Lady Barbara's Dilemma Read online

  For a while, before her emotions had reached their present state, her music had been her refuge. The past four years she had concentrated on her studies with Signor Cavalcanti and made remarkable progress. Barbara knew she was now the equal of any professional performer. But what was the point of knowing one was good enough for the concert stage when one could never walk onto one? And so, for the past few months, practice felt meaningless, until she finally decided to give it up. “Oh, only for a few months,” she had assured her teacher and her brother and her friends. “I need a short rest, after all these years.”

  She had thought she would miss it, but she didn’t. She had wandered into the music room this morning to see if she could rekindle her interest, but here she was, as blue-deviled as ever, and music was not going to lift her mood.

  The only times her mood lightened at all these days was when she thought about the coming Season. She had noticed Peter Rushcliffe’s growing interest in her this past autumn, and of all the men who had come her way over the years, he interested her the most. When they waltzed, she had felt pleasure in their closeness, and enjoyed their conversations. She was determined to look upon this Season as a decisive one. If she was very lucky, she would find a potential for passion with the Marquess of Wardour. At the very least, she would discover whether their feelings for one another could support a marriage. She thought they could, hoped they could, for if he made an offer she was determined to accept. It would be delightful if she could love him, but she knew she could respect him and was ready to settle for respect and affection. She was tired of being “Auntie Barbara” to Sophy and to Robin’s two boys. It was time she had a husband and children of her own.

  Chapter 3

  The Season started slowly, with Lady Harlech’s ball the third week of April expected to be the first real crush. The Duke and Duchess of Sutton planned to attend, for Lord Harlech was a noted Whig. It was likely to be one of Judith’s few large events this year because of her pregnancy, and for that reason she was determined to make the most of the occasion and host a small dinner party of friends beforehand.

  “Robin and Diana. Jeremy and Miranda. Nora and Sam. Barbara…whom shall I invite for Barbara, Simon?” asked Judith as she wrote out her invitations.

  “Wardour?”

  “No, no.”

  “I thought you said he appeared interested?”

  “Yes, he did, but it would be much too soon and too obvious,” Judith explained. “Can you think of anyone?”

  “What about David Treves?” Simon suggested after a few moments’ thought.

  “Yes, he would be perfect. Someone who shares an interest in music. A potential friend but not suitor.”

  The evening of her dinner party all of the guests but one had arrived when Judith came down a little late and a little breathless. “Sophy always seems to demand one more story when she knows that guests are coming,” she explained. Diana gave her an indulgent smile. Judith had always been unconventional in her parenting habits, but Simon seemed not to disapprove. She herself, however, much as she loved her twins, was always grateful to turn them over to their nurse, and Robin, thank goodness, encouraged her to do so.

  Judith sat herself down next to Viscount Vane and joined in the debate over Ireland. In a few minutes all, with the exception of Diana, Barbara, and Nora, who were discussing Miss Austen’s final novel, were caught up in the debate, and the butler had to announce the final guest twice.

  “Sir David Treves, your grace.”

  Barbara looked up first, for Judith had told her that Sir David would be her partner at dinner. Her friend had said it straightforwardly and with none of the assumed nonchalance of one who was making an attempt at matchmaking, so Barbara had decided Sir David would be older and not attractive. In reality, he looked only a few years older than she, and was very handsome, albeit in an un-English way. She wondered idly if he was Welsh on his mother’s side, for he had the black hair, brown eyes, and dark skin that occur amongst Celtic people. Or perhaps Spanish, she thought, as she noticed the clean, sharp planes of his face and aquiline nose.

  Simon, who had finally heard the second announcement, stood up and made his way to the door. Sir David tactfully moved forward to meet him, Barbara noticed with approval, and extended his hand and greeted the duke so Simon would know immediately where he was.

  “Come,” said Simon, “let me introduce you to a few of the ladies before I pull you into our debate.”

  Although she had seen it again and again, Barbara always marveled at how easily, despite his blindness, Simon moved when he was in a familiar place. He knew the exact placement of the furniture and immediately located Barbara and her companions by the sounds of their voices.

  “David, I would like you to meet Lady Barbara Stanley, Lady Vane, and Lady Stanley.”

  David bowed.

  “Lady Stanley and Lady Barbara are sisters-in-law,” Simon explained.

  “I have heard you are a talented musician, Lady Barbara,” said Treves with more than polite interest.

  “You have heard correctly,” interjected Simon. “I’ll leave you two to discuss your passion.”

  “Do you play an instrument, Sir David?” queried Lady Vane.

  “Unfortunately not. My father pulled me into the family business years ago, and so I am only an educated listener. But a passionate one, and I have had the opportunity, from time to time, of helping a musician on his way.”

  “And your family’s business is…?” asked Diana in a tone that bordered on the impolite. Barbara looked at her sideways, puzzled by her sudden coolness and suspecting that she knew perfectly well what the Treves family business was.

  “Mr. Joshua Treves is the head of Treves and Sons, which contributed so much to Wellington’s campaign,” said Lady Vane. “I am delighted to see you again, David.”

  “And I you, Nora. I mean, my lady.”

  “No, we had agreed on first names, David.”

  “Thank you, Nora.”

  “We were just discussing Miss Austen’s Persuasion. But perhaps you would prefer a more animated discussion,” said Nora, nodding her head in the direction of Simon and the others.

  “I think I will stay here if I may? It is not every day that a man can be surrounded by both beauty and intelligence.”

  The compliment was commonplace, and although Barbara heard it as sincere, she also had the feeling that some sort of challenge was being offered. Diana clearly disapproved of something in Treves’ background and had expressed it in the most convoluted and English of ways. Treves could have taken the easy way out and joined the others. Barbara was glad that he hadn’t. She loved her sister-in-law, but like Judith, couldn’t help noticing that the Diana who had been a bit wild as a young woman had turned into the most sedate wife with the most conventional of ideas.

  Sir David was obviously someone who liked literature as well as music, thought Barbara as she listened to his conversation with Nora. Diana and Barbara had remained silent, Diana to show her disapproval and Barbara to see if she could learn something about her dinner partner. She wondered if Sir David was a less-than-subtle attempt at matchmaking on Judith’s part when he led her into dinner.

  “Have you been acquainted with the duke and duchess for a long time, Lady Barbara?” asked Treves after they had been seated.

  “I have known Simon all my life, and Judith since my school days,” she replied. “In fact, I feel partly responsible for their marriage.” When Treves looked at her questioningly, she said, “But that is a long story and I’m afraid it would bore you. Have you known Simon very long?”

  “I met him briefly before Waterloo, and renewed my acquaintance over this past year.”

  “Can I assume, then, that you are interested in the same political questions?”

  “Yes, we have the same broad principles, and I have a particular interest of my own,” replied Sir David slowly.

  “Have you ever thought of standing for a seat in the House yourself, Sir David?”
r />   “I have thought of it often, Lady Barbara, but there are certain difficulties…” Treves let his voice trail off and Barbara was unwilling to pry further. Perhaps his family preferred him to stay with the business.

  “Tell me something about your music, Lady Barbara.”

  “There is not much to tell,” replied Barbara, conscious that for some reason she wanted to tell Sir David everything about her discouragement There was an air of sympathy about him and she had heard something in his voice just now that made her think that he too knew something about frustrated dreams.

  “Somehow I find that hard to believe,” said Treves.

  “You are right. There is a lot to tell. Too much,” Barbara said, her voice trembling slightly.

  “Well, we do have a few more courses before the confections,” said Treves with an encouraging smile.

  “I will put it in a nutshell so as not to bore you,” said Barbara. “I have been studying for many years, I have some talent, and because I am a woman I will never be able to exercise that talent in the way I wish. And so I have given up my lessons. There. I have said it. And to a complete stranger! But there is something about you, Sir David, that encourages confidence. And when you spoke of certain difficulties earlier, I had the idea that perhaps you too have wanted something you can’t have?”

  “I believe that we do have that in common, Lady Barbara. You, by virtue of being a woman and a lady, will never appear on a concert stage, and I, by virtue of being born a Jew, will never sit in Parliament or even enter a profession.”

  “But your name is Treves,” said Barbara, without thinking.

  “You are pronouncing it the English way. Originally it was Spanish.”

  “Yes, I thought you looked Spanish or Portuguese. But you are every inch the English gentleman,” protested Barbara.

  “My people have been quite successful in adopting the culture of their host country,” he said with a touch of irony. “It is the way we have survived. And I am an English gentleman. The Treveses have been here since Cromwell readmitted the Jews.”

  “Then you are one of the Sephardim?” said Barbara, pronouncing the word carefully.

  “Correct. I am surprised that you did not know immediately when you heard my father’s name. Lady Diana recognized it…”

  “So that is why she was rude!” exclaimed Barbara.

  “Oh, I wouldn’t say rude. Just subtly disapproving of my presence. I may be every inch the English gentleman, but there are homes in which I would not be welcome.”

  “I feel very ignorant,” confessed Barbara. “Of course, I was aware that much of Wellington’s financial support came from…” She hesitated.

  “Jews. It is all right, my lady, you can say it. The word itself is not an insult,” said Treves sardonically.

  “What I meant was that I didn’t recognize your father’s name. I have heard of Moses Montefiore, of course. Simon and Sam have spoken of him often. They have also spoken of Jewish emancipation. Is that the particular issue to which you referred?”

  “Indeed it is, Lady Barbara, although I feel very alone in my concern. Most Jews seem satisfied with the degree of acceptance we have achieved. I am not. I wish full citizenship. The opportunity to send my son to a university. The right to vote. The right to live as the loyal English citizens that we already are. But it is hard to convince the English that we are English too.”

  “Well, we do have something in common,” Barbara said. “We are both kept from full citizenship. Judith and I were quite fond of Mary Wollstonecraft when we were at school. I haven’t thought of her in a while. Perhaps I need to reread her book and get back some of my youthful fervor for radical ideas. I must confess I have felt quite old lately.”

  “It would be ungentlemanly of me to even hazard a guess, but surely not old!”

  “I am quite on the shelf.”

  “Nonsense.”

  “Not nonsense at all, Sir David. Judith is forever trying to match me up with someone. In fact, I was afraid you were another of her attempts,” Barbara confessed with a becoming blush.

  “I doubt it. Even the Duke and Duchess of Sutton are not so liberal as to consider a Jewish suitor for Lady Barbara Stanley.”

  “If I thought I could feel for you what Simon and Judith feel for each other, I assure you your Jewishness would not matter, Sir David.”

  “Quite charmingly said, Lady Barbara. I think I thank you, although it was a rather backhanded compliment,” replied David with a teasing smile.

  “But you do not believe me?”

  “No. However, that is not because I doubt your sincerity, but because of the ways of the world. But I am glad to hear that you have not fallen in love at first sight!”

  Barbara blushed again. “Oh, dear, that didn’t come out quite the way I meant it. But I can say I instantly liked you.”

  Treves laughed. “And I you. Perhaps we can be good friends, then? I would be most honored to accompany you to an occasional musicale and hope that someday I will have the privilege of hearing you play.”

  “Friends it is, then,” agreed Barbara.

  She felt better than she had in weeks. Her conversation with Sir David had reminded her of her talks with Judith. There had been instant rapport and openness. And with Judith so preoccupied, she could only rejoice that she had found a new friend.

  Chapter 4

  Peter Rushcliffe, the Marquess of Wardour, was not present at the Harlech ball. He had only arrived in London late that afternoon, having traveled all day from Kent. He had hoped to be in town before the beginning of the new Season in order to have every possible opportunity of seeing Lady Barbara Stanley, but the week before he was to leave, his estate manager had presented him with three separate crises. The marquess was nothing if not a conscientious landowner and so he ignored his mother’s suggestion that he leave it all to Evans.

  In fact, had it not been for his planned courtship, he would not be going to London at all. He only went up for the Season infrequently, and had been there last autumn because his niece was getting married. Attending the festivities leading up to the wedding had led to more socializing than was usual for him, and that was how he had been introduced to Lady Barbara.

  He had never experienced more than a passing attraction to a woman before Barbara Stanley. She was mature, a fact that pleased him. She was also a most attractive lady: tall enough so that he did not feel he towered over her, but not so tall that he didn’t top her by a few inches. Hers was a classic English beauty, with her blond hair and blue eyes. He decided that the old adage that opposites attract was clearly wrong, for here, obviously, liked called to like. He himself was more serious than many of his contemporaries, he himself was above average height, and his hair was even a shade lighter than hers.

  From the beginning he knew she would make him an excellent wife, and by the end of the Little Season, having received some encouragement from her, had decided, if all continued as it had begun, to make her an offer by the end of the spring.

  He had, of course, no doubt that should he decide to make an offer, it would be accepted, for he was used to getting what he wanted. He had inherited the title when he was only ten, and had been supported, protected, and even a little spoiled by his mother and older sister. It was not that he got away with any wrongdoing. In fact, he had never been inclined, even as a child, to get into mischief. He had been a perfectly behaved boy and had grown up into a perfectly behaved young man. He never made unreasonable demands—or any demands. It was just that his mother and his sister had been so sympathetic to him being fatherless at such an early age that his every want was satisfied almost before it was expressed. Luckily he was not a greedy or a selfish young man, or he might have turned into a monster of egocentricity. Instead, he was a devoted son, caring brother, responsible landowner, and good neighbor. However, he always expected that things would go his way, for they always had. His was a subtle kind of pride, the kind that takes respect and privilege for granted, for the Wardours of Aru
ndel were an old family, the title was an early one, and the property extensive.

  The second day he was in Town, therefore, Wardour sent Barbara a small bouquet with a note informing her that he hoped to see her at the Whiting rout.

  * * * *

  “Barbara, you look absolutely stunning.”

  “Thank you, Robin.”

  “I imagine that the dress will complement Wardour’s coloring,” added Robin with a wicked grin. “Do you expect him to be at the Whitings’ tonight?”

  Barbara blushed.

  “Ah, a direct hit, I see,” said her brother.

  “Now, Robin, don’t tease,” chided Diana. “We are all aware that Wardour seemed attracted to Barbara in the fall. But let us wait and see what the Season brings.”

  “Thank you, Diana,” said Barbara with a grateful smile. “I am happy to know that one member of my family respects my privacy,” she continued with mock anger.

  Robin looked not one whit remorseful. Brother and sister shared the same sense of humor and he knew Barbara was not really offended. But her blush had confirmed what he suspected: an interest in Wardour that went beyond anything she had felt for years. Her blush also diminished the mild sense of anxiety he had felt over the past week. Barbara had attended an opera and a concert in the company of the Vanes and Sir David Treves. Robin liked and respected Treves. But he was surprised to discover that despite his politics, he would not be happy seeing his sister marry a Jew.

  “Of course, the Nile green that you wore to the opera only made Treves look handsomer.” Robin couldn’t resist any opportunity to tease, but this time he hoped his worries would be laid to rest.