Page 57 of A Lady's Guide to Scandal

Radcliffe nodded. ‘And then everything was down to you?’

‘I suppose one could say that,’ said Miss Talbot thoughtfully. ‘But I had Beatrice, who is only a little younger, so it is not so bad. And, for all that they left us in quite a mess, I am grateful to my mother and father for such a happy childhood as we had. There was much laughter, in our house – and music, and love.’

‘You must think me very weak,’ he said conversationally. ‘For trying to escape a responsibility you have been shouldering for years.’

‘Not so,’ she said. ‘Though I do think you would benefit from thinking about it more simply.’

‘What do you mean?’ he asked, frowning.

‘You have the title, the wealth, the influence,’ she said. ‘You have a family that adores you, and though it might have pained me in the past, you are quite clever at protecting them when you try. I feel you are more than capable of choosing what kind of lord you would like to be.’

‘How does one choose, though?’ he could not help asking.

She shrugged. ‘You just do.’

He looked at her. She looked at him. For a moment, it felt as though they were the only two real people in the whole world, sitting there looking at each other, while the rest of London carried on. And then it broke.

‘I should go,’ Miss Talbot said, her voice sounding a little breathless all of a sudden. ‘I can see Pemberton looking for me.’

‘Ah yes, the general himself,’ Radcliffe said with an ironic twist to his lips. ‘Do, by all means, keep him away from me.’

‘Behave yourself,’ she said mischievously. ‘Remember, if all goes well, you are speaking of my future husband.’

‘As if I could forget it,’ he said.

Netley Cottage, Tuesday May 5th

Dearest Kitty,

What a shock it was, to receive your letter, with Lord Radcliffe’s frank upon the envelope. The post boy was quite agog to deliver it, and so unfortunately it was commonplace knowledge to the whole town by the end of the morning. Naturally, all manner of persons have found reasons to call upon us this afternoon. Rest assured we haven’t breathed a word, though this is more due to confusion than discretion – I knew you were on friendly terms with Radcliffe, but how are you closely enough acquainted with him to request he frank your letter?

Rest assured we are all well. Harriet is back to full strength (and nothing could ever bother Jane, of course). The weather, while poor at present, is not so inclement to keep us inside – which is all to the well, for the number of card games suited for three players is limited!

Funds are a little low, though I’m sure we shall manage until you are back. I have also enclosed a letter we received from Mr Anstey and Mr Ainsley. I trust you shall forgive my reading it. They write to confirm their intention to visit upon us no later than the first of June. They repeat that if we do not have the assurance of funds by then … Well, it is as their last correspondence.

Your loving sister,

Beatrice

28

It was the eleventh of May. Kitty had three weeks, and two pounds remaining. Her courtship of Mr Pemberton was becoming ever more determined, but she still had not extracted a proposal from the man, the burden of which she felt as a physical presence, pressing persistently upon the tender spot between neck and shoulder. What she wouldn’t give to shuck it off for one blessed moment … but she could not, until it was done.

Mr Pemberton’s mother – a strict matriarch who seemed to be the only person Mr Pemberton listened to – was not yet convinced by the Talbots’ quality. Having been upfront, as Kitty always was, about the state of the Talbot finances to her suitor, his austere mother was nurturing some doubts about the woman her son was courting, and the anticipated meeting had not yet occurred. Kitty was not quite sure – yet – what her next step was. She had been accepted, unfeasible though it had first seemed, into high society, and was spoken to by lords and ladies very much as if she was one of them – what else was to be done?

Over breakfast that morning, she was listening with half an ear to Dorothy’s chatter, while simultaneously also skimming through the morning post and ruminating on the Mrs Pemberton issue, when a word on the card before her shocked her into a loud gasp: Almack’s.

‘What is it, Kitty?’ Aunt Dorothy asked, curious.

‘We have been sent Almack’s vouchers for tomorrow night,’ Kitty said, holding the card up with shaking hands. ‘Almack’s! From Mrs Burrell. I can’t believe it.’

‘Oh,’ Cecily said vaguely, not looking up from her book. ‘Yes, she said she would send them.’

‘What?!’ Kitty squawked. ‘Who said – what are you talking about?’

Cecily looked up reluctantly. ‘Mrs Bussell, or Biddell – her name escapes me. I was speaking to her about Sappho at the ball last night – it transpired that we share a common interest in literature. She said she would send us vouchers, for she should like to speak to me again.’ She went back to reading, explanation complete.

‘Cecily,’ Kitty breathed. ‘You magnificent creature!’ She got up and smacked a kiss upon Cecy’s forehead.