First Season Page 7

  “Of course,” Lady Upton agreed, this last barb hitting home, given that her own daughter could not by any stretch be termed a beauty. In fact, the more unkind called her fox-faced. However, Lady Upton was not yet routed.

  “It is true the name may not affect Miss Biddle’s popularity, Lady Hardwick,” she granted. “You can only hope it does not affect your daughter’s either.” Lady Upton rose to take her departure, seeing her shaft had hit its mark and wishing to leave before her discomfited hostess regained her wits and her tongue.

  As soon as the front door closed on her guest’s back, Lady Hardwick gave the bell pull a sharp tug and ordered the footman to have her niece and daughter attend her in the salon immediately.

  Sophie, who had been in her bedchamber down the hall, came into the salon directly. “What is it, Mama?” she asked. Her mother did not answer, only motioning her to sit. Hetty arrived a few minutes after her cousin, and started to take a seat next to her cousin, but her aunt prevented her.

  “Come here, Henrietta,” Lady Hardwick said sternly.

  “I regret to tell you,” Lady Hardwick began when Hetty stood before her, “that your provincial manners have brought the opprobrium of an unflattering sobriquet being attached to you. Lady Upton was pleased to inform me that you have become known as ‘Half-baked Hetty’ to Society. A gentleman awarded you the title after seeing you cut Lord Satre last night.

  “The nickname will probably do no lasting damage to you, but the notoriety that will be attached to us all is distasteful in the extreme.”

  Lady Hardwick paused for a breath as Hetty turned red with mortification at hearing the sobriquet being applied to her and a malicious smile of pleasure crossed Sophie’s face. Lady Hardwick, observing the smile, momentarily turned her anger upon her daughter.

  “This reflects not only upon Henrietta, but upon me as her sponsor and you as her cousin, Sophie. In fact, miss, it is more likely to affect your prospects than Henrietta’s, since you have no fortune to compensate.”

  This idea had not occurred to Sophie, and she frowned at her cousin in resentment. “I do not see why her disgraceful behavior should affect me.”

  “It may be unjust, but that is the way of Society,” Lady Hardwick proclaimed as she turned her attention back to her niece. “I have tried to be understanding of your behavior, Henrietta, allowing for your being raised in the country, but you must make more of an effort. Surely you would not wish your cousin’s prospects to be damaged by your behavior.”

  Conflicting emotions chased across Hetty’s face as she before her aunt in disgrace. “I would not wish to be the cause of Sophie not receiving a good offer,” she replied to her aunt, “but it is unjust to say I have not tried to behave in a manner that would bring you credit. I do try. It is only that no matter how hard I tried, I still made errors of judgement.”

  “I, I…please, Aunt Ernestine,” Hetty suddenly burst out, “I wish to return to Derbyshire. Here I only bring down censure upon you and Sophie. Please allow me to return home,” she begged.

  The angry look left Sophie’s face, and a delighted smile appeared in its place. Lady Hardwick herself felt conflicting emotions at her niece’s plea. She wished she might allow her niece to return to Derbyshire, but she had already spent a substantial part of the funds advanced to her by the squire, money she could not afford to repay. Moreover, she needed Henrietta’s presence in her home to open doors that would otherwise remain closed to plain Miss Hardwick of no great fortune. The Season was not yet half over.

  “What’s this, miss?” she attacked her niece, rising from her chair and standing over Hetty. “You wish to return home? Ungrateful girl! How would that appear to my sister, who requested that I bring you out under my protection this Season? Have I not done my duty by you? Is it due to me that you make blunder after blunder? Do you wish to shame me further in the eyes of Society by leaving when the Season has barely begun? The answer is not for you to return home, but for you to make a greater effort to behave with propriety.”

  Hetty stood silent, head down, staring at the carpet with apparent fascination.

  “Well, Henrietta?” her aunt demanded as the silence lengthened.

  “You are correct, Aunt Ernestine,” Hetty replied bleakly. “I promise to try harder in the future to behave in a manner that Society will not censure.”

  “I shall expect you to keep that promise,” Lady Hardwick said sternly. “Now go to your room and reflect upon the arrant ingratitude you have displayed.”

  Lady Hardwick waited until Hetty had left the room before resuming her seat and fixing her attention on her daughter.

  “I can see you are not displeased by the sobriquet that has been attached to Henrietta,” she said to Sophie. “I advise you to think carefully about the fine line that divides what is detrimental to your cousin and what is detrimental to you as her close relative.”

  “Yes, Mama,” Sophie answered obediently, her downcast eyes preventing her mother from divining her true feelings.

  Hetty descended to her room and sat dejectedly on the graceful Chippendale window seat, staring miserably at the gray sky above stables, tears filling her eyes as she thought of the nickname she had been given. How Society must despise her! This was not at all what she had dreamed a London Season would be! She put her head in her hands and began to sob quietly, longing for her home and the unquestioning love of her parents.

  Daisy, coming in with an armful of freshly pressed clothes, dropped them onto a chair at the sight of her mistress’s distress and knelt beside her.

  “What is the matter, Miss Hetty?” she asked, her freckled face showing sympathy.

  Daisy’s compassion only made Hetty cry harder. Between sobs she told of the nickname she had been given and her aunt’s refusal to allow her to return to Derbyshire. Daisy, muttering soothing words, coaxed Hetty to lie on her bed, and gently bathed her temples with lavender water. Hetty’s sobs ceased at her maid’s kind ministrations, but Hetty felt she could never go anywhere in London again, knowing what people were calling her behind her back.

  A few minutes later a knock sounded at the door and a servant informed Daisy that Sophie wished Miss Biddle to accompany her to the circulating library, but Hetty refused, pleading indisposition. She had seen her cousin’s pleasure at her disgrace, and had no desire to go anywhere with Sophie.

  Shortly after the maid carried her refusal to Sophie, Lady Hardwick appeared at Hetty’s chamber door.

  “What is this I hear of you refusing to accompany your cousin to the circulating library?” she demanded without preamble.

  “I am not feeling well, Aunt Ernestine,” Hetty explained, rising slowly from her bed at her aunt’s entrance.

  “Are you truly not feeling well or is it that you do not wish to appear in public after hearing of the nickname?” her aunt asked perceptively. “That is precisely why you must go. You must behave as though the nickname has no effect on you.

  “Lay out your mistress’s pelisse and walking shoes,” Lady Hardwick directed Daisy.

  “The walk will do you good and make you look more presentable for the drive this afternoon with Lord Satre,” Lady Hardwick added to her niece as she exited the chamber.

  Hetty had not thought it possible she could feel worse, but her aunt’s reminder about the drive with Lord Satre had that effect. Perhaps, she thought hopefully, if he had heard of her nickname, he would not come.

  After a silent walk to the circulating library, Hetty took a chair near the doorway and waited while her cousin went to the counter and discussed new books with the clerk. She was staring fixedly into space, trying to be invisible and hoping no one she knew would come in while she was there, when a voice penetrated her consciousness.

  “Do you not care for reading, Miss Biddle?”

  Hetty looked up to see a handsome young man in flawless morning dress standing before her. She did not recognize him, although evidently he knew who she was. She had probably been introduced to him and forgotten, sh
e thought in despair. There were so many people she had met, she could not remember them all. But surely she would have remembered such a handsome gentleman Hetty thought as she admired the picture he presented in his blue coat, buff breeches, shining Hessians, and fair hair carefully arranged a la Titus. She hesitated, unsure how to handle the situation since she could not remember his name.

  The gentleman smiled in understanding of her predicament and swept her a bow. “Viscount Courtney, at your service.”

  Hetty returned the smile and answered his earlier question after returning his greeting. “Yes, I like to read, Lord Courtney, but I generally allow my cousin to select the books. I am not familiar with the popular authors.”

  “Allow me to assist you in making a choice,” Lord Courtney offered, holding out his arm. Hetty glanced briefly at Sophie, who was still in conversation with the clerk, and then allowed Lord Courtney to escort her to the counter opposite the one where her cousin stood.

  “What author’s books does your cousin customarily borrow?” Lord Courtney questioned.

  “Mrs. Radcliffe’s novels,” Hetty answered.

  “Do you enjoy them?”

  “Very much.”

  Her response seemed to give Lord Courtney the information he needed.

  “Get Belinda for Miss Biddle to inspect, if you please,” he instructed the clerk who came to assist.

  “If you enjoy Mrs. Radcliffe’s books, I think you will enjoy Mrs. Edgeworth’s even more,” Lord Courtney explained to Hetty as the clerk found the book he had requested and gave it to Hetty.

  As Hetty leafed interestedly through the volume, Sophie picked up her selections and joined her cousin.

  “It is time we leave, Hetty,” Sophie said abruptly after exchanging terse greetings with Lord Courtney.

  Hetty looked up at her cousin in surprise. “First I would like to borrow this book,” she said, holding it out to Sophie.

  “You do not have a subscription and I do not have time to wait for you to obtain one,” Sophie said impatiently, taking the volume from her cousin and handing it back to the clerk. “You can borrow it another time.”

  Reluctantly Hetty turned to follow her cousin as Sophie hastened from the store, thanking Lord Courtney with a smile.

  She and Sophie had gone only a few yards down the street when Hetty heard quick footsteps behind them and Lord Courtney caught up with the young women.

  “Miss Biddle,” he said, holding out a volume. “I took the liberty of getting Belinda for you on my subscription. I know one is not supposed to get books for another on one’s own subscription, but I trust you to take care of it and hope you will allow me to come and pay a call on you next week to retrieve the volume.”

  Hetty took the volume with a smile. “Thank you, Lord Courtney. I should be pleased if you would call,” she answered, ignoring Sophie’s fierce frown.

  Lord Courtney smiled and took his leave, ignoring at Sophie’s evident irritation.

  “What do you mean by speaking to a man to whom you have not been introduced?” Sophie berated her cousin as they walked down the street. “I shall have to inform Mama.”

  “He knew who I was, and he is undoubtedly a gentleman,” Hetty protested. “I must have been presented to him somewhere; I cannot remember everyone I have met since coming to town. How do you know I have not been introduced to him?”

  “I know because he is only just arrived in Town. It makes no difference that he is a gentleman. To speak to any man to whom you have not been previously introduced makes one look fast.”

  Of course, she should have known, Hetty thought in frustration. She could not even manage a short trip to the library without committing some kind of social error. But to her surprise she found she did not care, since it had been the means of meeting Lord Courtney. He was the first man she had met who she did not feel looked down on her as being a lesser person because she was from the country.

  “You may tell your mother if you please,” Hetty said daringly, “but if you do, I shall tell her that you saw him speaking to me in the library and made no attempt to inform me it was wrong until it was too late.”

  Sophie looked surprised and displeased at Hetty’s defiance, and they walked home in angry silence.

  Even the ride Lady Hardwick had accepted for Hetty and herself that afternoon with Lord Satre did not have the power to dim Hetty’s pleasure at meeting Lord Courtney. As Lord Satre helped Lady Hardwick and herself into his open carriage, Hetty even found herself able to apologize for her impolite behavior the night before.

  “I hope you will forgive me my refusal to dance with you last night,” Hetty said. “I had felt temporarily faint from the exertion of the long country dance, and wished to be alone for a moment to recover. I did not think about it being wrong of me to accept another partner when I had recovered,” she continued, quite proud of herself for her likely sounding explanation. “I am only recently arrived in London from Derbyshire, and I fear I am not yet accustomed to all the rules of Society. We are more informal in the country.”

  “There is no need to apologize, Miss Biddle, I quite understand,” he replied with a smile, looking directly into her eyes.

  At Lord Satre’s penetrating look, Hetty’s pride in her excuse vanished, for she had an uncomfortable feeling that he did indeed understand only too well, and saw through her explanation with ease. His gray eyes seemed to have the power to read her very soul. Hetty felt her face flush and looked away, a shiver going down her spine. Hetty kept her face averted, pretending to admire the scenery in the park, and was grateful for the presence of Lady Hardwick, as well as the other carriages and riders in the park.

  The carriage stopped several times to allow them to speak to acquaintances in other vehicles, and Hetty noted the occupants’ barely concealed surprise at seeing her in company with Lord Satre. Lady Hardwick had clearly been correct that appearing in public with Lord Satre would do much to diminish gossip about her faux pas. Perhaps the ride would have a benefit after all, she thought, and stop people from calling her Half-baked Hetty.

  That night as Hetty dressed for yet another ball she reflected on the change in her feelings since she had first arrived in London barely three weeks earlier. Then she had thought her money a blessing because it enabled her to have a London Season. She had looked forward to attending glittering balls and being one with the haut ton. But after her first social gaffes, each occasion had seemed like a test which she usually failed. The nickname had seemed like the ultimate humiliation, and as recently as that very morning she had felt she never wished to appear in Society again. But now, after meeting Lord Courtney, she was actually looking forward to the ball, for he might be there.

  Hetty dressed with especial care, but as Daisy coaxed the final curl into place, Hetty looked at her reflection with the familiar feeling of dissatisfaction. The sage-green color of the gown did nothing for her skin, and the close-fitting bodice made her figure appear childish.

  “Somehow the clothes Aunt Ernestine selected for me are not becoming, Daisy,” she said aloud, wondering silently once again if her aunt had chosen unflattering styles deliberately. But for what reason?

  “Maybe your necklace will help,” Daisy suggested, opening Hetty’s meager jewel-case and holding the garnets about her throat. But the dark red stones did not look well with the sage-green color, nor did the carnelians, which were Hetty’s only other jewels.

  “Neither of them looks well with this gown,” Hetty said. “I suppose I should purchase some new jewels, but it was one thing Aunt Ernestine did not suggest. I shall not wear any tonight,” she decided. Daisy returned the garnets to the case and unfolded Hetty’s brown velvet pelisse, shaking it and placing it around Hetty’s shoulders. Hetty glanced at the clock and hastened to the hall to join her aunt and cousin.

  When they arrived at the Arlingtons’ town house, Hetty entered behind her aunt and cousin, as was her custom. She handed her pelisse to a footman and joined the other two, who were greeting Lord and L
ady Arlington as they stood at the door of the ballroom. After speaking to Lady Hardwick and Sophie, Lady Arlington turned to Hetty. A look of surprise, quickly masked, crossed her face, and for a terrible moment Hetty thought something was wrong. But as Lady Arlington expressed her pleasure at seeing her, Hetty scolded herself for her fears. She must have imagined the look, Hetty thought as she followed her aunt and Sophie to the gilt side chairs placed around the edge of the ballroom. She had become much too sensitive because of her past errors.

  Lady Hardwick glanced at Hetty as she sat down, and then stared in dismay.

  “Where are your jewels, Henrietta?” she demanded.

  “I have only the garnets and carnelians and neither looked well with this gown,” Henrietta explained, wondering why her aunt seemed so upset.

  “Then you should have asked to borrow some from me or from Sophie. Do you not realize it is an insult to your hostess to appear at her home without being fully dressed? It implies you felt her entertainment was not worth your effort to prepare properly.

  “Well, it is too late to do anything now, since she has already seen you,” Lady Hardwick said, a resigned tone to her voice. She frowned in annoyance. “I never thought to say it, but perhaps the nickname you were given was a good thing. What Lady Arlington would see as insult in another, she may forgive ‘Half-baked Hetty.’’

  Sophie smirked superiorly at Hetty as she took a seat next to her mother, and Hetty slowly took the chair at Lady Hardwick’s other side. She looked glumly about the ballroom, her earlier excitement gone. She could do nothing right, she decided. And worse, she did not see Lord Courtney anywhere.

  Mr. Eastman claimed Sophie for the opening set, and Hetty accepted the hand of Sophie’s other suitor, Lord Lockwood. As she took her place opposite from the chubby peer Hetty wondered what Sophie found appealing in Lord Lockwood. He was not handsome by any stretch of the imagination, and his manners were pompous and overbearing. Perhaps Sophie wished to have a second suitor in the wings in the event Mr. Eastman did not come up to scratch.