‘Yes,’ Archie said dreamily. ‘She’s the most beautiful creature you ever did see, Mama. I consider myself the luckiest man alive to have met her by such happenstance.’
A little disturbed now, Lady Radcliffe demanded to know how, exactly, they had met these Talbot girls. Archie’s reply was quite incoherent – encompassing a slipper, a sprain and a rapt description of the exact colour of the elder Talbot sister’s eyes – and did nothing to alleviate his mother’s misgivings. When one was as wealthy and well-born as a de Lacy, one simply had to maintain a suspicious mind. In Lady Radcliffe’s view, the world was riddled with as many risks to one’s good name as it was to one’s health, and it was crucial to be equally vigilant against both. Lower-birthed hangers-on would always try to acquaint themselves with titled and honourable persons such as them, as parasites did throughout nature. Their consequence, their wealth, their position in society, were tempting treasures after all – ones that had been cultivated and guarded for centuries. And when one had three children of marriageable age, as she did, the threat was even greater. Lady Radcliffe was all too aware that each of her children, with a bountiful endowment apiece, would be a choice catch for a discerning fortune-hunter.
‘I should like to meet these young ladies, if they are to be such friends of yours,’ she said firmly, interrupting Archie’s description of an amusing ditty he had told the day before – one Miss Talbot had found very droll.
‘You would?’ Archie said, surprised. ‘I had thought you were feeling quite at a … low ebb this week.’
‘If you are referring to my fainting spells,’ Lady Radcliffe said sniffily, detecting a note of doubt in her son’s voice that she found most ill-mannered, ‘then you should know I am feeling much improved. I should like to meet these Talbots. Invite them to call here after your walk.’
Archie agreed brightly to the idea, oblivious to any ulterior motive on his mother’s part, and later that morning trotted off happily to Hyde Park. In contrast, Lady Radcliffe spent the time before their return working herself up into a highly nervous state. What a fool she had been to let herself be distracted at such a time – Archie was clearly infatuated by this young lady, who would no doubt prove to be a most unsuitable person, if she was going around losing shoes. Lady Radcliffe wondered if she ought to write to James, now, to warn him – but decided against it, in the end. Her eldest son was sheltering, as he had done ever since his return from Waterloo, at Radcliffe Hall in Devonshire – and while Lady Radcliffe did like to keep him abreast of all family matters, she also tried not to bother him unless it was truly necessary. His involvement in the Hundred Days’ War might have been very much against her wishes – and his father’s – but Lady Radcliffe could not now begrudge him his isolation. After all, what did she know of war?
Time passed slowly when one was anxious, and it felt like an age before Archie and Amelia returned, Talbot sisters in tow. By this point, Lady Radcliffe’s worried anticipation was such that she quite expected to greet two damp-skirted charlatans with red-lipped grins upon their faces. She was relieved, instead, to see that the Misses Talbot certainly looked like pretty young ladies of quality: their walking dresses and pelisses were in the latest style – though certainly not, she thought with a critical eye, the work of Mrs Triaud – their hair was dressed becomingly, their movements graceful and understated. Perhaps she had been wrong to think this anything more alarming than another case of Archie’s calf love. She rose to greet them.
‘How do you do, Miss Talbot, Miss Cecily – it is so wonderful to meet you,’ she said softly. There was a pause, as she waited for them to curtsey – as the higher-ranking lady, it was for the Misses Talbot to curtsey first – and after a beat longer than was usual, both ladies sank low. Far lower than was correct – in fact, quite as low as one would curtesy to a duchess. Lady Radcliffe winced. Oh dear.
Archie clapped his hands bracingly. ‘Is Pattson bringing in refreshments?’ he asked, bounding over to an armchair and collapsing into it. A second later, he shot up in embarrassment.
‘Pray forgive me – Miss Talbot, Miss Cecily, would you sit?’ he asked with a flourishing gesture of invitation.
They all sat. The Dowager reviewed the young ladies again, her critical eye renewed and now lingering over the hems of their dresses, which were a little mud-splattered, and the glimpse of their shoes, which had the unmistakable wooden buttons of Cheapside origin. Hmm. Pattson walked briskly in, ushering behind him three maids carrying trays bearing delectable morsels of cake and the finest fruits of the season. Lady Radcliffe fancied that the elder Miss Talbot was eyeing the display a little wondrously, as if she had never seen anything so sumptuous in her life. Oh dear.