Nicola Cornick - The Chaperon Bride

‘Look at that strange gentleman there, Luce—’ Miss Crossley was pointing with her fan into the pit. ‘Why, he is as scruffy as a scarecrow and I do believe the candle wax has dripped on his bald head! How absurd he looks!’ She stifled a giggle.

‘Quite absurd,’ Lucy echoed dutifully.

‘That is the Marquis of Midlothian,’ Annis said. ‘He is a most highly respected gentleman.’

During the first two weeks of the Miss Crossleys’ visit, when Annis had been getting their measure, she had corrected Fanny’s bad manners and barbed remarks. Now, in the third week, she had realised that there was little point in trying to improve the elder Miss Crossley. Fanny was vulgar through and through, and, unlike her sister, was disinclined to accept guidance. Indeed, any attempt to improve Fanny’s behaviour often had the reverse effect, for she was like a wilful small child. As a result, Annis often held her tongue and concentrated instead on the large sum of money that Sir Robert Crossley was paying her to chaperon his tiresome niece. She simply hoped that she would not be tempted to strangle the goose that laid the golden eggs before the egg actually materialised.

‘A marquis!’ Fanny looked put out, then brightened. ‘Oh, but as it is an Irish title one cannot be surprised that he looks all to pieces. I hear the Irish aristocracy are a ramshackle bunch.’

‘They may well be,’ Annis said, ‘but Midlothian is a Scottish title.’

Fanny turned her shoulder to Annis and leaned towards Lucy again. ‘Look at the shocking quiz in that purple feathered turban,’ she said, in a stage whisper. ‘I do declare she is the greatest frump in creation!’

Since Annis herself was wearing dowager purple and a turban that night, it was easy to see at whom Fanny’s shaft was aimed. Lucy flushed an embarrassed pink, cast Annis an agonised look and muttered something unintelligible. Annis smiled at her reassuringly. It took more than a few malicious words from a slip of a girl to discompose her. Lucy was more upset than she was.

Annis turned her attention to the crowds milling in the pit and aisles. Everybody who was anybody took a box, of course, but during the intervals they all went for a stroll and greeted their acquaintances. Some even went out onto the green in front of the theatre to get a breath of fresh air, for on a hot summer night the temperature inside could become stifling. The general scene in the auditorium was one of immense, cheerful disarray now. Gentlemen were leaning over the green rails of the gallery and accosting their friends below. Ladies preened and fluttered their fans. Annis, watching, felt a warm pleasure to be back home.

‘I see that the Ashwicks have taken a box tonight,’ Sibella said, leaning forward to speak in Annis’s ear. ‘It has been so awkward this year past, Annis, for although Lord Ashwick had mostly been in London, the rest of the family have stayed at Eynhallow and frequently come to Harrogate. I have scarcely known what to say to them, for it is such a small town one cannot avoid one’s acquaintance. Yet everyone knows of the difficulties between the Ashwicks and Mr Ingram, and I have felt so uncomfortable because of Charles’s involvement…’ Her voice trailed away and she looked unhappily at Charles, who was chatting in an undertone to David at the back of the box.

Annis patted her hand comfortingly. Sibella, like Lucy Crossley, wished everyone to be happy, but sometimes it was simply not possible.

‘Charles has a job to do—’

‘I know.’ Sibella gripped her hand. ‘I know he does not have the funds to do anything but work for a living. Neither of us inherited anything from our father. Yet I do not like Charles’s job, Annis. Particularly when it obliges me to be polite to Samuel Ingram and his wife! Speaking of which, I do believe that they are coming this way…’

Annis followed her gaze. It was many years since she had met Samuel Ingram, but he looked very much the same. He was a tall man, stout and with the prosperous air of consequence of the self-made merchant. His waistcoat was just a little too ornate with its gold embroidery and a large signet ring shone on his right hand. Beside him, Venetia Ingram glowed like a rare jewel. Annis watched as Ingram solicitously escorted his wife through the crowd, a hand in the small of her back. He shone with pride, like a preening turkey cock. There were those who said that Ingram’s only weakness was his young wife. When it came to the fair sex, Annis knew that there was no fool like an old fool, for she had taken advantage of that fact herself, when finding suitors for some of her charges.

‘Who is that lady over there, with the old man?’ Fanny Crossley said, and in her voice Annis heard all the cruelty and envy of youth. ‘She is so very beautiful…’

‘That is Mrs Ingram,’ Sibella said. She caught Annis’s eye and grimaced. ‘Mr Ingram is not so very old, Miss Crossley—’

‘I expect that he must be rich, to be married to such an incomparable,’ Lucy Crossley said wisely, and Annis sighed. She could not rebuke Lucy for so accurate an observation. Money marrying beauty was, after all, the way of the world in much the same way as money married a title.

‘Come along now, girls,’ Sibella said, with surprising firmness. ‘It will do you good to have a little exercise. Did you not know that if you sit still all the time you will become fat and then what will the gentlemen think of you? We shall go down into the foyer for a few minutes. David, if you would be so good as to give me your arm, you may take Miss Lucy on your other side. Charles, I know you would be delighted to escort Miss Crossley.’

Annis threw her a grateful look. Sibella was indolent to a fault, but she was kind-hearted and she was also sensitive. Sibella knew that Annis found the Crossley girls very tiresome at times, but she had put herself out to take the girls out shopping and introduce them to other young ladies and chaperons who might share the burden a little. Annis had been extremely touched by her cousin’s kindness for she knew that given a choice, neither Charles nor Sibella would have come near the Crossleys girls with a barge pole. Unfortunately, she herself could not be so choosy. Her livelihood depended on chaperoning the nieces, wards and daughters of cits and minor gentry and she counted herself fortunate that most of them, unlike Fanny Crossley, were pleasant company.

‘Luce, it is Lieutenant Greaves and Lieutenant Norwood!’ Fanny, having espied some red-coated gentlemen in the gallery, turned to grab her sister’s hand. ‘You remember—we met them yesterday at the Promenade Rooms!’ She frowned slightly. ‘I do hope they have not taken seats in the upper gallery. They only cost a shilling each!’

‘Lieutenant Norwood!’ Lucy’s face was suddenly poppy red. ‘Oh, let us go down. Quickly! We shall miss them else!’

The two girls scampered out of the box like a couple of puppies and Sibella subsided into her seat again. ‘You shall never teach those girls how to go on, Annis,’ she said, watching as the Crossley sisters rushed out into the pit and waved energetically at the gentlemen in the gallery. ‘Miss Lucy has possibilities, but is led astray by that hoyden of a sister, and as for Miss Fanny, the best thing you can do is to promote the Doble match as quickly as possible and get rid of her. How does it progress?’

‘Quite well, I think,’ Annis said. She had been disappointed that Sir Everard Doble had not been able to join them at the theatre that night, for his courtship of Fanny was advancing, based on the need for a fortune on his part and the desire for a title on Fanny’s.

‘The problem with Fanny is that I fear she may go off at a tangent at any moment and ruin the whole plan. If she sees someone she likes better…’ Annis looked over at the officers, who were strolling down from the gallery to greet the girls. ‘Lieutenant Greaves looks very dashing in his regimentals, I know, but he has not two pennies to rub together and is a sadly unsteady character into the bargain. It is a shame that he is such a great friend to Barnaby Norwood, for I wish to encourage the one and discourage the other! Lieutenant Norwood has taken quite a fancy to Lucy, I think.’ She started to her feet. ‘You know, Sib, I had better go down and keep an eye on things. I do not trust Fanny at all.’