Regency Buck (Alastair-Audley Tetralogy 3)

‘Then there is no reason for you to be sure of its beauty.’

She smiled. ‘Pray do not snub me, Mr Brummell! If you are to do that I shall be left without any support in this horrid censorious world. You must know that I am a little in disgrace.’

‘I have heard rumours. If you think my advice of value I have some for you.’

‘Yes?’ she said eagerly.

He flicked open his snuff-box in his inimitable way and took a pinch. ‘Drive your phaeton,’ he said. ‘You are really very stupid not to have thought of it for yourself.’

‘Drive my phaeton?’ she repeated.

‘Of course. Upon every occasion, and where you would be least expected to do so. Did I not tell you once, Miss Taverner, never to admit a fault?’

She said slowly: ‘I see. You are right; that is what I should have done at once. I am in your debt.’

People were beginning to move down the gallery towards the looking-glass doors at the north end. These had been flung open into the Music Room, where a concert was to be given. The Regent called to Mr Brummell, desiring his opinion on a piece of Sèvres he had been showing to one of his guests; Miss Taverner rejoined her chaperon, and taking her place in the procession soon found herself in a huge room which cast anything she had yet seen into the shade.

At first sight it was all a blaze of red and gold, but after her first gasp of astonishment she was able to take a clearer view of the whole, and to see that she was standing, not in some fantastic dream-palace, but in a square apartment with rectangular recesses at each end, fitted up in a style of Oriental splendour. The square part was surmounted by a cornice ornamented with shield-work, and supported by reticulated columns, shimmering with gold-leaf. Above this was an octagon gallery formed by a series of elliptical arches, and pierced by windows of the same shape. A convex cove rose over this, topped by leaf ornaments in gold and chocolate; and above this was the central dome, lined with a scale-work of glittering green and gold. In the middle of it a vast foliated decoration was placed, from whose calyx depended an enormous lustre of cut-glass in the shape of a pagoda. To this was attached by chains a lamp made to resemble a huge water-lily, coloured crimson and gold and white. Four gilded dragons clung to the under-side of the lamp, and below them hung a smaller glass water-lily.

The recesses at the north and south ends of the room were canopied by convex curves of imitation bamboo, bound by ribands, and contained the four doorways of the apartment, each one of which was set under a canopy of crimson and gold, embellished with bells and dragons. These canopies were held up by gilt columns, entwined by yet more dragons. The walls were hung with twelve views of the neighbourhood of Pekin, executed in bright yellow on a crimson background, and set in frames enwreathed by dragons. Still more dragons writhed above the window draperies, which were of blue and crimson satin and yellow silk. The floor was covered by a gigantic Axminster carpet where golden suns, stars, serpents, and dragons ran riot on a pale blue ground; and the sofas and chairs were upholstered in yellow and dove-coloured satin.

A fire burned in the fireplace of statuary marble on the western wall, and above it, on the mantel-shelf, a large clock presented an appearance of the most striking incongruity, for although its base was entwined by an inevitable dragon, upon the top were grouped, rather surprisingly, Venus and Cupid, with the Peacock of Love, and Mars climbing up to them.

Miss Taverner was quite overpowered, and could only blink at what she saw. The heat of the room was oppressive; all the ladies were fanning themselves. Miss Taverner began to feel a little faint; dragons and lights started to dance oddly before her eyes, and had she not at that moment found a chair to sink into she believed she must have lost possession of her senses.

She recovered in a few minutes, and was able to enjoy the concert. The Regent, who had been taught to play the violoncello in his youth by Crossbill, and was very musical, beat time with one foot; the Duke of Cumberland stared all the prettiest women out of countenance; Mr Brummell gazed before him with an air of weary patience; and Sir John Lade, who looked for all the world like a stage-coachman strayed by mistake into the Pavilion, went to sleep in the corner of a sofa, and snored gently till it was time to go home.

Eighteen

UPON THE FOLLOWING MORNING MISS TAVERNER DESPATCHED her groom post-haste to London to fetch down her phaeton, and no sooner had it arrived, and her horses been rested, than she startled Brighton by driving it to Donaldson’s at the fashionable hour to change her book. No one observing her air of calm assurance could have guessed what an effort it cost her to appear thus unconcerned. She met Captain Audley on the Steyne, and took him up beside her, and drove him to the Chalybeate Spring at Hove and back again. At the ball at the Castle inn that evening one or two people ventured to comment on it. She raised her brows and said coolly: ‘My phaeton? Yes, it has just arrived from town. Some trifling fault made it necessary for me to send it to the coachmaker’s, which is why you have seen me walking lately. You must know that I am used to drive myself wherever I go.’ She passed on with a smile and a bow.

‘Excellent, Miss Taverner!’ murmured Mr Brummell. ‘You are so apt a pupil that if I were only ten years younger I believe I should propose for your hand.’

She laughed. ‘I cannot suppose it possible. Did you ever propose to any lady, sir?’

‘Yes, once,’ replied Mr Brummell in a voice of gentle melancholy. ‘But it came to nothing. I discovered that she actually ate cabbage, so what could I do but cut the connection?’

If Miss Taverner’s phaeton did not succeed in putting an end to all criticism of her drive from town it did silence a good many tongues. Her habit of driving herself all over Brighton was soon looked on as an idiosyncrasy allowable in a lady with a fortune of eighty thousand pounds. But although the dowagers, with one or two exceptions, might agree to look indulgently on her oddities there was one person who gave no sign of having forgiven her. Lord Worth continued to hold aloof, and when they met conducted himself towards her with a cold civility that showed her how fresh in his mind were the events at Cuckfield. Having frequently assured herself and him that nothing could exceed her dislike of him, there was no other course open to her than to treat him with similar coldness, and to flirt with Captain Audley. The Captain was all readiness to oblige her, and by the time they had twice danced half the evening together, and twice been seen driving along the parade in the perch-phaeton it began to be pretty freely circulated that the Captain was to be the lucky man.

Even Mrs Scattergood began to take a serious view of the affair, and having watched in silence for a week at last ventured to broach the subject one evening after dinner. ‘Judith, my love,’ she said, very busy with the yards of fringe she was making, ‘did I tell you that I met Lady Downshire in East Street this morning? You must know that I walked back to Westfield Lodge with her.’

‘No, you did not tell me,’ replied Miss Taverner, laying down her book. ‘Was there any reason why you should?’

‘Oh, none in the world! But I must own I was rather taken aback by her asking me when your engagement to Charles Audley was to be made known. I did not know what to say.’

Judith laughed. ‘Dear ma’am, I hope you told her that you did not know?’

Mrs Scattergood shot her a quick look. ‘To be sure, I told her that I had no apprehension of any such engagement taking place. But the case is, you see, that people are beginning to wonder at the preference you show for Charles. You must not be offended with me for speaking plain.’

‘Offended! How should I be?’

Mrs Scattergood began to look a little alarmed. ‘But Judith, is it possible that you can be contemplating marriage with Charles?’

Miss Taverner smiled saucily, and said: ‘I am persuaded you can no longer see to make your fringe, ma’am. Let me ring for some working-candles to be brought you!’

‘Pray do not be so teasing!’ besought her chaperon. ‘I have nothing in the world to say against Charles. Indeed, I have the highest value for him; but a younger son, my dear, and without the least prospect of enlargement! for it is not to be supposed that Worth will stay single to oblige him, you know. I could tell you of any number of young ladies who have set their caps at him. He will certainly be thinking of getting married one day soon.’

‘I shall be happy to wish him joy whenever that may be!’ said Miss Taverner sharply. She picked up her book, read a few lines, lowered it again, and inquired hopefully: ‘Was it he who told you to discover whether I mean to marry Captain Audley or not?’