Free Regency Buck by Georgette Heyer Page A

neckcloth; Mr. Brummell had started the fashion of white tops to riding-boots; Mr. Brummell had laid it down that no gentleman would be seen driving in a hackney carriage; Mr. Brummell had his own sedan chair, lined and cushioned with white satin; Mr. Brummell had abandoned a military career because his regiment had been ordered to Manchester; Mr. Brummell had decreed that none of the Bow-window set at White’s would acknowledge salutations from acquaintances in the street if they were seated in the club-window. And Mr. Brummell, said Mrs. Scattergood, would give her one of his stinging set-downs if she offended his notions of propriety.
    “Will he?” said Miss Taverner, a martial light in her eye. “Will he indeed?”
    She was annoyed to find her brother inclined to be impressed by the shadow of this uncrowned king of fashion. Peregrine went to be measured for some suits of clothes at Weston’s, escorted by Mr. Fitzjohn, and when he debated over two rolls of cloth, unable to decide between them, the tailor coughed, and said helpfully: “The Prince Regent, sir, prefers superfine, and Mr. Brummell the Bath coating, but it is immaterial which you choose: you must be right. Suppose, sir, we say the Bath coating?—I think Mr. Brummell has a trifle the preference.”
    Peregrine’s days during the first week were quite as full as his sister’s. His friend, Mr. Fitzjohn, took him thoroughly in hand. When he was not being fitted for boots at Hoby’s, or hats at Lock’s, he was choosing fobs in Wells Street, or riding off to Long Acre to look at a tilbury, or knowingly inspecting carriage-horses at Tattersall’s.
    The house in Brook Street, somewhat to Miss Taverner’s annoyance, proved to be admirable in every respect, the saloons handsome, and the furnishings just what she liked. She was installed there within three days of seeing Mr. Blackader, and a number of her new gowns having been delivered in neat bandboxes, her hair having been fashionably cut, and her maid taught to dress it in several approved classical styles, Mrs. Scattergood declared her to be ready to receive morning callers.
    The first of these were her uncle, the Admiral, and his son, Mr. Bernard Taverner. They came at an awkward moment, Peregrine, who had spent the great part of the morning in a brocade dressing-gown, while the barber and a breeches-maker waited on him, being at the moment engaged in trying to arrange his starched neckcloth.
    His sister, who had walked unceremoniously into his room to demand his escort to Colburn’s Lending Library, was an interested and rather scornful spectator. “What nonsense it is, Perry!” she exclaimed, as with an exasperated oath he threw away his fourth crushed and mangled cravat. “That is the fourth you have spoiled! If only you would have them made more narrow!”
    Peregrine, his face and head quite obscured by his turned-up shirt collar, said testily: “Women never understand these things. Fitz says it must be a foot high. As for four spoiled, pooh, that’s nothing! Fitz says Brummell has sometimes ruined as many as a score. Now try it again, John! Fold my collar down first, you fool!”
    Someone knocked on the door. Peregrine, with a neckcloth a foot wide round his neck, and his chin to the ceiling, shouted: “Come in!” and in doing so produced a crease in the neckcloth which he felt could hardly have been bettered by the Beau himself.
    The footman entered, and announced the arrival of Admiral and Mr. Taverner. Peregrine was too much engaged in making further creases by the simple expedient of gradually lowering his jaw, to pay any heed, but Judith jumped up at once. “Oh, Perry, do make haste! It is our cousin! Beg the Admiral to wait, Perkins. We will come directly. Is Mrs Scattergood downstairs? Oh then, she will see to it all! Perry, will you never have done?”
    The cravat had by this time been reduced to more normal proportions. Peregrine studied it anxiously in the mirror, tried with a