“Oh, I do, but I can’t help think what a waste of money and good blood it is when men do nothing other than amuse themselves all day.”
“Yes, I agree. Wastrels are utterly useless no matter what their rank.” Celia leaned closer to tease, “I suppose you don’t include the prince in that group? Or Edwin?”
“Well, not Edwin, anyway!”
They both laughed, and when Celia glanced back at the ornate box where Northington was with the prince, she saw that he’d gone.
It’s just as well, she thought, for I don’t think I could bear sitting here all evening with him so close!
Jacqueline pointed out others she knew. “Oh, there’s Robert Stewart, Lord Castlereagh. He’s more unpopular now than ever before,” she said with a frown, “for introducing the Six Acts in the House of Commons. The people boo him whenever they see him or Lord Liverpool, and all because of that horrid Peterloo business. But it’s necessary to curb such lawlessness those public meetings have caused. Perhaps it’s because the government is willing to use the same tactics against its own citizens as it used against Napoleon and the French army that it angers the people, yet I cannot help but make a comparison to the Terror.”
“So,” Celia said, “do you approve or disapprove of the Six Acts?”
“Oh, I do think it’s vital not to risk such a thing happening here as it did in France, but the average citizen has no concept of true social reform. All they think of is having their white bread and tea. Ridiculous, really, and not at all necessary.”
Celia held her tongue. Jacqueline was basically a kind person, but she didn’t realize that the gulf between the rich and the poor was so very wide. It wasn’t just white bread and a pot of tea that people wanted, it was security, knowing that their children were safe and fed, a warm, dry place to live.
“Social Reform has become quite popular these days,” Jacqueline continued, “but it’s dangerous to give too much to people who have no idea how to handle great freedom. Why, just look what happens when they are given too much! That impertinent maid, Janey, whom I gave every opportunity to do well, has abruptly left our employ without so much as a by-your-leave! I had Jarvis investigate to be certain she didn’t steal anything, and even though he reports nothing gone, I just know that one day we’ll discover the sly chit made off with silver candlesticks or some other items.” She shook her head vigorously, crimped curls bouncing against her temples. “These people should know their place, or we’re in danger here of another Terror.”
“Mama,” Carolyn said. “You are in danger of sounding like a Tory!”
They all laughed, for of course, Jules Leverton was adamantly Tory in his leanings, convinced of the ultimate and complete sovereignty of the crown’s authority.
“Do I hear Tory sentiments being voiced?” a familiar deep voice said behind them, and Celia went very still.
“Viscount Northington, what a pleasure to see you again,” Jacqueline said. “Do come and sit with us. We were just discussing the import of the Six Acts passed in the House of Commons last month.”
“And are you for or against them?” He stood behind Celia’s chair and she felt the heat from him as if a blanket over her, reminding her of too many things, of that night and the Roman tub and the touch of his hands on her…Of how foolish she had been to give away something she could never recover.
“Oh, for them, of course,” Jacqueline said. “But I’m aware that you opposed them.”
“Not for the reason you might think. I just consider it unreasonable to pass national laws dealing with problems that only exist in some areas. It’s too universal, and suppresses basic human rights and liberties. I’m sure that, as an American, Miss St. Clair has her own opinions.”
Celia didn’t look at him, but nodded. “Yes, my lord, I certainly do. I am not, however, as certain that you’d wish to hear them.”
“Ah, living in a Tory household has had an astringent effect on you, it seems.”
He’d moved from behind her to take an empty seat next to Carolyn, and Celia turned to look at him at last. There was no sign of anything other than polite indifference in his face, nothing to indicate that he remembered that night at Harmony Hill. It had changed her life irrevocably, yet obviously meant nothing to him.
She drew in a deep breath and said calmly, “It’s been said that every country has the government it deserves, my lord. I’m sure England is no exception.”
“Touché, Miss St. Clair. I believe Maistre was talking about France at the time, but it certainly does fit this discussion as well.”
Was that a note of respect in his voice? She must be mistaken, for he had shown nothing but contempt for her opinions thus far. Why would he change now?
Carolyn leaned forward to say to her mother, “Oh do look, it’s Lord Liverpool! Melwyn hopes the prime minister will put down the seething rebellion on his Irish estates soon. It’s been so very difficult for him.”
Carolyn’s betrothed had left London to see to his estates in Ireland this past week, and Celia knew Caro worried he would be harmed in the growing civil unrest in that country. She fretted constantly about it, fueled by reminders of the French Revolution and the instability of politics.
Carolyn turned to Northington. “Did you discover who shot at us, my lord? It wasn’t some sort of rebellion by your tenants, I do hope!”
“My tenants are mostly farmers with pitchforks. And the local magistrate has most likely already acted on the recent measure to search and seize arms. I doubt any of my tenants have in their possession weapons more powerful than scythes.”
“Then who would have shot at us?” Celia asked. “If it wasn’t an accident, hunters or the like, who would it be?”
“I don’t know the who, but I do know the why,” he said with a careless shrug of his shoulders that indicated a reluctance to elaborate. “It will all be settled soon enough so that visitors needn’t fear for their lives.”
“Then perhaps it was the gypsies,” Carolyn said with a shudder. “Do you think it might have been? They are said to be thieves and worse. Do you think it’s safe to have them on your estate, my lord?”