Nor did Jenny recall that when she first saw him she suffered a considerable disappointment. At the age of two-and-fifty little trace remained of the handsome Prince Florizel over whose beauty elderly ladies still sighed. Jenny beheld a middle-aged gentleman of corpulent habit, on whose florid countenance dissipation was writ large. He was decidedly overdressed; his corsets creaked audibly; he drenched his person with scent; and, when in repose, his face wore a peevish expression. But whatever good fairy had attended his christening had bestowed upon him a gift which neither time nor excesses would ever cause to wither. He was an undutiful son, and a bad husband, an unkind father, an inconstant lover, and an uncertain friend, but he had a charm which won forgiveness from those whom he had injured, and endeared him to such chance-met persons as Jenny, or some young officer brought to him by Lord Bathurst with an important dispatch. He could disgust his intimates, but in his more public life his bearing was always right; he never said the wrong thing; and never permitted a private vexation to impair his affability. Unmistakably a Prince, he used very little ceremony, his manners, when he moved amongst the ton, being distinguished by a well-bred ease which did not wholly desert him even when, as sometimes happened, he arrived at some party in a sadly inebriated condition. His private manners were not so good; but no one who saw him, as Jenny did, at his mother’s Drawing-Room, could have believed him capable of lying to his greatest supporter, taking a crony to listen to his father’s ravings, treating his only child with boorish roughness, or floundering, like a lachrymose porpoise, at the feet of an embarrassed beauty. Jenny certainly would not have believed such stories; and when she met him again, two days later, at Lady Nassington’s assembly, and received a bow from him, and a smile of recognition, she was much inclined to think that extenuating circumstances must attach even to his two marriages and his mountainous debts.
Chapter X
Few invitations conferred so great a distinction on the social aspirant as one to Nassington House. Lady Nassington’s parties were extremely exclusive, for she disliked fashionable squeezes, and was contemptuous of hostesses who rated the success of their entertainments by the number of guests they could cram into their saloons. It spoke volumes for her forceful personality that she had long since convinced the ton that a card of invitation to one of her assemblies was an honour no more to be refused than a Royal Command.
Lady Oversley was amongst the fortunate recipients of these missives. She studied hers with mixed feelings, for Lady Nassington had included the Hon. Julia Oversley in her invitation, and Lady Oversley would have given much to know whether Lord and Lady Lynton had also been invited. On the one hand, it seemed unlikely; on the other, Adam was her ladyship’s nephew, and she had presented his bride at Court. With anyone else that would have settled the matter, but with Lady Nassington one never knew: having performed what she believed to be her duty she was quite capable of ignoring thereafter young Lady Lynton’s claims upon her notice.
Lady Oversley wrote a formal acceptance, reflecting that unless Julia remained permanently in Tunbridge Wells meetings between her and Adam were inevitable. A letter from her mother-in-law encouraged her to hope that Julia was showing signs of recovery, her grandmama having arrested her decline by arranging a succession of pleasure-parties which no damsel in the possession of her senses could have failed to enjoy. Admirers had not been lacking; the Beauties of Tunbridge Wells had been eclipsed; and to complete her triumph she had lately added to her court no less a personage than that noted connoisseur of female charm and elegance the Marquis of Rockhill. In the Dowager’s opinion, that conquest was enough to drive thoughts of young Lynton out of any girl’s head. She added that while it would be absurd to suppose that Rockhill nourished serious intentions, he was sufficiently captivated to make Julia the object of his gallantry “for long enough to serve our turn.”
Julia’s mama was not so optimistic. She was flattered to think that her daughter had pleased the Marquis’s discriminating taste, but she could not feel that a widower, well into his forties, would prove to be a formidable rival to a young and charming man for whom Julia had formed a violent attachment. She was also inclined to look a trifle askance upon the Marquis’s gallantry, but in this, her lord informed her, she showed herself to be a great goose. “Nonsense!” he said. “Rockhill’s a gentleman!”
“Good God, you don’t think he wishes to marry her?” she gasped.
“No, no, of course I don’t!” he replied testily. “He found himself in Tunbridge Wells for some cause or another, and began a flirtation with the prettiest girl in the place to save himself from being killed with boredom, that’s all! I only wish it may last until she’s recovered from the other affair, but I don’t depend on it.”
The possibility that Julia, recovering from one abortive love-affair, might fall a victim to a second occurred to Lady Oversley, but she thought it wisest not to suggest this to his lordship. When Julia returned to London she showed no sign of succumbing to Rockhill’s charms, merely saying that he was very kind and amusing, which, in Lady Oversley’s opinion, was what any girl might be expected to say of a man old enough to be her father. She did not speak of Adam at all; she seemed bent on extracting every ounce of enjoyment from this, her second London Season, laughed to scorn the idea that an endless succession of parties would prove too much for her constitution, and made plans to fill every moment of every day. Her father might think this hopefuclass="underline" Lady Oversley could not like the glitter in the eye that seemed too big for Julia’s face, or feel that her restlessness betokened a mind at peace. She did not know what to do about it, and could only hope that one of Julia’s adorers would succeed in capturing her bruised heart. Julia received the news that she had been honoured with an invitation to Nassington House with apparent pleasure. Lady Oversley had meant to have warned her that she must be prepared to meet the Lyntons there, but somehow she could not find just the right words; and in the end she said nothing, salving her conscience with the reflection that Julia must know that there was a strong likelihood that they would be present.
At first it seemed as though she had been right to keep her tongue between her teeth. She could not discover the Lyntons in any of the saloons; and Julia, ravishing in palest blue gauze over an underdress of white satin, was in a mood to be pleased. There were a number of young persons present, and she was soon the centre of a group, delighted to be with her particular friends again, and rapidly drawing her usual court about her. Lady Oversley was able to relax her vigilance, and to join a group of her own intimates, who were discussing all the latest on-dits, from the sudden death of the Empress Josephine from a putrid sore throat, to the news that the Allied Sovereigns were coming to London to take part in gigantic Peace Celebrations.
The Lyntons arrived half-an-hour later, and presently made their way across the first saloon to a smaller one beyond it. There were perhaps twenty people in the room, but Adam saw only one. Julia was standing near the door, and the sound of her laughter made him stop for an instant on the threshold.
“An ice-maiden! Oh, how absurd! — when I am so hot!” She turned as she spoke, and saw Adam, gave a sharp gasp, audible to everyone in the saloon, and fainted.