Marianne laughed. You do like to have the last word, dont you? I will concede you right on that, but you should not extend that into your everyday life.
Madeleine was silent for a minute, during which they attended to their make-up, but if Marianne thought that was the end of the conversation, she was mistaken. Maddy worried at it like a dog with a bone. You have met the Stanmores, havent you? she asked, apparently casually.
Yes, the first time was when I took part in an amateur production of A Midsummer Nights Dream they put on at Stanmore House to raise funds for the Duchesss charitable works. The whole family was involved, even the children.
And they took you for a lady?
Yes, but only because Sir Percival Ponsonby introduced me and vouched for me. He was the one who invented my history.
He evidently did not mind deceiving them?
It was in a good cause.
And they never guessed?
Oh, it all came out in the end, of course. We never meant to deceive them permanently.
And they forgave you and the Duchess still receives you. I know you are sometimes included in her soirées.
I go to entertain the company. It is in aid of the charity and I am pleased to do it, but the Duchess does not treat me as an equal, though we deal very well together.
Will you take me with you next time?
Maddy, dont be a ninny. How can I? I go by invitation and they are not easy to come by.
You could fix it. Offer them a performance that needs two players and take me to assist you.
Marianne looked thoughtfully at her friend, wondering what was behind the request. Perhaps I could, but the Marquis might not like his outside pursuits intruding on his home life; he might be very angry, not only with you, but with me for encouraging you.
He cannot know that you know my story is not true. No one will blame you. At least it will make him notice me.
Marianne burst into laughter. He has already done that and you repaid him with whiskers.
I know. But if he believed them, wheres the harm?
Maddy, my love, his father will have the story checked, even if the son takes it at face value. You will be in a serious coil, if you persist.
She had not thought of that, but then brightened. What can he discover? So many Frenchmen came over during the Terror, theres no keeping track of them.
I think you would do better to own up and apologise.
I will. When the opportunity arises. But the Marquis did not intimate he was going to ask me out again and I can hardly accost him in the street to tell him, can I?
Marianne laughed. No, but going to his home and confronting him will not serve either. Besides, he might not be there. True, he still lives at Stanmore House but that does not mean he is tied to his stepmamas apron strings. Most young men of his age, married or not, have flown the coop long before they are his age.
He said his papa was anxious for him to marry.
No doubt he is. But you must face the truth, my love, he will not look at you for that role.
Madeleine sighed, thinking of the play they had just been rehearsing. If I were really a comtes granddaughter, he would.
If you were a comtes granddaughter, my dear, you would not have led the life you have and you would not be nursing a grievance against the whole haut monde. And if you are thinking of exacting your revenge on Stanmore, father or son, then you are like to have your fingers burned, mark my words.
I am not thinking of revenge. It is the haut monde I wish to study. I want to see the family together; I want to see how they deal with each other, if they are loving towards each other and how they treat their servants. You have taught me a great deal and I am sure there is nothing you do not know about acting the lady, but I want to see it for myself. I want to be among them just for a little while. It will be a great help to me when I have to play the great lady.
Marianne looked at her with her head on one side, as if cogitating whether to believe her or not. And you expect me to collude with you in this?
Yes, dear Marianne, get me an invitation to the next soirée you go to, please, just this once. I wont ask you ever again.
She was not sure why she wanted this so much. It was not as if she hoped to promote herself in the eyes of the Marquis, let alone his family, but if she could make the story of the French comte convincing enough, the fact that she was accepted at Stanmore House might gain her entry to a few more social occasions and maybe she could establish herself in Society without having to delude some susceptible nobleman into marrying her. And perhaps, in time, she might meet someone who could know the truth about her and still love her.
Her imagination soared; she could see herself fêted and showered with invitations and being accepted. Yes, that was what she wanted most, to be accepted. She wanted to be seen at Stanmore House in order to set the ball rolling. Please, she begged. If you cannot ask her ladyship yourself, ask the help of Sir Percy. I believe he is a frequent visitor to Stanmore House. The Duchess will perhaps listen to a suggestion from him.
Sir Percy was one of the few men who did not ask sexual favours for his patronage. Marianne said it was because he was in love with the Duchess of Loscoe and had been ever since she first came out, but she had married the Earl of Corringham and, after he died, the Duke of Loscoe. Having been rejected, Sir Percy had taken refuge in pretending to be an outmoded fop. He was far from that, as Madeleine appreciated, and if anyone could help her, he could.
She might, but I doubt he will agree to hoax the Duke and Duchess.
It is not exactly a hoax, is it? And he will do it if you ask it of him, he is very fond of you, he told me so when we were out in his carriage last week.
Marianne chuckled. Did he now?
So, will you ask him?
Perhaps, if the opportunity arises next time I see him, but I make no promises. She adjusted her powdered wig, stood up in a flurry of silk-covered hoops and took a last look at herself in the mirror. Come now, put it from your mind and concentrate on the play. I can hear Lancelot calling everyone to their places.
Madeleines performance as Juliet that night excelled anything she had done before and the applause at the end meant she had to take several curtain calls before they would allow her to go. Her dressing room was awash with flowers and she examined each bouquet carefully to see who had sent them, but none that she could see had come from the Marquis of Risley. It was evident he was not going to further their acquaintance; she would not give him the carte blanche he wanted and so he had lost interest. But she would not admit to being disappointed, not even to herself.
Duncan was sipping tea in the withdrawing room of Stanmore House, having dined at home with the Duke and Duchess and their guests, his sister Lavinia and her husband, the Earl of Corringham and the Earls sister, Augusta, and her husband Sir Richard Harnham.
Duncan, you really must put in an appearance at Almacks at least once this Season, Lavinia said.
Why? he demanded. He loved his sister dearly, but ever since she had married James six years before and borne two lively children, she seemed to think she could bully him into doing anything. He gave a quirky smile; she had always tried to bully him, even when they were children; it was nothing new. Why should I dress myself up in breeches and stockings and stand about like a liveried footman just for the dubious pleasure of dancing with some plain chit who thinks she can trap me into marriage?
How can you be so cynical, Duncan? There are any number of very acceptable girls coming out this Season. How do you know that one wont turn out to be exactly what you are looking for?
I doubt it. They will either be missish and just out of the schoolroom, with silly giggles and no conversation, or spinsters at their last prayers who have been residing on the shelf for years and yet each Season they dust themselves off and launch themselves at every eligible man foolish enough to go near them.
The Duke and the Duchess, their stepmother, had been listening to this exchange between brother and sister with amused tolerance, but now the Duchess smiled. Duncan, dont you want to marry?
Not particularly, Mama, certainly not enough to jump into it simply because a young lady is considered suitable. Suitable for what? I find myself asking.
Why, to be a marchioness, Lavinia said.
But it is no certainty that someone who might make a good marchioness will make a good wife. I want to have feelings for the woman I marry, feelings that last a lifetime. I am not prepared to shackle myself to a breeding machine with whom I have nothing in common. There is more to marriage than that.
In other words, you want to love and be loved, Frances said softly.
He did not think his stepmothers comment needed an answer. She understood him and had often in the past interceded for him with the Duke and he loved her for it, but if she was ranging herself alongside Lavinia in this quest to find him a wife, he was going to disappoint her.
Somewhere out there, in the ranks of the nobility, there is someone who will answer for both, Lavinia persisted. You must give Society a chance.
He smiled at his sister. You were fortunate that your choice of husband was also suitable from the point of view of the haut monde, Lavinia dear, no compromise was asked of you. It does not happen often.
Thank you very much, James put in drily.
You know what I mean.
All I am saying is that you should attend those functions where you might meet suitable young ladies, Lavinia went on. But if you do not go out and about, how can you possibly make a choice?
I do go out and about, I am not a recluse.
Oh, yes, you go about with your dandified friends and hover about stage doors dangling after actresses, but you wont find a wife there, now will you?
Vinny! her husband admonished her. It is not for you to comment upon how your brother spends his evenings. He paused, curious. How do you know so much anyway?
Benedict told his sister and she told me.
What did he tell her? Duncan asked, suddenly interested.
Oh, nothing of import, except that you were rivalling each other to take a certain actress out to supper. Felicity said there was a wager on it.
Duncan muttered darkly under his breath. Trust Willoughby to empty the bag. If the object of the wager had been anyone but the delectable Miss Charron he would have answered teasingly, but there was something about their meeting the evening before that did not warrant that; it was the confidences they had shared, the private moments when they had not been flirting with each other, when he had been privileged to see the real Madeleine Charron hidden behind the actress. It was something he wanted to keep to himself; now that Benedict had made light of it, he was angry.
And disturbed. If that second wager were to become common knowledge, he would be in a coil, not only with Madeleine herself, but with his father, who would never countenance a lady being used in that way, actress or not.
Benedict Willoughby should keep his tongue between his teeth, he said.
Did you win it? James asked.
Duncan felt trapped. He could not be impolite to his brother-in-law, but he was aware that he was being forced into a corner. Yes, a light supper, no more, and it has nothing to do with whether or not I go to Almacks.
Then you will come, Lavinia said, delighted her ploy had worked.
I suppose I will have no peace until I agree.
Then we shall go on Wednesday week. It is a special occasion to mark the anniversary of Waterloo. I believe Wellington will be there.
Oh, then I am safe; the ladies will be all over him and will ignore me.
Duncan, I despair of you, Lavinia said.
But Duncan was not listening; he was employed in puzzling his brain into devising a way of making Benedict stay mum about their second wager without losing face.
The Duchess smiled. Duncan, what are you doing tomorrow?
Nothing I cannot postpone, if you need me, Mama, he said cheerfully.
Will you come to the orphanage with me? I have a pile of clothing I have collected and I need a strong arm to carry the baskets.
It was typical of the Duchess to take them herself; she liked to be personally involved and the fact that the orphanage was not in the most salubrious part of town did not deter her. But she had promised the Duke she would never go unescorted, and as he was rarely free to go with her due to government business, she would ask Duncan or James or sometimes Sir Percy.
The mention of the orphanage reminded Duncan of Madeleine and the story she had told him, a story that had tugged at his tender heart. He really must stop thinking about her; it clouded his judgement. Of course, Stepmama, I am at your service. What time do we leave?
Ten oclockthat is, if you can rouse yourself from your bed in time.
I will be ready and, just to show you my good intent, I will not go out again tonight, but retire early. He was only teasing; he was quite used to staying up until the early hours, dawn sometimes, and he could still rise bright and early.
He was as good as his word and presented himself in the breakfast parlour in good time to eat a hearty breakfast and oversee the loading of two large laundry baskets full of donated clothes into the boot of the carriage before handing his stepmother in, settling himself beside her and instructing the coachman to take them to Maiden Lane.
You are thoughtful, remarked the Duchess when they had been going for a few minutes and he had not spoken. You do not mind coming with me? I have not kept you from more pleasurable pursuits?
No, not at all, he said abstractedly.
Then you are troubled about something else.
No, Mama, not a thing, he said, falsely bright. They were crossing the square in front of St Pauls and he had just spotted Madeleine Charron walking arm in arm with Marianne Doubleday towards the market.
Having spent a wakeful night trying to decide what to do about that disgraceful wager, he was unprepared for seeing her again so soon. The sight of her, laughing with her companion as if she did not have a care in the world, set his heart racing. If she knew what was going on in his mind, she would not be laughing. She would be angry.
His head was full of her and his loins were stirring with desire, even now, in this busy square. He had made a wager of which he was thoroughly ashamed and yet the fulfilling of it would give him a great deal of pleasure. One-half of him goaded him, telling him the pleasure would not all be his, he knew how to give pleasure too and he could be very generous to those who pleased him and what else could an actress expect? The other half of him knew that such thoughts were reprehensible and dishonourable and he ought to have more respect for her than that. Why, he would not treat the lowliest servant in that cavalier fashion.