The Society Catch. Louise Allen
older, more socially adept, polished, but still that rebellious, adventurous spirit burned, and now it roused itself and stared out at a hostile world through new and defiant eyes.
The next day while walking in Hyde Park with her maid, she saw a smart curricle bowling along the tan surface towards her. At the reins was the petite figure of Lady Suzanne, a dashing tricorne and veil on her blonde head, her figure clad to perfection in a deep blue walking dress. She was laughing with delight as she controlled the two high-stepping bays at a brisk trot and, with a wrench, Joanna realised that not only was the man beside her Giles Gregory but his right hand was over Suzanne’s on the reins and he was laughing too at her uninhibited enjoyment.
They swept past Joanna and for a moment she thought he had not noticed her, then the team was reined in and began to back. Joanna could hear Giles’s voice, ‘Keep your hands lower, Suzy, for goodness’ sake, you are trying to make a team back up, not encourage a hunter over a fence!’
The curricle drew level with her again just as he said, with unmistakable pride in his voice, ‘Good girl! There, I told you you could do it. Good morning, Miss Fulgrave, I do beg your pardon, we were past before I recognised you. I hope your family is well?’ His eyes asked something else, and Joanna felt a surge of warmth that not only had he remembered her distress, but that he had the tact not to mention it in front of Lady Suzanne.
‘Quite well, I thank you, Colonel,’ she replied, wondering at her own composure. ‘All of us are in good health.’
‘Excellent. Are you ladies acquainted?’
‘Oh, yes,’ Lady Suzanne said with a light laugh. ‘We know each other by sight, do we not, Miss Fulgrave? And, of course, I saw you at my aunt’s ball.’ As did most of the ton, her expression said, as her pretty blue eyes rested on Joanna’s face. She did not like another woman drawing her Colonel’s attention, that was plain.
‘Indeed.’ Joanna could feel the seams of her gloves creaking as she clenched her fists. ‘And I saw you. Such a lovely gown. Good day, Lady Suzanne, Colonel. Enjoy your drive.’
She forced herself to smile as she turned on her heel and began to walk home. Nothing mattered any more, the only thing left was to immerse herself in whatever diversions presented themselves so that she did not have the opportunity to even think about Giles.
Her mother noted with concern her silence and set face when she came in but within days she found that her daughter’s uncommunicativeness was the least of her problems.
At the end of two weeks the list of outrages committed by her lovely, obedient, perfect daughter included flirting heavily with every rake who came within her orbit, being found playing dice with three young gentlemen in a back room at a party, galloping on Rotten Row and eating ice cream in Gunther’s with Lord Sutton, having ‘lost’ her maid. This was on top of her managing, by what stratagems her mama could not establish, to avoid Lord Clifton on every occasion he called. The final straw was to walk up St James’s because—as she told her speechless mother—she ‘wanted to know what all the fuss was about’.
That exploit led to Mr Fulgrave’s involvement, resulting in a painful interview. Joanna was forbidden any parties until they went to Brighton in two weeks’ time and had to suffer the ignominy of not being allowed out at all without her mother’s escort.
‘I do not understand it, I really do not,’ Mr Fulgrave said, more in sorrow than in anger. ‘At your age dear Grace was married with her first child and was mistress of a large household, while you are behaving like a hoyden of seventeen who knows no better. Lord Clifton will not contain his impatience for much longer my girl, and if these disgraceful exploits come to his attention he will withdraw his suit in disgust.’
Alone in her bedroom Joanna considered these strictures with little sense of remorse. She felt too numb to really care, although the hope that she would drive away Rufus Carstairs gave her a glimmer of pleasure. But disappointingly a course of dissipation did not seem to provide the distraction from the circling thoughts of Giles that she had hoped. Still, it was at least more stimulating than meekly withering into an old maid, which seemed the only alternative to an unwanted marriage.
Nothing, therefore, deterred Joanna from her plans for that evening, which involved leaving the house by the back door after she was supposed to be asleep and meeting her old acquaintance Catherine Marcus. Mrs Marcus, once plain Kate Hampton and now a rich young matron, had informed Joanna three evenings before when they met at a reception that she was getting up a party to attend the masquerade at Vauxhall Gardens. Her dear Joanna, she was sure, would thoroughly enjoy it.
Mama did not approve of Mrs Marcus, whom she considered to be fast and flighty, but, as far as she knew, she and Joanna had never been close at and she was therefore unlikely to lead her daughter astray. The thought that their reacquaintance would involve an expedition to Vauxhall for a masquerade, an activity entirely beyond the pale as far as Mrs Fulgrave was concerned, was inconceivable.
Her mask dangling from its ribbons in one hand, the other clutching her blue domino tightly around her, Joanna made her escape and was picked up by the Marcuses’ coach without mishap at the appointed place. No one, she congratulated herself, would know and she had always wanted to experience a masquerade. In the flickering light her friend did not notice the shadows under her eyes and the party set off full of high spirits.
Vauxhall Gardens seemed an enchanted dream to Joanna. Lights in their thousand twinkled amid the branches and framed pavilions and kiosks in a magical glow. Every twist and turn in the paths opened on to new vistas crowded with party-goers; music and laughter filled the air and Mrs Marcus’s party spent the first hour simply strolling, watching the passing throng and revelling in the strange feeling of safety their masks produced.
Mrs Marcus had invited a large group of friends and, although all the young ladies seemed to Joanna to be startling free and easy and the men escorting them more than a little inclined to take advantage of whatever flirtation was on offer, she felt quite comfortable in the company. Everyone seemed to behave towards her as befitted her unmarried status and she rather suspected that Kate had had a quiet word with her friends about their inexperienced new acquaintance.
Joanna firmly refused the offer of a glass of champagne when they retired to a kiosk for shaved ham and other trifles before joining the dancing; as everyone else became gayer and more light-headed, she retained a perfectly level-headed awareness of everything going on around her. Things were certainly becoming a trifle warm but, although she realised her mama would faint away at the sights her younger daughter was coolly observing, she felt only an amused curiosity.
However, she rapidly regretted allowing herself to be taken out on to the dance floor by one young gentleman who proved to be either a very inept dancer or perhaps simply an inebriated one.
‘No, no, it is quite all right,’ she protested lightly for the third time as he trod on her toe during the boulanger. ‘So crowded, is it not? Oh!’ His foot found her hem and half dragged the domino from her shoulder. Joanna pulled it back, found she had lost the ties securing it at her neck and that she could not see to untangle the ribbons whilst wearing her mask. ‘Oh dear, can we just go to the side of the dance floor?’ Her partner, apologising profusely at his carelessness, guided her out of the throng and stood by, helpfully holding her mask while Joanna adjusted her cloak.
‘Would you like to dance again?’ he asked as he handed back the black satin mask.
‘And have her toes completely bruised? I think not, young man.’ Lord Clifton appeared at her side, masked, but with his unmistakable blue eyes glittering through the slits. ‘May I offer you my escort home, Miss Fulgrave?’ He turned abruptly to her partner, who took a step back. ‘We need keep you no longer, sir.’
‘Yes, thank you for the dance, sir,’ Joanna said hastily. He seemed inclined to square up belligerently to the interloper and she added pacifically, ‘It is quite all right, I know this gentlemen.’
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