“Mr. Pitt the younger was quite committed to parliamentary reform, but he has put it aside in the wake of what is happening in France. He has also, due to the difficulties in France, suspended the writ of Habeas Corpus, but you wouldn’t know what that was, Allegra, would you?”
“It is a law requiring anyone detaining another individual to produce that person in a court of law within a specified period of time, and to furnish reasons for the detention then. I believe the law was first written in the sixteenth century. It has been revised somewhat over the years, but it is basically the same now as it was then, except that originally it was only used for criminal charges, and now it is used for civil charges as well. Habeas Corpus was suspended during the Jacobite uprisings at the beginning and middle of this century. Is that the Habeas Corpus you are referring to, my lord husband?” Allegra smiled sweetly.
“Did you let her study the law, Septimius?” the surprised duke asked his father-in-law, but then he began to laugh. “What other surprises have you in store for me, my darling?” he asked.
“Now, that, sir, would spoil all my fun,” Allegra responded pertly, and she laughed, too.
Lady Bellingham came to tea two days later, and was delighted to find her niece and the young Countess of Aston had been invited as well. “What, Caroline, you are in town, and did not call upon me?” she demanded of Lady Walworth.
“We have not even settled in yet, Aunt,” was the quick reply.
“Where are you staying? Has Walworth rented a place, for I know he has no house of his own,” came the next question.
“Adrian and Marcus Bainbridge have rented the old Earl of Pickford’s house, Aunt. Sirena is breeding, and could not travel, so they have no use for the house in London this winter.”
“An excellent address,” Lady Bellingham responded. “Well, what is it that you three intend to do in London?”
“We mean to sightsee,” Allegra said, “and visit all the places like Vauxhall, that a proper debutante could not go to without fear of ruining her reputation, Lady Bellingham.”
“Be careful you don’t ruin your reputationsnow, my gels,” Lady Bellingham said sharply. “Marriage is not a blanket license to run wild. You don’t want to follow in the Duchess of Devonshire’s footsteps. Why the gossip about her is outrageous, but true, I fear. She is in debt up to her pretty ears, I am told. Loses thousands each night at cards and in the gambling halls where ladies are not supposed to go. Most shocking!”
“I certainly do not gamble,” Allegra replied. “Oh do try some of the salmon, Lady Bellingham.”
“Salmon? Why, m’dear, ’Tis an especial favorite of mine,” Lady Bellingham said, helping herself to a small rectangle of buttered bread with an equally small sliver of pink salmon upon it. “Delicious!” she pronounced. “But I am too clever an old fox to be wheedled off the subject, Allegra. What is it exactly that you young women intend doing?”
“We really have come to sightsee, Aunt,” Caroline, Lady Walworth assured her elder. “And there is the theatre, and the opera since Allegra and Quinton don’t gamble, and as neither Walworth nor Bainbridge have the ready for such high stakes as here in London.”
“You are wise, my gels, for the gambling is entirely out of hand thanks to Prinny and his friends. Fortunes are made and lost in a single night. Many lives have been ruined. Prinny and his friends may mock the king, but he is a good man who has set a good Christian example for us all. What a pity his son cannot follow it, especially now that he is a father himself. I would not come to London at all nowadays but that Bellingham must attend Parliament. How he loves his politics, and, of course, Mr. Pitt is such a fine man.”
“You would not prefer to remain in the country, and let my uncle come up alone?” Caroline asked mischievously.
“Gracious, child,” her aunt exclaimed. “One should never allow a husband to come up to London alone. Much too much temptation for a gentleman, even the best of them. There are women, not the kind we would associate with, I assure you, just looking for unaccompanied gentlemen like my poor gullible Freddie, to take advantage of, and fleece. No! No! As long as Frederick Bellingham wants to come up to Parliament, I shall be at his side, I can assure you.” She helped herself to another bit of salmon.
“Poor uncle,”Caroline murmured softly to her friends who struggled not to giggle. They all knew that old Lord Bellingham, a rather charming gentleman, was under the firm control of his forceful wife whom he simply adored.
The cards had been sent out for the Duchess of Sedgwick’sat home, and the responses were pouring in each day. No one was going to miss the opportunity to see how the duke and his bride were getting on after three months of marriage. They all thought it rather odd that their society wedding planned for St. George’sin Hanover Square had been changed to the family chapel, or wherever it had been, at Hunter’s Lair. Why on earth had they donethat? Was the duchess enceinte? But then she couldn’t be if they were in London. It was a most aggravating mystery.
Prinny, of course, had arrived at Hunter’s Lair with young Mr. Brummell. Usually Brummell had something caustic to say about everyone, but he had nothing but praise for the duchess’s exquisite taste, the wonderful house, and the obviously contented couple. It was all just too annoying, but now they should see the truth of it. After all, blue-blooded Sedgwick had only wed the Morgan chit for her fortune. They all knew it, and he even admitted to it last season. It was a marriage of convenience, nothing more, whatever Brummell saw.
Allegra was fascinated by the London she now saw. Last spring her whole time had been spent on seeking and finding a husband. Her movements were carefully monitored and watched. She could only come or go in a prescribed manner. Now, however, she and her two friends were able to go about town in one another’s company while their husbands visited the Parliament and their clubs. Each evening they all met for dinner, or some form of entertainment. They played Whist together; sang accompanying each other on the piano; enacted out charades, the ladies against the gentlemen.
Allegra, Caroline, and Eunice, in the company of Lady Bellingham, visited Westminster Abbey one morning. It was a great Gothic structure of French design with wonderful stained glass windows and gray stone buttresses. The interior was made up of chapels, naves, tombs, and monuments. King William the Norman had been crowned here. The Coronation Chair which had been made for King Edward I was brought into the abbey in the year 1272. It had been used at all the coronationsthat had followed. The tombs were legion, and very impressive. There was the one belonging to St. Edward the Confessor, as well as Edward III and young Edward VI. There was the tomb of Henry III and the first Tudor king, Henry VII. Richard II had his tomb in the abbey, as did Mary, Queen of Scots, her son, James I, and his grandson, Charles II. The second Hanover king, George II, was buried in the enormous church. And there were famous women as well: Eleanor of Castile, Anne of Cleves, Queen Mary II, and her sister, Queen Anne.
The marble and the stonework were extremely impressive. The colorful stained glass windows almost brought tears to Allegra’s eyes. It was early afternoon before they realized it, and left reluctantly, having gained a new sense of their country’s history and its importance in the world in which they lived.
On another day, bundled up in their furs, they visited the Tower of London with its colorful Beefeater Guards in their red, black, and gold uniforms. The royal menagerie was located here, but it was not particularly impressive right now, consisting only of a moth-eaten ancient tiger, a toothless grizzly bear, an Indian elephant, and several peacocks. Allegra was more interested in the Tower Green where two of Henry VIII’s wives had been beheaded.
“What a horrid fate!” Caroline said.
“I heard they betrayed the king,” Eunice replied. “They deserved it if that was the case.”
“In Anne Boleyn’s case the charges were probably trumped up as the king had an eye out for his next wife, Queen Jane, who mothered his son. Poor Anne miscarried two sons and only produced her daughter, Elizabeth, who, of course, went on to become England’s greatest queen.”
“What about the other wife?” Eunice asked.
“Catherine Howard was Anne Boleyn’s cousin. She wasn’t very smart, and was, so I have read, a trollop who was no better than she ought to be. The king adored her, which made her betrayal of him with a lover all the worse to stomach. In fact, he didn’t.”
“You are quite learned,” Caroline said. “How is it you are so well educated when most of us are not?”
