| |
THE FOLLOWING WEEK, Tessa received a morning call from Mrs. Jeffrey Randall. Tessa was thrilled to see her friend again. Deirdre looked radiantly happy as she burst into the cluttered Penwyck drawing room and took a seat beside Tessa on the sofa.
"Do tell me all about your wedding trip," Tessa began. "I have never been to the seacoast in England. I am certain it must be lovely."
"We had a splendid time!" Deirdre gushed. "Jeffrey and I are so very happy. Do tell me you intend to be married one day, Tessa. You really must!" Deirdre's brown eyes sparkled happily.
Tessa looked away. Judging from the tingling sensation she'd experienced when the earl brushed her lips with his, she could imagine how . . . how . . .
Squirming uncomfortably on the sofa, she hastened to thrust the scandalous thought aside. "I confess, I . . . I have considered it," she murmured hesitantly.
"Who?" Deirdre squealed with delight. "Do you have a new beau? Tell me who it is at once!"
Tessa colored. She didn't have a new beau. She didn't have a beau at all. She couldn't think what had prompted her to say such a thing. And she could not tell Deirdre Lord Penwyck had kissed her, or that she was harbouring romantical notions about him. Oh, how had everything become so tangled in her mind?
"No, I haven't a new beau," she replied in a small voice. "I just meant . . . well, you looked so beautiful in your wedding finery and you seem so very happy now."
"I am happy! Jeffrey and I feel we owe you an enormous debt of gratitude. You and Lord Penwyck and, of course, Mr. Ashburn." She paused, as if to gauge Tessa's reaction to that. "Which is why Jeffrey and I want to invite you and Mr. Ashburn to dinner at our home tomorrow evening. Jeffrey has sent a note to Mr. Ashburn inviting him. He is such an agreeable gentleman, Tessa. Jeffrey and I are certain he fancies you."
"Oh, no." Tessa's auburn head shook. "Mr. Ashburn is very nice, that is true, but . . ."
"But what? I think he would be perfect for you, Tessa."
Suddenly, Tessa popped to her feet. "Would you care for a glass of lemonade, Deirdre? I confess I feel quite parched."
"I am not the least bit thirsty, thank you." Deirdre eyed her friend suspiciously. "Something is troubling you, Tessa. Do you not wish to tell me what it is?"
Tessa felt her chin begin to tremble, and moisture welled up in her eyes. What was the matter with her? She'd felt dismal since the Wintertons' ball, since Mr. Ashburn told her about . . . about Lord Penwyck stepping up his search for a young lady to marry. But surely that was not oversetting her. Was it?
She inhaled an uneven breath.
"Tessa, what is it?" Deirdre's tone was solicitous. "Have you fallen in love and the gentleman does not . . . do tell me, Tessa dear. I am a married woman now and I have some experience in these matters, you know."
Tessa worked to calm herself, and presently returned to her place on the sofa beside Deirdre. "It isn't . . ." she began. "I-I have not fallen in love with anyone. I assure you, that is not what is troubling me," she lied. "It's just that I am so very tired of attending balls and breakfasts and routs. I feel I have done nothing to forward my Cause. I did not come to London to snag a husband," she rushed on. "I came because I have a mission, because I wish to do something significant."
She sprang to her feet again. "I feel so . . . so frivolous, as if I have lost something . . . my direction, perhaps. I had a purpose and now I have nothing. I miss myself, Deirdre." She paused and leveled an anxious gaze at her friend. "I fear I am making no sense at all."
Deirdre nodded slowly. "Of course you are making sense. I confess I hadn't realized how very serious you were about . . . well, we both became so caught up in the plans for your debut and then my wedding." She smiled. "I do understand how you feel, Tessa, truly I do."
She rose to her feet and grasped both of Tessa's hands in hers. "I recall telling you once Jeffrey and I might be of help to you. Jeffrey mentioned to me only last evening that the Hampden Clubs are to resume meeting again. Mr. Cobbett generally attends and very often speaks. I am not certain when or where the next gathering is to be, but I will ask Jeffrey. Perhaps the three of us might attend a meeting together."
"Oh, Deirdre!" Tessa's eyes widened. "That would be wonderful! But . . . " she sobered, "I think it best we not discuss the matter tomorrow evening at dinner . . . in front of Mr. Ashburn, I mean. It would never do for Lord Penwyck to learn of my plans."
Deirdre nodded. "It will be our secret."
The following evening, Tessa, accompanied by a brace of liveried footmen, was delivered up to the Randalls' small but tidy flat just beyond Chelsea.
Mr. Randall himself answered Tessa's light rap at the door, a beaming Deirdre standing behind him in the dim foyer.
"We haven't a butler yet," Deirdre said with an apologetic little laugh. "But we have two housemaids and a cook," she added brightly. "Mama and Papa sent them over."
A grinning Mr. Randall took Tessa's cloak and hung it on a hook beside the front door. "It is lovely to see you again. Miss Darby"
"And you, sir." Tessa smiled.
She and Deirdre embraced. Then a chattering Deirdre, with Tessa close by her side, followed Mr. Randall down a long, uncarpeted corridor to the drawing room.
On the way, Tessa took in her surroundings. A number of oil paintings hung on the walls of the hallway, one a portrait of Deirdre's parents, which Tessa thought she recalled once seeing in the Montgomerys' spacious picture gallery.
"Mama wanted me to have it," Deirdre explained. "But all the others are Jeffrey's," she added proudly, a hand indicating a small but exquisite Constable and several other lovely landscape paintings by artists Tessa did not recognize.
"Your husband is quite the collector," Tessa murmured appreciatively. She glanced at the tall, attractive gentleman ahead of them. He looked to be about thirty years of age and had wavy black hair and warm brown eyes. Although his dress was not quite the first stare of fashion, he nonetheless looked very nice in a dark coat, trousers, and a gleaming white linen shirt and cravat.
The drawing room was relatively small by ton standards, but was tastefully done up with modern furniture, a pretty patterned silk paper covering the walls, and a matching rug on the floor. Mr. Randall said, "I very often take paintings or other art in lieu of payment for my services."
Tessa glanced about this room. Indeed, she spotted several exquisite pieces, a beautiful porcelain vase and a small, bronzed sculpture, both of which looked a trifle out of place in these somewhat austere surroundings. Still, they added a certain elegant air to the room, she decided.
" . . . so sorry that Mr. Ashburn was unable to come tonight," Deirdre was saying, gesturing Tessa to a pretty upholstered chair. "But, it's just as well," Deirdre added as she slid onto one end of a damask-covered sofa whilst her husband saw to pouring the three of them neat glasses of port.
"Thank you." Tessa took a sip or her drink while waiting for Mr. Randall to be seated beside his wife.
Once there, he solemnly informed Tessa that a Hampden Club meeting was to be held that very night.
"Tonight?" Tessa intoned with surprise. She cast a wide-eyed look at Deirdre, who smiled.
"Jeffrey said we will have plenty of time to make the meeting after we've had our dinner, if you are certain you would like to go," Deirdre added.
"I have never been more certain of anything in my life!" Tessa exclaimed. One of her gloved hands flew to cover her heart. "How very fortunate Mr. Ashburn was unable to come tonight!"
Deirdre and Randall both laughed; then the tall gentleman sobered again. "I must warn you, Miss Darby. Tonight's meeting is to be held in the backroom of an alehouse in a rather unsavory section of London," he said. "Some would argue it is no place for a lady. I do admit to having reservations about taking you and Deirdre along."
"Surely we will not be the only ladies present."
"Women do attend some of the meetings, yes, with their menfolk. It is just . . . well, the atmosphere may not be quite what you are accustomed to."
"I am not easily put off, Mr. Randall." Tessa smiled. "I came to London for the express purpose of becoming involved with the reform movement in this country. I am prepared to do whatever it takes."
"Very well, then."
At that moment, the Randalls' cook stepped to the doorway to announce dinner.
As the unpretentious meal of sliced veal in a seasoned curry sauce with steamed carrots, potatoes, and green peas progressed, Mr. Randall supplied Tessa with a quick history of the Hampden Clubs, the penny-a-week subscription group founded during the war by forward-thinking reform leaders such as William Cobbett, Major John Cartwright, Sir Francis Burdett, and the popular orator Henry Hunt.
"On the whole, it could be said the main object of the reform movement these days is to gain representation in Parliament for the workingman," Randall concluded. "The needs of the industrial class differ greatly from those of the peerage or even the landed gentry."
"Indeed, they do," Tessa heartily agreed.
"Interestingly enough," Randall went on, "there are supporters for reform in both the Whig and Tory camps."
"There does seem to be a blurring amongst the political parties in this country," Tessa remarked candidly.
"That is indeed true, quite true," Mr. Randall agreed. "For instance, Lord Liverpool, Mr. Canning, and Mr. Huskisson, all Tory ministers, have declared they are as ready for free trade as are Lords Russell and Grey." He paused to take a sip of the wine before him. "In the opposing camp, Lords Sheridan and Whitbread and even Tierney, as well as some of the younger Whig supporters, purport their readiness for both political and social reform. It is becoming increasingly difficult to draw a clear-cut line between the parties."
"It appears French revolutionary ideals have, at last, reached England," Tessa replied with interest.
"Quite so, as well as some of the new American principles of democracy."
Tessa nodded with enthusiasm. "I recall mentioning that very thing to Lord Penwyck only a few days ago."
"Oh?" Mr. Randall leaned forward. "And what did he say?"
"Ummm . . ." Tessa suddenly grew flustered. Actually, she could not recall what the esteemed earl had said, although what he did was quite clear in her mind. But she could hardly tell Mr. Randall Lord Penwyck had pulled her into his arms and kissed her! "I . . . um . . . believe Lord Penwyck would also agree it is time for the English Parliamentary system to become a bit more flexible," she concluded haltingly.
"It must!" Randall declared fervently.
"If it is to survive," Tessa added, proud of the even tone she had managed to muster.
"You are very astute, Miss Darby."
Tessa smiled confidently. "I am merely interested in the betterment of my country, namely in helping the women and children of England."
"They are fortunate, indeed, to have you in their camp."
"We are all pleased you came to England," Deirdre said, with a sincere smile. It was obvious she was enjoying the lively discussion between her husband and their guest.
"Penwyck does seem to be a fair man," Mr. Randall went on. He directed a proud look at his beaming bride. "That he took up our cause tells me a great deal about him."
"Indeed, it does," Tessa agreed. However, she was certain that were Lord Penwyck to know her plans tonight included attending a radical reform meeting, it might be another matter altogether. How very fortuitous that the meeting fell on this particular evening and that Mr. Ashburn was not here. As it stood now, what Lord Penwyck did not know, she decided firmly, he did not need to know.
Tessa had never been inside a common alehouse before. The closest she had come was the hurried stop for a quick meal at a roadside inn, or ordinary, as they were called in America, as she and her family traveled short distances from home. In America, such establishments were generally quite civilized. But a ramshackle place known as the Hog's Ear on the fringe of London's notorious Seven Dials area presented Tessa with a picture she could never in her wildest dreams have imagined.
She and Deirdre huddled close to Jeffrey as he ushered them inside the noisy, smoke-filled room. Tessa was at once repelled by the stench of spilled ale combined with the unmistakable odor of dozens of unwashed bodies. The room appeared filled to overflowing with fat, unshaven tradesmen, sallow-skinned women with yellow teeth, and even small boys outfitted in layers of tattered garments straight from the ragpicker's barrel.
She managed to close her mind to the wave of revulsion that swept through her. Closing her ears to the crude remarks aimed at herself and Deirdre was not quite so easy.
"There's a pair of pretty misses! I'll have me some o' what they's servin'!"
Tessa hugged her cloak tighter about her body as the three of them picked their way through the crowd. She had hoped and prayed for the opportunity to be here and nothing, not even the taunts of uncivilized men, would deter her.
"Pay them no mind," she heard Jeffrey tell Deirdre.
"Dunna leave!" cried a bosky man, his leering face moist with perspiration.
"Shud up and drink yer ale!" shouted a nearby serving wench, balancing a tray full of pewter tankards brimming with foam. She slammed one onto the planked wooden table before the raucous man. The amber liquid sloshed over the sides and pooled on the table. "The likes o' them wouldn't look twice at the likes o' you!"
"Then I'll have me some of what you got to sell!" The fat man pulled the nearly bare-breasted girl onto his lap.
The wench's loud protests were drowned out by the bawdy laughter from those seated nearby.
Tessa and the Randalls hurried past all of them.
Once safely inside the meeting room, Tessa loosened her cloak and drew in a deep breath, prepared to relax and settle in for a satisfying evening of exchanging ideas with like-minded men and women . . . intelligent, forward-thinking individuals like herself and the Randalls and William Cobbett, with whom she had high hopes of seeing tonight.
But it was not to be.
In minutes, the windowless room, split down the middle with several rough-hewn, planked wooden tables with backless benches along both sides, had filled up with virtually the same class of people the Randall party had encountered in the common room.
The only difference Tessa could detect was these men and the snaggle-toothed women who'd accompanied them were not yet filled to the gills with ale and port.
That difference was dispelled in the time it took two amply endowed serving girls to slosh foaming tankards of ale on the tables before them. In minutes, the meeting room had grown just as rowdy and smelled just as sour as the common room in front.
Randall ushered his two charges to a small, lone table at the rear of the room. Once the girls were settled, he excused himself and walked to the top of the chamber to speak with a fairly well-dressed gentleman . . . at least his jacket was less tattered than his counterparts' . . . whom Tessa assumed to be the chairman, or perhaps tonight's speaker. She craned her neck to see if she could spot Mr. Cobbett amongst them, but it was no use. The room was far too full of people milling about, drinking, laughing, and talking loudly and rapidly to one another. A number of other men leaned against the walls, some speaking quietly with each another, others merely watching the proceedings as they waited for the meeting to begin.
"I don't expect we will stay long," Deirdre leaned toward Tessa. She was also glancing anxiously about. "This doesn't seem quite . . ." her voice trailed off.
Tessa tried to appear unruffled by their surroundings, but the anxiety within her was also building. So far, nothing she'd seen was as she'd expected.
She was glad when Jeffrey returned to their table, although he did not sit down. Tessa noted the serious look on his face, and the way his alert black eyes continually scanned the increasingly rowdy crowd.
Presently, one of the gentlemen climbed onto a chair and began to shout for order. The assembly of revelers . . . for that is what they seemed to be to Tessa . . . quieted down somewhat.
"We are here tonight to discuss the bringing of a petition before Parliam . . . "
"All men should have a vote, not just the rich!" came a shout from somewhere in the room.
"Aye! Not just the landowner!" another called out.
"It's people what ought to be represented not property!"
The chairman stepped to the floor and began to pound the table before him with his empty tankard. "Order! Order! I have good news to report!"
Jeffrey leaned over to speak to Tessa and Deirdre. "He is trying to tell them new union societies have been formed in Oldham and Middleton."
The speaker shouted, "When we get additional support from Lancashire and other industrial areas, we shall have . . . "
"We don't want no more societies! We want the vote!"
"The vote!" cried another.
Deirdre directed a look of regret at Tessa. "I fear tonight's meeting is getting quite out of hand."
Tessa sighed loudly. "I confess it is not what I expected."
Suddenly, a loud crash caused both ladies to jump with alarm. In an instant, the room exploded into complete chaos, with angry shouts, coarse insults, and doubled-up fists flying in all directions.
Tessa and Deirdre were already on their feet. Jeffrey grabbed his wife's hand, his other reaching for Tessa’s.
Taking the lead, Randall managed to steer the frightened women along the fringe of the mob as they pushed and shoved their way to the closed door that gave onto the common room.
Fortunately, the noisy commotion in the taproom was such that that from the meeting area had not yet reached their ears.
Tessa's heart raced with fear as she and the Randalls picked their way back through the bawdy crowd in the common room. As they drew near the door to the establishment, it suddenly burst open. Tessa squealed with a mixture of relief and anxiety when she spotted the tall, muscular Lord Penwyck charging inside.
"Thank God, you are safe!" he growled.
At that instant, the angry mob from the meeting room spilled into the common area, their loud shouts and ugly curses mixing with the bawdy talk and laughter in the taproom, all of it quickly becoming a deafening roar.
Tessa had no time to speculate on the degree of the earl's displeasure with her; she was far too pleased to see him.
When he flung a powerful arm about her shoulders and pulled her close to him, she melted with untold relief into his strength.
"My carriage is outside!"
Tessa flung a wild gaze about for Deirdre and Jeffrey, but could not see them. "What about Deir . . . "
"She is with Randall."
Penwyck half dragged Tessa through the door and onto the flagway in front where she gratefully inhaled a deep breath of fresh cool air.
"Get in the carriage!" Penwyck ordered brusquely.
Again, Tessa flung a wild look about in search of Deirdre and Jeffrey; but, they were nowhere in sight.
"Get in!" Penwyck shouted again.
His strong arms lifted Tessa off the ground even as the sound of raised voices and breaking glass spilled onto the flagway.
"Demmed foolish of Randall to take you and Deirdre to such a place," snapped Penwyck. He climbed in behind Tessa and with a shout, directed the driver to, "Spring 'em!"
As the Penwyck coach sped off into the night, the earl settled himself onto the bench opposite Tessa.
"Mr. Randall is not to blame," she began breathlessly, as the enormity of what had just happened began to sink in. "It was I who wanted to come."
The earl turned a scowling countenance upon her. "Then you are more foolish than I thought."
"How was I to know we would be in danger?"
"Have I not been telling you to leave such matters alone? That women have no business concerning themselves with politics?"
Tessa glared daggers at him.
"Such mass meetings frequently lead to riot," Penwyck spat out. "There is a bill on the floor even now to restrict such public meetings on the grounds they are seditious."
"They cannot all be seditious!" Tessa cried. "Many of the working men's grievances have merit. I do agree a more peaceful method of bringing their concerns before Parliament is needed. The gentleman in charge tonight tried to call the meeting to order. The men were too angry to listen. It is obvious they are breaking beneath the weight of oppression."
Penwyck snorted with derision. "They are drunken fools who don't know their own minds!"
Judging from the display she'd seen tonight, Tessa could hardly dispute that, so she didn't even try.
After a lengthy pause, however, in a much calmer tone, she said, "If England is to survive, sir, the industrial class . . . the workingman, if you will . . . must have a voice in the government."
Because the interior of the carriage was quite dark, Tessa could not see her companion's face. Therefore it was impossible to judge his reaction to her remark.
Presently, he said, "Perhaps. But he will not gain that voice through force, or unruly demonstrations such as you took part in tonight."
"I did not take part in it!" Tessa's chin shot up. She was becoming as angry as the inebriated mob. Moreover, she was not yet ready to let the subject drop. "If reform does not come peacefully," she retorted hotly, "revolution will. It is the way of the world. English politicians who cannot see that, or those who refuse to see it, are not only blind, they are naive."
Again she heard the toplofty earl's snort of derision, but was surprised when he said nothing.
"Do you not believe me?" she demanded angrily.
After a pause, the earl replied, quite calmly, "I believe you, Miss Darby. The thing I find astonishing is that you can see it coming."
"That I can see it? Why does that astonish you?" she cried indignantly.
"Because you are a woman, damn it, and women typically do not have the vision to . . . women are not supposed to . . . "
"I realize you believe I am overstepping the bounds, sirrah," Tessa cut in hotly. "But the truth of the matter is, I cannot help myself. It is just the way I am!"
Her companion was silent for a long moment, then, in quite a steady tone, he said, "I did not say I object to the way you are, Miss Darby." He cleared his throat and Tessa heard him shift his weight on the bench, almost as if he were uncomfortable.
Tessa digested his remark as the carriage wheeled through the darkened city. An occasional glimmer from a streetlamp cast a long shaft of illumination into the coach, but it was not enough to shed any light on what might be going on inside the earl's head. Tessa wondered if he were so angry with her now he would perhaps forbid her to see Deirdre . . . or send her back to America.
Neither would be fair, nor just, she decided.
So, what punishment would he mete out?
Suddenly, years of unjust treatment at the hands of her stepfather rose to the fore in her mind. Her own pent-up anger and outrage at him made her lash out at this man. At any man.
"You do not like me, do you?" she spat out. "You wish I were like every other young lady in London, sweet-tempered and gentle and malleable to your will!"
There was another long pause. "I did not say that either, Miss Darby"
"But it is what you meant," she taunted, unable to control herself or her anger.
"No. It is not what I meant. What I meant was," he added in an astonishingly even tone, "I have come to the realization that while I occasionally find your actions the outside of enough and at times even vexing, I cannot change the way you are. Therefore, I will no longer try. You are . . . uniquely yourself, Miss Darby. And on the whole . . . I do not object."
Tessa sucked in an uneven breath.
He did not object?
Try as she might, she could find nothing at all to dispute in that.
Tonight had been chock full of surprises, but Lord Penwyck's unexpected admission just now was the biggest surprise of all.