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Concerning Family Matters and Mutters.
The strength of a family is the strength of an army, love and loyalty,
which, annoyingly, includes following orders.
—Lord Major John Tremaine
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It proved much later than Letty had planned when she and her sisters left the Cosingwell’s and entered their coach for home. Their house rested close by on South Street, near Berkeley Square. A house she feared they must lease or sell soon.
Treccia pulled her legs up on the bench seat in unladylike fashion across from Letty. “What a fine night. I was excited to attend the Cosingwell’s gala, but I had no notion that we would have so many dances. Mr. Everhard plans to call on us this week. Imagine!” She fell back into the seat with a laugh, her arms giving herself a rocking hug.
Letty couldn’t help but smile. “Yes, you are exceedingly attractive when you smile and let your natural vivacity shine. I will have to do some research regarding Mr. Everhard’s particulars.”
“It was Lord Tremaine’s doing, you know.”
“Posh. It could be just lucky happenstance.” Treccia gave her an incredulous raise of an eyebrow. Letty answered with, “Do not become attached to him. His army recompense is barely enough to cover his own expenses, let alone a wife and family.”
“Oh? I know Mary Large married an army captain, and she writes of her contentment.”
Letty waved away the comment. “Infantry captains make less than two hundred pounds per annum. Even a cavalry major’ pay cannot double that sum. As pleased as I am that your friend, Miss Large is satisfied with her situation, it should be noted that she is not the daughter of an earl.
“Lord Tremaine is the son of a marquis.”
Letty snapped, “Do not imagine that Lord Tremaine is interested in you or marriage, for that matter. I am sure if he remains in London for any time, that trifler will become a renowned Corinthian.”
Ovolina quietly questioned Letty’s conclusion with a shake of her head. Treccia shot Letty a sly smile and shook her head too. Letty squinted at her sisters. “You don’t agree?”
Treccia leaned over and put a hand on Letty’s arm. Leaning over, Treccia placed a hand on Letty’s arm and said, “You silly goose, as clever as you are in planning our Season and managing the estate, you can be so starched and blind to some things. I have no interest in Lord Tremaine. Besides, his attention lies elsewhere.”
Relieved, Letty frowned. “What do you know of his pursuits?”
With a pat on Letty’s arm, she said sharing secrets, “While we were out in the garden watching the fireworks, all his questions concerned you.” Laughing at her sister’s incredulous reaction, Treccia said, “Don’t sputter, Letty. If he is such a dasher, you have nothing to worry about. We shan’t see him again.”
Letty sat up. “You didn’t tell him about . .?”
“Of course not. I would never.” With that, Letty relaxed against the coach cushions.
Their carriage arrived home and Lester, their man of all services, having stayed up for them, trotted out to open the coach door. The three sisters alighted and trod up the steps to the dark house. Lester had set out candles for each. On the first-floor landing, their upstairs maid, Sally, met them. As each said goodnight, happily tired, Ovolina mused, “I think it would be grand if we saw Lord Tremaine at another party or assembly.”
Letty didn’t reply but told Sally she didn’t need her tonight. Entering her room, tired as she was, Letty fussed with preparations for bed. Repeatedly stopping to ponder one quandary, Lord Major John Tremaine. She held three desires, each at war with the others. She wished to never see him again, protecting her plan and her sisters. However, she desired a repeat of tonight’s success, which obviously required the major or someone like him—if such an alternative existed. Or did she wish to see him again herself? She wanted to finish their discussion. Discourse with most men proved such a boring, predictable endeavor. Lord Tremain’s was one of the few where she could not divine the conversation’s conclusion.
~ ~ ~
Afternoon, June 12, on the road to Oxford.
The sun beat down on the column of horsemen trotting two-by-two behind the coaches filled with emperors, kings, regents, and the usual garden-variety grandees, eating their dust. Jack sighed. The familiar metal clink of bridles and chime of saber scabbards tapping stirrups were incessant needle jabs to his nerves. It was too much like the ring of sabers striking enemy steel in battle. No matter. The war was over so he could lay it aside as passing nerves.
The parade of ornate coaches wove their fifty miles to Oxford through many towns and villages. People lined the streets, blowing horns and cheering the heroes of the Coalition. Our poor regent received significantly fewer hoorahs as his coach proceeded. The commanding officer instructed the troop to position themselves on the sides of the road close to the coach when traveling through towns, ready to protect the Regent.
It seemed that without a war, his regiment’s duties would devolve to looking martial while escorting dignitaries to ceremonies. In this case, ushering the Tsar Alexander, King Frederick of Prussia, and Marshal Blücher to Oxford where the three were to receive ‘honorary degrees’—for what? The troopers quietly passed around suggestions as to the accomplishments being honored, such as how much weight the Regent had gained or hair the Russian emperor had lost during the war. Jack repositioned his shako and chinstrap to counter the weight of the bouncing plume.
He frowned, knowing while the troopers waited for hours, all the dignitaries would happily trade braggadocios about victories won by others’ blood and grit.
Jack shook himself. My, but he was becoming a maudlin cynic without a war to fight. It had only been two months since the battle of Toulouse. At the moment, he fervently wished he were on his way to Milton Kaynes and Aunt Cathy’s estate. From the Cosingwell’s report, she was on her deathbed. He would never forgive himself if he arrived too late. Yes, there were other places he would rather be.
The hypnotic clomp, clomp, clomp of his warhorse’s hooves keeping up with the coaches made images wander through his head. When the memory of Lady Mimolette’s laughing smile crossed his mind, he grinned. At her side was another place he would prefer to be. Riding in a column of twos, Charles and Duncan were behind him. “Cheerily, there Whitebread. Keep pace.” Jack frowned as Charles moved his mount up closer. The man had a book braced against his saddle pummel. “Charles, what in the blue blazes do you think you’re doing?”
“Reading.”
“Yes, I can see that, but now?”
“I’ll put it away when we near a town. What else do we have to do? I did it all the time on the march.”
“Well, don’t let the Guards colonel see you, or it will be night duty for a year.”
“Yes, yes. I will be careful.”
Jack reined Athena back when the mare saw some delectable grasses on the side of the road. The following line of mounts with the same idea passing the plants had to be controlled down the column. It gave the formation an undulating, snake-like action that made Jack smile. “So, where did you find a book? You certainly didn’t bring any with you from Dover.”
“Ovolina loaned it to me. She had it with her last night.”
“What? She was planning on reading during the ball?”
“Yes, actually. She said it kept her from being bored. When we discussed authors and books, she defended novels as literature. When I politely disagreed, she handed me this book with a dare to read it.” He glanced at Jack from under his shako visor. “It is rather good.”
“What is the title of this masterpiece?”
“Discipline by a Mary Brunton.”
“Well, by the title, it at least appears appropriately martial fare. Read on.”
Today and back to London tomorrow, two days away from seeing his Aunt Cathy. Jack blew out a breath and hoped his letter reached her today.
~ ~ ~
Lindsey House, South Street, Mayfair, London
“It is not to be believed.” Treccia waved a newspaper rushing into the south sitting room. Letty and Ovolina looked up from their writing, surprised by their sister’s unusual enthusiasm so early in the day.
Letty put aside the letter she was penning to Emily. “What is it that has you so in the trees?”
Treccia stopped in the middle of the room. “The Times have listed the schedule of events for the next several weeks of victory and Grand Jubilee celebrations.” She showed them the large advertisement. “It says the Grand Jubilee will have—,” she then read, “the largest fair for every kind of amusement that was known in this or any other country.”
“And this is more exciting that the invitations to assemblies and soirees I’ve procured, including Almacks?”
“Well, yes.” She took a brave stance. “At least with such events, we can be entertained.” Apart from last night, all the parties and dances have been us performing traps and schemes, which proved amusing at first, but is now dull fare most of the time. And easy. Men as so stupid.”
Letty tamped down her frustration with her sisters. She’d worked for months establishing the necessary introductions, creating the social connections, and promoting the advantages of her scheme to get such sought after invites and vouchers. Her connections from finishing school had been invaluable.
“You don’t seem to understand how difficult it was to secure all the invitations and tickets to such prominent events, where you can meet highly eligible gentlemen. Many would pay huge amounts to gain what we have.”
“As you continue to remind us. Ovolina and I are terribly grateful, Letty. But, but can’t we enjoy the time? Must we be on display, performing monkeys to trap some worthy man? It’s not as though we have much to recommend us in any case. I find it difficult to forgive Father. Scores of ugly Venus statuary are our only dowries.”
Letty refrained from agreeing to avoid tumbling into a maudlin listing of their father’s missing virtues. She was only three years older than Treccia and four than Ovolina, but she felt ancient, the family matriarch dealing with exuberant children. She desired to engage in that liveliness instead of consistently having to encourage it in her sisters or suppress it in herself for the greater good.
“We can enjoy the celebrations. I keep reminding you of our plan because this Season is all we have. We can’t afford another. As it is, when Edam comes home from Eton, we won’t be able to afford Oxford. He will need a great deal of help to step into his title as the head of the family. There will be no money to visit London, any of our friends or go off on holiday. We will have to let or sell our house here soon.”
Treccia flopped on the love seat. “And you wonder why I want to enjoy what we can while we can. There has never been a summer like this one. I don’t want to miss it.”
“I understand. The celebrations will be free, and we can meet our friends and prospective husbands there. We will visit the gardens at least once. Never-the-less, we must keep our eyes on our goal of seeing you wed. The rest of your lives depend on it.”
Treccia picked at the kincob weave on the love seat. “Yes, mother.”
Letty pursed her mouth. “If I were your mother, a good caning would be in order.”
“Well, that would be an exciting change.”
“You want exciting?” Letty hopped up and chased laughing Treccia down the hall. They ended up in Treccia’s bedroom in a pillow fight which Ovolina watched with a smile. The pair of combatants ended up laughing on the bed, both claiming victory. Letty stood and tossed her pillow at Treccia. “You really need to make your bed. I will go see about supper.” She took a step, but paused, grimacing.
Treccia pursed her lips, looking guilty. “Did you hurt your foot?”
Letty shook her head. “It was just a twinge I have now and then.”
She left the room. Every cramp, every brief spasm brought to mind her father’s angry demands that she keep up on their torturous daily walks around their estate. Throughout her childhood, he was relentless, believing such hikes would cure her club foot. Now she must see about supper. She stood at the top of the stairs, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. Stairs were the worst.