Page 9 of The Chaperone
‘Yes. Of course. Would I want to remain in my brother’s house, especially when he finds some very boring woman to become his wife? No. That does not mean I want to be married to a man who will tell me what I may and may not do. I want to be married to a man who will accept whatever I do, because I am me, and he adores me.’ She lifted her chin, challenging the world.
‘But you see, Susan, there are limits, even for a man who might adore you.’
‘If so, he will not be adoring me enough.’
It seemed so black and white to Susan. Having lived with disappointment and reality as her companions over the last few years, Sophy saw the shades of grey, and the word ‘compromise’. There was a part of her which sympathised with Susan, but then she recalled the way she used her wiles upon those whose social position made it impossible to respond, the shop assistant, the footmen. Susan had become so used to teasing men, she did not make any distinctions, and that way lay danger. She had also learnt to do the opposite of what she saw as boring convention just to see what would result. Well, in London that would risk ruin, for herself and, by association, Harriet.
‘I fear, Susan, that you aim too high, and in the process may ruin all. You really have to be careful in Town. You cannot set the Ton by its ears and escape censure. The way to a good match is conformity, at least to the basic rules of Society, and that means behaving with modesty and decorum. I have several more years’ experience and—’
‘Are unmarried. Are you sure you are the person to advise me, Cousin Sophy?’ Susan did not take well to advice.
Sophy glared at her. In private she might well have boxed her ears, but this was impossible in Berkeley Square, as Susan well knew. The remainder of the walk home passed in silence, and Sophy almost stalked into the house. She did thank the maid, and take her parcels up the stairs, and would have continued to her bedchamber where she might vent her frustrated anger in private, but her mother emerged from her writing room and intercepted her.
‘Ah Sophronia, was your expedition successful?’
‘Yes, Mama, it was.’ Sophy thought it best not to mention Susan’s behaviour. ‘I found just the right lace and at a very reasonable price.’
‘And there was a very kind gentleman who picked up my parcel when I dropped it,’ added Susan, passing them, and smiling innocently.
Lady Chelmarsh gave her eldest daughter a look that combined panic and enquiry.
‘There was a gentleman, but he did not introduce himself, merely handed back the package.’
‘But he did suggest we would be introduced on a more formal occasion,’ added Susan, blithely, from halfway up the next flight of stairs.
This could not be said to have cheered her aunt. She took Sophy’s arm and drew her back into the small chamber.
‘Tell me the worst, Sophronia.’
‘It is not so very bad, ma’am. Susan dropped her parcel, and yes, it was intentional, but the gentleman who picked it up seemed …’ Sophy paused, recollecting his expression, and found herself smiling, ‘well aware of her ploy and amused by it, merely amused. I am sure he put it down to her youth.’
‘I can only hope that he never discovers her identity.’
He did so within the week.
CHAPTER FOUR
London was a little thin of company so earlyin the Season, though many mamas with daughters to present were availing themselves of the opportunity to dress their offspring for their launch into Society. It meant that Lady Chelmarsh was able to pay morning calls upon several old friends in the same situation as herself, and thus introduce Harriet and Susan to their peers, and, in Susan’s view, rivals. Sophy wished she could become invisible, since upon every occasion, the lady of the house would look at her and then at Lady Chelmarsh, sigh sympathetically, as though to say ‘what chance did you ever have there. At least my daughters are all married’, and then address some ‘kindly’ comment to her face before ignoring her in a pointed manner for the rest of the visit in a way that showed her presence was an embarrassment to all. Harriet, keen to make friends, did not see the slights. Susan saw, and it made her even more determined to be a success, upon her own terms. These did not include being ‘nice’ to people whom she despised, and both Lady Chelmarsh and Sophy spoke to her about the necessity of being respectful.
‘I have said nothing impolite,’ averred Susan, on the defensive.
‘No, but when you show contempt in every feature, you might as well do so,’ riposted Sophy, when they returned from a trying half hour with Lady Fazeley and her whey-faced daughter. ‘You looked at our hostess as if she were a fool.’
‘Well, is she not? Sitting there telling us how her Amelia would charm everyone with her singing and pretty manners, when no man will take a second glance at a girl who is so plain and commonplace. Being friends with her would not even serve to accentuate my own advantages, since almost any girl would look better beside her.’
‘That, Susan, is a very unkind and selfish way of looking at things.’ Lady Chelmarsh was horrified. Clearly one wanted one’s own offspring to shine in the firmament, but for a girl to look upon the other debutantes only in terms of how they might advance her own chances was hardhearted in the extreme. ‘This is not only an opportunity to find a suitable husband. Yes, I am honest enough to say that it is the prime objective, but the friends one makes among the other young ladies will also be important in later years. It means one has friends wherever one goes.’
‘I have not seen Sophy going to see friends.’
‘That is because London is still a little thin of company and several of her closest friends are not in Town this year, in the expectation of confinement.’
It was not quite untrue. Sophy had not made many friends in her debut year, and none without whose frequent correspondence she might feel bereft, but it was true that they had all married and looked towards husbands and children rather than spinsters who could have no insight into their concerns.
Susan gave her cousin a look of pity. She was not fooled.
‘If you set up the backs of the mamas, Susan, you will find that the invitations are fewer, and your opportunity to dazzle the gentlemen curtailed.’ Sophy decided that appealing to her cousin’s better nature was pointless, since if she had one it was buried very deeply. She therefore worked upon her self-interest. ‘You may think them as foolish as you please in the privacy of your own chamber, but if you value your chances, you will be circumspect in public. Remember also that many of these same ladies are the mothers of the men you would aspire to impress. They may think you beautiful, but if their parents and sisters have you marked down as an unpleasant, rude young woman, few will seek to know you better.’
Reluctantly, Susan saw the sense of this, and promised that she would ‘try’.
