his effortiess sophistication?
It would, of course, be expected that a daughter of marriageable age attend, and therefore it would be impossible to refuse the son - Renzi felt a twinge of amusement at the thought of Kydd in a social situation, but this was his future, and it was the least he could do to set him up in this way. The Darytons were some sort of merchants, he couldn't quite recall, and therefore the occasion would not be high, but it would serve to set the Kydds one step up on the social scale.
'They have a son and daughter, I believe,' Renzi said.
'But of course,' said Mrs Daryton faintly. 'But was he not at one time a common sailor?' she added more strongly.
'He was most untimely taken up by the press, if that is your understanding,' Renzi admonished, 'and now he has been able to establish his credentials and return to the bosom of his family.'
'How dreadful,' she replied, eyes wide.
'Until Tuesday eve,' Renzi prompted unctuously.
'Tuesday, then, Mr Renzi.'
The hired carriage ground on briskly towards Merrow Downs, the four passengers in a companionable crush inside. Mr Kydd had a slightly bemused air, Cecilia was serene, and Mrs Kydd fidgeted with the fan in her lap. 'Do remember, Cecilia, that it is not seemly to be seen to accept a dance with a gennelman too quick. When he says, 'Do you want a dance?' you make him wait,' said Mrs Kydd.
Cecilia flashed a guarded look of amusement at Renzi, sitting opposite, and murmured, 'I will remember, Mama.'
Renzi returned a faint smile, knowing the impossibility of conveying the Byzantine subtleties of social interplay to someone without the breeding to have absorbed it from birth. He felt sure, however, that Cecilia could be relied upon to give a spirited account of herself. 'I rather fancy that the formalities in this instance will not necessarily be observed to the full,' Renzi said. That would certainly be the case — discreet enquiries had revealed that the Darytons had done well only recently in the coach trade to Brighton, and had since set up in a fine house out of town.
'I just know I should have worn the mauve crepe,' fretted Mrs Kydd. 'Cambric will not answer, but it is the fashion — what will Mrs Daryton think?'
'Now, Mama, please don't fuss. Think of the hours we spent at the needle and goffering iron. We are now in the first rank of the fancy. Set your cares at rest and enjoy yourself tonight, dear Mama/
The carriage swayed at a corner. 'Tell the driver to have a care, Walter,' Mrs Kydd instructed, shrilly. Mr Kydd obediently banged at the roof. An upside-down face suddenly appeared at the window, grinning devilishly; the ladies screamed.
'T-take care, if you please, driver,' Mr Kydd said to the apparition.
'Aye aye, sir!' said the boatswain, and winked at Cecilia but remained inverted, grinning inanely.
'Mr Perrott, you are in drink,' said Mrs Kydd frostily.
'You are quite betwaddled, Mr Perrott and - my God, who's driving the carriage?' she suddenly screamed in terror.
The boatswain winked again. 'Why, Mr Thomas — 'e's 'ad the ribbons this last mile 'n' a half.' He seemed to recollect something and disappeared abruptly.
Shaken, Mrs Kydd turned to her husband. 'I knew we shouldn't have let Thomas ride outside,' she muttered. The carriage turned abruptly, and swung in through a wrought-iron gate, rolling grittily up the driveway. 'We're here, Walter,' she exclaimed, in consternation.
They drew up at twin sconces that flamed each side of an impressive doorway. Even before the carriage had come to a stop, Kydd dropped lightly to the ground and was at the door, lowering the step. Muffled sounds of gaiety and music from within raised the pitch of excitement to an exquisite expectation.
'Milady.' He grinned at Cecilia, who accepted his hand daintily in much the same way as she had boarded the frigate at his side in Portsmouth. A special, soft look was Kydd's token that she had not forgotten either.
The party stood outside, uncertain. The carriage stood also. Mrs Kydd dug her elbow discreetly into Mr Kydd's side until he blinked and spoke up to the figure at the reins. 'Er, please to await our pleasure, er, you may proceed, Mr Perrott.'
The boatswain leant down puzzled, then looked mystified at Kydd. 'Oh — he means, lay off to loo'ard but stay within hail,' Kydd explained. The boatswain grinned and jerked the carriage forward.
At the door, a harassed footman appeared. Renzi guessed that the household did not run to over-many servants but approached with good grace. He was in his plain black, his only concession to the evening a borrowed silver-grey waistcoat. The footman, expecting something by way of a cloak, stood confused.
'Mr and Mrs Kydd, Miss Cecilia Kydd, Mr Thomas Kydd - and Mr Renzi,' Renzi said quietly.
Kydd's own raiment was of an altogether more flamboyant nature. Growling that he wanted nothing of coats and breeches he had finally succumbed, and at the last minute wore a brave show of bottle-green coat, blue breeches and tasselled yellow waistcoat. Renzi had shuddered at the sight, but loudly approved Kydd's snowy white lace cravat.
The footman led them into the house to what would serve as the assembly room for the night. It was ablaze with candlelight, mirrors at each end placed cunningly to make the room seem even larger, and filled with people chattering delightedly. Beyond were large French windows open to the warm darkness of the garden beyond. Packed into the corner a string trio sawed away and a shy maid bore around a tray of sweetmeats.
'Oh, Mr Renzi,' said Mrs Daryton warmly, advancing on Renzi. 'I am so glad you were able to come.' Her gown gave ample prominence to her bosom, and her exuberant display of jewellery glittered in the candlelight. 'You must meet Letitia, she has been talking about you — and Mr Bedsoe says as how he is sure you are in the diplomatic line,' she added.
