The Bluestocking's Dilemma Read online

  “But how glorious to descend into a completely unknown place. It would truly be an adventure.” Caro clasped her hands around her knees, fixing her eyes above on the balloon and its occupants.

  Sitting there, enraptured, in much the same pose in which he had first come upon her, she reminded Nicholas of nothing so much as the enchanting eleven-year-old who had won his heart with her curious mixture of innocence, enthusiasm, and world-weary cynicism. All of a sudden, he found himself wishing that he could gratify her every little wish. Assuring himself that everyone in the party was completely absorbed with the spectacle at hand, he slid carefully down from the carriage and strolled over to the area where one of the balloonists was keeping the most curious of the onlookers at bay.

  “I say, my good man, is it possible for you to take a passenger up with you?”

  The man looked skeptical. “I—I couldn’t say, my Lord, that is, the risk involved and it’s still being in the nature of a scientific experiment. Besides, it’s not very comfortable and all.”

  Nicholas, recognizing the fellow’s distrust of the Quality, smiled in a friendly fashion. “I quite understand your reluctance, especially as the passenger I propose is a lady. No,” he held up a conciliatory hand, “this is a lady accustomed to a life of adventure, who scorns discomfort and courts risk for the sake of acquiring knowledge. In fact, she has not the least idea that I came over here to burden you with such a preposterous request. But, see for yourself how she concentrates on your every move with the alert eye of a truly scientific observer. She has admitted to me that her understanding of the physical principles behind ballooning is sketchy at best and she is eager to discover more.”

  Scrutinizing the balloonist carefully as he glanced over to where Caro sat mesmerized, Nicholas could see him beginning to weaken and seizing upon this he continued, “But there, I shall let the lady speak for herself and you will see what I mean.” He beckoned to Caro who, tearing her eyes away from the preparatory activity aloft, caught his gesture and nodded, smiling.

  “Oh, sir, a young lady, I don’t think . . .” the man began, only to be interrupted.

  “Oh, come off it, man. Does she look like one of those females whose attics are to let?” the marquess asked, as she raised one interrogative eyebrow at him. He beckoned again and she leaped lightly down to make her way purposefully toward them.

  The balloonist’s expression of dismay was dispelled somewhat as he saw the poise and aplomb with which she made her way through the crowd. She certainly did look like a young lady who knew what she was doing. He watched her as she sized up the ropes securing the basket and the apparatus on the ground—an observant young person, to be sure, but he was not entirely certain he wanted to take her up in the basket. Females could be unpredictable and were inclined to scream at the oddest moments. Why only yesterday his Effie, who had born him seven children without seeming to pause from her heavy household chores for a moment, nursed them all through fevers and broken limbs, and was death on spiders and other unpleasant crawly things, had shrieked and nearly fainted at the sight of a curious mouse who had invited itself into the kitchen. However, this lady, smiling in an amicable fashion all the while she was summing him up with clear gray eyes, did not seem like the sort to be unnerved by much of anything. But, well, you never knew about people. Her friend seemed to be an all right sort of fellow, top of the trees with those horses, and accustomed to command, the balloonist felt sure, but there was something else about him that made him different from most of the Quality. Perhaps it was his calm assurance, a directness in his gaze that made you know he recognized you as a person in your own right. For some obscure reason, the balloonist felt he could trust him.

  “Here is the lady to whom I was referring,” the marquess held out his hand to help Caro over some coiled ropes. “Caro, this is Mr.—Mr. ... I do apologize. I completely forgot to introduce myself. I’m Nicholas Daventry.”

  And if he’s plain old Mr. Daventry, I’ll eat my hat, the balloonist thought to himself, though he liked Nicholas the better for it. “It’s Timmins, sir, Richard Timmins.”

  “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Timmins. Let me introduce you to Lady Caroline Waverly who, if I’m not much mistaken, is well on her way to becoming a ballooning enthusiast.” Nicholas smiled quizzically at Caro.

  “Oh, yes. It looks perfectly thrilling. It must be blissful to be up there among the birds looking down on everything below.” Caro smiled so shyly at Mr. Timmins that he instantly became her devoted slave.

  “I have been trying to persuade Mr. Timmins to allow you up in the basket so you can take a peek at those very sights. I have assured him that you haven’t a single disastrous female trait, not being a clinger, squeaker, or a fainter.”

  If Mr. Timmins harbored any reservations over the marquess’s proposal, they disappeared the instant he saw Caro’s face light up with anticipation.

  “Oh, how very kind of you, but I should not wish to discommode the balloonists in any way.’’ She smiled gratefully at Nicholas, trying not to appear too eager lest she make Mr. Timmins feel obliged to acquiesce.

  He, however, having decided from the lady’s reaction that she was as much a right one as her companion, was already hailing his fellow balloonists and requesting them to descend.

  Inclined at first to be as skeptical as their confrere, they too were soon won over by the genuine curiosity and interest of Nicholas and Caro. This initial impression only improved as the couple, mindful of staying out of their way, did not impede their procedures in the least, merely climbing into the basket quietly and unobtrusively and watching carefully as they prepared to ascend again.

  Caro held her breath as they floated gently skyward and watched in delight as the world expanded below her feet and the press of spectators became a multicolored patch on a swath of green surrounded by houses interspersed with church spires. So this is how birds must feel, she thought to herself as she, ever mindful of causing concern to the balloon’s other occupants, peered carefully over the side.

  Nicholas leaned back, his eyes fixed more on Caro than on the scene below. What an intrepid little soul she was, so immersed in the whole experience that she never stopped to consider the thousand little objections that any other woman would have raised if she even had the temerity to become involved in such an escapade in the first place—what would people think, would her coiffure or her costume become disarranged, what of the danger? Why, the marquess hardly knew any men who would have relished the challenge as much as Caro did and he took great pleasure in her palpable enjoyment.

  Nicholas had not experienced such a sense of shared adventure since he had left the army and it was not until now that he realized how much he had missed this or how very lonely he had felt amongst the rest of the fashionable world. While it was true that he was welcomed as never before by the ton, even hailed as one of its leaders, he had never felt much kinship with any of them—not even those members of it that he had known for years.

  In his youth he had chosen the army because he genuinely wished to help his country and because the prospect of spending his time drifting from Brooks’s to Manton’s to Tattersalls and back again, engaging in inane conversations with all of those who were doing precisely the same thing, bored him beyond all bearing. In the army at least, he had had the opportunity to test his skills and intelligence and he had discovered that he enjoyed a life where the success he gained and the respect he commanded were earned by his own personal skill and daring.

  Though he had been closer to his brother officers who shared his preference for an active and adventurous life than he had been to those bent on the empty life of amusement in the ton, Nicholas had found them to be almost totally uninterested in the larger issues behind the battles they were fighting. Unlike them, he had always been intensely curious about the social and economic forces being brought into play as well as the political ones and he had found no one, with the possible exception of a serious gray-eyed eleven-year-old perch
ed on the stairs at Mandeville Hall, who had wondered the same things and asked the same questions he did. Upon his return to London, the new Marquess of Everleigh had sought out men of affairs for intellectual stimulation, but he had found them sadly timid and unadventurous as far as the rest of their lives, were concerned and it had begun to appear that he would never find anyone that combined the same thirst for both physical and intellectual challenges that he had.

  Now, observing Caro as she hung over the edge of the basket looking back from time to time to ask a question-how long could they stay aloft, how high could they go, how far could they travel, and how much control did they have over their direction—Nicholas realized that, at last, he had found just such a person. He was completely taken aback by such a discovery. It had never occurred to him, whenever he had wished for a true companion who would look for the same things in life as he did that such a person might be a woman, and it required a certain amount of consideration to adjust to the idea.

  Such an adjustment was not accomplished without a deal of reflection and the marquess, his mind totally occupied with this novel concept, was strangely silent as they descended. He merely nodded as Caro thanked the balloonists profusely for their generosity. Nor did he respond to the general hubbub of interest when they returned to the carriage.

  “Cousin Caro, Cousin Caro,” Ceddie, unable to contain himself, burst out, “did you have the most bang-up time? Could you see very, very far? Did everything look very, very small? Oh, I wish I could have gone.”

  Caro smiled at his enthusiasm. “Whoa, Ceddie. One question at a time. Yes, it was wonderful and I should like very much to have taken you along, but as it was, they were exceedingly reluctant to allow a woman, a grown-up woman to be sure, but still a woman on their craft. It was only because a very important personage spoke on my behalf that I was given such a rare concession. But perhaps I behaved well enough that they will consider taking passengers in the future. I should dearly love to fly somewhere.”

  “So should I,” Ceddie chimed in. Then, lowering his voice confidentially, which, for Cedric, meant merely confining it to the hearing of all of those in the barouche, “Is Lord Daventry a ‘very important personage’?”

  “Very,” Caro responded firmly, her eyes twinkling up at Nicholas who, upon hearing his name, had turned around. “He has a great deal of influence and can advance all sorts of one’s pet projects. One must be very careful to behave around him so as to give him a favorable impression. I certainly try to do so,” she concluded piously.

  “Humbug!” Nicholas grinned. “I should venture to say that the majority of times I have encountered you, you have been in a compromising situation or on the brink of one.”

  “What a bouncer!” Caro gasped. “And quite untrue! Why I behaved perfectly unexceptionably at the opera and the theater.”

  “Both rare occurrences.” The marquess nodded in mock solemnity, and added, “At which I felt privileged to be an observer.”

  “Dreadful creature. You talk as though I were always in a scrape.”

  “Well, aren’t you?”

  “Not in the least. Why, most of the time I lead a perfectly blameless existence.” Seeing the amusement in his eyes, she faltered. “Well, it is a blameless existence, just not a conventional one,” she defended herself.

  “Precisely. And most of the ton would consider that to be one long scrape. I know, for I have led a similar one.”

  “Well, at least I am not asking anyone to rescue me from it,” she rejoined hotly.

  He laughed. “No, I should say you are resisting some very concerted efforts to do so.” Then, seeing the look of doubt in her eyes, he continued, “And I commend you highly for it. How else is society to improve if we don’t have some members who refuse to follow its dictates blindly? But, come, we should be going. It has clouded over and I don’t want Clary to become chilled, nor do I want to keep you and the boys out so long that Lavvy will forbid our next outing.”

  “Where is that to be?” Ceddie was agog.

  The marquess smiled mysteriously. “Why, if I told you that, it wouldn’t be a surprise now, would it?”

  “I hope you stay with us forever. Cousin Caro,” Ceddie sighed ecstatically. “If you’re there when Lord Daventry visits, he takes us on expeditions. If Mama is there, he just sits there while she makes smiley faces at him.”

  Caro was hard put to choke back a spurt of laughter at the thought of Lavinia’s expression were she to know how her youngest described her carefully contrived flirtations. She stole a glance at Nicholas who, she was gratified to see, was also having difficulty containing his mirth. He quirked one mobile brow and nearly overset her, but she quickly turned it into a cough and was able to reply with only the A slightest quiver in her voice, “Why, thank you, Ceddie. That is most kind of you, but I suspect it is just as much your company and Clarence’s as mine that is responsible for this delightful outing.”

  Both boys looked hugely pleased. Then Clarence, remembering his manners, turned to the marquess. “We are exceedingly grateful, sir. Thank you ever so much.”

  Not to be outdone, his brother piped up, “Yes, thank you, thank you, thank you.”

  His exuberance almost drowned out Caro’s own whispered “thank you,” but sensing rather than hearing it, the marquess looked down into the deep gray eyes, which, serious now, were clouded with the effort to convey her gratitude, not only for the outing, but for his recognition of the type of person she was and his appreciation and encouragement of that person. “Thank you. I can’t tell you what it means. I . .” Caro fell silent as she groped for words.

  Nicholas grasped one slim gloved hand in both of his. “No thanks are necessary. Waif. It is I who should thank you, for I have never enjoyed London half so much before you arrived. Why I . . .”

  He was cut short by Ceddie, who shouted, “Look! Look! They’re off!’’ And they all turned to look as, cut loose from its moorings, the balloon sailed gracefully into the distance.

  The ride back was relatively quiet. Even Ceddie was silent, tired by the excitement of the ascension and occupied with all the new sights and sounds around him.

  Clary, delighted at being able to join them, was busy with her own thoughts. In truth, witnessing the last interchange between her brother and Caro had been more highly gratifying to her than any balloon ascension. Reflecting quietly to herself, she decided that she could not remember when she had seen Nicholas so relaxed and happy. Though she really knew very little of Caro, she suspected that the same was true for her. Watching them together, Clary sensed a communication and rapport between them that was almost tangible and while she was delighted for them, it did make her feel the tiniest bit lonely. After all, Nicholas had been her closest friend and ally for as long as she could remember and, though he did not know it yet, he had now found someone who could be even closer than she.

  Then Caro, as if sensing her thoughts, turned. “I hope you enjoyed yourself. Clary. If balloon ascensions are not one’s passion, I could see how they could be very dull indeed, especially when everyone else is too involved to carry on any worthwhile conversation.”

  Somehow, without Clary’s knowing precisely how, Caro moved nimbly from ballooning to music and to Clary’s most recently acquired pieces. Soon they were chatting gaily about Signor Clementi, the opera, and a whole host of intriguing topics and Clary realized gratefully that, rather than losing her closest companion, she was gaining another. By the time they reached Grosvenor Square, she was as well pleased with the entire day and the company as everyone else. Indeed, for each and every member of the party it had been the high point of the Season—a Season each one of them had expected to be boring in the extreme.

  Chapter 24

  The promised voucher had arrived from Lady Jersey and now, neither Caro nor Lavvy had any excuse to put off joining the select throng Wednesday evening. Lavvy, who had avoided anything that smacked of an official introduction of her cousin to the ton, for once protested almost as loudl
y as Caro. “I vow, it is too fatiguing of Sally to do this. Now there is no help for it but to go and I can think of nothing more dull than an evening at Almack’s. You are like to be bored to tears for I know I shall be.”

  Which must be the first time you have ever considered what my feelings in the matter might be, Caro, instantly suspicious, thought to herself. Resolving to foil any possible scheme of Lavvy’s, she smiled resignedly, “I suppose we must go since Lady Jersey has been so kind, but we needn’t stay very long.”

  “No.” Having been forced into bringing Caro to the temple at which the Upper Ten Thousand worshipped, Lavvy was not about to forego a moment of the opportunity to dazzle everyone. “Having made up our minds to attend, we shall do it justice. I have not been this age and I know I shan’t be able to see everyone who wishes to see me if we only go for a short time. It is too fatiguing, but one does have a duty to one’s fellow creatures, you know.”

  One’s fellow admirers, more like, Caro remarked cynically to herself, but she managed to keep her expression cheerful as she replied, “You are right. We must put forth our best efforts.”

  Later, in conversation with Helena, she was able to give vent to her true emotions. “It is most unfortunate. I had planned a quiet evening at home reading The Practical Gardener. Now I shall be obliged to smirk and make empty conversation while Lavvy holds court and complains to me that Lord So-and-So is so importunate or vows that do what she will, the Duke of This-or-That remains absolutely besotted with her.’’

  “That’s as may be, but you will just have to cast her in the shade,” Helena declared, warming to the theme introduced by Sir Evelyn at the theater.

  “How can I possibly do that? And besides, why should I a wish to? I do not care to excel at those arts she has made herself mistress of,’’ Caro declared defiantly.