"Ah! Berry! Still enjoying London?" Lord Fortescue asked, then continued without waiting for an answer. "I've been meaning to have someone throw a party for you. I'm sure Mrs. Brandon is up to the task. What do you say? Will you give a ball? Thursday next would be convenient, I think."
"I — " Ivy hesitated. She would barely have time to come up with a menu, let alone arrange for an orchestra, flowers, and all the rest of the planning a ball required. Robert stepped in.
"Give her more time, Lord Fortescue, and she'll prepare the greatest masquerade ball London has ever seen."
"Very well, then. I will count on you, Mrs. Brandon." Ivy managed a weak smile. "Send me your guest list. I want to make sure you haven't forgot anyone."
Lord Fortescue was a clear example of why no man should have too much power. Small things, like checking over a guest list, were meant to remind a gentleman in Robert's position where his allegiance had better lie. Mr. Berry showed little interest in any of this. He was looking me over very carefully, evidently pleased with what he saw.
"I want to ride with you, Lady Ashton. Will you join me?" I quickly assessed the situation and decided that, of the two, Mr. Berry was preferable to Lord Fortescue. We walked our horses slowly and had not gone more than a hundred feet before I began to regret my choice.
"There is something about you that brings to mind Madame de Pompadour," he said. "I find myself most drawn to you."
"I warn you, Mr. Berry, that I am not susceptible to flattery." I pushed a stray curl back up into my hat.
"Your modesty does not fool me. Do you know that I may have a court of my own before long?"
"In England?" I wondered how he could afford such a thing. From what I understood, he had very little fortune.
"Initially, yes. But later — " He stopped. "I say too much. Suffice it to say that I shall count on your coming to me there. I don't think you will be disappointed."
I wondered if I ought to be affronted that he never dangled the queenship in front of me, the way he did with so many other young ladies. He had suggested even to Margaret that she might find herself in the happy position of wearing a crown. Perhaps he was familiar with my views on marriage. This thought made me smile.
"Lady Ashton! Mr. Berry!" Lady Elinor called. "What a surprise to find you here together!" Our horses, whose speed had increased gradually during our conversation, were about to overtake the carriage she shared with her daughter. She immediately focused on Mr. Berry and, good mother that she was, did all she could to draw him into conversation with Isabelle. The girl gave him a halfhearted smile, then sat quietly, scanning the park.
"Where is Mr. Hargreaves this afternoon?" Lady Elinor asked. "You remember Mr. Hargreaves, of course, Mr. Berry? Such an excellent gentleman! And quite devoted to our Lady Ashton."
"Hargreaves is a capital fellow. I was out far too late with him last night," Mr. Berry said, and I wondered what they had been doing. "It's easy to see why he's taken with my riding companion." Lady Elinor was quick to move the discussion in another direction, and once she had succeeded in commanding Mr. Berry's attention, I excused myself, hoping that Isabelle hadn't been searching the park for another gentleman. Her mother's intentions for her were all too clear.
I saw Isabelle again two days later. Cécile and I were in the library, waiting for Margaret to join us, when the girl appeared, making no attempt to hide the fact that she had been crying. Given the amount of time our families had spent together over the years, it did not surprise me that she would come to me when she was upset. Before her father's death, her parents had traveled a great deal, and Isabelle often stayed with us while they were gone. The difference in our ages, which had seemed so great just a few years ago, was less noticeable now, but I still pictured her as a little girl, butting in when Ivy and I wanted to trade private observations regarding the gentlemen of our acquaintance. Nonetheless, I had no desire to shun her when she was so distressed; if anything, this was an opportunity to make up for all the times when I'd shooed her away. I sat her next to Cécile on the settee and gave her a glass of port, figuring that I might as well take the opportunity to convert her to my view that the beverage should not be reserved for gentlemen alone.
"What is troubling you?" I asked. She took a sip of her drink before answering.
"Oh! That's quite good!" she exclaimed. She paused for a moment, as if trying to gather her courage. "I'm being forced to marry Mr. Berry." The tears began to flow again. "Mother has agreed to all the details, and I've nothing to say in the matter. She won't even let me tell Tommy myself."
"Tommy?" I asked gently.
"Lord Pembroke." More sobs. "She has sent him a letter."
"Did you have an understanding with him?"
"Nothing official, of course. But I love him so dearly." As eldest son of the Earl of Westbrook, Pembroke stood to inherit one of the finest estates in the north of England as well as a respectable fortune. He was the sort of man mothers ordinarily longed for their daughters to catch.
"Je suis très désolée, chérie," Cécile said, putting her arm around Isabelle's heaving shoulders.
"Does your mother know that you're here?" I asked.
"No." She dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief. "You were always kind to me when I was little, though I know I was a terrible bother. I so admire you, Emily. I know we haven't seen each other much since your marriage and...well...since the viscount died. I'm sorry." She sobbed again. "I'm making a dreadful mess of this. Everyone says that you believe ladies shouldn't be forced to marry against their wishes. My friend Clara wasn't allowed to go to Mrs. Brandon's luncheon last week because you were to be there. Her parents were afraid you'd convince her to break her engagement."
I had no idea who Clara was, or why she would want to break her engagement, but I hated to think that someone had refused an invitation of Ivy's simply to avoid me. "I shall write your mother a brief note, telling her that you are with me. You may stay here tonight if you wish. But then — " I stopped, knowing that there was little more I could do for her. Davis sent one of the footmen to deliver the note and wait for a reply. Lady Elinor was relieved to learn where her daughter was, but her words revealed little sympathy for the girclass="underline"
I will send a carriage for her in the morning and expect to find that she is willing to accept the arrangements that I have made for her.
Margaret, who had arrived in the midst of all the excitement, was outraged. "I can't believe you would entertain the notion of supporting her mother in this," she said, pulling me to a quiet corner of the room.
"What can I do, Margaret?"
"Send for Pembroke."
"And then what?"
"They could go to Scotland."
"You can't be serious," I said. "I have no idea what Lord Pembroke's intentions are."
Although she had not heard us, Isabelle echoed Margaret's request. "Emily, I must see Tommy. Can you help me?"
Much as I hated to see her forced into a marriage, especially to Charles Berry, I did not want to be party to her ruin. How unfair of her mother not to let her tell Lord Pembroke herself, to say good-bye to him. I thought how incensed I would be if my own mother had done such a thing. Then I thought of Colin. If someone forced me away from him I would want — need — to see him one last time.