Page 8 of A Sight to Behold
“I also heard that the earl has been to the Austrian court in Vienna, the Prussian court in Berlin, and the Russian court in St. Petersburg.”
“Good for him.”
“Pippa, aren’t you listening? He’s been all over!”
“And that’s a problem?” Pippa ate her egg; it had gotten hard and cold already while Bea was undeterred in trying to convince Pippa of the many vices of the earl.
“You’re not listening to me. He’s been to every place in Europe where scandal soared during the exact seasons he visited.”
“Hmpf!”
“He probably seduced every woman at the royal courts of Europe.” Bea waved grandly and then froze, looking over her shoulder to Wife Six, who’d arched one of her thin brows.
“I hear that the Earl of Langley has excellent diplomatic connections,” Father mumbled again from behind the paper. “Sometimes a man shares a glass of wine, beer, or whiskey to forge alliances. He’s done well for himself.”
Of course, a lady would be ruined by as much as standing alone in a room with a man. But an earl could hop through all the beds in the courts of Europe, and he had “good connections.” That was the essence of society’s rules. Pippa shook her head.
“His life of splendor made him sick,” Wife Six said. “The Viscountess Cunningham told me over tea that the earl paid a certain dentist on Harley Street a small fortune for his treatment.”
“Harley Street, you say?” Father folded his paper and held it to his side. The butler retrieved it instantly. “Where on Harley Street?”
“I don’t remember. Seventy-eight or eighty-seven.” Wife Six lingered on the house number and turned her eyes upward.Then she grew silent for an instant and studied Father’s reaction. She was oddly attentive.
Pippa felt for the white card with Dr. Folsham’s address in her pocket. It burned as if it were aflame. 87 Harley Street exactly.
“Has he been to anyone else there?” Father asked.
“The viscountess told me he recently had eye surgery, but it wasn’t clear,” Wife Six continued.
“And how does she know that?” Father peeked out from behind the paper.
“I believe her daughter needs some treatment of the delicate nature, and she inquired about recommendations for physicians. That’s how the young doctors on Harley Street came up in conversation, and the viscountess had a recommendation from Violet’s mother, Lady Durham.”
“What does her daughter need? I didn’t expect her debut until next season,” Bea said, ever aware of whose turn it was to become her competition at Almack’s.
“She may not make it, dear. She needs a lot of dental fillings, and if any self-respecting man sees the girl smile with a mouth full of silver, she won’t—”
“I think they can use gold these days and white materials,” Pippa said.
“How do you know?” Father thundered. “What did you do?”
“Nothing, Father.” Pippa withdrew like a snail in its shell.But I might need spectacles.She thought quickly so as to escape his wrathful curiosity. “You just said that the Earl of Langley is doing well for himself with all those gold fillings.”
“Ah, yes, I suppose I did.” Father shook the paper in a show of dominance, or so Pippa imagined. “But beware of those charlatans; they scrape the teeth of the rich, hollow and fill them with rubbish to charge for silver by the gram.”
“They don’t have to scrape much to hollow out your teeth, darling,” Wife Six said from across the table. It was a friction point in the Pemberton household that Father resorted to various methods to alleviate the pain of his many ailments rather than seek out treatment to cure them.
“Symptoms muted, disease saluted,” he mumbled. “Add some sparkle to the deficiencies, and everyone will see them!” He’d probably say that about spectacles, too. They were for men or scholars. He was well matched with the wife of the year, having exchanged the rest of wives two through five nearly annually since Pippa’s had mother died with a divorce granted by Parliament. Though, to his credit, two of the wives had run off never to be seen again. “I’d rather have hollow teeth than none.” And with these words, Father snapped his paper shut, rose from his chair, and left.
“I still don’t understand what is wrong with the viscountess’s daughter.” Bea was seemingly stuck on her competition, always scouting the prettier ladies at the balls.
“She has a sweet tooth, and she’s in pain, and her mother said she won’t have any offers this season. Last I heard, they made appointments for her to see a dentist every day for a whole week.”
“On Harley Street?” Pippa asked.
“Yes, at eighty-seven,” Bea answered.
Pippa recalled that she’d seen the address, 87 Harley Street, when she’d accompanied Father to his appointments and now she had the oculist’s card.
