Three
„Her name is Lady Grace Anderson, Major.“ Nancy came into the study with Billy asleep on her shoulder.
How was a man to find out a lady’s name and situation when the usual options were no longer his? His club memberships were long gone, his contacts among society nonexistent. Lindsay thought asking Nancy’s help had been rather clever, like the old days on the Peninsula when he would have Jesseck check the status of grain for the horses. Jesseck spent most of his time in the kitchen these days, but Nancy was out daily with the children.
„She is a widow and this is her third Season since her husband died. The house was part of her settlement, but she rented it out all during her marriage.“
„And she was married to…?“
„Viscount Anderson, heir to the Earl Draycott. He was fifteen years older than she and died from a heart ailment.“
„No children.“
„No children, sir, but, this Season her aunt and the aunt’s son are staying with her.“
For propriety or company? Or was the cousin courting?
The conversation played back in his head as he approached the three front steps. The house was narrow, only about twenty-five feet wide, but it rose four stories, and that didn’t count the basement. Comfortable but unremarkable, except for the blue door.
The butler greeted him with genuine warmth, took his shako and told him that the gathering was meant to be informal and to please join the guests unannounced. Lindsay found the large salon filled with over thirty people and no sign of Lady Anderson.
Several people smiled and nodded. A moment later an old gentleman approached, introduced himself, thanked him for his service and then began a monologue on his hopes for England at peace.
And so it went. His uniform was the only invitation people needed to make an introduction or start a conversation. And the Waterloo medal drew the curious. It named him hero and victor. No one ever asked how it felt to wear a medal that represented suffering as well as victory.
One or two of the guests asked meaningful questions: How long before the troops of occupation would be withdrawn from France? Would Napoleon stay put this time? He had no sure answers, but it made for a break from the misplaced hero worship.
For the most part he enjoyed it. He enjoyed it tremendously. It had been years since society had found favor with him.
Through the whole he never spoke to his hostess. He would look up and find her watching him with a pleased smile, the one that lit her eyes. Lindsay returned the attention with a slight bow, but every time he made to move toward her there was another man or woman anxious to speak with him. He might not have been able to speak to her, but he would occasionally hear her laughter, the very sound making this party memorable.
When the clock struck ten, the guests began to drift away. Even as he made to join them and finally speak to his hostess, a footman came to him and asked if he would wait in the library.
The footman showed him to a room at the front of the house. As he heard the sounds of farewell, he took stock of his surroundings.
Lady Grace Anderson’s house was all that was fashionable. And proper. With the occasional touch that kept it from being dull. He examined the fireplace, admiring the fairies that were carved into the molding that held the mantel, the same fairies that decorated the fire screen, though these were painted gold and green.
„Good evening, Major.“
Lindsay turned to see a woman of a certain age, not his hostess.
„Good evening, madam. David Lindsay at your service.“
„Yes, my son knows you. Captain George Cardovan. Do you remember him?“
Cardovan, yes. A fine officer, badly wounded in an accident when the ship landed at Ostend.
„Of course I do. A pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Cardovan. Is your son with you?“
„He is. I have finally convinced him to come to town, though he is embarrassed that he cannot dance.“
And, Lindsay was sure, embarrassed that he had missed Waterloo. No matter that his quick thinking had saved lives in Ostend. To be wounded weeks before the final campaign was worse than death in Belgium. „I do understand. May I call on him?“
„He would welcome it, I am sure, Major. In fact, my niece would like to invite you to join us for dinner. George will be there too.“
„Why, thank you, Mrs. Cardovan.“
„Good. Grace is rather given to impulse. I am glad that you are not repelled by it.“
„A soldier learns to handle the unexpected.“
„A useful trait in this household, I assure you.“
Lindsay thought of the bright blue door, the fairies around the mantel, and wondered if they would be having cakes and cream for the first course at dinner.
Mrs. Cardovan walked away from him and stood with her back to the fire screen. „Have you known my niece long?“
Was she assessing his threat to her son’s courtship or being protective of her niece? „I’ve known her long enough to appreciate her laughter and effervescent charm, ma’am.“
She reached out and rapped his wrist with her fan. „Then not very long at all.“
What did she mean by that?
„Grace is a different woman since the viscount died and has earned every bit of pleasure life offers.“
„You have earned some fun as well, Major. Anyone at Waterloo deserves as much.“
It was not Mrs. Cardovan who spoke, and he turned to find Grace Anderson standing in the doorway. Before he could think of a way to answer she went on, „Good evening, Major. I am so sorry that I did not have a chance to speak with you during the party. I had hoped to have time to speak to everyone, but I fear my guest list was too ambitious. Will you stay for dinner?“
„Yes, thank you, my lady,“ he said, giving her a slight bow.
„Wonderful.“ She offered him her arm. „Petkin tells me the soup is ready to be served.“
Mrs. Cardovan hurried to the door. „I will go tell George.“ Even as she spoke, the older woman nodded to him and left the room.
„Aunt Louise means well, but I wish she was not so inclined to believe in fairy tales. She has me cast as some butterfly just burst from a cocoon and still trying my wings.“ She did not wait for a response but continued, „Tell me, have you ever had a soup made from apricots?“
Four
Dinner was… well, an adventure. Not the least of which was the apricot soup. Captain Cardovan’s welcome was embarrassingly enthusiastic and the two spent the first half of the meal talking of friends. By the time the more conventional fish course was served, Lindsay was feeling guilty for talking of nothing but the military.
From then on the four of them covered a dozen subjects, largely centered on the Season. Plays and balls were on everyone’s list, as well as excitement at the opening of the Waterloo Bridge sometime in June. „It will make for a break from the usual, will it not?“ Lady Anderson said.
If by „the usual“ she meant the constant parade of young girls making their bows and the speculation over what matches would be made, then she was right. He might not be part of that world any longer, but he could remember it well.
By the end of the meal it was clear to him that George Cardovan was no suitor, but was loved like a brother. Mrs.
Cardovan excused herself and, after a pointed look from his mother, George joined her.
„I wish someone could convince my aunt that George must be allowed to live his own life.“ Lady Anderson looked at him and shook her head. „He can hardly be expected to enjoy the Season if she is constantly worrying over him.“
He made some sort of neutral response, not at all inclined to take sides in a family squabble. She did not seem to expect an answer, but invited him back into the library, where a decanter of port awaited them.
She poured a small glass for each of them. This was another nod to the unconventional. No tea in the small salon for this hostess. No aunt to play chaperone.