to a lady whom even Adelaide does not know. Any lady with a dowry and the ability to draw breath is considered a fair marriage prospect for me.

Tapping the note against his hand again, Oakley sighed. “Well,” he said to the empty room, “there is no sense in going up against my sister when she has her mind set to something, so Lady Charlotte, here come I.”

On the appointed evening, he presented himself into his man’s care. Jepson seemed exceedingly eager to attire him, tucking and tugging and brushing until Oakley cried out, “It will do!”

“Of course, of course.” Jepson immediately stepped backwards, although his eye still roamed Oakley’s form.

“’Tis only a meeting,” Oakley grumbled. “I am hardly on my way to propose, although it would put an end to this caper if I did.”

Jepson chuckled, then offered, “I have heard it said that the lady is very agreeable.”

“Well you know a vast deal more than I do, Jepson.” Oakley gave himself a last look in the glass and then turned. “Unto the breach, then.” With a nod, he quit the room.

Adelaide and Kem lived close enough that Oakley would walk over. As he descended the few stairs between the front door and the street, a memory came to him, well-worn but not less poignant for it: the first time he had ever seen Bess. The day he had met Scarlett.

Naturally the frisson of attraction between himself and Bess had been put aside for the more astonishing and life-changing understanding that he had another sister, a twin to the one he had so lately discovered. Put aside, but certainly not forgotten. Bess’s attention had been on her friend that day, and she had been so kindly, so loyal as she laid her hand on Scarlett’s back for support as mistaken identities and exclamations resounded through the street.

“It does not signify,” he muttered, causing a passing maid to give him a worried look before hurrying away from him. “Bess is married. Cannot forget that.”

He determinedly put the past out of his mind and hastened his steps towards his sister’s home. If there was a lesson to be learnt from the meeting on the street that day, it was that one never knew when destiny might intervene and change everything.

At the Kemertons’ townhouse, he was greeted by Scarlett in the vestibule. “What is this?” he asked her. “Did you think I would turn tail?”

Scarlett laid her hand on his arm. She had an insidiously kind way of steering a fellow right the way she wanted without seeming to apply any pressure whatsoever. “Of course not,” she said soothingly. “I happened to be passing through. Anyhow, I was eager to tell you how much I have enjoyed knowing Lady Charlotte already. I daresay you will find her very agreeable.”

“And you say that based on how long an acquaintance? Has it been a full quarter of an hour?”

Scarlett laughed. “Oh, Oakley, pray do not turn churlish, it does not suit you.”

The door to the drawing room then opened and he could say no more. Adelaide rose, her face eager and expectant. Scarlett’s light hand was replaced by Adelaide’s more firm grip, and he resisted the urge to squirm as she steered him towards the younger lady sitting with a woman he supposed was her mother on a divan near the window. The ladies rose as he and Adelaide approached.

Oakley immediately disliked how very thin Lady Charlotte was. When she curtseyed, the way her arms and elbows extruded reminded him of the wings of a chicken. She briefly laid her hand on his arm, laughing at something he said, and he could not discern the weight of it. Her collarbone looked like it might poke right through her skin!

Not like Bess. Bess had been charmingly rounded and dimpled, everything about her bespeaking comfort and affection. A woman ought to be soft and curvy , Oakley decided. Otherwise, they are too much like men, all sinew and muscle and bone.

He immediately chastised himself for being so uncharitable. As Lady Charlotte’s mother scurried to the opposite side of the room to allow him to take the other side of the divan, he resolved himself to look at Lady Charlotte on her own, not in comparison to Bess.

Think of Lady Charlotte’s amiability, not her looks , he scolded himself. And in fact, she is quite beautiful. He smiled at her, trying harder to appreciate the pale, golden-red curls on her head and the light dusting of freckles across her nose. Time spent outdoors , he thought approvingly.

“Do you enjoy riding?” he enquired, angling his body slightly to avoid the peering gazes of Adelaide and Scarlett. His question was enough to set things going. Lady Charlotte loved horses, and her father permitted her to ride to the hounds whenever he had a hunt.

“Liberal, is he?” Oakley glanced over at her father, a tall, cadaverously thin man who presently had Worthe trapped in a corner and appeared to be talking his ears off.

“Not always,” she giggled. “But I can be persistent.”

Persistent. Is that word for me?

Their conversation was pleasant enough through dinner, and Oakley thought Adelaide appeared mightily satisfied with herself by the time they were entering the carriages to go to the theatre.

“A real catch, is she not?” Adelaide murmured in his ear. Then, more warningly, she added, “But she is by no means without other prospects, so you will really have to?—”

“I like her,” Oakley replied quietly. “But pray allow us to digest dinner before you read the banns, hm?”

She gave him a little poke. “Very well! I only mean to tell you not to dawdle, lest you miss your chance!”

“I shall do my level best, dear sister,” he said, and handed her into her carriage.

It being the first Wednesday after Easter, the theatre was crowded. Oakley offered Lady Charlotte his arm as they made their way through the crowd, he gallantly shoving or elbowing as needed to provide her clear passage. She was appreciative, if her little flirty peeps above her fan were any indication. When they had at last gained the Kemerton box, Lady Charlotte’s merry green eyes met his, seeming relieved.

“I do not know how I should have navigated that without your assistance!”

“’Tis rather a crush, is it not?” he said, helping her into a seat. The others had made their way in behind them, each exclaiming about the number of people, their anticipation of the play, and the excitement of the Season being well and properly under way.

This could do very well. He had spoken to Lady Charlotte’s exceedingly garrulous father a bit after dinner—a good man, very amiable if a bit too enthusiastic on the subject of steam engines which he believed would completely change life as they knew it. An excellent family, all of whom seem to get on well with my family, a fine fortune, and a daughter who is charming without being excessively deferential. What else does a man need?

He knew he was far too prone to falling in love; his family teased him for it routinely. It was partly why they wished to see him married off. They had not said so plainly, but he knew they constantly feared he would make a cake of himself for a lady, or bring home someone unsuitable, or in some way bring scandal to a family that had already had more than their share. Indeed a proper marriage to a proper lady of good family would go a long way towards erasing the notoriety that had already come recently.

“Tell me, Lady Charlotte, are you fond of reading?” he enquired with renewed determination towards wooing her. It was the first thing he thought of; Adelaide and Scarlett, having been denied books in their younger years, were positively voracious about books of any kind.

Lady Charlotte winced a bit. “Will you think me a simpleton if I say no?”

He laughed, loudly, at the unexpected rejoinder. “I shall not!”

“The seminary where I was educated was forever pushing the most ponderous tomes upon us. Milton was evidently my teachers’ favourite.”

Oakley moaned dramatically at that.

“I declare I never read a thing that was enjoyable until I was at least sixteen, and by then I fear it was too late. Reading was already impressed upon me as a chore, not a pleasure.”

“I dislike it heartily myself, though my reasons are less clear to me.” Oakley considered it a moment as the musicians began the warm-up, squawking and squeaking below them. “Perhaps it was because I was far too eager to be outside when I was young. To sit in the schoolroom with a book was a punishment no matter what the book was.”

As the evening wore on, Oakley found more and more that he had in common with Lady Charlotte. Outdoor pursuits were preferred no matter the weather. They were both very fond of music—“Listening to it more than playing it, in my case,” he told her ruefully. Lady Charlotte had been rigorously instructed on the harp and pianoforte, though her proficiency, she said, must be left to the listener to judge.

“My sister has told me your singing is much to be admired,” he told her.

She blushed and looked down at her hands. “Lady Kemerton is too kind. I do like to sing—perhaps the next time we are in company you will hear me.”

“Perhaps I shall,” he agreed; and it was that precise moment when—his eye drawn by some movement in the boxes opposite them—he saw her .

Bess.

She was staring at him, watching him make love to Lady Charlotte, but as soon as his gaze met hers, she jerked it away, pretending fascination with whatever was happening on the stage. His heart began to pound as he drank in, finally , the sight of her.

Beside him Lady Charlotte had begun to say something else, a story, some nonsense, but he could barely hear her over the sound of his own blood roaring through his veins. Before he knew what he was doing, he had risen to his feet, stumbling a bit over the legs of the chair as he pushed past her.

“B-beg pardon,” he said to Lady Charlotte, interrupting her in the middle of whatever she was saying.

She immediately smiled although her eyes were curious, if not outright alarmed. “Are you well, sir? You look very pale suddenly.”

He had already turned his back to her. “I see someone I must greet…pray forgive me.”

Kem rose and followed him, stopping him just after Oakley had pushed through the curtain to exit the box. “Where are you going? It is not the intermission yet.”

“Bess,” he told him urgently. “I saw her. She is across the theatre with her mother.”

Kem’s eyes widened but his tone was evenly amicable. “Surely you can wait and greet Mrs Beamish after the play? She will not be going anywhere before then.”

“Make my apologies to the others.”

Kem laid a hand on his arm. “Brother, Lady Charlotte?—”

“Must go.” He shook off Kem’s hand, turned his back on his brother-in-law’s look of warning dismay, and hurried down the hall.

There were hordes to press through, chattering theatre-goers who possessed little interest in the theatre, but he made his way to the opposite side of the theatre as quickly as he could. Alas, no matter his haste, when he arrived at the box where he had seen her, there were but four empty places. He stood, trying to catch his breath, staring at the chairs as if his gaze could will their return.

Other chairs within the box were filled with an assortment of people and he nodded, seeing Mr Edgar Sebastian, a gentleman whom he knew from school. “Ho, Seabass,” he said.

“Oakley!” Sebastian waved him over. “Sit, man, I have not seen you in an age!”

Oakley sat, carefully avoiding looking towards the box opposite wherein sat his family and the lady he had so rudely abandoned mid-sentence. Instead, he chatted lightly with Sebastian for several minutes, finding that he was lately engaged to be married and had recently purchased a pair of hunters. Of the two, he appeared more enthusiastic about the hunters.

“I believe you were sitting with a friend of mine,” Oakley said when the pleasantries had concluded. “Leighton? Were the family sitting here earlier?”

“They were indeed,” Sebastian replied. “Sir Humphrey is my father’s friend, and he had invited the Leightons as our guests tonight.”

“They left in a hurry, it seems?”

“The daughter took ill, rather suddenly. I thought her brother might remain but?—”

“Her brother? It was Leighton who was with them? Not a Mr Beamish?”

“Who is Mr Beamish?”

“The young lady’s husband,” Oakley said.

Sebastian shook his head. “Sir Humphrey introduced him as Mr Oliver Leighton and the lady as Miss Bess.”

Beamish is forever absent and the family introduce her as Miss Bess? Oakley wondered at the meaning of that but, seeing the curiosity which had arisen in Sebastian’s aspect, recognised he ought not to seem so keenly interested in the matter. “Ah well. No matter, only I had not seen them in some time and wished to enquire after their well-being.”

Sebastian nodded and said agreeably, “They all seemed well enough to me, save for the young lady, and even she believed she might have got some bad fish for dinner.”

The matter was best dropped. Oakley remained with him for a little while after, directing the conversation into this and that matter of no consequence—just so it would not look like he had come tearing over there seeking the Leightons. Which in fact was absolutely true but made it all the more important to seem that it was not.

Why had Bess run off when she saw him? Did she mean to avoid him forever? You do yourself too much credit to imagine the lady is keeping herself away to avoid you , Oakley thought grimly. She is newly married, enjoying her husband, as Scarlett said.

Then where, for the love of all things holy, is Beamish, the other side of his mind argued back directly. A lady can hardly enjoy her husband when her husband seems determined to be off to all corners of the world without her.

When the play ended, he bade farewell to Sebastian and moved to rejoin his own party on the other side of the theatre. Lady Charlotte and her parents, he noted, were no longer among them. Guilt washed over him, particularly when he noticed that Adelaide, in particular, would not look at him.

He tugged at his collar while Scarlett informed him they were waiting for the throng to dissipate slightly before leaving. They had all risen from their seats but were milling about the box, watching as the crowds below slowly made their way out of the theatre.

Oakley moved closer to Kem, hoping to find a sympathetic ear. “Did, um, Lady Charlotte and her family?—”

“They left. Lady Charlotte felt a headache coming on.”

Oakley grimaced.

“It was not well done,” Kem said, more quietly. “But perhaps you did not see much to interest you in that quarter?”

“That was not it at all! She was perfectly lovely, and I enjoyed her company.”

“Then what, Oakley?” Adelaide snapped, placing one hand on her hip. She had given up ignoring him it seemed.

“I saw Bess sitting in the boxes opposite,” he said plaintively.

“Mrs Beamish,” Adelaide said, uttering each syllable very distinctly.

“Mrs Beamish, yes.” Oakley held out both hands in a gesture of supplication. “Pray do not be angry with me. I shall call on Lady Charlotte tomorrow with a posey and some marzipan for her mother. Will that do?”

Adelaide sniffed, but Oakley could see she had been mollified a little, at least. “You ought to be bringing me the marzipan. Have you any notion what it is like to forward a man to a lady, only to have said man tear off across a crowded theatre in pursuit of another woman? Another married woman?”

“I cannot disagree. It was quite stupid of me. Wholly unforgivable.” He offered his most winsome grin to her. “I intend to throw myself on Lady Charlotte’s mercy straightaway. She may box my ears if she wishes to.”

It appeared to work. With a little sigh, Adelaide said, “Are all elder brothers so impossible to stay angry with? Just make it up to her at the Duchess of Sedgwick’s ball.”

“When is that?”

“Friday night. Wear your green waistcoat—it does marvellous things for your eyes.” And with that, she swept away, looking every bit the countess she was.