Spring Muslins

by Melinda Hammond

  ‘Oh, but what of our game of backgammon?’

  ‘I will play you, Aunt Evadne,’ offered Lucia. ‘Off you go to bed, Morry.’

  She flew up to plant a kiss on the old governess’s cheek and whispered ‘thank you!’ as she ushered her out of the door.

  Lucia was not as good a player as Miss Morrison, but she managed tolerably well and at the same time she made sure that the glass of madeira at her aunt’s elbow was kept topped up.

  Lady Quidenham won the final game and sat back in her chair.

  ‘You need more practice, Lucia.’

  ‘I do indeed,’ she replied, packing away the counters. ‘You are extremely good, Aunt. Did you play much when you were younger?’

  ‘Oh yes. Every evening.’

  ‘Tell me what it was like, before you were married. You lived in Bath, I believe?’

  ‘Yes. Bath was a very fashionable place when I was a girl.’

  ‘No doubt you met many interesting people there.’ Lucia refilled both their glasses and resumed her seat opposite her aunt.

  ‘Oh yes. The New Assembly Rooms had not long opened, and the first year we were there Sheridan ran off with Miss Linley, causing a very great scandal.’ She sat back and sipped her wine, a faint smile on her lips. ‘Ah, such times they were, to live in Bath.’

  ‘And to fall in love, perhaps?’ murmured Lucia.

  Her aunt’s eyes snapped to her face. ‘What makes you say that?’

  ‘I was wondering about the mysterious Mr T, Aunt.’ She sat forward in her chair. ‘Oh, do, pray tell me about him, Aunt Evadne. I promise you I shall not tell another soul.’

  Lucy held her breath. At first, she thought her aunt would refuse and tell her to go to bed, but after a few moments the old lady’s gaze became softer and her countenance took on a wistful look.

  ‘He was a younger son. We met when my father moved the family to Bath in order that Mama could take the waters. By the following spring we were in love. I was only 18, he was five years older. He asked for my hand, but of course my father refused to countenance a match with a man who had no money and few prospects. I thought myself heartbroken.’

  ‘And you wrote those letters to Grandmama.’

  The old lady nodded. ‘Joanna was only 16 and still at school in Cheltenham, but I needed to share my grief with someone, so I wrote to her. I instructed her to destroy the letters, but clearly she did not.’ She paused, her brow creasing in momentary disapproval before she gave herself a little shake. ‘It was foolish of me to confide in her. In anyone. I got over my infatuation and went to London for my come-out.’

  ‘I do not believe you could forget him so easily.’

  The dowager gave Lucy a haughty look. ‘I knew my duty. Besides, one of us had to marry well.’

  ‘Ah,’ murmured Lucy. ‘Grandmama married for love, did she not?’

  ‘Joanna fell in love with Fred Massey in her first season,’ The beringed hands tapped restlessly at the arms of her chair. ‘Papa refused to allow the banns until I was safely married off.’

  ‘And that was when you married Lord Quidenham?’

  The old lady nodded. ‘He had been pursuing me for months and it was an excellent match. Everyone was in favour of it, so I married him.’ She fell silent, gazing into the past. Then she sat up a little straighter. ‘The viscount was devoted to me, and I repaid him with affection and loyalty. We had no children, alas, so his cousin inherited the title, but Quidenham had settled various investments to come to me in the event of his death. I was left much more comfortably than poor Joanna.’

  ‘My grandfather Massey’s estate was entailed, I believe.’

  ‘Yes. When Frederick died without a son, everything passed to a distant relative and Joanna was obliged to use her meagre widow’s portion to support herself and her daughter.’

  ‘Florence.’ Lucia nodded. ‘My mother.’

  ‘Yes.’ Lady Q’s lips thinned. ‘Another foolish girl! Family history should have taught Florence what was required of her. She was a pretty girl and could have married very well, instead she chose to throw herself away on Charles Luckington. A worthless gambler!’

  Lucy said gently, ‘They were very happy, Aunt. They were in love.’

  ‘Love!’ the dowager gave a snort of derision. ‘Love won’t keep a roof over one’s head.’

  ‘Papa managed it.’

  ‘Hah! He left you virtually penniless!’

  Lucia held on to her temper, reminding herself that the letters to her grandmother had displayed true heartbreak. She thought there might be a degree of jealousy mixed into the old lady’s bitterness. She tried another question.

  ‘Won’t you tell me your beau’s name?’

  Lucia went to refill her aunt’s glass but she put her hand across the top.

  ‘No. That is all in the past, and best forgotten. We shall not mention it again. Now, it is very late and I will bid you goodnight, Lucia.’

  And with that, the dowager rose from her chair and sailed regally out of the room.

  CHAPTER TEN

  May passed swiftly in a busy round of balls, breakfasts and outings. Lucia was pleasantly surprised at how many of these Lady Quidenham chose to attend. She appeared to be in good spirits and Lucia, not wishing to jeopardise the happy mood, refrained from making any further reference to the mysterious Mr T.

  With her circle of acquaintances growing, there was no shortage of entertainments, but Lucy was aware of one notable absence. Sir Darius was no longer in Town. She looked for him in vain at every rout and evening party, but refrained from mentioning it to anyone, especially Miss Claversham, whom she was afraid might read far too much into a casual enquiry. She was obliged to put Sir Darius, and that stolen kiss, quite out of her mind.

  Her increasingly busy life also meant that she was obliged to curtail her visits to Grace and rely upon Miss Morrison to keep her informed of how the business was progressing. However, there was daily proof that it was doing well, for it had become de rigueur for ladies to wear an outfit from Orchard Gowns.

  Lucia was surprised, therefore, to receive an urgent summons one morning, to attend a meeting with Grace and Miss Morrison.

  ‘Now, tell me immediately, is anything wrong?’ she asked, when they were all gathered in the consulting room at Orchard Street.

  ‘On the contrary,’ replied Morry, ‘Your cousin has been busy, advertising her wares.’ She added, with a hint of pride in her voice, ‘Very successfully, too.’

  ‘You will remember Mr Chawton offered to paint some of my designs,’ Grace explained, blushing slightly. ‘A few weeks ago, I had prints made from his artwork and sent them to the leading fabric warehouses, with my direction on the back.’ She looked up, her soft eyes shining. ‘You would be astonished at how many orders I have received, Lucy! I have taken on more girls, plus an extra milliner for the hats, but still we cannot keep up.’

  ‘We are also running out of space,’ put in Miss Morrison. ‘But I think there is a solution. The house next door has come available. It would provide more sewing rooms and extra space for storage.’ She reached out and put her hand on the ledger lying on the desk. ‘Grace and I have gone through the accounts very carefully. We believe we can afford to rent it, in addition to this property, and still be in a position to pay you ten pounds per month on your investment.’

  ‘Which is much more than I would have received if I had left the money in the four per cents,’ declared Lucy. ‘That is excellent news, ladies. Let us do it!’

  *

  Lucia left Morry and Grace to arrange the hire of the new premises and set off to walk back alone to Portman Square, warmed by a glow of satisfaction at the success of their plans. She was waiting to cross Seymour Street when a curricle came bowling up, pulled by a pair of glossy match-bays. She recognised the driver and felt a tiny kick of pleasure when he saw her and drew the equipage to a stand beside her.

  ‘Good day, Miss Luckington.’ He tipped his hat.

  ‘Sir Darius, have you
sold your phaeton?’

  ‘No,’ His answer was distracted. He was frowning at her. ‘You are unattended?’

  ‘I am on my way back to Portman Square. It really is but a step.’ She laughed. ‘You can hardly offer to take me up when I am already in sight of Quidenham House!’

  He relaxed and grinned.

  ‘You are right, but you might like to come for a short drive with me.’ He waved towards the horses. ‘This team is a new acquisition. I am just trying out their paces and would be glad of your opinion.’

  The offer caught her off guard and she replied, flustered, ‘I am very flattered, of course, but…’

  ‘If you are concerned for propriety, surely my man’s presence is sufficient.’ He glanced at the groom, sitting beside him. ‘Hand up the lady, Lewis, if you please.’

  Lucia thought she should refuse, but the sun was shining, her spirits were high and the temptation to ride behind such beautiful horses was too great to be resisted. She allowed the groom to help her up before he scrambled nimbly onto the back as the curricle began to move.

  Lucia watched with appreciation as Sir Darius guided the spirited pair through the traffic. She kept silent, not wishing to distract him, but when they turned into the park, she was wracked with indecision. She wanted to compliment him on his driving, but was afraid he might think she was flattering him. Yet he had asked for her opinion and she felt she must say something. In the end she settled for remarking that the bays were very spirited.

  ‘Did you purchase them at Tattersalls, Sir Darius?’

  ‘No. I picked them up at Newmarket. I have been staying with friends there for the past three weeks.’

  That answered the question she had been determined not to ask. He glanced down at her, a glinting smile in his eyes.

  ‘Did you miss me?’

  ‘Certainly not,’ she lied, fixing her gaze firmly on the road ahead. ‘I have been far too busy.’

  ‘You have not yet found yourself a husband.’

  ‘I am not looking for a husband!’ She retorted. ‘I have no need of one.’

  ‘Ah, of course. Your investment.’

  ‘Yes.’ It was very satisfying to say truthfully, ‘It is giving me a very good return.’

  ‘I am glad to hear it, but I am still intrigued to know where you have put your money.’

  ‘And I am still disinclined to divulge it.’

  ‘Are you afraid I might cut you out?’

  She laughed at that. ‘Impossible! But I cannot tell anyone. It is not at all the thing for young ladies to be dabbling in business.’

  ‘Some might frown, perhaps, but if that is what you are doing, and doing it successfully, I am impressed.’

  Lucia bit her lip. She was so proud of Orchard Gowns and she was bursting to tell someone about its success. Why not Sir Darius?

  ‘We have not been acquainted so very long,’ she said, more to convince herself than her companion.

  ‘Come, Miss Luckington, we are related, are we not?’ She glanced at him in surprise and he explained, ‘Through Lady Quidenham.’

  ‘There is that,’ she conceded.

  ‘I wish you would tell me.’ He added, as if reading her mind, ‘You need not worry about Lewis. He is very discreet.’

  Her bubbling excitement won out over caution.

  ‘Very well. But you must promise not to speak of it to anyone.’

  ‘You have my word.’

  She took a deep breath. ‘I have invested in my cousin’s business. She is an outstanding seamstress and I helped her to set up her own establishment in Orchard Street at the beginning of this season. It is proving highly successful.’

  ‘You wear her gowns?’

  ‘Gowns, cloaks, mantles, redingotes – she has made almost everything I have worn since coming to London.’

  ‘Orchard Gowns.’ He nodded. ‘My sister has mentioned it to me.’

  ‘It is doing very well. Much better than we could have hoped. No one knows Grace is my cousin and I pray you will not tell anyone.’ She flushed and went on hastily, ‘Not that I am ashamed of the connexion, but it might be frowned upon, in some circles.’

  ‘You are undoubtedly correct in thinking that!’ They drove on in silence for a while. Then he said, ‘And your purpose in coming to Town was to puff off your cousin’s business? Is Lady Quidenham aware of this? Does she approve?’

  ‘My aunt knows of it,’ Lucy temporized. ‘She was willing to sponsor me for this one Season.’

  ‘And what do you plan to do afterwards?’

  Lucy was at a loss to answer that. She had been concentrating so hard on making Grace a success that she had left the future to look after itself, but the doubts and questions had been gathering within her for some time.

  Her original hopes for the business had been modest, to earn enough to keep a roof over their collective heads. She had had some vague idea that she would retire from society and join Morry and Grace, living over the shop, but the growing success of Orchard Gowns had shown her that might not be wise. Some at least of Grace’s customers would be incensed if they discovered that Miss Lucia Luckington had spent the Season drumming up business for her cousin and was now living on the proceeds. Lucia had been aware for some time of the difficulties that lay ahead, but she had resolutely ignored them.

  ‘I am not sure,’ she said now, inexplicably cross with him for asking the question. ‘Not that it is anyone’s business but my own.’

  ‘I beg to differ, Miss Luckington. It must be of interest to Miss Bower and Miss Morrison.’

  ‘Well, yes, of course.’

  She had no intention of cutting herself off from them, but now the business was doing so well, they no longer needed her to be in town. But if she could not live with them, where would she go? Her earlier sunny spirits were now clouded by doubt.

  ‘It must be of interest to Lady Quidenham, too,’ he remarked. ‘She is likely to face censure from the ton for foisting her niece upon them.’

  The same thought had occurred to Lucy and it was not helped by the knowledge that she had forced the dowager’s hand. But guilt only made her feel more annoyed with Sir Darius for voicing it.

  ‘She did not foist me upon anyone!’ she replied hotly.

  ‘No?’

  The look he gave her, the faint raising of his brows as if in disbelief, made her grind her teeth in rage.

  ‘Oooh, I wish now I had not told you. It was only because you are so concerned that I might replace you as Lady Quidenham’s heir that I said anything at all!’

  He gave a little hiss of impatience. ‘That has never been my concern. I was anxious for Lady Quidenham. She is old and lonely and I did not want her to become prey to some scheming hussy.’

  Lucia gasped. ‘Is that what you think me?’

  ‘No! Not now I know you better.’

  ‘Thank you,’ she replied, sugar sweet and angry. ‘How magnanimous of you!’

  He was silent as he negotiated two carriages that were moving at a snail’s pace and Lucy’s spurt of anger faded away. She was being unjust and should be commending his solicitude for her aunt, not mocking him. It showed he was not nearly as cold as she had first thought. What she had taken for arrogant reserve she realised now was more a defence against incursions into his privacy. He was not at all the care-for-nobody he liked people to think him. In fact…

  He said suddenly, ‘Would it surprise you to learn that I would as soon not be her heir?’

  ‘No,’ she replied, a rueful smile touching her lips. ‘No, it would not surprise me at all.’

  He looked across and held her glance, his own eyes unreadable. Then, as if he had come to a decision, he swung the curricle off the main drive onto a winding path that was barely wide enough for one vehicle. Lucia was about to ask him if they were going the right way when he drew up and ordered his groom to take the horses’ heads.

  ‘Will you walk a while with me, Miss Luckington?’

  Intrigued, she allowed him to help her down. He drew he
r hand onto his sleeve and began to lead her away from the curricle. Since she was wearing half-boots suitable for walking, she had no qualms about stepping on to the grass in the dappled shade beneath the trees.

  It was very quiet in this part of the park. There was no one driving or walking close by and the only sound was the trill of birdsong. After her busy morning and the bustle of the streets, Lucia found it soothing, but it could not dispel the lowering suspicion that there was some truth in what Sir Darius had said. There was no denying she had compelled Lady Quidenham to bring her to London and she had made use of her great-aunt’s social position while she had been here. It was little consolation to tell herself it was in a good cause.

  Is that why had he invited her to walk here? Her conscience suggested he might wish to admonish her for her behaviour towards Aunt Evadne and did not want his groom to overhear. She prepared herself for a rebuke.

  ‘You said you did not miss me, while I was out of Town,’ he remarked at last. ‘I, on the other hand, thought about you a great deal.’ He stopped and turned towards her. ‘Miss Luckington – Lucia! Will you make me the happiest of men and consent to be my wife?’

  The proposal was so abrupt, so unexpected, that for a full minute Lucia could only stare at him. She could not deny that Sir Darius was the embodiment of a dream, and she had indulged in the illicit fantasy of imagining how it would be to be loved by such a man. But it was just that, a dream.

  He tried to pull her closer but she held him off.

  ‘You look shocked, madam.’

  ‘No – yes! You don’t even like me,’ she protested.

  He gave a ragged laugh. ‘That is clearly not the case.’

  ‘We can never meet without ripping up at one another.’ She stepped back, turning away from him. ‘No, no, I cannot believe it. This is some cruel jest – ‘

  ‘A jest!’ He caught her arm, swinging her back to face him. ‘You think I would joke about such a matter!’

  He was angry now, adding panic to the turmoil of her confused emotions. She took refuge in the only defence she could think of.