Chapter 9

9

Issie’s excursion with Dr. Jordan to the Temple of the Muses bookshop was only the first of many such outings, and the couple went to the British Museum, the Egyptian Hall, and even made a return trip to Somerset House over the next week. Though he had given her his arm to lean upon on this second visit, Issie was a little disappointed when Dr. Jordan made no attempt to put his hand at her waist, or even hold her hand as she descended the stairs.

“Instead, he told me that he was relieved that there was no need to carry me down, as there had been the last time we had visited,” Issie told Bella later. “What do you think he meant by that?”

“Why, merely that he’s happy your health and strength have improved so much that it’s no longer necessary for him to do so.”

Issie considered this in silence and then began smiling; a dreamy, faraway expression on her face. Bella assumed she was once again reliving that epic moment when the doctor had swept her up into his arms, and left her to her imaginings.

Bella, too, was very busy with outings and social activities. Lord Brooke had invited her and Issie to the theatre, but Issie, though she’d been able to endure the crowds at the Royal Academy and other places around London, still did not feel like she could face the thousands who were likely to be present at Covent Garden Theatre. (Or perhaps it was Lord Brooke she was hesitant to face.) So Miss Adams and Sir Roger had been invited instead. Lord Brooke had also invited his nephews’ grandmother, Lady de Ros. She was no blood relation of Lord Brooke’s, as she was the mother of his sister’s husband, but Lord Brooke had come to know her after his sister had married her son. And he explained to Bella that he thought she was quite lonely now that her son and daughter-in-law had died, especially when her grandsons were away at school, as they were now.

Bella was happy Lady de Ros was coming because it gave Lady Dutton a night free from her chaperoning duties. And it gave Bella a night free from Lady Dutton.

Lady de Ros looked to be about sixty-five or seventy and was slender and elegant with beautiful white hair, but she had an air of chilly reserve that was somewhat intimidating to Bella. She did not appear to smile very frequently, and Bella wondered if she was going to be much of an improvement over Lady Dutton. But then Bella remembered how Lord Brooke had said she was lonely, and realized that this could account for her aloof manner. So Bella tried her best to ignore her feelings of inferiority and treat Lady de Ros in her usual warm and friendly fashion.

She was finally rewarded when, after they’d all been seated in the theatre box and were waiting for the play to begin, Lady de Ros turned to Bella with a slight smile and initiated a conversation. Though Bella was not particularly happy with the subject she’d chosen.

“Lady Isabelle, you have a cousin about your own age, do you not? A girl cousin?”

“Yes, I do,” Bella said, a little surprised Lady de Ros would have heard of Lady Isabelle’s lower-class cousin.

“What is her name?”

Bella looked over at Lord Brooke, who was seated on her other side, but who thankfully was in conversation with Sir Roger. “Arabella Grant, my lady.”

“Tell me a little about her,” Lady de Ros commanded. “Is she well? Did she come to town with you?”

“She is exceedingly well. And yes, she is here in town. I beg your pardon, but how did you hear of her? She lives a very quiet life in the country.”

“I was acquainted with her grandparents.”

“Oh, I see,” Bella answered, though she did not see at all. She assumed Lady de Ros was referring to her father’s parents, as she couldn’t imagine this wealthy aristocrat had ever met her mother’s parents, the apothecary and his wife. But then why had she said her grandparents and not your grandparents? If she’d been referring to the Stricklands, she would have known that they were Lady Isabelle’s grandparents, as well.

“Well, is there nothing else you can tell me about her?” Lady de Ros asked, a little impatiently. “Is Miss Grant as pretty as you are?”

Bella smiled slightly, able to see the humor in the question, and nodding vigorously, said, “Oh, yes, she is just as pretty as I am. We greatly resemble each other.”

She did not realize that Lord Brooke had finished his conversation with Sir Roger and was now listening to hers with Lady de Ros. “You will not get an unbiased opinion about her cousin from Lady Belle,” he said with a smile. “The two are as close as sisters. Perhaps closer.”

Lady de Ros smiled broadly for the first time that evening. “I am happy to hear that you value your cousin. Too many young ladies quarrel with their female relations, especially those who are close to them in age. I am sure your cousin, orphaned as young as she was, appreciates your support.”

“I know she does, just as I appreciate hers,” Bella answered, though she continued to wonder how Lady de Ros seemed to know so much about Arabella Grant.

The curtain rose before Lady de Ros could interrogate her further, and while Bella had been surprised to discover that this made no difference to many of the patrons who continued to chat in loud voices throughout the performance, this was Bella’s first time seeing the comedy She Stoops to Conquer, and she was unwilling to follow their example.

Oliver Goldsmith’s play had been popular for more than forty years now, so Bella had been embarrassed to admit that she had never seen or read it, and thus was totally surprised that the plot revolved around the daughter of the house, Kate Hardcastle, assuming a false identity, first as a maid, and then as a poor relation.

Apparently, Catherine had never seen the play, either, and was also surprised by its content. Marlow, the ostensible hero of the story, seemed little more than a cad to both young ladies, as he was terrified to court proper young ladies, but took liberties with women of a lower class. Since both Bella and Catherine were of a lower class, though had hidden this fact from their escorts that evening, they were both squirming in their seats at some of the dialogue.

The two young women did laugh loudly at the scenes that didn’t remind them of their lowly background; particularly when the gentlemen had been tricked into thinking that Mr. Hardcastle’s home was an inn and he was the innkeeper and they loudly criticized the dinner menu their host planned to serve.

However, Bella did not find Kate Hardcastle and Marlow’s love story funny in the least. Kate was Marlow’s equal in rank; their marriage had been arranged by their fathers. And Bella felt that if Kate was actually the poor relation she was pretending to be, no one would have been scheming to get her and Marlow together, or would rejoice when they finally did become engaged.

It caused Bella to wonder if she had been fooling herself all along where Lord Brooke was concerned. Noblemen were far more likely to offer women of her class a mistress-ship, rather than a marriage. In the play, Marlow told Kate: “The difference of our birth, fortune, and education, makes an honourable connexion impossible.”

So Bella’s laughter was forced and her applause halfhearted, and both she and Catherine wished there had been a different play scheduled that evening.

Lord Brooke was observing her closely throughout, and seemed to realize that she had mixed feelings about the evening’s entertainment. “You don’t seem to have enjoyed the play unreservedly. Did it remind you too much of your own situation?” he asked Bella in a lowered voice while the rest of the audience was applauding the actors as they took their bows.

“What do you mean?” Bella asked, turning to look at him and wondering if he had somehow guessed her secret after all.

“Did Mrs. Hardcastle remind you of your mother?”

Bella was so greatly relieved at his question it took her a moment to realize he was awaiting an answer, and then she had to think back on Mrs. Hardcastle’s part in the play. It was true that hers was a strong personality, and she had tried to force her son and his cousin to marry each other against their will, even withholding her niece’s jewels from her in an attempt to blackmail them into marriage. “Perhaps a little,” Bella said, and was glad she had that excuse for disliking the play. But then she decided to tell him her true opinion. “However, I was also taken aback at the gentlemen’s opinion of women who were not of their class.”

Lord Brooke looked surprised for a moment, as if this aspect of the story had not previously occurred to him. Then, after he appeared to have mentally reviewed the play, his expression grew serious and he said: “Yes, Marlow is a bit of a scoundrel in that regard. I suppose Goldsmith had to have an excuse for setting up the misunderstanding between him and Kate, but it is common, unfortunately, to find that sort of attitude prevalent among gentlemen in society even today.”

Bella did not reply, and after a short pause, he continued: “I find it despicable, myself. No man should force his attentions on any woman, whether she be a milkmaid or a marchioness.”

Bella rewarded him with a glowing smile for this remark, but their conversation was interrupted when guests began entering the box during the intermission before the pantomime was to begin.

One of these guests was Mr. Peckham, who had given up his Cossack trousers and was once again wearing a pair of his extremely tight pantaloons. Bella thought at first his ruddy cheeks had been caused by the heat of the gaslit, crowded theatre, but realized after he turned eagerly to Catherine, at which point his cheeks grew even redder, that he was embarrassed, or bashful, or just plain excited, about seeing Catherine Adams again.

He gave the rest of them a quick greeting, bowing slightly to Bella and murmuring, “Lady Belle, good evening,” before making the true reason he’d come to their box obvious. He bowed far more deeply to Catherine and bestowed an admiring glance on her before saying, “ Miss Adams, good evening,” in a reverential tone that was far different from the one he’d used when greeting the others.

Bella exchanged a glance with Lord Brooke, who had observed this unlikely sight as well, but then she had to quickly look away from him because the amused gleam in his eye almost caused her to laugh, and she had no desire to make Mr. Peckham turn even redder.

Catherine appeared startled and uncertain about Mr. Peckham’s motives in addressing her, and returned his deep bow with a slight nod and a frown. She had apparently not caught on to the fact that he’d left Lady Belle’s court to join hers, where he was at present its sole member.

“Miss Adams, would you care to walk with me during the intermission?” he asked, though he appeared a little deflated by her reception of him and asked this very tentatively and hesitantly, as if he expected a negative response.

But Catherine, looking from Mr. Peckham to Bella and back at him again, finally did understand that he had transferred his allegiance to her. And whereas if someone had asked her a day earlier her impression of Mr. Peckham it would have been a decidedly negative one, it is very difficult to hold a bad opinion of a person who so obviously admires you. Therefore, she bestowed a smile on him and said, “Thank you, I would be very glad to stretch my legs—” and then with a horrified glance around her, gasped and covered her mouth, before recovering her composure and saying: “That is, I would be pleased to take some air.”

After they had left, Lord Brooke turned and said to Bella: “Her mother obviously didn’t train her as well as yours did.”

“There is nothing wrong with using that word,” Bella said, her hackles rising in defense of poor Catherine.

“What word?” Sir Roger asked.

“It doesn’t matter,” Bella said, with a quick glance at Lord Brooke, who winked at her and mouthed the word “legs” in an exaggerated and comically rakish manner.

“Lord Brooke, don’t be vulgar,” said Lady de Ros, whose presence everyone had forgotten. Upon which command Lord Brooke obediently sat up a little straighter and begged her pardon. But it was obvious he hadn’t been truly chastened, because after a moment he turned to Bella and said, “My extremities are in need of mobilization as well, if Lady Belle would do me the honor.”

Bella, biting her lip in order to maintain a straight face, wondered if she should reward the wretched man by giving him what he had asked for. But then she decided to deny him would be denying herself as well. So she nodded in response and left the box with him, her hand on his arm and her head held high, and restrained her laughter until Lady de Ros was out of earshot.

Later, while they were walking in the elegant saloon that only those wealthy enough to have their own private box had access to, Bella felt again like she was living in a sort of dream. She still had not grown accustomed to all the glamour that surrounded her. The Covent Garden Theatre, rebuilt in 1809 after having burned down the year before, was a marvel to Bella. Right now they were two of a select group who promenaded in a high-ceilinged vestibule with life-size sculptures, sparkling chandeliers, marble columns, and velvet banquettes.

After politely greeting some of their acquaintance, Lord Brooke led Bella to one of those plush benches and invited her to take a seat in one corner.

“I thought we were on a mission to mobilize our extremities,” Bella said, her lips in a prim smile.

“Ostensibly, that was our purpose, but I had another purpose in mind as well,” Lord Brooke told Bella, placing his arm against the wall so that he effectively shielded her from view and his back was to the room.

“Oh, and what was that?” Bella asked, a little breathlessly, as her heart had taken to beating as rapidly as she imagined Issie’s did when she had “palpitations.”

“To speak to you privately, away from the crowds. You are too popular to suit me, Lady Belle,” he said, his voice almost a caress, it was pitched so low.

“You are also very popular, Lord Brooke. A young lady might worry that you were merely toying with her affections if she found herself the target of your attentions. It is rumored you are reluctant to make any lasting commitment.”

Lord Brooke frowned, his expression growing serious. “Is that what you fear, Bella?” he asked. “Is that why you are sometimes distant with me? Are you protecting yourself?”

“I—” Bella began, and then stopped, unsure what to say. Why was it that she always ended up having to answer his questions, when she was the one who needed answers from him? She longed to tell him what she truly feared, but she’d promised Issie to wait. “I suppose I am,” she finally said, as it was true that she was protecting herself, even if it wasn’t entirely for the reasons he supposed.

“You needn’t do so,” Lord Brooke said, putting a finger under her chin and gently tilting her face back up after she’d lowered her gaze, afraid he might read the whole truth in her eyes. “I would never hurt you.”

“You cannot promise such a thing,” Bella said. “No one can.”

“I suppose you are right. But when I look at you, so lovely and guileless and true, I feel like I’d cut out my own heart before I caused yours a moment’s pang.”

Bella tried not to wince when he’d called her “guileless and true,” though she did close her eyes for a moment.

“You’re doing it now. Why do you withdraw from me whenever I try to express my feelings?”

“Is that what you are doing?” Bella said, opening her eyes wide. “Please proceed, then; there’s nothing I’d rather hear.”

Lord Brooke smiled at her response, but someone was approaching, calling his name, and his smile disappeared and he sighed. “This is neither the time nor the place,” he said regretfully, before straightening and turning to greet his so-called friend, Lord Barnaby Chester.

Bella echoed his sigh, and Lord Barnaby, not usually the most sensitive of souls, began to think his presence wasn’t entirely welcome.