The Barefoot Baroness

Chapter Five

Monsieur LaPierre, who came to arrange the ladies' coiffures the next morning, was as good as Madame Dupuis had promised. He tamed the baroness's curly mop to some semblance of fashion, and, after informing Laura that the cheribime was passee, decided that it suited her.

"Oh, dear!" she exclaimed.

Monsieur LaPierre hurried on to reassure her. "You, mam'selle, are a lady who prefers style over fashion. That is rare. To be a la mode-that is accomplished by the latest bonnet or gown, easily acquired by anyone. Mais le vrai style-that is a gift," he said, and bowed.

Laura blinked to hear her quiet mode of dressing suddenly raised to the eminence of "style." "Merci," she murmured.

Monsieur Pierre smiled and continued, "You have the wisdom, mam'selle. Not for you the froufrou and furbelows au courant for the hour."

When he had left, Laura examined her coiffure and was pleased with it. Her natural curl was enhanced by the shorter length. One wayward lock slid over her forehead, to flirt about her temple. Her curls bounced gaily when she moved. She felt lighter, younger… Next she examined her gown. It was of simple blue sarcenet, for the weather was not yet warm enough for sprigged muslin. The gown's severe cut followed the line of her body, not the fashion of the Empress style, which she had always found unattractive. Ladies were given small waists; why hide them under a bag dress?

Yes, the gown was attractive, but it was almost too severe. It lacked that dash that would set it apart. Olivia, taking pity on her cousin's drab ensemble, handed her a mulled gold shawl.

"Try this around your shoulders," she suggested.

Laura tried it at her shoulders but was not satisfied. She let it fall lower, to the waist. Then lower still, till it rested on the top of her hips. That was different… When she tied it, the fringed ends hung below her knees and swayed when she walked.

"That looks funny," Olivia said, frowning.

"I am too old to worry about appearing funny," Laura said, and tossed her shoulders at her own folly. "If such an aged creature as I did not look a little 'funny,' she would not be noticed at all."

"You told me it was vulgar to appear different."

"It is the last resort of ape leaders, child. At your age, you have no need of such stunts. My, that coiffure does look nice!"

Olivia was satisfied with this compliment. She was further pleased with Mr. Meadows's compliments, when he brought another carriage around for her to try that afternoon. "That is a very dashing coiffure, Baroness," he said.

Olivia flushed in pleasure and said, "Cousin Laura had her hair done as well."

"Very nice," he said dutifully, but Olivia noticed where his praise was first delivered and felt Laura did not have Mr. Meadow so firmly in her grasp as she thought.

Meadows was now treated like an old friend at Charles Street. He was to take the young ladies for a drive in the park and return for tea.

The new carriage was a bottle-green landau, with a split top that could be let down on sunny days or put up if the weather was inclement. The squabs were of the requisite velvet, and the trappings of gilt. Olivia fell in love with it on sight. The only objection was the softness of the seat backs.

"It's lovely!" she squealed. "How clever you are, Mr. Meadows, to find exactly what I want."

"Actually, it was Miss Harwood who suggested one like Lady Sifton's."

"But you found it. Auntie will have to use her recliner," she said, dismissing that problem. She did not bother to inquire for its cost, and when Mr. Meadows told her, she hardly listened.

"I must have it. Are the team for sale, too? I do think the grays go uncommonly well with green. Much better than my carriage team. They are part draft horse. The berlin is very heavy."

"I borrowed the team from a chap I know. Warner is in dun territory and is selling his prads at a bargain price."

"Come in and Auntie will write the checks. Now all that remains is for you to find me a mount, and I shan't bother you any further."

"Why, have you forgotten I am to take you to Astley's Circus and to Exeter Exchange? I hope you will let me accompany you on your rides as well," he said, with pleasing promptness.

"We should be happy for your company, eh, Laura?"

"I must hire a mount," Laura said, with very little interest. She liked country riding, but jogging along at a walk in Rotten Row had no interest for her. "Or if Mr. Meadows is to accompany you, then perhaps…"

"No need to hire one," he said. "My aunt would be happy for you to use hers, if you care to join us one day."

During the drive to Hyde Park, Olivia rejoiced at the felicity of her footmen's livery matching her new carriage, for the Pilmore footmen had worn green forever. It was her own favorite color. Did Laura not think her green suit with the brass buttons an excellent match for the carriage as well? Laura did not think the grass green of livery and that particular suit the best match for a bottle green carriage, but before she could reply, Meadows fired off a barrage of praise, so she said nothing.

His approval of the green livery finally confirmed Laura's growing suspicion that Mr. Meadows intended to attach Olivia. That halfhearted mention of her, Laura's, joining them for a ride 'one day' had pretty well told the story. He wanted to be alone with Olivia.

Laura wondered how she could ever have mistaken his friendliness as a compliment to herself. What a ninny she was to think Meadows, who had always held himself pretty high, should suddenly be interested in her. Of course it was the baroness in whom they were all interested. She must not make that mistake again. Her head had been turned by Monsieur LaPierre's praise, but meaningless compliments were part of a coiffeur's stock and trade.

As the other two chatted, with more flirtation than common sense in their talk, Laura reviewed Hettie Traemore's requirements for a husband for Livvie: 'a nice, sound, sensible fellow who will be content to return to Cornwall and not want to be jauntering off to London every season. We don't want Livvie to abandon her estate. He must have a good head for business-the mine is a great deal of work.'

Meadows seemed a good candidate. He had a small estate of his own, nothing to compare with Olivia's. He would not balk at removing to Cornwall, where he would be set up as the most important gentleman in the neighborhood. There was no point thinking any of the more illustrious peers would be so obliging in that respect. They had their own affairs to tend to and would certainly plan to spend much time in London. To put the cap on the match, Olivia seemed very fond of Meadows. The attraction went back to their first meeting. She had assumed Olivia would make a grander match, but as her cousin required neither money, an estate, nor a title, she could marry where she wished.

Laura mentally released Mr. Meadows with scarcely a wisp of regret. She must be sure to let Olivia know that Meadows had never been more than a friend to herself. They toured the park once, then got out to stroll in the sunlight. It was one of those fine spring days, warmer than summer, with hardly a breeze stirring the branches. Laura had a sense that Meadows had chosen one particular spot to descend. He suggested they alight at the northeast corner, despite a confusion of carriages there. Once they began walking, he seemed to be looking around for someone.

Before long, he exclaimed in a voice of simulated surprise, "Why, there is Lord Hyatt! You remember we met him at Somerset House yesterday, Baroness?" Most of his comments either began or ended with the word 'baroness.' Laura felt she had been reduced to a chaperone and resented it.

Hyatt came smiling forward, removing his hat to bow to the ladies. The sun struck his wheat-blond hair, giving him a halo. Yet, despite the halo, he bore no resemblance to a saint. There was mischief on his handsome face and dancing in his dark eyes. Oh yes, this meeting had definitely been arranged, and she was highly curious to discover why.

"Baroness," he smiled, then turned to Laura. "And Miss-"

"Harwood," Meadows supplied.

As Hyatt's attention had turned to the baroness, Laura did not even honor him with a curtsy, but only nodded.

Meadows relinquished Olivia to Lord Hyatt and fell into step with Laura behind as they all strolled through the park. "Did you arrange to meet Lord Hyatt here?" Laura asked.

"I left a note at his house suggesting it. He was not home. I was not sure he would come."

"What was the reason for that, Mr. Meadows? I cannot think it wise to be setting up a rendezvous with such a man."

"You'll see," he said mysteriously.

She gave up chiding him and listened to Olivia and Hyatt instead. The rake's conversation did not sound objectionable.

"I understand you come all the way from Cornwall?" Hyatt was saying. "That is a long trip. I hope you have a comfortable carriage."

"Indeed, yes. Papa bought a berlin some years ago. It is the most comfortable rig you have ever seen."

Laura soon got a definite sense that Hyatt was egging her on. He inquired for the team and said, "Six horses! It must be a big carriage. I wonder that anyone could pass you on the road.”

"They couldn't," she said simply.

He laughed. "I know it well, for I was stuck behind you for ten miles on my way back from Hyatt Hall, in Kent, cursing you roundly for that sluggish Turtle shell you inhabit.”

"Oh, you were teasing, Lord Hyatt! But you will not be held up by me again. I have got a lovely new landau this very day."

"Then the cartoon in the shop windows must be changed."

"What do you mean?" she asked, and he explained, ending with, "It is a great compliment, you must know."

"You mean there is a picture of me in a shop window?" she exclaimed. "How exciting! I must see it. Whoever would have thought-and I didn't think I would make a dent in society."

"You will bowl it over, I promise you."

"I don't suppose there will be many ladies as rustic as I am," she said. "But really a cartoon is no compliment. More like an insult. Do I look horrid?"

He studied her a moment and said, "Now that I have had the opportunity of seeing you more closely, I cannot say it is a flattering likeness. But then I, as an artist, appreciate the impossibility of capturing such liveliness on paper. It is no insult, I promise you. You are in excellent company, flanked by the Prince Regent on one side and our Prime Minister on the other."

"Why, I am practically famous!" she laughed, and turned to relate this marvel to Laura, who had already heard the story from Mr. Meadows.

Laura was uncomfortable to see Olivia with this infamous rake and spoke rather stiffly. "Don't let it go to your head," she said. "The cartoon is of the berlin, not you."

"I don't know why everyone makes such a fuss about my carriage. It was my Cousin Laura who insisted on the landau," Olivia explained to Hyatt. "She is up to all the rigs."

Hyatt's dark eyes slid to Laura. He wondered at her lack of enthusiasm in this meeting. He was not a vain man, but as he spent half his life running from ladies, he had thought a provincial miss would be pleased at his company. Miss Harwood's stony face made it clear she was far from pleased.

"Shall we return to the carriage now?" Laura said to Meadows.

"We just got here," Olivia pouted.

"Let us walk on a while," Meadows suggested, and they continued.

They walked four abreast now, Laura walking between Hyatt and Meadows. Hyatt addressed himself to Olivia, and Laura listened.

"You are wearing a new coiffure, if I am not mistaken?" he said.

"Yes, my cousin said I should. Monsieur LaPierre gave us both a new do."

"Is Miss Harwood your chaperone?" he asked.

Laura heard the question and was seized with rage. Chaperone! She was only twenty-two.

Olivia just laughed. "Good gracious, no! My aunt and Mrs. Harwood are chaperoning us. We are both on the catch for a husband. But Cousin Laura is so fussy!" she added in a confidential tone.

Hyatt turned and saw Laura glaring at him. "It does not pay for even an Incomparable to be too fussy," he said, with a mischievous smile that at once acknowledged his own solecism, her anger, and his exaggeration of her charms to appease her-and laughed at the whole affair.

Laura's anger melted like a snowflake in the oven. There was something about the man… One felt she had been set apart when he smiled at her. Laura said saucily, "I had not thought to hear Lord Hyatt recommend a lack of fussiness. You will not even paint less than perfection. How then can you expect a lady to shackle herself for life to just anyone?"

"You misunderstand me, ma'am. I am not recommending you take up with just any old yahoo-some such derelict as Lord Hyatt, for example. No, I am sure your suitors all hopped out of the very top drawer. Yet you were too fussy to choose among them."

"Just so," she said, with one of the new ironical smiles she had assumed for the Season. She could banter just a little with someone like Hyatt, but she was relieved when his attention returned to Olivia.

"Have you arranged for your portrait yet, Baroness?" he asked.

"My aunt is going to write to Sir Thomas Lawrence today."

He stopped walking and just stood, looking at her. That hair would be a challenge. It flamed like fire. A nice contrast to her complexion. The girl was a hoyden-a new style of model for him. He was becoming bored with society matrons.

"Tom is very busy just now," he said. "Mind you, he would do a bang-up job. If he cannot squeeze you in, let me know. I'll make time for you. It would be a shame for you to come all the way from Cornwall and not return with your portrait-as well as a husband, of course. Let us not forget the prime reason for your visit."

"Would you do me?" Olivia said at once. "I would much rather be done by you, for you make everyone look so pretty."

He inclined his head to her and said in a flirtatious way, "One would have to be a bad artist indeed to make you look anything else but charming, Baroness."

"I would have to be chaperoned," she said. "My aunt would never let me go alone to your atelier."

If he took offense, he did not reveal it by so much as a flicker. "All my young lady models are chaperoned," he assured her. "But I do not allow a crowd of friends. A noisy audience distracts me. You, I fear, will already prove distraction enough," he finished, with a reckless smile.

"Mr. Meadows and my cousin have already offered to chaperone me," she replied. "Two friends will not be too many?"

Lord Hyatt agreed to this, and it remained only to set the hour. They stopped in the shade of a mulberry tree and sat on a bench.

Olivia looked all around and said, "I wish I could take off my shoes and stockings and run through the grass. I do it at home. It feels like cold velvet on your feet."

"Daresay you'd step on broken glass or worse here," was Meadows's mundane reply.

"Besides making a vulgar display of yourself," Laura added. She was unhappy that Meadows had somehow set up this meeting. She realized now that the purpose of it was to get Hyatt to paint Olivia. She did not in the least look forward to those endless sittings, while the two gentlemen flirted with Olivia and she sat twiddling her thumbs.

Lord Hyatt sat silent, just looking, first at Olivia, then around at the spreading park, which was dotted with trees. He was planning his portrait and realized that none of his studio props suited this girl from the wilds of Cornwall. She was at home to a peg in the great outdoors, where the vivid greenery complemented her fiery hair. He would paint her without a bonnet. He thought of her wish to take off her shoes and run barefoot through the grass. That was how he wanted to paint her. But where?

"What we must do is come some morning early, before anyone is here, and let you have a ramble barefoot," Meadows said, with a doting smile at the baroness.

Hyatt's head turned to Meadows. Now there was an idea! With his full schedule, early morning sittings would suit him very well, and at that hour, Hyde Park would be deserted.

"Let us come tomorrow morning," he said.

Olivia blinked. "Do you like running in the grass barefoot, too, Lord Hyatt?"

"No, but that is how I should like to paint you."

Olivia frowned. "That is not how you painted the other ladies," she pointed out.

"I try to place each model in the background that suits her. I see you outdoors, in some such place as this."

"But without my shoes?"

Meadows wanted to appease Hyatt and said heartily, "Why, Baroness, that would suit you right down to the ground. Bare feet-ground. A pun, I daresay. Said you liked to feel the grass."

"Definitely without your shoes," Hyatt said, "and without a bonnet as well. You must be physically in touch with the earth and the sky."

"That latter requirement will call for a very long ladder," Laura said. The whole affair sounded very bizarre to her. She was afraid Hyatt intended to make sport of Olivia in his painting.

Hyatt sensed her mood and replied coolly, "Not in a painting. The model's head and shoulders are often set against the sky. No doubt you have noticed that in pictures, the earth and sky meet. It is called perspective."

"I trust it is only her head and feet that will be in contact with nature. You do plan to permit her to wear a gown?"

A pink flush rose up the column of Hyatt's neck, to color his face. "When I wish to paint a nude, I usually hire a professional model. Society is rather prudish in that respect, though I personally think that all ladies ought to be painted without their clothes. The human body is the greatest challenge for an artist. We can get away with miscalculating the dimensions of a tree or a building, but if a human body is out by more than a small fraction, we are soon caught out."

"Of course I shall wear a gown," Olivia said. "What color do you think would look nice, Lord Hyatt?"

"Yellow. Not a dull, mustardy color, and not the strident yellow of a dandelion. Something along the lines of a primrose, if you have it."

"My gowns are all white, for I am making my debut," she said.

"Good God, I don't want a formal gown. Something very plain, unstructured-the simpler the better."

Olivia had no such article in her wardrobe. She looked to her mentor for assistance. Laura had simmered down and began to envisage the sort of painting Hyatt intended to do. She felt he had chosen well. Livvie would look ludicrous in feathers and lace. Her vibrant charms showed to best advantage in a natural setting. She knew instinctively that he meant to show her as a girl, not a woman. He would want a simple outfit.

"Fanny has that yellow dimity frock…" she said.

Olivia laughed. "I will not have my portrait painted in my servant's old work clothes."

"It sounds the very thing. Wear it," Hyatt said, surprised that it was Miss Harwood, the one against his plan, who had grasped what he wanted. "If you have a wide-brimmed straw bonnet, bring it along as well. Not to wear, but perhaps to dangle from your fingers…"

"I don't have one."

"I do," Laura said.

"Why would you bring such a thing to London, cousin?”

"I like to read in the backyard sometimes. It protects me from the sun."

"I could bring my aunt's pug," Meadows volunteered.

Hyatt considered this. "I would like some animal life in the picture…"

"Maybe you could borrow Lady Devereau's monkey," Olivia suggested.

Laura, noticing Hyatt's dilating nostrils, said hastily, "Perhaps a squirrel or some birds."

Hyatt nodded, surprised again that she had captured the essence of his painting. "Dogs can be a nuisance," he said, "but I don't rule it out entirely. Do you like dogs, Baroness?"

"I love them, but Auntie wouldn't let me bring any with me. I have a lovely old sheepdog at home."

They discussed the picture for another ten minutes; then Hyatt accompanied them to their carriage. "We shall meet here tomorrow at seven," he said. Before any more plans were discussed, a flock of admirers spotted Hyatt and their privacy was over.

In the carriage, Laura said, "You arranged that meeting to convince Hyatt to paint Olivia, Mr. Meadows."

"I asked him to meet us. I was by no means sure he would come."

"How did you convince him to do Olivia's portrait?"

"It didn't take much convincing once he discovered she was the baroness from Cornwall, who came to London in the Turtle."

This pregnant comment gave rise to a few questions. Laura knew that Hyatt was enough of a sensation that he did not have to court fame by associating with the famous. Was it the baroness's fortune that attracted him? She must keep a sharp eye on him and discover if he was dangling after Olivia. If that was the case, she would have her hands full. Lord Hyatt would be a hard man to keep in line.

Olivia just sat, smiling smugly. Everyone was running after Lord Hyatt, but he had come running after her. London was not so very different from Cornwall, where she was the acknowledged queen. And here she had worried about failing in London. She was famous already, her likeness in shop windows, between the Prince Regent and Lord Liverpool. She need not worry any longer. She could relax now and begin to enjoy herself.