A Spinster No More by Rose Pearson
Chapter Three
April, 1820, London
There wasone thing to be said of the London Season, there was little time to stop and think. Anne, the companion of one of the most beautiful young debutantes in town that year, found her days and nights filled with a whirl of activities. Within just the first month, she and Miss Spencer had attended the theatre, the ballet and the symphony. They had taken tea in six, no seven homes more than once since their arrival, and had attended three card parties, four supper parties, and eight musicales - as well as the weekly ball at Almack’s. When they weren’t busy with all of that, Miss Spencer insisted on ordering the carriage every day in order to take a drive through the park, or to promenade if the weather was fine.
A number of young men seemed quite smitten, and Miss Spencer was doing her best to hide her more unpleasant nature. Every morning brought a silver salver with a number of gentlemen’s cards upon it, wishing to call upon her or to attend the Spencers’ At Home, which was held on a Thursday afternoon. Each week, after lunch, Anne helped Miss Spencer into her prettiest gowns as her maid curled her hair and then the two young women sat in the parlor, praying someone might come.
“Do you think Lord Wilson will come?” Miss Spencer said agitatedly, getting up from her chair and moving to the window to peer out onto the street.
“Come away,” her mother scolded. “Sit patiently. He assured your father he would call upon us and he does not seem to be the kind of man that would break a promise to me.” Mrs. Spencer had the burr of a northern accent, though her daughter had done all she could to eradicate her own. Whenever her mother spoke, Miss Spencer winced as if embarrassed.
“Just try not to talk too much if anyone deigns to wait upon me today,” Miss Spencer said. Her tone wasn’t malicious, but it made her mother duck her head as if trying to hide her feelings of shame. Anne often wondered if Miss Spencer was even aware that her bluntness could be so hurtful – she certainly showed little sign of it.
“I shall be silent as the grave,” Mrs. Spencer said, folding her hands in her lap and biting at her lip.
A knock at the door had Miss Spencer jumping to her feet and trying to see who had arrived. She frowned. “It is only Lady Gertrude and Miss Jessup,” she said and sank down onto one of the elegant couches, slouching grumpily.
“You should be grateful of her friendship,” Mrs. Spencer said. “Lady St. John is from a fine family, and she knows all the best people. That she has shown an interest in you is most kind of her.”
Miss Spencer rolled her eyes but jumped to her feet and curtseyed deeply when Lady Gertrude and Miss Jessup entered the room. “How kind of you to come to our little At Home, Lady Gertrude,” she simpered.
“It is our pleasure, is it not Miss Jessup?” Lady Gertrude said, she gave Anne a friendly wink while Miss Spencer rose from her curtsey. “And how lovely to see you, too, Mrs. Spencer, and dear Miss Knorr.” Lady Gertrude’s warmth and kindness put even the anxious Mrs. Spencer at ease and soon the ladies were enjoying polite chit-chat as they were served the delicious afternoon tea laid out on the counter by the hovering parlor maids.
“Did I hear rightly, that Lord Wilson took you into supper at Lady Halstead’s card party yesterday evening?” Lady Gertrude asked Miss Spencer, feigning interest.
“He did,” Miss Spencer said. “He is very handsome, is he not?”
“He is that,” Mrs. Spencer agreed.
“And his twenty thousand pounds a year is certainly not to be sniffed at,” Lady Gertrude said cheekily. She knew all too well why all the young women of the Ton were hoping to catch Lord Willson’s slightly squinty eyes. He was a decent enough fellow, though a little dull. Anne was sure that he was not the kind of man that Lady Gertrude would ever set her cap at.
“I had not realized his fortune so great,” Miss Spencer lied. Anne had to stifle a chuckle. The young woman refused to even dance with a man now unless he had an income of at least ten thousand pounds a year and owned a London townhouse and a country estate. She cared little for a man’s personality, as long as he could provide her with the escape she so desired.
“He would make a fine husband, though I heard that he was seen walking in the park earlier today with Miss Hetty Winthorpe,” Lady Gertrude said, innocently enough, but from the sparkle in her eye it was clear that she was doing her best to tease Miss Spencer, whose lips were now squeezed in a tight line, her color high as she tried not to show her displeasure. “They seemed quite engrossed in one another. But I am sure it was not what it seemed.”
They were saved from what might have come from Miss Spencer’s angry lips by another knock at the door. “I wonder who that might be?” Lady Gertrude said, then took a sip of tea and another bite of cake, as though she didn’t really care at all.
Anne wondered how Lady Gertrude managed to be so calm and so amused by Miss Spencer. She was grateful indeed, to the young woman, for befriending her young charge, but she did not understand why. Lady Gertrude had more than enough friends in Society. Her connections firmly placed her amongst the highest echelons of the Ton. Anne had to admit that Lady Gertrude seemed to enjoy teasing Miss Spencer, though she was not ever cruel. Anne’s charge did not always appreciate Lady Gertrude’s sharp wit and canny observations – but, thankfully, Miss Spencer was venal enough to see the benefit of the connection – even though it was clear that neither young woman liked the other particularly. After all, Lady Gertrude’s presence guaranteed some of the finest members of the Ton courted Miss Spencer and sought her company, and that was not to be disregarded.
“Mr. Everton Cormick, and Henry Cormick,” the butler announced as the two brothers appeared in the doorway to the parlor. Mr. Cormick was beaming, as he almost always did. Anne found him to be a very amiable man. Henry looked his usual, slightly disheveled self and fidgeted awkwardly with his cravat, as if it were tied too tight. The two gentlemen bowed and greeted the ladies present. Miss Spencer poured them both tea and prepared plates of tiny sandwiches and cakes for them both, as they took their seats upon the couch opposite Lady Gertrude.
“I cannot tell you how delighted I am to see you both,” Lady Gertrude said. “We were just talking of an old friend of yours, Lord Wilson.”
“Ah, Bertie,” Henry said with a grin. “He’s a capital fellow. Went to Oxford with him. Not much of a scholar, but loyal as they come.”
“Didn’t he get sent down?” Mr. Cormick asked his brother with a grin. “Something about a prank involving a cockerel and a can of paint?” Miss Spencer looked unfazed by the mention of the man being sent down from university for a prank, though her mother looked scandalized.
“It was harmless enough,” Henry said, reassuringly to Mrs. Spencer. “He was egged on by some of the older chaps and he so wanted to prove himself. But he wasn’t meant for the academic life. He’s happier running his estates.”
Within another half an hour a further seven people had come to call. The afternoon was a success. Miss Spencer’s At Home had attracted some of the finest members of Society, including Lord Wilson, who seemed to have forgotten all about Miss Winthorpe. He hung on Miss Spencer’s every word like a besotted puppy and so his arrival improved Miss Spencer’s mood immeasurably.
This meant that Anne was free to talk with Lady Gertrude and Miss Jessup. “How does her hunt go?” Lady Gertrude asked quietly, looking towards the fireplace where Miss Spencer, Lord Wilson and Henry Cormick stood chatting.
“I think she may be in luck,” Anne said, rolling her eyes. “He’s just foolish enough not to notice she’s not much more than a pretty face.”
“I think you may be right,” Lady Gertrude said seriously. “He’s doing what he can to ensure that his name is not only associated with hers, but it is all too clear how devoted he is to her. I’ve seen him with Lady Honoria Blackwood, and dear little Hetty, but he doesn’t look on them as he does Miss Spencer.”
“I hope it remains so,” Anne said.
“What would become of you, if your charge were to marry early in the Season?” Miss Jessup asked curiously. It was clear it was a question that concerned her. Lady Gertrude was much sought after, her position would be at risk if her charge found a husband before the Season was done.
“I do not know,” Anne admitted. “But I doubt that I would be kept on. We are not close, as I was with Lady Mary, or Lady Sophie was with Lady Charlotte and Lady Gertrude.” She avoided remarking upon Miss Jessup’s situation, but Lady Gertrude was not so reticent.
“You need not fear for the same future,” she said squeezing her companion’s hand. “I have no intention of being wed this Season. I am still too young, and there is nobody here so far capable of swaying my resolve.”
Miss Jessup beamed. “I am glad,” she said. “Not that I do not wish you to find a husband, of course I do, but I rather enjoy my position as your companion and would hate to have to leave your service so soon.” Lady Gertrude smiled, too. Anne couldn’t help being a little envious of the bond that the pair shared. They had been together for a similar amount of time as she and Miss Spencer, but their friendship had blossomed. Even though they were in a room filled with people, Anne suddenly felt very alone.
Mr. Cormick approached them, having spent the last few minutes speaking with Lord Alistair Crowley, heir to the Marquess of Hartington. “Might I interrupt you?” he asked politely.
Lady Gertrude grinned at him and indicated he should take a nearby chair. “Of course, you may. How are your dear parents?”
“They are well,” he said with a smile. “I received a letter from your brother, he says he and Lady Sophie will be returning within the month, should the tides permit.”
“Indeed. I cannot tell you how glad I will be to see them. They have been gone far too long,” Lady Gertrude said. “They intend to spend some time in London before returning to Compton, so hopefully we will all be reunited soon.”
He beckoned his brother over. Henry ruffled his hair as he sank down onto the couch next to Anne. He smiled at her shyly. “It is good to see you, Miss Knorr. I have been thinking of our conversation at Almack’s the other week. You said that you had been reading Miss Shelley’s Frankenstein and had found it fascinating.”
“I did, it made me think on things in a completely different way.”
“I just read The Vampyre, by Polidori. It is an unusual book, to be sure, but I think you might like it. I can lend it to you if you would like?”
“I should, that is most kind of you, Mr. Cormick,” Anne said politely. She had expected him to perhaps deliver it another day, but instead he pulled out a battered looking copy from inside his jacket.
“I never go anywhere without something good to read,” he said a little shyly. “I do not always do well with people, so having something to occupy me is essential. My tailor hates that I always request a pocket in my jackets large enough.”
“I am the same,” Anne admitted. “Though my seamstress would be aghast if I asked for such a thing. I do feel that books are far more easy to read than real life people, don’t you think?”
They smiled together, and Anne was sure she caught a glimpse of a rather self-satisfied look being shared by Mr. Everton Cormick and Lady Gertrude. She frowned momentarily, wondering what the two of them were up to. Were they perhaps trying to throw her and Henry together in some way?
As a companion to Miss Spencer, she was not in London to further her own marriage prospects – and even if she had been, she would not set her cap at a man younger than herself even if Henry was only younger than her by a year or two. His shyness made him seem much younger than his years, and though it was pleasant enough to talk literature with him that did not seem to her to be a strong enough foundation for a match. She also knew that Henry Cormick had a penchant for gambling, and she had no desire to wed a man who might spend every penny at the tables.
She excused herself from the little group, with the excuse of putting Henry’s book away in her room. She was glad of the momentary escape from the now crowded room. It seemed that everyone in London had an agenda – whether for themselves, or for someone else – and she wished that Lady Gertrude and Mr. Cormick had not settled upon her for whatever schemes they had in mind. All she wished was to be able to see her current charge wed, and to then return to her family. She had seen enough of Society now to know she did not seek it and would prefer a quiet life back in Devon.
Anne made her way back downstairs. She paused in the doorway, watching everyone for a moment or two. She wished she could enjoy the easy friendship that Mr. Cormick and Lady Gertrude seemed to share. They were as comfortable talking and laughing together as any two old friends could be. They made a fine match, his tall fairness complimenting her tiny frame and dark coloring. They were like night and day, but they fit together perfectly. She would not be surprised if by the end of the Season that the two were affianced – whatever protestations to the contrary that Lady Gertrude might make. Anne couldn’t help feeling a little jealous of the connection between them.
Miss Spencer was holding court by the window, with a number of silly young men hanging on her every word, though she only had eyes for Lord Wilson, who was still stood at the fireplace, but was now talking with Lord Crowley. Mrs. Spencer was talking quietly with the Duchess of Dorley and her daughter, Lady Isabelle Painter. The duchess and Mrs. Spencer were so engrossed in their conversation, that they had failed to notice that Lady Isabelle was staring at Lord Crowley, as if he were the answer to all her girlish dreams.
Anne couldn’t help thinking that despite the gentility of the event that it was all rather tawdry. She glanced at the clock, wondering how much longer she would have to bear it. It chimed for the quarter hour, and Anne sighed, knowing that there was still a further three quarters of an hour before anyone would even consider taking their leave.
