A Woman of Consequence

Meanwhile Dido was considering the schoolmistress’s words – and concluding that the very best way to work upon her would be to somehow save Penelope from the captain. That would certainly create a high degree of obligation – in fact it might just overcome her reserve and bring her to confide who it was that paid the girl’s allowance …

Chapter Thirty-Three

The evening’s concert included – according to popular report – some of the foremost performers in the country. However, Dido knew that the foremost performers in the country were to be met with everywhere – under a great many variations of taste and talent – and she did not look forward to the evening very eagerly.

Her own taste for music was not great. She would rather have the sweet strains of pianoforte and harp in the background of her mind than the foreground. And, in the event, she found that she had scarcely ever enjoyed music better than she did now as she sat under the brilliant chandeliers of the concert room and peered around the tall feathered headdress of the lady in the next row to catch a glimpse of hautboy and fiddle. For here, she found, she was free to worry away at her mystery, while the duty of listening deterred other people from talking to her.

And, altogether, she had probably more pleasure in the entertainment than Lucy who declared that she ‘loved music more than any creature alive’, and ‘music was an absolute necessary of life to her’ – but who passed her evening fidgeting about and watching the gentlemen lounging at the sides of the room; and certainly more than poor Penelope who yawned through the full two hours, observed that ‘there was no understanding a word of Italian singing,’ and wondered from time to time ‘how anyone could make their fingers fly about so fast – and keep it up so long too.’

Dido was very comfortably occupied through the first act with running through the many questions in her mind – and with watching the seats of grandeur round the orchestra. Here she discovered Captain Laurence’s fat companion of the colonnade, accompanied by a fashionable woman with a great deal more face paint than bodice; and she fell to studying the lady with particular interest. The gay apparel and the slight, pleasing figure suggested youth – but the thick white painting of the face told of age concealed …

‘My dear friend, at last I have you alone!’ Lucy’s whisper startled Dido from her reverie. She looked about her to find the first act concluded, Penelope and Harriet walking off with Silas and Captain Laurence in quest of tea – and Lucy taking the empty place on the bench beside her.

‘Had we not better go to drink tea?’ Dido said quickly and attempted an escape. She was, at any time, uneasy to be addressed as Lucy’s ‘dear friend’, and just now she was particularly unwilling to have the train of her thoughts disturbed.

But Lucy took her arm, held her securely in her place and leant close as people hurried along the aisle beside them. ‘There is a great secret which I must tell you about,’ she said in a low, thrilled voice.

‘Oh!’ Fond though she was in general of secrets, Dido doubted that she wished to hear this one. She cast longing eyes towards the inviting little tables under the balcony, where the urns were bubbling and hissing comfortably and ‘the cups that cheer but not inebriate’ were setting out. A very pleasant scent of hot tea and sweetmeats filled the air.

But Lucy was blushing and fidgeting with her fan. ‘Captain Laurence,’ she whispered, ‘is to go away from Bath for two days tomorrow.’

‘Oh, but that is no great secret! He has told us of it himself.’

Dido attempted to stand up; but Lucy held hard to her arm. ‘There is a very particular reason for his going,’ she whispered. ‘He is going to make preparations.’

Dido detected danger in the words and ceased trying to escape. ‘What kind of preparations?’ she asked, searching Lucy’s face closely – and noticing a thick, unbecoming layer of powder and rogue laid over the freckles.

‘Preparations for our marriage.’

Oh dear! Dido’s heart sank. ‘But why,’ she asked impatiently, ‘must we whisper about the business in this way?’

‘Because no one is to know anything about it until after we are married – and then you know, no one will be able to stop it.’

‘A secret marriage!’ cried Dido aghast, staring at her companion who was sitting upon the edge of the bench and swinging her feet like a delighted child. ‘And in haste too! I do not believe it!’ Indeed she could not, would not believe it. Not even of her!

Lucy looked a little disconcerted. Her feet stilled.

‘Why?’ urged Dido desperately. ‘I can see no reason for secrecy. You are of age – no one can prevent your marrying the captain if you have set your heart upon it. Why cannot it all be honest and open?’

‘Oh!’ Lucy shrugged, spread her fan and pretended to study the peacocks painted upon it. ‘But Harriet would want to prevent it, you know. And dear, dear, Laurence is so very afraid of losing me!’ She blushed and looked towards the tea tables, where the gentleman himself was leaning easily against one of the columns, cup in hand. ‘For he knows how excessively it grieves me to cause anyone pain. He says he cannot be easy until the matter is settled beyond any danger of persuasion.’

‘Does he indeed!’ Dido was almost overcome with apprehension. She was sure Captain Laurence was engaged upon strange and devious schemes: he knew something of the death of Miss Fenn; he consorted with unpleasant men with fat leering faces – and, by Harriet’s account, the morals of his friends were as objectionable as their countenances. In short, he was not to be trusted. Lucy risked too much by putting herself into his power in this way …

But she did not know how to act. The instinct of nature cried out to her to run immediately to Harriet, who was now tranquilly sipping tea at one of the tables, and tell her all – to prevent at all costs this dangerous concealment. But the power of reason kept her still on the bench at Lucy’s side. For what would she achieve by disclosure but an instant rupture between the sisters – and a hasty marriage?

Wit alone could prevent this elopement.

She shifted uncomfortably upon the narrow bench as the cacophony of voices echoed about the high ceiled room. ‘Upon my word, Lucy,’ she pleaded earnestly, ‘you risk too much by going away in secret with such a man. Your good name …’

‘Oh! You are too careful! I do not wonder at your never having married! True love knows nothing of caution!’

Dido’s face burnt with more than the heat of the crowd; but she had time neither to think about the comment, nor be wounded by it. And Lucy hurried on. ‘Dear Laurence’s mind is quite made up,’ she said, ‘I cannot think of myself. I must do as he wishes.’

There was a short pause here; they were disturbed by a large party of ladies bustling past to regain their seats, and Dido took the opportunity to reform her thoughts. Perhaps she was only hardening the silly girl’s resolve by arguing against her. As they reseated themselves she said cautiously, ‘I am very grateful for your confidence …’

‘Oh!’ cried Lucy, taking her hand. ‘It is only natural I should trust such a steady creature as yourself! There is a kind of solidity about your reflections which I am sure I know how to value – even though it is very different from my own quick, lively character.’

‘Thank you.’ It was not the most pleasing compliment she had ever received, but Dido smiled graciously nonetheless.

‘And besides,’ ran on Lucy, ‘I have a particular reason for confiding in you. Dido …’ she looked quickly about the crowded concert room, setting her curls bobbing, and clasped together her hands like a little girl at prayer. ‘I need your help,’ she whispered.

‘Ah! Well …’

‘No. Please listen to me. We have not much time to talk. You see, there is to be a letter for me – a very important letter.’

‘And it will be from Captain Laurence, I daresay.’

‘Yes. He must send me news of what is arranged, you see. But Harriet is so suspicious! I know she looks at every letter I receive. So, you see, I have no choice …’