Contrary Cousins: A Regency Romance

By Judith Harkness

To thwart an earl was Lady Pendleton's dearest desire, so she had taken it into her head to invite her two delightful young American nieces to England. Her brother, the pompous Earl of Cumberford, positively loathed the American branch of the family, and when the Powell cousins took London society by storm, he would be livid with rage. Lady Pe

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sanford J. Greenburger Associates
• Release date: Oct 21, 2014
• ISBN: 9780786755141

Book preview

Chapter I

It is well known that a young man, when he is lovelorn or out of pocket, or when the world for some other reason strikes him as a general absurdity, or when he is merely bored, will make straightaway for the nearest Ministering Angel. In novels, these creatures are breathtakingly lovely, endowed with youth, warm hearts, and more often than not a certain disdain for virtue. They may or may not have hands as soft and small as kittens’ paws, may be fair or dark-complexioned, brunette or blond, witty or tender, they may be fashionable or not: but they are always young and beautiful.

The Honorable Frederick John Wilmington Howard, known to his friends at Boodles and in the stalls at Covent Garden as Freddy, was in the dankest of spirits. Being by no means an uncomely young man, and well versed in the ways of the world, one might have supposed that his way led, one singularly dreary afternoon in autumn, toward the abode of just such an angel. Moving at a snail’s crawl, as befits a young man spurned by his beloved and his banker both, eyeing the pavement as if he hated every cobblestone, but refusing to look elsewhere, his figure limped toward Mayfair. The very folds of his damask neckcloth drooped, the lines of his fawn-colored waistcoat, beneath the immaculately tailored coat and the several layers of his cape, were pulled out of place by the hunch of his shoulders. Only a ray of determination in his eye, and about the lines of his mouth, hinted at any purpose whatever in his solitary progress from St. James Street. Yet even the most casual peruser of fiction will guess at once that Freddy was bound in the direction of a Ministering Angel.

Such angels are known to reside throughout the city, for they are not, by the practice of their profession, limited to certain districts, though some may be preferred. Few, however, are known to live in Cadogan Place, an address much favored by mothers and uncles, but not by heavenly bodies. As addresses go, it is as stodgy as possible, being full of mansions, and these of the older sort. Save for one of these, put up for auction some years before the time of our story by an impoverished peer, none had changed hands in nearly a century. It was difficult, well nigh impossible, for Ministering Angels to find rooms here.

And yet into this stuffy cul de sac did Freddy turn, whether out of confusion or a desire to prolong his walk, it is hard to say. Pausing momentarily, as if too downcast to put one foot in front of the other, he watched a groom unharness a pair of very fine dapple grays from a phaeton and lead them away. Such was his general gloom that his eyes did not even light up at the sight of the neat little equipage, fitted down to every detail with the latest that science and fashion could provide. The groom disappeared, and an elderly gentleman, known to Freddy by sight, passed by and doffed his hat. Freddy nodded absently, touched his own, and continued down the street. At the last house but one he stopped, and, not at all in the manner of a man who has lost his senses, commenced deliberately to mount the steps. Arrived at the top, he raised the knocker and let it fall. His moment to flee had come and gone, for in a moment the door was opened by a liveried footman, who seemed to know him.

Mr. Howard, sir!

Hullo, James. Where’s Bentley?

Gone on an errand of mercy, sir. Lady Pendleton is in the small drawing room. Shall I announce you, sir?

Never mind. I shall just pop in for a mo’.

Sir, said the footman, as if for good measure, stepping back, and receiving the cape and hat of the young man.

Freddy trod gingerly across the rose-colored marble hallway, avoided gazing at the trumpet-blowing cupids painted thereon, and winced at the yellow silk Chinese wall hangings. His hand upon the door handle, he paused, as if to brace himself, and then, with a deep breath, turned the handle and walked in.

A most peculiar sight greeted his eyes. Before a high screen of Italian fern were placed a row of straight gilt chairs, wedged between the regular furnishings of the room, which were so many, and so varied, that the salon had taken on the appearance of a cluttered shop. In front of this row of chairs was a large heap of puce satin, out of which stretched what appeared to be two shortish legs, at unnatural angles, covered in clocked stockings, and ending in two small satin slippers. The slippers were jerking slightly, and from beneath the heap issued a soft moaning sound.

Freddy stared, struck by the singularity of the scene. For a moment he made no move toward it, and uttered no sound, only gaping in a rather stupid way.

Aunt Winifred? said he at last, dubiously.

Eh! Eh! said the heap.

Aunt Winifred! cried Freddy, suddenly rising out of his stupor. Good God, what’s happened? And rushing to the heap, he contrived, by various shakings and pullings, to rearrange it. After a little, something very like a head emerged from the puce satin and blinked at him. It was a very large head for such a small heap, made larger still by what had certainly once been an exceedingly complicated coiffure. But its distinctive feature was a set of periwinkle blue eyes, almost the exact replica of Freddy’s own, which were now glaring at him as if petrified. The tiny pink mouth formed itself into a small circle and said, Ulp.

What have you been doing, Auntie? demanded Freddy in a stern voice.

Bowin’ replied the heap, as if it were a truth too obvious to dwell upon.

Bowing! cried Freddy.

Must be too old to bow, conjectured the heap mournfully.

A small pink hand unraveled itself from the satin folds, and restored a ringlet to its proper place.

Don’t just crouch there, young man! suddenly exclaimed the heap, indignantly. Help me up!

Freddy gave a small start and obeyed. In a moment it was evident that the heap was in fact a small female creature of advanced years, wearing a puce satin gown and possessing two hands, two feet, and a largish head surmounted by a number of silver ringlets. Lady Pendleton heaved a sigh and glared at Freddy.

Now! she said, that’s better. Never practice bowin’, Freddy, after you are fifty. Oops! Mustn’t say so. Ooh la, la! Help me to that chair, Freddy, there’s a dear boy. Hahh! Much better. Now, what have you come about?

Not till you tell me who you were bowing for.

The Prince, replied Lady Pendleton quite solemnly.

Freddy seemed confused. He glanced about the room, but saw they were alone.

Come now, Auntie, you cannot mean—

Don’t patronize me, Freddy! I said the Prince, and I always mean what I say! No, don’t ogle me, boy! Irritatin’! Why does no one believe you when you pass fif—— Lady Pendleton stopped short, and pressed her lips together. Oh, what’s the bother! The Prince, Freddy. I’ve been invited to dine with the Prince. Don’t know why, but he seems to want me. Thursday next, which is a bore, as I shall have those young ladies here. Never mind. ’Tisn’t every day one is invited to dine at Carlton House, and I mean to go. Only I haven’t had reason to bow in some years, not since they locked up the poor old King. Don’t much like the Prince, but I shall go. Rude not to, of course.

Of course, agreed Freddy amiably, taking a seat near his aunt. "Even if it is a bore."

Not the done thing, muttered Lady Pendleton, sitting very straight and seeming to sniff at the air. Her sharp eyes fastened themselves upon her brother’s younger son.

What’s wrong, Freddy? You look all in a brown study. Black, rather. Odious color!

Freddy, who had brightened considerably since coming into the room, looked suddenly glum.

Nothing, Auntie, I swear.

Lady Pendleton sat studying him for a moment.

Mustn’t, you know.

Beg pardon?

Mustn’t swear. Never can predict the future. Fatal, my dear.

Oh, I see, said Freddy, who didn’t.

Perfectly. I never could have guessed, for instance, that I should meet your uncle, when I was your age. How old are you, bye the bye?

Eight-and-twenty.

Hmm, said Aunt Winifred, as if that were worse than she had supposed. Well, I was not so old as you, of course. Nineteen. Still, you are a man.

I hope so! said Freddy.

Yes, continued Lady Pendleton, ignoring him. When I was twenty-eight I had been married for nine years. When are you going to marry?

Freddy opened his mouth to protest this summary leap, but was cut off. His aunt heaved a sigh of fatigue, and muttered.

Borin’!

Eh? said Freddy, whose wits were slightly impaired by misery, and the painful after-effects of the previous evening, during which he had steadfastly endeavored to drown out his existence in wine.

All these matches. Seem to crop up out of the very carpet. Elizabeth Waverly was in this mornin’, boasting about her dear Lucinda, or Lydia, or whatever. Plain child, poor thing. Don’t wonder Elizabeth was cocked so high. Still, borin’, listenin’ to all these old ducks quackin’ about their offspring. Well nigh impossible to go out anymore, there’s no other topic of conversation. Still, Freddy, don’t.

Don’t what, Auntie? demanded Freddy, growing slightly irritable. His head was pounding fearfully.

Marry an old duck, and have plain babies. That reminds me, said Lady Pendleton, rising out of her chair with surprisingly little difficulty and smoothing down the puce satin beneath her ample bosom, fetch me my writin’ case, Freddy dear.

Wondering why he had supposed he might seek solace in the company of his Aunt Winifred, Freddy limped off to fetch the required implements from her ladyship’s study. Still, he thought, grimacing at a particularly vile example of her ladyship’s taste in Oriental art, it’s quite impossible to bemoan one’s fate overlong in her company. Not a moment to spare between sentences—or whatever they are.

He returned to find his aunt gazing out of the window absently, and drumming her tiny pink fingers, well encrusted with jewels, against her round little chin.

Who shall I have, Freddy? demanded the Marchioness, without turning round.

Freddy sighed, laying down the writing case. Have to what, Auntie?

Why to my card party, of course. For my American ladies.

What American ladies, Auntie, if I may be so bold? Have you adopted some?

His aunt turned upon him a look of withering contempt. "How can you be so forgettin’? Why, my Misses Powell, of course."

Freddy returned her look with dumb amazement. By Jupiter, Auntie, you haven’t!

Lady Pendleton looked defiant. Well, what if I have! There was a moment of silence while young Frederick, dumbfounded, dropped into a chair. Then he put back his head and howled with mirth: a very poor idea, as he discovered almost instantly, clutching his temples. When he was recovered, he gaped at his aunt and gurgled,

"Really, Auntie, there’s nothing to top you! Rushing off to Philadelphia in defiance of the whole family, and now—and now—!"

The balance of Freddy’s amazement was lost in a fresh burst of guffaws. He slapped his thigh once or twice, and gave in to the full enjoyment of the idea. Lady Pendleton, meanwhile, regarded him with a combination of defiance and disapproval.

Nothin’ amusin’ about it, Frederick! Who else should have gone? Not your papa, of course, nor St. John. Your uncle might have gone, had he been alive, poor dear. None of the family, in fact, save me! Now hush, you’re hurtin’ my ears.

The pain in his aunt’s ears was nothing, Freddy was positive, to that in his own temples, and yet he found it impossible to cease the hearty expression of his mirth for a moment or two longer. At last, gasping deeply, he pressed a hand against his chest, and drew a deep breath.

Huuhhh, huh! gasped he. Huuhh! And then his blue eyes grew suddenly very round, and he stared.

But how are you to bring it off, Auntie? Surely you cannot mean to hide them?

Hide ’em! snorted his aunt, tapping her diminutive foot. No such thing! I mean to parade ’em about as much as possible. And why not?

We-ell, murmured Freddy dubiously, then how are you to keep Papa from knowing? He’s at Widcomb at present, but it cannot last forever. He’s bound to come to town as soon as the hunting is over, and even if he don’t, the gossip might reach him—

"And what if it does? Your papa may rule your conduct, Freddy, but he don’t rule mine. Only let him try! Tush!"

Not for the first time in his life, Freddy was struck by his aunt’s pluck. His mind’s eye made a quick review of the last occasion upon which he had been unlucky enough to witness his father’s ire. The Earl was many things, but even-tempered was not one of them.

Besides, his aunt continued, I don’t mean to keep ’em here at all. I shall take them up to Edgeworth as soon as they have had a good look round. Not much doin’ at this time of year, in any case. Too wet and cold.

Edgeworth! cried Freddy, but you can’t mean that! It is not twenty miles from Widcomb!

Exactly, Freddy. His aunt was wearing that defiant look again, and swaying slightly on her feet.

But—but what if he should see ’em? What shall you say?

"Exactly what I shall say to everyone else. That they are my relations, as well as his, and if he do choose to snub ’em, I do not!"

As if exhausted by her own defiance, Lady Pendleton collapsed into one of the row of gilt chairs.

Well, said Freddy, after a moment. I shall back you as much as possible. Only father mustn’t hear—I’m in rather a queer position with him at the mo’, and he might take it into his head to cut me off altogether. But you are a duck, Auntie, and I shall stick by you as much as I can.

Well, said Lady Pendleton, in rather a dampening way, after the pluck with which this last was uttered, "I don’t see what good you’ll be. Still, you are a man, and one can always use a man."

Good of you to say so, Auntie.

If I had known you intended droppin’ by, I should have sent you to fetch ’em, instead of Bentley. Rather a stern creature, Bentley, til you get accustomed. I hope he don’t frighten ’em off!

Oh, well, said Freddy, settling back and commencing to enjoy himself for the first time in several days, if they are Americans, no doubt they shall be perfectly fearless. One is always hearing about their disregard for danger.

Hmm, responded Aunt Winifred a bit dubiously, one of ’em is. Quite fearless.

This last was said with a certain emphasis, which caused Freddy to look at her sharply.

What do you mean, Auntie? She don’t go about with a musket, I hope? I have heard they are fond of going about with muskets—to keep the natives off, I suppose. And quite right, too, in their own country. Still, I can’t help shuddering to think of how it might go down at Almack’s!

Lady Pendleton, deep in her own thoughts, disregarded this little speech. Suddenly she looked sharply at her nephew and gave him a bright smile. The effect of this was to set Freddy instantly upon his guard.

Stay to tea, dear?

Freddy hesitated. What was coursing through that most astonishing of minds now?

A certain curiosity had gripped him, however, and he nodded. Thank you, I should be grateful for a cup. Shall the Americans be here?

Any moment now, replied her ladyship. Dependin’ on the weather, of course.

And with this questionable prediction, Lady Pendleton took up her writing case, and commenced inscribing several cards of invitation.

Chapter II

An elegant and worldly-looking gentleman, who had lost a little of his elegance, and all of his good humor since the commencement of the voyage, squinted shoreward, and muttered aloud, I cannot imagine a more awful fate than to find oneself anchored beneath London Bridge.

"It is pretty awful, isn’t it?"

The rather eager, distinctly female voice made him start. Lord Blandford had not expected a reply. Indeed, he had hardly been aware of any presence beside him save for that anonymous, swirling, by turns overly chatty and biliously silent entity which generally composes the whole of one’s fellow passengers on any ocean voyage. On the whole, his lordship disliked strangers, and never partook in conversation with them. He was immune to that general exception, made by the rest of mankind, with regard to the cohabitants of the same coach or vessel: one or two lapses made in moments of extreme vexation or boredom had taught him that such interchanges inevitably proved more tiresome than rewarding. One was left, besides, with the unhappy fate of having to recognize the fellow conversant forever afterward as an acquaintance. However amusing they might prove at the moment, once arrived upon terra firma they became suddenly boorish and vulgar. Lord Blandford, therefore, took the precaution of shifting his handsomely caped figure minutely away from the sound before turning a cold eye upon its source.

I beg your pardon?

The owner of the voice, if possible, wore an expression twice as eager as her accents would have led him to expect. Lord Blandford, without much pity, soon saw why.

The speaker was an exceedingly tall, spinsterly appearing female, with a thin face not much improved by a pair of liquid hazel eyes which seemed to fairly wail a pardon for the rest of her. A homely dull brown bonnet was pulled well down over her brow and ears, obliterating her coiffure: a gown of the same unattractive shade was visible beneath the fringe of her dark shawl. A more unprepossessing figure Lord Blandford had seldom clapped eyes upon. Whatever of plain human sympathy might have crossed his mind, upon seeing so obvious a castaway from that glittering, fashionable world of which he, so obviously, was a desirable part, thus hopefully regarding him, was instantly douched by a sense of ill-usage at being drawn into conversation. Anybody in their senses would have seen he wished to be alone. Anybody, that is, with a modicum of civility.

This young woman, however, though looking slightly taken aback at his brusque manner, repeated her remark in a surprisingly melodious voice.

I said, it is pretty awful. I did not expect it would be. It all seems so—well, so desultory, somehow! Not at all what I supposed.

Ah! exclaimed the Marquis, as if a particularly annoying insect had just expressed its intention of buzzing about his head. How so?

He instantly regretted the question. Americans—for the lady’s voice had given her away as a citizen of that nation—were said to be uncommonly forward. He had once heard a tale from a friend who had gone to visit some relations in Boston, and returned with half his cousins in tow. They had stayed out the year, testing his hospitality to the nth degree, and only with a struggle were they at last persuaded to depart. Once they got hold of you, his friend had assured him, they had the tenacity of slipweed.

The lady, however, did not reply at once, but peered about her, as if scrutinizing the dirty embankment, the grim-looking customs house, the crowd of rowdy on-lookers on shore, for a hint to her own meaning. A sudden gust from the opposite end of the Bridge brought with it a stench even more noxious than which already clung about them. Lord Blandford’s nostrils commenced to twitch, and one shining Hessian performed an irritable tapping upon the deck.

How, he repeated, in tones which he hoped conveyed not only his impatience for a response, but his eagerness that it would be brief, did you suppose it would be?

The young woman looked startled, as if she had forgotten he was there, which did little to soothe the Marquis’s nerves.

Oh! I am not sure! Much grander, I suppose!

She turned her limpid eyes upon him once more, and in response, Lord Blandford bestowed upon her his most frigid stare.

I think you will find, madame, that London is hardly to be judged from this view of it. Now, if you will excuse me, I must attend to my luggage.

Saying which, Lord Blandford (who had really nothing to attend, having in his employ a most competent valet, who had long since seen to the disposal of his trunks) made a curt bow, and turned upon his heel. He proceeded to circle the deck several times, carefully avoiding the spot where the American lady still stood blinking about her.

There you are, dear! sounded a ringing voice behind her several moments later. I’ve been searching high and low! Feeling steadier, I hope? Ah! I thought so. Nothing like a breath of air to set one to rights!

The newcomer, an exceedingly pretty young woman, with a vivacious air and a laughing eye, suddenly wrinkled up her very charming nose.

Not, said she with distaste, but what this is my idea of fresh air! Dear me, is this London? How perfectly horrid!

The latecomer slipped her arm cozily through that of her friend, and stared about her with interest.

So very dirty! she murmured. I hope it does not all smell so foul. Is that London Bridge? she demanded, craning back her neck to get a view of the immense old structure spanning the Thames. A little shiver passed down her spine beneath the merino cape, prettily edged with fox. What horrors must have gone on here! exclaimed she after a moment.

The tall lady, who looked even taller and more awkward beside this graceful, merry creature, craned back as well. Don’t think of it, Tony! How perfectly frightful!

Perfectly! agreed Tony, not seeming very horrified. A second shiver, more delicious even than the first, coursed through her. Reaching up a slender hand encased in gray French kid, she pulled the fur closer about her throat.

Don’t think of it, dear, said she, patting her companion’s arm. Look at all the fog! I suppose we shall have it the whole time. Aunt Winnie said we should expect it. Still, I don’t mind much. It rather adds an eerie effect to everything, don’t you think?

The tall lady looked uncertain, but smiled nonetheless.

Ah! exclaimed the pretty one after a little, there goes the gangplank! I do so hope they shall let us ashore now. D’you suppose there will be anyone to meet us?

Oh, dear! I hope so! I should hate to have to struggle through all this by ourselves. The tall lady glanced, suddenly fearful, at the commotion on shore. The possibility had not crossed her mind before that they should not be met.

Never mind, Rena—I am sure there will be. But if not, we shall do very well by ourselves. I’m sure there are carriages for hire about here, and I have got the direction written down. Now, where did I put it? The bright head bent, a furrow upon her brow, to investigate the contents of her reticule. After a moment she drew forth a rather scrappy bit of paper, upon which were inscribed the words:

Lady Winifred Pendleton

43, Cadogan Place.

You see! I knew I should not forget that name. Cadogan Place—how lovely it sounds! And, if I should mislay this paper, there is bound to be someone who shall recognize the name. Even in London, Aunt Winnie must be something of an oddity.

At that moment, a tall, elderly gentleman, who had been conversing with the First Officer, made his way toward them through the crowd on deck. He had an erect, angular carriage, his narrow head was rimmed with a graying thatch, and he possessed the dignity of a peer of the realm. His sharp eyes fastened themselves upon the younger, prettier female after a moment’s hesitation.

Miss Powell, I believe? he inquired.

We are both of us Miss Powell, sir, replied Tony.

The gentleman looked taken aback, and she explained, I am Miss Antonia Powell, and this is my cousin, Miss Serena Powell. I hope you have come from Lady Pendleton?

The gentleman bowed anew.

I am Bentley, butler to her ladyship, miss. She requested me to meet your ship, and to do whatever was in my power to ease your way a little through the customs officials. They can be most uncompromising, I am afraid. Rather tiresome, in fact, particularly coming from the Continent. Most irritating, to be sure, but then there are so many who seem to make it their business to smuggle in French silks and satins— The butler stopped abruptly, and gazed back and forth between the ladies in vexation. I hope you have not—that is to say—

Antonia smiled and put him out of his misery.

"Hardly a scrap, I am afraid. Papa would forbid me, and my cousin could not be coaxed!"