Part 10 (1/2)

”Is it?” she said. ”In what way?”

”You are a woman and will bear children,” he said. ”Besides, this is just the way our society works. Most ladies of any maturity accept the situation and would think it ill-bred to seem to know the truth.”

”Ah,” she said, ”I see how it is, my lord. The blame must somehow be s.h.i.+fted to my shoulders. I am childish, of course. What can one expect of a bride of eighteen? And I am ill-bred. I have been brought up in the country and have never been exposed to the superior moral standards of London. Of course, if I were only more mature and better-bred, I would understand that there is nothing dishonest about promising fidelity to a bride when one employs a mistress.”

Lord Astor put a hand to his brow and paced to the window. ”We are getting nowhere, are we?” he said. ”Let me be plain with you then, Arabella. I will not allow you to dictate the way I live. I am afraid you must learn to accept that. And if you do, you will not find me an inattentive or unaffectionate husband. If you find that you cannot accept reality, then I will allow you to return to Parkland Manora”until you are older, perhaps. What is your wish?”

”I am your wife,” she said, ”your property. Do with me what you wish, my lord.”

He turned back to her in exasperation. ”You will stay here with me, then,” he said. ”I shall stay away from you as much as I can while your hostility lasts. Ginny will doubtless be a more amiable companion. And you need not fear that you will be forced to do your dutya”with a strong sense of martyrdom, of course. I have a bed to go to where I will be welcomed with no reluctance at all. I wish you good day, madam.”

Arabella rose to her feet and sank into a deep curtsy. ”Thank you, my lord,” she said. ”You will forgive me, perhaps, if I do not return the greeting.”

Frances must be feeling some disappointment, Arabella thought as they were entering the main arched gateway to Vauxhall Gardens that evening. It was true that they had had all the excitement of driving across the new iron Regent's Bridge, and certainly they had arrived faster than they had expected. But Frances had had her mind set on approaching the pleasure gardens by river. Arabella thought that she probably had had a romantic image of herself being handed into a boat by Sir John Charlton and comforted by his strong arm during a choppy crossing.

But Sir John would have been nowhere in sight even if the bridge had not been in place and they had been compelled to take a boat. Lord Farraday had taken them up in his carriage with his sister. They were to meet the rest of the party at Vauxhall.

One could not be disappointed with Vauxhall Gardens, though, even if one approached by the less romantic route, Arabella discovered. She stepped through the main gateway with Frances on her arm, Lord Farraday and Mrs. Pritchard close behind, and discovered that they had stepped into an enchanted world.

”Ooh, Bella!” Frances pulled on her arm and gazed about her in wonder. ”It is magical. Look at all the lanterns.”

The night was perfect. The clouds that had obscured the sun all day had moved off to leave a clear, moonlit, star-studded sky. There was scarcely a breeze. But there was enough to move the top branches of the trees that were everywhere around them and to set the myriad lanterns to swaying. Patches of light and shade chased themselves along the many pathways and over the trunks of trees.

”It is like a fairy tale,” Arabella said. ”Cinderella and her gla.s.s slipper.”

Mrs. Pritchard stopped behind them. ”I always love to see and hear the reactions of people who have not been here before,” she said. ”And tonight you are fortunate. Everything is perfect. How did you know it was going to be quite such a night, Clive, when you planned this party?”

He grinned. ”When I said my prayers last night,” he told her, ”I explained that for my sister nothing but the best was good enough, or I would never hear the end of it.”

”Oh, foolis.h.!.+” she said. ”Let us take Lady Astor and Miss Wilson to your box before the music begins. We are rather late. Your other guests will doubtless be waiting.”

Arabella proceeded with her sister along the path that led straight from the gate. She deliberately shook off the mood of deep depression that had been with her all day. She was going to enjoy herself, she decided. She was eighteen years old and she was a member of a party at Vauxhall. There was going to be music to listen to and supper to eat among congenial company. There were paths to walk along and lanterns to light her way. And later there were to be fireworks. It was to be the sort of evening she could only have dreamed of a year before. She was going to make the most of it.

The rest of the party was there before them: Theodore, Sir John, Mr. Hubbard, Lady Harriet, and her elder sister with her husband. They occupied one of the lower boxes, Arabella saw, close to the orchestra. She smiled gaily at everyone and acknowledged the bows of the gentlemen. Had Theodore brought Lady Harriet? she wondered. He sat next to her. How clever of him if he had done so. Frances, she saw at a glance, was settling herself at the opposite side of the box, next to Sir John Charlton.

”Ah, my dear Lady Astor,” Mr. Hubbard said, indicating a chair close to his, ”you are just in time for the music. Handel, if you like the man's music. Or if you do not, I suppose. I was rather hoping for dancing, myself, but it seems we are not to be that fortunate tonight. The proprietors are catering to superior tastes.”

”I am just as pleased,” Arabella said, taking the proffered seat and smiling at him. ”These are lovely surroundings in which to listen to music. Which of Mr. Handel's works is to be played?”

”The Water Music,” he said. ”Good music to drink by, ma'am.” He laughed at his own joke, lifted his gla.s.s, and bowed to her. ”Farraday, wine for the ladies.”

Arabella looked more closely at the bright eyes of her companion. Was Mr. Hubbard foxed? How scandalous. She had never actually seen a gentleman in his cups before. She hoped Mr. Hubbard would not disgrace them all by trying to stand up and sing to the crowd. She remembered Papa's stories of one of their neighbors who had a tendency to burst into song in public places when he had been drinking, though one scarce knew the sound of even his speaking voice when he was sober.

”The music is about to begin,” Lord Farraday said to the box at large. ”Would anyone care to eat now, or shall we wait until afterward?”

”We have come straight from the dinner table,” Lady Harriet's sister said. ”I pray you not to concern yourself about us, my lord.”

Everyone seemed to be in agreement, though Mr. Hubbard renewed his suggestion that wine be ordered for the ladies. Arabella settled herself to listen to the music, having just been enthralled to hear from Mr. Hubbard that Mr. Handel had written the music to be played for the king as he was rowed down the River Thames. He could not recall which king, whether the present poor King George or his father. But Arabella was determined to believe that it was his present majesty whose mind had been soothed by the music.

Dining at White's for the third night in a row was not an enjoyable experience, Lord Astor found, though he supposed he must have done it quite frequently in the past before his marriage. It seemed so long ago!

He did not lack for company or for suggestions on how he might spend his evening. But he could not face another night of cards, the theater held out no allure for him, and he had no wish to attend Mrs. Bailey's salon. He still could not face going to Ginny's. The trouble was, he did not feel like going home either. He sat on, not making any decision at all.

Arabella was at Vauxhall Gardens. He was glad that the weather had changed for the better since the late afternoon. She would enjoy herself there. With Farraday. He was a decent-enough sort. He would look after her. Hubbard too, had she said? Hubbard had been a steady-enough fellow before his wife had run off with a wealthy wine merchant the year before and caused a huge scandal. He had taken to the bottle rather heavily at that time and still had frequent laspes. He would never harm Arabella, but would he be protection enough for her in a place like Vauxhall if she happened to be separated from Farraday?

That neighbor of theirs, Perrot, was to be there too, of course. As solid and dependable as a rock, if his judgment did not fail him. Though, of course, he was more likely to have his attention wrapped up in Frances than in Arabella. And Frances was just as likely to be fluttering those long eyelashes of hers at Charlton.

He must not forget his responsibility to Frances, Lord Astor thought. It was true that she was older than Arabella, but even so, she was not yet of age and she was quite as innocent in the ways of the world as his wife. He was not at all sure that he trusted Charlton. He had not heard anything bad about him, but his impression was that the man was vain and selfish. And Farraday was not fond of him. It seemed they were neighbors. There was no telling what might occur if Charlton happened to get Miss Wilson off on her own in Vauxhall.

Was he mad? He had allowed his wife and his sister-in-law to go off to one of the most notorious pleasure spots in London without even talking to Farraday, who had invited them. He should never have allowed them to go without his protection.

And indeed, it was not too late, he thought, rising from his table and interrupting a conversation that was holding the rapt attention of the four other listeners. Arabella would not like it, and he would probably end up merely with the irritation of watching her sparkle among her male admirers, but go he must. He must make sure that both his charges were safe.

”I have to meet Lady Astor at Vauxhall,” he murmured to his table companions by way of excuse.

”How long has it been, Astor?” one of his friends asked with a grin. ”A month? Six weeks? She has you firmly in leading strings, eh?”

”What does a leg shackle feel like, Astor?” another acquaintance asked.

”It must be love,” a third said with a sigh, his hand over his heart.

Lord Astor joined in the general laughter.

When he reached Vauxhall Gardens, he could not immediately locate the right box. He had arrived after the main entertainment of the evening was over, he realized, and before most people settled down for supper. Crowds were milling around in the open semicircular area before the boxes. Others were doubtless taking the air by strolling along the numerous paths that led off in different directions. Eventually he spotted a box that was empty of all except the slouching figure of his drunken friend.

”Hubbard!” he said, entering the box and taking one of the empty seats. ”All alone?”

”Abandoned,” his friend agreed cheerfully. ”I would have stayed sober if there had been dancing, old boy, but what else was there to do during that interminable fiddling and trumpet-blowing except drink? Now I have boneless legs. Sorry about it, too. I couldn't oblige your wife by walking with her. Fetching little thing, Astor.”

”Where did she go?” Lord Astor asked.

Mr. Hubbard gestured along the main path leading away from the gates. ”That way,” he said. ”Five minutes ago. Probably closer to ten.”

”The whole party is walking together?” Lord Astor asked.

”Oh, Lord, no,” Mr. Hubbard said. ”Let me see. First Farraday and his sister went to pay their respects to a second cousin or something remote like that. They all disappeared along that path.” He pointed. ”Then that large silent charactera”friend of Lady Astor'sa”went for a stroll that way with Lady Harriet. Her sister and what's-his-name, her husband, trailed along to make it all respectable, I suppose. No one else wanted to join them. Lady Astor insisted on staying to stop me drinking more and making myself ill or foolish, she said. Seemed to be under the impression that I was about to start warbling or something. Then Miss Wilson and Chariton found it imperative to set off in the same direction as the other four.”

”And Arabella went with them?” Lord Astor asked after a pause had indicated that no further information was forthcoming.

”Oh, Lord, no,” Mr. Hubbard said with a yawn. ”She was busy chattering my head off so that I would not think about tipping back more drink. Sweet little thing, Astor. All heart.”

”Where did she go then?” Lord Astor was frowning and beginning to feel a twinge of alarm.

”Fellow came by,” he said. ”Tall, thin, gangly. Spots.”

”Er, Browning?” his friend suggested.