Nicole had not long to wait. Only two days later Sir Basil returned from his daily outing and, calling for his ward and Miss Calder, announced that he had been that morning with the Prince.
“His Highness has expressed a desire to see you, Nicole,” said he when the ladies had come into his library. “He is very fond of children, and little girls in particular. He has a daughter of his own, and I doubt not but that he shall have a great deal to say to you.”
Nicole stood very still, nearly on tiptoe with anticipation. She had not ceased talking and speculating about the Prince since her conversation with her governess.
“Well, what do you say, eh? Do you think you shall enjoy meeting His Highness? You must have a new frock for the occasion, I suppose, and Miss Calder must practice curtseying with you. Right down to the ground for royalty, if you please, Miss Calder.”
Miss Calder was doubtful of her own knowledge of the subject of curtseying before princes, but promised to do the best she could. She was in any case so well pleased with the Baronet for this proof of his desire to be kind to the little girl, that she was every moment in danger of laughing out loud. But Sir Basil, perhaps because he was unsure of how to go, grew drier every moment.
“Well, then, you had better solicit Lady Cardovan’s advice. She will know what is best. And perhaps you had better get her to select a frock for Miss Lessington as well. You must make haste, however, for His Highness expects us to tea on Tuesday. There shan’t be time for any nonsense about ordering frills and furbelows.”
The ladies were summarily dismissed, almost before they had got their breaths back, and from that moment on all thought of lessons was abandoned in favour of the more pressing business of preparing for the great visit. Lady Cardovan was called in to advise them—or rather, they called upon her in search of further wisdom, and were soon dazzled by the quantities of information they had to digest. There seemed to be endless numbers of fine points attending any visit to the royal family, beginning with the sorts of conversation it was advisable to embark upon. Fortunately, Lady Cardovan was nearly as delighted as the little girl to hear the news, and seemed perfectly expert in all the required modes of conduct. “She,” as Nicole confided later to her governess, “must have seen the Prince lots of times!”
“I hope the child shan’t be disappointed,” said Lady Cardovan to Anne that same day, as they waited for Nicole to be measured for a new frock by her ladyship’s own dressmaker. “Poor Prinney has got so desperately fat, he looks more like a dumpling than a Prince!”
Anne was a little amazed to hear this great lady speak so lightly of the Regent. But she was quickly learning that subjects which she had been brought up to consider sacrosanct, were often treated in a flippant style by the ton. In any case, nothing Lady Cardovan did could be wrong. She was Anne’s idea of the perfect lady, combining all the merits of an elegant mind with the amiability of a warm heart. In her mouth, such a comment was less a condemnation of the Prince than an affectionate aside.
Smiling, Anne inquired what he was like. Lady Cardovan looked up thoughtfully from her cup of tea.
“Why, I hardly know what to say,” she replied. “It has been so long since I conversed with anyone who did not already have his own opinion of him that I am quite at a loss. Very fat, certainly, and as vain as a peacock. He used to be exceedingly handsome, but that, I am afraid, has gone the way of all flesh. I have heard some people call him nothing more than a vain old billygoat, and others who are convinced he is the spiritual successor of Charles the Second. I am inclined to think he is a little of both. Don’t look so shocked, my dear—you cannot remain above a week in London without hearing HRH spoken of thus lightly. Besides, it is only a sign of our affection for him that we speculate so freely, and criticize him so keenly. No other nation has a political system intended to check the power of the king, and that, I am positive, is what makes Britain the greatest nation upon earth. Our power derives exactly from that freedom, which is felt quite as strongly amongst the residents of London as amongst its lawmakers. We all join forces in defending Him when He is attacked, but when we are amongst ourselves, we see no reason to bite our tongues. Had the French such freedom, I make no doubt but that they should never have overthrown their Louis.”
Anne listened with great interest, conscious that she was privileged to be hearing the opinions of one of the most brilliant figures of the time, a woman whose histories of Greece, Spain, and the Norman Conquest were admired both for their keen insight and their ingenious mingling of fact and speculation.
“And what is your opinion of him, your ladyship?” she inquired.
“I should be a traitor if I declared him anything less than what a monarch ought to be,” replied her ladyship, smiling. “But between ourselves, I shall just admit that there are many sorts of monarchs. In truth, I am perfectly devoted to His Highness as a character: but if he is better company than his father, if he gives more interesting dinners, and does not cease to delight us all with his whims, he might yet benefit a little from poor King George’s example. A monarch ought to possess a little self-control in his public life, even if he cannot show it in private. By that I mean to say, that Prinney might be held in greater general esteem if he did not indulge his temper and his passion so freely. Any more I cannot say without seeming to be disloyal. In truth, I am very loyal to our Prince, and sorry for him.”
Anne looked curious upon hearing this, and seeing her expression, Lady Cardovan smiled.
“You are a most persuasive young woman, Miss Calder. I believe you could make a stone talk, if you set your mind to it. But I shall not say any more until you have seen him yourself. Then we shall have two views of the subject, and conversation will be more interesting. I should like to hear what your first impression of him is. I doubt not but that your keen eyes shall see through the gossamer of his station as clearly as my own, after all these years.”
Anne could not help but feel flattered by this oblique compliment. She only laughed, however, and replied:
“Well! I do not know whether to be pleased or not, but I shall have to wait a little longer to prove my perception to you.”
“What! Do not you go with Nicole on Tuesday?” inquired a surprised Lady Cardovan.
“Oh, no! Why should I go? I believe His Highness only wishes to see my pupil. He cannot have any interest in me!”
“You underestimate yourself, my dear,” retorted her ladyship with a sly look. “His Highness is always interested in pretty young women, especially if they be amusing and clever into the bargain.” But then, with a perplexed look, her ladyship added, “But in truth, I am amazed that you will not be in the party. These teas are a regular thing with his Highness. He likes to gather a great many children around him and feed them all the sweets they can devour. But I always supposed they came in the company of their mamas, or at least with some kind of chaperone.”
“Well, then—I suppose Sir Basil shall go,” remarked Anne, but conscious, even as she said it, of the ridiculous image of the Baronet, so proud and formal, making up a party of children and their mamas, all devouring sweets.
Lady Cardovan must have had the same mental image, for she laughed out loud.
“Good lord! The idea is almost too much to bear! I cannot fathom poor Basil surrounded by toddlers and gossiping females for above five minutes without going out of his head!”
Anne only smiled in reply. She could not agree as vociferously as she would have liked, remembering, just in the nick of time, that her employer was also this lady’s most intimate friend. What can be allowed by an intimate, as a sort of affectionate rebuke, will be looked upon as an outright insult in another’s mouth. And the more so, as she reminded herself, if the other party is a mere governess. She was forced to remind herself of her station more and more frequently. Lady Cardovan had spoken to her quite as an equal, which had only made her ladyship seem more superior than ever in the eyes of the young lady. Lady Cardovan did not seem to think it necessary to remind her, as Sir Basil did with every glance and gesture, that she was hardly better than a servant. She did not assume that simply because Anne was a governess, she could neither think nor reason. Anne could not imagine the Baronet speaking to her as openly as Lady Cardovan had just done, as if there were no more difference between them than their ages. No: Lady Cardovan must be admired more every moment, for on top of everything, she possessed that subtlety of judgment which may allow a countess to converse with a governess without making the difference in their stations an impediment. She was all grace and elegance, the more so as she had spoken of the Regent with a combination of candour and decorum. Had she said either more or less, she should have been in error: in the first case for speaking too freely about their mutual Prince, in the second, for disguising her true feelings.
Lady Cardovan was watching her intently, but pretending to fiddle with her spoon.
“You have not told me how you managed to engineer this visit to Carlton House, my dear,” said she with a tiny smile.
Anne was amazed. “Engineer it! But I most certainly did not, your ladyship!”
“You need not be modest with me, my dear Miss Calder—” with a sly look—“I have known Basil these fifteen years. I cannot fathom his inventing such a scheme all on his own. Besides, he told me himself you had given him a stern scolding.”
Anne met the lady’s amused eyes with a sudden feeling of confusion.
“Why, I hope he did not! For I did nothing of the kind. I only suggested that Nicole might benefit greatly from his attention and kindness. He asked me himself, you know, what he ought to do!” Anne found herself more defensive than she had meant to be, and was torn between mortification and relief when her companion only smiled the more. Oh! that Lady Diana had not learned of her little lecture!
“So he told me. He told me likewise that he had received a stern rebuke for voicing his opinion of our sex.”
“Did he?” inquired Anne in a faint voice.
“Yes, and he said he had never been more rebuffed in all his life.”
Anne’s heart sank. She dreaded to think how Lady Cardovan must view her now! What an insolent girl she must think me, after having been hind enough to take me on faith, without the smallest proof that I should serve. But alarmed, she inquired softly:
“Was—was he very angry?”
Lady Cardovan did not reply at once, but stared into the air in an abstracted fashion. Every passing second made Anne’s heart pound louder, till she thought the Countess would hear it.
“More astonished than angry,” came the eventual reply. “No, in point of fact, when he got over his amazement, I believe he was perfectly amused at the idea. He is not accustomed to be called down, you know—especially by ladies. Oh, I do so myself—it is a great game of mine to pull his leg. But that is rather different. I might be his mother, or at least his elder sister. But our Sir Basil is inclined to be very complacent sometimes. I do not believe a young and comely female has ever criticized him.”
Anne was almost as amazed at hearing herself described as “young and comely” as she was relieved to hear that Lady Cardovan did not think less of her. Certainly she did not suppose Sir Basil thought so well of her, and she said as much to Lady Cardovan:
“He must only consider me a very rude and very offensive governess!”
Lady Cardovan gazed at her in amusement. “You must never underestimate yourself, my dear. On the contrary, you ought to be your own most enthusiastic supporter.”
But just what you intended by this peculiar comment, was destined to remain a mystery, for just at that moment Nicole appeared, having been measured from head to toe, looking impatient with the business of being a grande dame.
“Well, my pet!” Lady Cardovan greeted her. “Are you quite through?”
The little girl’s eyes widened as she nodded and moved toward them.
“And thoroughly full of pins, too! I never knew ladies had to be stuck so full of pins in order to have a new frock!”
“That is the way of it, child—all great beauty must be suffered for, and suffered keenly. But have a piece of cake, it will make you feel better.”
This remedy proving not only very effective but very welcome, another piece was forced upon the willing victim, and after that had been devoured, a bowl of raspberries and cream offered and accepted. Having made short work of this modest repast, Miss Lessington took her place upon the sofa with Lady Cardovan and commenced prying her with questions about the Regent.
“Why,” she inquired in a prim voice, “must I curtsey right down to the ground for him, if he is only a Prince? Oughtn’t I to save that for His Majesty?”
“You must curtsey as low as possible to both of them, my dear, whenever you see them,” responded Lady Cardovan indulgently, “for they are both sovereigns, and deserving of our deepest respect.”
Nicole digested this advice with gravity, and then demanded to know if the King would be having tea as well?
“I think not, child,” laughed the Countess. “The King is ill, and takes tea by himself.”
Whereupon Nicole wished to know what ailed him, and there followed a thorough, if somewhat contracted, history of the Georgian reign. The child’s eyes grew wide upon hearing that King George was ill in his head, rather than his body, and seemed to meditate upon this point during all the rest of their visit. As they were driving home in Sir Basil’s town carriage, however, she inquired if the King behaved like a certain Mr. Rumple in Lincolnshire. Mr. Rumple had been a most ridiculous fellow, and her Papa had told her that he too was sick in the head.
“But I do hope not,” she exclaimed earnestly, “for it would be perfectly awful if His Majesty liked to turn cart-wheels in the street, and grinned at everyone going past!”
“Oh, I don’t believe the King is like that!” replied Anne, laughing, “or we should all know about it. In any case, kings do not go about alone, but have always a huge retinue attending them. They are dignified and awesome, even when they are ill.”
Nicole seemed mollified by this and took up her usual line of chatter, observing everything and everyone they passed, remarking upon the buildings and the citizens with equal delight. A great fat gentleman with a proud bearing drawing up beside them on his horse as they were stopped at the junction of Curzon and St. James’s streets, fell under her scrutiny. He happened to glance at the carriage, and was evidently taken aback by the pair of beady black eyes assessing him as if he were a statue, for he instantly whipped his horse about and made off through the tangle of vehicles and street vendors which customarily interrupts the smooth flow of traffic at that crossing.
Anne observed the little scene, and could not help smiling to herself. What was it about a child’s eyes that had the power to disconcern the most self-possessed of mortals? Men in particular seemed to fall beneath their inquiring gaze; or perhaps it was simply that men detested being looked at like mere mortals. They seemed, at least most of those gentlemen whom Anne had been acquainted with in her lifetime, to need to be thought of as so vastly superior to everyone else, that only a blushing, bashful glance could make them easy. The idea made her conjure up the picture of Sir Basil as he had stood before the mantel during their one real exchange. Certainly he had not been able to meet her gaze directly, but was always occupied in fiddling with some trinket, or pacing about, or staring off into thin air. He had barely met her eyes once, and then with that dreadful ironic smile, which made her think he was actually looking past her at some other person. But then, he was not a fair example of his sex. Sir Basil must always be thought so far above the rest of the human race as not to have any equals upon earth. Anne smiled at the idea.
“I do wish we had not to go to my cousins’ this evening,” Nicole was saying, in an uncharacteristically whining tone. “I should do anything if we could stay at home.”
Anne glanced up, still smiling at her own thought.
“Oh, dear, I had quite forgot!”
“I do not think they are very nice children,” Nicole said in a prim voice. “They are dreadfully mussy and rude, and do not like me in any case.”
“Nonsense! It is only that they do not know you very well.” But even as she said this, Anne secretly agreed with her charge. There could not have been three less appealing young people in London. However little Anne was disposed to condemn children, she could not help but do so. Or perhaps it was her own reaction to their parents which coloured her view of them. Lord and Lady Hargate had spared no pains, at their first meeting, to make her feel uncomfortable and unwanted. She had sat in the corner for an hour whilst the others conversed, and not one word was addressed to herself. Tea had been passed around, and only by a stroke of fate had she received a cup. Sir Basil must be credited with this, for he had brought it to her himself, with a little apologetic look, which, however, had instantly given way to his usual haughty expression. Altogether, she could not imagine a more disagreeable manner of spending an evening than at Hargate House. Only the consciousness that she must do whatever lay in her power to dispel Nicole’s dislike of them, prevented her joining in the child’s complaints.
“You ought to make an effort to play with them, my dear. They are only shy and awkward, and do not know how to let you know they like you.”
“I do not know why I should go to any trouble,” sniffed the little girl. “Besides, I am quite sure Sir Basil detests them, too.”
“Why! What can make you think so?”
“I saw how he wrinkled up his nose when they came into the room, laughing and hooting, and he would not give Clara his cheek to kiss, but pretended not to see her.”
“Oh, I do not think that is the case,” responded Anne, conscious of the verity of Nicole’s words. “Sir Basil must be fond of his little niece and nephews, even if he does not like them quite so well as he likes you.”
Nicole gave her governess a piercing look, which declared, more clearly than any words, that she knew she was being told an untruth. Helpless against so keen a pair of eyes, Anne could only look into her lap and smile. The sight of their own house, however, just now coming into view, saved her from any further dissimulation.