“Peter Valerius.” He introduced himself with only the faintest blush for having intruded in such a fashion. “Forgive me. Yes I am.”
Charlotte, as hostess for the evening, introduced the others, remembering to speak of Vespasia first, as the socially senior member, and herself last. She could not recall meeting Mr. Valerius as he came in, but she could scarcely ask him now if he had been invited.
“I think usury, whether local in one man to another, or international in one nation to another, is one of the vilest practices of humanity.” He turned to Charlotte. “I hope trade and banking practices will be subjects to which Mr. Radley will turn his attention?”
“I am sure he will,” Charlotte said quickly. “I shall draw his attention to it myself. He is highly sensitive to social wrongs-”
“It will not win him his party’s approval,” Valerius warned her, seeming hardly aware of Lord Byam’s presence almost at his elbow. “He will win himself few friends, and certainly no chance of promotion to office.”
“I don’t think he is aiming or hoping for high office,” she said candidly. “It would be more than good enough to influence those who do.”
He smiled suddenly and vividly. In his intense face the gesture was both charming and startling.
“And you will no doubt learn Mr. Fitzherbert’s views in the matter,” Byam said wryly.
“But of course,” Valerius agreed with wide eyes. “Is this not what these very delightful social gatherings are for? To learn who believes what, and who is prepared to fight, how hard, and at what risk?”
“Very blunt,” Byam said ruefully. “I see why you do not run for office yourself, Mr. Valerius.”
Valerius colored very slightly, but he was not deterred. However before he could pursue the subject any further they were joined by a duchess like a galleon under full sail, followed by her three daughters.
“My dear Lady Byam,” she said in a penetrating contralto. “How perfectly delightful to see you. Is this not a magnificent ball?” She lowered her voice only fractionally in what was apparently meant as a confidence. “And I really do believe this is Mrs. Radley’s own house! At least Lady Bigelow swears it is. So many ladies hire other people’s houses these days, their own not being suitably impressive, one never knows.” She opened her pale eyes wide. “How can one possibly assess someone if one does not even know if the furniture belongs to them? The whole of society is coming to pieces.” She leaned forward. “I must learn more about this Jack Radley. Who is he, do you know? I must admit I know nothing about him whatever.” She seemed oblivious of the rest of them, and Charlotte caught a gleam of amusement in Lord Byam’s eyes, but no malice.
Eleanor drew in her breath to reply, half turning toward Charlotte as if to introduce her, but the duchess plunged on.
“He isn’t radical, is he?” She stared fiercely. “I can’t abide radicals-so unreliable. What does Lord Anstiss think? Perhaps I shall give a ball myself. I shall invite Mr. Radley, and of course Mr. Fitzherbert, and see for myself. Shall you be at Henley this year?”
“Oh indeed,” Eleanor replied. “I love watching the boats, and if the weather is agreeable it is a delightful way to spend a summer day. Shall you, your grace?”
“But of course. I have three daughters still to marry, and as we all know, regattas can be splendid for that.” She nodded meaningfully. “Lord Randolph Churchill proposed to Miss Jerome after only four days’ acquaintance at the Cowes regatta.”
“I heard the Duke and Duchess of Marlborough were very much against it,” Eleanor replied. “Although of course that was some time ago now. And it did not prevent the marriage.”
“Well she was an American,” the duchess pointed out reasonably. “And not everyone is prepared to marry an American, no matter how beautiful she is or how much he may need the money. I am not at all sure I should. But I shall certainly be at Henley, you may depend upon it.”
She glanced around for the first time to make sure her daughters were still with her. On assuring herself they were, she resumed the conversation. “And that is one place one may be reasonably certain one will not run into the fearful Mrs. Langtry. All over London ladies are obliged to invite the wretched creature, or the Prince of Wales and the whole Marlborough House set will not come. It is too bad.”
“I would rather forgo the privilege than be obliged to invite someone I did not care for,” Eleanor said candidly.
“Well of course one would,” the duchess agreed tartly. “But we cannot all afford to. Your position is assured, and you have no daughters to marry. I cannot indulge myself so. The duke, may the Lord bless him, has neither wit nor influence to obtain a position in the government, and I am obliged to society for all my entertainment.” She screwed up her face in an expression of intensity. “Have you any acquaintance with Mr. Oscar Wilde and that very eccentric set? I hear they are quite marvelously amusing, and of course pretend to be very wicked.”
She lifted her shoulders. “Young Fitzherbert told me it is all a pose. He associated with them, before he agreed to stand for Parliament, but he had to give it up. There is a fine marriage proposed. Her mother is delighted.” Her voice cooled and her face lost its enthusiasm. “Quite a feather in her cap. Though I admit Odelia-if that is her name-is a handsome enough girl and knows precisely what to do, what to say, and how to dress; always an advantage. Don’t you think so, Mrs…” She turned to Charlotte, her wide blue eyes full of inquiry.
“Mrs. Pitt,” Charlotte supplied. “Mrs. Radley is my sister.” She thought she had better explain herself before anything further was said which might prove embarrassing. “Indeed, there is always an advantage in being well taught, and biddable.”
The duchess looked at her with acute perception.
“Pray do not humor me, Mrs. Pitt. I fear I have overstated my case. It is good in brides; it becomes a bore in a married woman.” She snorted very slightly. “No one ever had any pleasure out of life being biddable. I think I shall inquire more into Mr. Oscar Wilde. If I am forced to entertain the disreputable, I had rather it were a man, and a wit, than a harlot any day.” Her eyebrows shot up. “What on earth use have I for yet another beautiful woman of amenable virtue? I am pleased to have met you, Mrs. Pitt. You must call upon me some time. Lady Byam. Come Annabel, Amelia, Jane. For goodness sake, child, stop gazing at that fatuous young man. He is nobody at all. Jane! Do you hear me?” And without even seeing Peter Valerius she swept away again as if all sails were set and the wind behind her.
Charlotte looked at Eleanor and saw in her face humor, exasperation and a relish in the wide eccentricities of people. No words whatever were necessary, or would have been appropriate.
With a smile Charlotte excused herself and went to ascertain that the guests were still enjoying themselves and that the band was still more or less in tune, the refreshments had not yet run out, and no scandal was brewing amid the flowers or in the shaded corners where young couples were sitting in the long pauses between dances.
It was half an hour later and nearly one o’clock when she came across Herbert Fitzherbert and his fiancee, Odelia Morden, in one of those softly lit spaces provided for just such a purpose. Odelia was sitting in a corner chair half shaded by a huge potted palm, its exotic leaves throwing a dark pattern over her creamy shoulders and the pale billows of her gown, satin glimmering as if moonlit, petticoats like foam around her. It crossed Charlotte’s mind to wonder if she had arranged herself so artistically on purpose, or by happy chance. Perhaps it was one of the arts the duchess had referred to.
There was a look of immeasurable satisfaction on Odelia’s face as she regarded Fitzherbert sitting forward on a stool a yard away from her feet, his elbows on his knees and his attention upon her. Possibly he was the more graceful of the two of them, because his pose was effortless.
Charlotte hesitated before intruding, they were so obviously absorbed in each other, but she had to remind herself of her duty to Emily. In the distance she could hear the band begin the Highland Schottishe. She wished she were free to dance, and someone would ask her, but the role she had been invited here to play was quite different.
“Good evening, Miss Morden,” she said cheerfully. “I am so pleased you were able to come. I have been looking forward to meeting you. Mr. Fitzherbert.”
Fitzherbert rose immediately and bowed, and as a younger, unmarried woman Odelia rose also, but far more slowly, and her smile was polite but cool. If Fitz had not recalled that Charlotte was Jack Radley’s sister-in-law, Odelia certainly had, and she was ambitious.
“Good evening, Mrs. Pitt. It was most kind of Mrs. Radley to invite us. It is a charming event, and I hope we shall meet at many more, most particularly if poor Mrs. Radley’s health does not improve. She has my deepest sympathy. It is a most unfortunate time to be unwell.”
