Spring Muslins

by Melinda Hammond

  Lucy had no choice but to allow him to bring both horses to a stand, by which time they were some distance from the other riders, who had slowed to a walk and were now waiting at the edge of the copse. She glared at him.

  ‘What the, the devil do you think you are about?’ she demanded angrily.

  ‘I may ask you the same! Have you no sense?’ He looked down at the riding crop clutched tightly in her hand. ‘I know you would like to lay about me with that whip but pray control yourself.’

  She gasped in outrage. ‘I have every right to be angry. How dare you interfere with my horse!’

  ‘And how dare you be so foolhardy!’ he retorted. ‘If the mare had stumbled you might have been killed. By heaven, even now I am tempted to put you across my knee and spank you for such imprudence!’

  Fury shot through Lucia, but it was arrested as she looked into his face. His mouth was a thin line, the jaw tense but in his narrow eyes there was something more than anger.

  He was afraid for my safety.

  Shaken, she bit back a stinging retort and said stiffly, ‘I beg your pardon, I did not mean to cause anyone concern.’

  ‘Very well.’ He glanced over his shoulder. ‘We should return to the others.’

  He spoke coldly, and Lucy felt her pleasure in the outing completely destroyed. Tears were not far away, but she could not bear the tense silence.

  ‘I really am very sorry.’

  ‘Now I have upset you. Here.’ He dragged out his handkerchief and handed it to her. ‘Do not cry.’

  ‘I am not crying,’ she muttered, the words muffled by the handkerchief. ‘I despise such weakness.’

  ‘Of course you do. Come now, cheer up. I have made far too much of it. That mare carried my sister for years without mishap. And Verity was far more reckless than you.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  She managed a smile and offered to return his handkerchief. He shook his head.

  ‘You had best keep it. For the next time I lose my temper with you.’

  She sniffed. ‘I trust there will not be a next time.’

  ‘I hope not.’ He reached across, covering her hand with his own. ‘We could deal better than this, Lucia.’

  The feel of his strong fingers about her own and the tone of his voice sent a wave of shock through her. Was he flirting with her, when a moment ago they were at daggers drawn? How could that be? Her eyes flew to his face to find he was smiling at her, causing her heart to beat erratically against her ribs, making it difficult to breathe. Her hand trembled beneath his and he squeezed it.

  ‘Cry friends with me, my dear.’

  ‘Yes. No! I –’ she looked away, swallowed, tried to control her voice and the tumult of emotions that threatened to bring the tears back again. She was being foolish beyond reason. She took a deep breath.

  ‘Why, naturally I will cry friends with you, Sir Darius. After all, we are some sort of cousins, are we not?’

  ‘We are indeed,’ he replied gravely. ‘Now, shall we join the others?’

  As one they turned their horses and rode back to where the rest of the party were waiting for them. To Lucia it felt as if a lifetime had passed, but no one appeared to make much of their absence, they were all chatting happily together and even her stretched sensibilities could detect nothing more than friendliness when Verity addressed her brother.

  ‘Shame on you, Darius, you expressly forbade me to race then you allow Brutus to chase after Juno! When Lucia galloped by I thought she was racing me, until you flew past after her.’

  Lucia hoped her countenance did not give her away and she glanced at Sir Darius, wondering if he would explain and put the blame where it really belonged. Instead he said coolly, ‘I know, it was very bad of me, but I could not resist it. I only hope Miss Luckington can forgive me.’

  She inclined her head, smiling in what she hoped was a fair attempt at cool amusement.

  ‘You were fortunate, Claversham, that Miss Luckington is such a cracking rider,’ put in Lord Applecross, coming up. ‘Now off you go and let me ride alongside the lady for a while.’ He grinned at her. ‘You don’t want to have Claversham looming over you on that great brute of his. Besides, the grey mare and your red skirts are shown to much better advantage next to my black hunter, don’t you think?’

  Everyone was laughing and Lucia joined in, relieved that the mood had lightened. Sir Darius moved off to talk to Gerald Garwood and the party continued on its way.

  They soon reached Kensington and found the village high street bustling with traffic. When they arrived at the tea gardens they left their horses with the grooms and went inside. Mr Garwood had sent ahead and they found their table waiting for them, already laden with refreshments. For a while Lucia felt ill at ease, knowing she should thank Sir Darius for taking the blame, but he gave her no opportunity and looked perfectly at his ease sitting with Mary and Gerald Garwood. Everyone was in such good spirits it appeared that the incident had been forgotten by everyone save Lucy herself, and by the time they mounted up for the ride back to London she decided it would be wisest not to mention it.

  It had been agreed that the whole party would take dinner at the Garwoods’ house off Piccadilly, from where Lady Winterstoke’s carriage would collect Verity and Lucia and take them to their respective homes at the end of the evening. No one changed their dress for dinner and it was a jolly, informal occasion and afterwards they gathered about the fire in the drawing room, reliving the day while Gerald Garwood handed round glasses of wine or brandy.

  ‘We must do it again,’ declared Mary, when the party at last broke up. ‘My poor hack is quite tired of merely trotting around the park.’

  ‘It has been a most delightful day and I would love to repeat it,’ agreed Verity. ‘Although next time Darius must behave. It was quite despicable of him to race!’

  Lucia’s conscience pricked her uncomfortably.

  ‘Actually, Verity, it was – ‘

  ‘It was indeed.’ Sir Darius interrupted her. ‘Content yourself that it will not happen again, Verity, and let us forget the matter.’

  Lucy had no doubt that he was really addressing himself to her and much as it irked to be beholden to him, there was nothing she could do. He escorted them out to the waiting carriage but when he jumped in after them Verity exclaimed in surprise.

  ‘I thought you would be walking! It is but a step to your rooms in Albany.’

  ‘What, and leave you to drive home unattended? No, indeed. What would our grandmother say to that?’

  He sat down next to Lucia, who felt a sudden nervousness at his proximity in the darkness. When they reached Grafton Street he ordered the coachman to wait and she quickly assured him he need not come any further.

  ‘I shall be perfectly safe with the coachman and a footman as escort,’ she told him.

  ‘But I must come with you, Miss Luckington. My duty as a gentleman.’

  Five minutes later he was back and the coach set off again towards Portman Square.

  ‘Since you insist upon accompanying me, Sir Darius, I must insist on thanking you for saving me embarrassment on the ride today. I was in the wrong – ‘

  ‘I thought we had agreed that the incident was forgotten.’

  She bowed her head. ‘I cannot forget it. Mine was the blame.’

  ‘You are incensed that I acted chivalrously?’ He chuckled and turned towards her, putting the fingers of one hand beneath her chin so that she was obliged to look up at him. He said softly, ‘How could I do otherwise, when you looked so magnificent?’

  The flare of a passing street lamp glinted in his eyes and she was unable to look away, unable to move as he lowered his head and kissed her.

  For a moment she froze, then a tremor ran through her, a wave of something primal, powerful. She was about to throw caution to the winds and put her arms about his neck when he raised his head.

  ‘Now I am the one to blame,’ he murmured. ‘Forgive me!’

  ‘Of course.’ Her voice shook,
but only a little. ‘Forgive and forget, would be best, I think.’

  What a foolish thing to say! She should rebuke him firmly for his actions but she felt dazed and off balance, unable to think clearly. The carriage was slowing. They had reached Quidenham House and before she could gather her wits, Sir Darius had jumped out of the carriage and was holding out his hand to help her down. Somehow, she managed to walk to the door, to accept his salute of farewell upon her fingers and make her way up to her room, but her thoughts were so jumbled, so troubled, that it was a long time before she fell asleep that night.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Lucia woke with the megrims. She was not unhappy, just aware of a vague, unsettling dissatisfaction. That was due to a disturbed night, she decided. Or perhaps too many glasses of wine. Her dreams had been of Sir Darius teasing her, smiling at her.

  Kissing her.

  Gentlemen flirted. She knew that, her teachers at the academy had been at pains to warn their pupils that gentlemen were not to be trusted and she had witnessed it many times since she had been in London. Even at Almack’s she had observed how the gentlemen behaved, indeed she had experienced it herself. They paid court, acting as if their partner was the only woman in the world, and then moving on to the next dance, the next lady and beginning all over again.

  She had also observed how the ladies reacted. Some would sigh, their eyes following one particular gentleman as if he was their sole delight. Others, wiser and more experienced, would wave their partner away with a smile and go off to flirt themselves with some other gentleman. Clearly it did not do to take any man’s attentions seriously. Especially a man as fashionable, as handsome, as disturbing as Sir Darius Claversham.

  Perhaps her response had been the right one, after all. Treat the kiss lightly, as if it did not matter at all. Now all she had to do was to put the matter completely out of her mind. Lucia threw back the covers and jumped out of bed. She would forget all about Sir Darius Claversham and pursue another matter that had been on her mind for some time: Aunt Evadne’s mysterious Mr T.

  She began by calling at Grafton Street. Verity had arranged to accompany Mary Garwood and her brother to the royal academy and Lucia was confident she would find Lady Winterstoke alone. In fact, when she was ushered into the morning room, she found her quarry had been enjoying a nap, for she sat up very quickly when Lucia was announced.

  ‘Good morning, Lucia, whatever brings you here?’ she said, hurriedly straightening her cap. ‘Verity is gone out this morning.’

  ‘I know that, ma’am, but my aunt thought I should bring you this receipt for a sore throat as soon as maybe.’

  ‘Sore throat? I have no sore throat.’

  ‘No, ma’am, not yet, but Aunt Evadne heard you saying that you had a tickle in your throat, and she was concerned. Not that she would ever admit such a thing,’ she added, giving a conspiratorial smile. ‘We both know my aunt does not like to be thought of as a caring sort of person.’

  ‘Hmm, of course,’ agreed Lady Winterstoke, looking a little bewildered. ‘Very well, you had best give me the receipt.’

  Lucy handed over a small folded note.

  ‘I believe you knew my aunt when she was a girl,’ she ventured, sitting down opposite Lady Winterstoke.

  ‘Oh yes. We came out the same year, you know. Lord, you should have seen us then, two giddy girls.’

  ‘And she married Quidenham the same year?’

  ‘Oh, goodness me, no. Evadne did not marry for, oh, it must have been two or three years after our come-out.’

  ‘So long?’

  ‘I know, it was a great surprise to me, because Evadne was quite the prettiest of the debutantes that year, I remember. Of course, there was some talk.’ She broke off. ‘But you are not interested in such things.’

  ‘Oh, but I am,’ said Lucia, sitting forward. ‘My aunt has been very good to me, but she says so little of her own history.’

  ‘But this is not history, my dear, ‘twas only a rumour at the time, that she was in love with a young man whom her parents did not consider suitable. Whatever the truth of it, there were any number of young men vying for her hand that first season but she wanted none of them.’

  ‘But she never mentioned anything to you, no name?’ Lucia took a breath and said daringly, ‘Could it have been Mr Theale?’

  ‘Linus Theale?’ Lady Winterstoke gave a hoot of laughter. ‘Oh dear me, no! Mr Theale is a noted botanist, my dear. All he cares about is his plants! Besides, he was away with Captain Cook on one of his celebrated voyages when we were young.’

  ‘Oh. Are you sure?’

  ‘Of course I am sure! It was in all the newspapers that summer. Let me see, it was Cook’s second voyage, I believe, looking for the Southern Continent. They were away for years.’

  Lucia left Grafton Street disappointed but not daunted. She wanted to find out more, but first she had promised to visit Grace. She was a little concerned to be shown into the consulting room directly, but her fears that business was falling off were soon put to rest.

  ‘You are fortunate to find me alone, Cousin.’ Grace came up to kiss her cheek. ‘Lady Chawton has just this minute left, having ordered three gowns from me!’ A faint blush mantled her pale cheek as she said shyly, ‘I think I owe the visit purely to you, Lucia, because it was her son who brought her and urged her to buy. He claimed he had heard such glowing reports of my work!’

  ‘If he has, it has not been from me. I am very careful to show off your dresses without making claims that might appear too forward. However, I can tell you that the riding habit was much admired yesterday!’

  She went on to relay the compliments she had received and then described in as much detail as she could other outfits she had seen.

  ‘Thank you,’ said Grace, when she had finished her recital. ‘I want to know everything possible about the latest fashions. You know I go about as much as I can, when I have time, but of course I cannot attend society parties as you do. Your descriptions from Almack’s and from the military review were extremely useful. In fact I am currently working on a military style pelisse. I just wish I could draw a little better.’

  ‘You do very well,’ Lucia told her. ‘From what Morry says, the accounts show your customers are very well pleased with you.’

  Ella came in to announce another customer and Lucia took her leave. The business in Orchard Street was doing very well and Morry had already said they would be able to begin paying her a return on her investment in a month or two. There really was very little for her to do now, she thought, what with Morry looking after the accounts and Grace happily running her team of seamstresses.

  The slight discontent that she had felt that morning surfaced again. It was little comfort to remember it was her investment that had made everything possible. She wondered just how necessary it had been for her to go into Society. It was the materials from Grandmama’s trunks that had started it all, Grace had made such lovely clothes for Lucia to wear that spring, plus making the jackets, mantles, reticules and muffs that had sold so well and provided extra income while Grace made a name for herself. Lucy wondered now if she had merely persuaded herself that she was being useful, when in reality she had wanted to come to Town.

  She did not wholly believe that, but she had to confess that she was enjoying herself and she suddenly felt a little guilty at making such use of Aunt Evadne, who declared frequently that she had been very happy with her reclusive lifestyle.

  But had she? Lucia wondered about this when she returned to Quidenham House and learned that her ladyship was entertaining in the morning room. She was showing every sign of enjoying herself. If that was the case, then Lucia was glad of it, and she hoped she might be able to do even more to help her aunt.

  *

  Summer was approaching and Orchard Gowns had so many orders that Lucia laughingly declared she might have to go elsewhere.

  ‘Nonsense, I have already made a start on a new gown for you, with a matching pelisse.’ Grace picked up a
delicately coloured painting from her desk and held it out. ‘What do you think?’

  ‘Oh, it is quite beautiful!’ Lucy looked closer at the paper. ‘But this is not your style, Cousin. Are you employing an artist now?’

  Grace blushed. ‘It is Mr Chawton’s work.’

  ‘Edward Chawton?’ Lucia looked again at the painting. ‘It is very good. Equal to any fashion plate I have seen in Ackermann’s Repository.’

  ‘I know. I was trying to describe one of my designs to Lady Chawton and he offered to draw it for me. He understood exactly what I intended and after that he, he offered to paint a series of pictures for me.’

  ‘How generous of him,’ exclaimed Lucia. ‘I have seen his sketches, so I know he is good. I quite see how it is. Mr Chawton needed an outlet for his talents and you have provided it! What a splendid solution for you both.’

  ‘Yes, isn’t it?’

  If Lucia had not been quite so preoccupied she might have noticed the slightly wistful note in her cousin’s voice. As it was, her mind had wandered to the quiet dinner she had planned with her aunt this evening, when she hoped to find out more about the disappointment she had suffered in her youth.

  Following her talk with Lady Winterstoke, Lucia had gone to Albemarle Street, to the Royal Institution. There she had discovered that Captain Cook’s second voyage had indeed sailed from Plymouth in July forty years ago and that Linus Theale had been on board as an assistant naturalist. However, what really excited her was the discovery that Mr Theale had been in Bath prior to the voyage, and Bath was where Aunt Evadne had lived as a girl.

  She was determined to ascertain, if she could, that Linus Theale was indeed the mysterious Mr T mentioned in her great-aunt’s letters.

  After dinner she accompanied Lady Quidenham and Miss Morrison into the drawing room. She had already informed Morry that she needed to talk to the dowager privately that evening and Miss Morrison, always ready to promote a good understanding between Lucia and her aunt, was very willing to help. Thus, soon after they had made themselves comfortable, she gave a huge yawn and declared she was too tired to stay up any longer. Lady Quidenham looked at her in surprise.