Consequences Clorinda Cathcart's Circle Volume 26: Unexpected Events

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Whatever the edicts of Society

Clorinda, Dowager Marchioness Bexbury, looked across the carriage to her dear friend Mr Alexander MacDonald, MA (Edinburgh), leaned over and patted his knee.

I assure you, Sandy dear, we need not stay for the cricket — sure I apprehend that Lord Abertyldd is very anxious to have some cricket this summer even have matters been so badly shook up by the election — and I daresay you will have a deal of convocation over what the results portend —

Sandy groaned. Still quite at stand, in the political doldrums as ’twere.

Well, let us least be thankful that the forces of reaction are also thwarted — and that whatever qualms we may have about the monarchy, we do not have Buonapartist pretenders seizing power.

Sandy reluctantly smiled. You present it justly, though given that there is a Buonapartist pretender in power across the Channel, one has concerns over foreign policy and his ambitions.

Clorinda pulled a face, and mimed fluttering a fan and said, La, sir, I am but a foolish female and know naught of these matters of high policy, do you go discourse to me of how your nags do at the racecourse this season —

For, she went on, there is acting the featherwit so that fellows that are informed about matters go disclose more than they ought, and there is being bored into Bedlam by chaps that know no more than their nags do about the Balance of Power.

They looked at one another with warm affection.

Why, said Sandy, Abertyldd and his set have the right opinions — take the proper line in the Lords — but one does not anticipate that they will be apprized of any of the inwardnesses —

The carriage had come to the gates of Hembleby Hall, and turned into the long drive up to the hall itself.

Very pretty countryside hereabouts, thought Clorinda, and sure Abertyldd — or mayhap his wife Charley! — ensured that the grounds were well-kept-up, but there was something about late summer — the year growing ancient, Not yet on summer’s death — something tired, fading —

She snorted to herself. How darling Leda would mock her for that thought. Leda, that was about garnering intelligence concerning that harpy Lady Venchall.

Here they were at last, drawing up to where Abertyldd himself, Lady Abertyldd, their eldest son the Honble Mr Brumpage Parry-Lloyd and his wife Harriett — Rettie — his father-in-law Sir Oliver Brumpage in his invalid carriage, were waiting to greet ’em.

She was relieved to see that their eldest daughter — Zipsie, Zipporah, Baroness Rondegate — was not there with them. Fancied that she had quite enough upon hand with arranging the usual musical celebration for her mother’s birthday — and doubtless, as the most talented of her musical family, having yet more put upon her — at a time when she should be taking things a little easy. One hoped Rondegate was seeing to that! Certainly she should not be standing about.

Abertyldd took both her hands in his as he greeted her, and as she had observed over the past few years, he seemed to intend to convey that he had had a genuine tendresse for her, prior to his marriage. Rather than that, whatever Society gossip had made of it, he had, as a motherless and sister-less young man, sought her womanly advice on a bride. The suspicion that it had been rather more had served well, one had to concede, as one figure in the long dance of masquerade she and Milord — Gervase Reveley, Viscount Raxdell — had performed, in their supposed liaison to conceal his true nature and his long devotion to Sandy, until his shocking early death.

But then Abertyldd had asked for the hand of the well-endowed daughter of the wealthy cotton-manufacturer Brumpage, that also had the most charming singing voice, and a reconciliation had been made up after a coolness ’twixt the friends —

Had that been when ’twas also rumoured that Milord was very taken with that handsome creature that stood in the place of chatelaine at Raxdell House, Eliza Ferraby? No, Clorinda had said to her dear love, as their Grand Turk Josiah Ferraby had smiled on ’em, there will be no scenes of hairpulling and face-scratching, not even manifestations of genteel scorn.

Had all become part of the legend of the Raxdell House Phalanstery — that the scandal-mongers knew not the half of!

Well, Raxdell House was proper enough these days — the present Viscount a country cousin that had never expected to inherit — his son, that had shown some signs of becoming fast, now married to the daughter of Vinwich, one of Milord’s old set and on their Grand Tour honeymoon —

She smiled at Rettie — lord, was she increasing yet again? — and enquired whether she heard from dear Emmy, her sister, in Naples? as they all proceeded into the house. O, indeed, said Rettie, had sent her quite the prettiest cameos. Says ’tis confirmed Verena Imbremere goes with child so they will not proceed onwards just yet —

Very prudent!

Inside there was the usual sound of sweet airs that pervaded any Parry-Lloyd household as members of it practised their various instruments.

Sandy observed Abertyldd’s brother-in-law Count Casimir — the Polish musician and patriot, whose surname none but those as adept in foreign tongues as Lord Gilbert Beaufoyle could encompass — and quite immediate went over to him so that they might discourse of European affairs. Sandy had quite the connexion among political exiles of several nations! and, she fancied but did not interrogate, correspondents abroad among those that cried Confusion to tyranny!

Dorothea, youngest of the three handsome, musical, and well-endowed Brumpage sisters — looked indulgently over to ’em and said to Clorinda that ’twas an entire rare pleasure to Casimir to have one to discourse politics with — has no lack of those that can talk music with —

Clorinda grinned. I fancy may be some difficulty in getting ’em to stop!

Dodo grinned back. Have you heard Ollie’s latest? Takes a notion to having a pipe-organ at Bexbury House. Has been making up to Hughie Lucas so that he may be given the keys to the one at St Wilfrid’s — repays him by doing good works among the local lads —

One wondered whether the organ was the only prize at stake there and whether Oliver Parry-Lloyd also wished to gain credit in the eyes of Lady Theodora Saxorby, whose sister Aggie — Lady Agatha — was married to Hughie. Thea was very taken with Hughie’s Puseyite leanings, and the sisterhood that grew up in his parish, to the horror of her Evangelical parents, the Earl and Countess of Pockinford.

Came up and made civil to Clorinda young Rondegate — Cecil, Baron Rondegate, Zipsie’s husband — saying that his wife would be exceeding delighted might Lady Bexbury go take tea with her, once she had repaired from her journey?

So Clorinda, to her great relief, went be tidied up by Sophy, that scowled a little —

La, Sophy, ’tis the Parry-Lloyds are so exceeding delighted to see me! And am desired go take tea with Lady Rondegate.

As a married woman, rather than the eldest sister of the family that was expected to take on a deal of responsibility in matters of music lessons &C for the younger children, Zipsie now had her own sitting-room, and Clorinda found her there, reclining on a chaise-longue and idly perusing The Lady’s What-Not.

No — pray do not get up —

Zipsie pouted a little — sure all treat me as if I were glass and might break! — but broke into the most amiable of smiles as Clorinda went over to kiss her cheek.

How very well she looked. Not just o, for a lady in her condition, but one saw that marriage had wrought a change — no, ’twas not exactly a change — in Zipsie. She was now the confident Zipporah Parry-Lloyd that one had ever seen when she had sung — sat down at the pianoforte — picked up the bow of her violoncello or her oboe — or been enticed into discourse of music. Rather than the farouche young creature that had looked entire harried by the demands laid upon a young lady out on the Marriage Market — shy, awkward, clumsy.

Clorinda remarked that marriage appeared to suit her!

Zipsie blushed a little as she reached to ring the bell for tea. O, Cecil — Lord Rondegate — is quite the most agreeable and amiable of husbands — we are the best of friends —

Now, that was a better thing to hear than the cooing of loving doves!

— has not had the benefit of our schooling in music but has a very nice taste — comes on — taking voice lessons with Mr Gordon Duncan — a pleasing tenor —

Came in tea along with a cake-stand and platters of sandwiches.

They know how entire ravenous I become! she said as she poured out. Do you excuse me while I take some sustenance.

Clorinda nibbled on a macaroon or so as Zipsie devoured several sandwiches and fingers of cinnamon toast, and talked of indifferent matters.

In due course Zipsie said, but I did not invite you here just for social niceties, ’tis give out everywhere that you are the soundest counsellor in matters of the heart.

Some, Clorinda thought, might draw a vulgar obvious conclusion from this, given that Mr Cuthbert Davison, esteemed scholar of Persian at Oxford, had been seeing a good deal of Zipsie over the matter of her setting certain translations of ghazals.

Here is Cecil — Rondegate — and Mr Davison, that is an excellent good friend, find themselves fallen into an amorous friendship, and I mind on things I have overheard about Raxdell House and your friendship with the late Viscount —

La, my dear, you have the tale wrong end on! Sure I was not triangulating with Milord and dearest Sandy, much as I loved — love — ’em both, and whatever the world thought. ’Twas the east wing of Raxdell House where my loves lay —

She paused a little to gather herself, finding her eyes grow moist.

Indeed, said Zipsie, ’twas always remarked how very fond you and Lady Ferraby were of one another. Meg Knowles lately mentioned it —

Quite so. Clorinda blew her nose. With courage — cunning — good feeling all round — these things can be managed, whatever the edicts of Society about who should love whom, and how many should one love, and should they have had the words said over ’em by a parson — or these days, the registrar — &C.

Zipsie too looked tearful — perchance a little due to the volatility of her condition — and said she had hoped it might be so, because she was exceeding fond of both chaps. And there were far worse things one saw husbands got up to!

Clorinda could not repress a chuckle. And minded that comment of Dr Johnson concerning some lady with a bottom of good sense!