by Mira Stables
Damon’s lips twitched. It was four years since he had mingled freely in society, but he still remembered with distaste the arch advances, the coy withdrawals that passed for conversation with most of the débutantes. ‘La, sir! What can you mean?’ they would say, or ‘Oh fie! You shock me, sir. Indeed you must not speak so bold.’ And that if you but thanked them with common courtesy for the pleasure of a dance. It was a refreshing change to meet a damsel who believed in direct dealing and asked him in the most natural fashion what it was he wanted with her.
He did not, however, feel that he could quite match her frankness. He had not even fully weighed his motives in seeking her society, save that he had been disgusted by her cousin’s ill-bred behaviour in reading her a public lecture and that his sympathies had been enlisted by the gallant manner in which she had met the attack. He could scarcely put all that into words. He said temperately, “Why nothing of any vast importance, Miss Forester. I had not understood, you see, that your time was not your own, and I thought you might be interested to hear the end of our adventure. I could scarcely embark upon the tale last night. Your cousin would have thought me a dead bore! And then I was hopeful of securing your promise to visit Hampton Court with me if we could arrange a time when you have no other engagements.” Which ought to show her where my sympathies lie, he thought with satisfaction.
She surprised him again. There was quite a noticeable silence while she considered his remarks. He could not know that behind the sober little face a whole tangle of emotions fought for expression. Family loyalty won. She said seriously, “I think you are under some misapprehension, milord. My time is my own. Aunt Maria would be the last person to deny me any rational enjoyment. But she has been so good to me that naturally I would not wish to neglect any attention that might contribute to her comfort.” She hesitated, then went on bravely, “And I think you did not quite like it when my cousin reproved me last night. But my aunt had asked her to show me how I should go on. So while I confess that I did not enjoy the rebuke, I have to acknowledge its justice.”
“So do not I,” said Damon shortly. “Your cousin, my girl, spoke out of sheer jealously, because for one moment you occupied the centre of the stage that she has always been accustomed to claim by virtue of her beauty.”
Loyalty and honesty warred within her. “Perhaps,” she temporised. “But she is so very lovely that she has grown accustomed to being the centre of attention.”
“Oh yes, indeed! A diamond of the first water,” he returned lightly. “And now may we forget her? I am longing to tell you the tale of my dealings with Master Ralph’s father. You will be delighted to hear that the bay colt is well on the way to recovery and that ‘Squoire’ was hopeful that, though scarred, he had many years of useful life ahead of him.”
“Oh! How perfectly splendid!” she exclaimed in unfeigned delight.
He pulled out a pocket book and took a letter from it, handing it to her to read as the horses dropped to a collected walk. There were two pages in a sprawling forceful hand, the first devoted to details of the treatment that was being used to restore the colt to full vigour and to minimise the scarring, with a request for any advice that might be helpful in such a case. There followed thanks for the care that had been bestowed on the animal and quite an animated account of the shifts to which the writer had been put in his efforts to trace his benefactor, an end which had been achieved at last by the happy accident of Judd’s having let fall his master’s name in the post boy’s hearing.
“I wrote to him at once,” explained Damon as she handed the letter back, “giving him such hints as I could that might prove useful, though I daresay he is far more experienced than I in such matters, and enquiring for his son. The answer came yesterday.”
The letter was shorter this time, and again most of it dealt with the colt’s continued improvement. There was a hearty offer of hospitality should his lordship chance to be in the vicinity, so that he might see for himself how well the gash had healed, and a brief postscript.
“My son is well enough. Better than he deserves. I gave him a rare trimming for his folly and forbade him to drive my horses until he has mended his ways. So he is still in the sullens.”
Alethea smiled. “One almost feels sorry for Master Ralph. His father seems far more concerned for the horse. And it was not his fault that the man on the stage gave him spirits and made him so horridly drunk. But Papa says it is most important for a young man to learn how much he can safely drink and still behave like a gentleman, so perhaps it is as well that Master Ralph should learn that lesson now. I expect he was very sorry when he saw what had happened to the poor horse.”
“If not then, I daresay he was heartily penitent by the time his father was done with him,” retorted Damon. “I think we may safely leave his education in his father’s hands and consider our own interests for a while. What do you say to my notion of visiting Hampton Court Palace? It is old, it is very beautiful, and it has a history as romantic and enthralling as any I know. And it so happens that a cousin of my mother’s lives there. Most of the rooms were made into private residences, you know, after the King himself declined to live there — so I am pretty well acquainted with the place. It would give me great pleasure to show it to someone who has a fondness for such things.”
Alethea could think of nothing that she would enjoy more, but unfortunately that was not the only consideration. “It sounds perfectly delightful,” she said, in a rather stiff little voice, “but I would have to ask Aunt Maria’s permission before accepting your very kind invitation.”
He supposed that in her inexperience she was doubtful about the propriety of undertaking such a prolonged expedition under male escort. He said casually, “I thought we might wait for a really sunny day and use my mother’s landau. It’s a trifle antiquated, but extremely comfortable for all that. Marianne has been teasing me ever since I came back to take her to visit Aunt Emily — we have always called her ‘aunt’ because she is a good deal older than Mama. You would not object to including my cousin in the party? She had no great interest in history, but she would be happy to bear Aunt Emily company and exchange family news while we indulge our taste for antiquity.”
When his companion only smiled politely and said that that sounded very pleasant, he did not press her further, and once the question of acceptance had been safely left in abeyance, her manner became more natural. She wondered why His Majesty should have taken a dislike to the Palace. Was it true that it was haunted? Could that be the reason? And could anyone live there?
He smiled a little at her eager curiosity, which left him in small doubt that the proposed expedition was very much to her taste, and explained that his aunt had come by her tenancy because her mother had been one of Queen Caroline’s ladies. Growing old, and being of an independent nature, she had disliked the idea of being a pensioner on her son-in-law’s bounty — and His Majesty had been graciously pleased to grant her the use of an apartment at Hampton Court for the term of her life. As for the Palace being haunted — well — there were usually such stories told of any ancient building that had harboured tragedy and despair. The ghost of Queen Katherine Howard was reputed to haunt a certain gallery leading to the Chapel Royal. She was said to have run along it in an attempt to reach the king with a plea for mercy. But all old buildings creaked and groaned and a lively imagination could read a good deal into the strange noises that they produced. Certainly his present majesty’s aversion to the place had nothing to do with ghosts. If report spoke truly, it stemmed from an occasion when his grandpapa, King George the Second, had lost his temper with him and boxed his ears — in public, too, an insult which had never been forgotten.
Only when Damon broke off to enquire whether she would like to drive home by way of Hyde Park did Alethea realise how swiftly time had fled. She exclaimed in dismay when he told her that it was long past noon, and said that she must go home at once.
Obediently he turned the curricle and urged the bays to greater ef
fort, suggesting pleasantly that perhaps she would drive out with him again and adding, as they turned into Berkeley Square once more, “And you will let me know which day would be convenient for our visit to Hampton Court, so that I can make arrangements with Marianne.”
“If Aunt Maria says I may go,” she agreed, gathering her skirts with one hand in readiness to descend from the curricle.
He bowed, and she reached up her hand in farewell, thanking him formally for a delightful morning and curtseying slightly before she turned to run up the steps. He watched the door close behind her before setting the bays in motion again. A pleasant little creature, refreshingly lacking in artifice, honest and loyal, he thought approvingly, before dismissing her from his thoughts and turning with a groan to contemplation of the tasks that would have to be accomplished in payment for his morning’s holiday.
Chapter Eight
Both ladies had secret misgivings. But Alethea dearly wished to accept his lordship’s invitation and Aunt Maria was equally anxious to convince herself that Tina’s interest in that gentleman had waned. She had not so much as mentioned his name since Alethea’s party. Doubtless his facial scars had been too much for her. Besides, the projected outing would not be at all to her taste. Had she not regularly evaded Kit Grayson’s eager pleas that she should accompany his sister and himself on one of their periodic visits to Lady Emily? Mrs. Newton refused to believe that the substitution of Lord Skirlaugh for Kit might change her daughter’s attitude. So Alethea was directed to write a pretty note to his lordship, informing him of her aunt’s approval, so that his arrangements could be set forward.
Alethea had been carefully taught to set small value on outward show, but she could not quite suppress her regret that Mama and Susan could not see her stepping into the Duchess of Byram’s landau. Lord Skirlaugh might deprecate its shabbiness, explaining that his mama so rarely came to Town that it had not seemed worth while to have it re-furbished, but the only sign of shabbiness that Alethea could see was a slight fading of the lining from vivid gold to a soft and pleasing amber. She stole a respectful glance at the crest which adorned the door that his lordship himself opened for her, and decided that Papa would certainly rebuke her for so easily succumbing to the glamour of worldly trappings. But she had never ridden in so elegant a vehicle before, and she did not propose to allow moral reflections to spoil her pleasure.
That pleasure was increased when, as soon as the paved streets were left behind, his lordship enquired if the ladies would like the top lowered so that they might see better. Since it was a sunny morning with a promise of greater heat to come, they agreed with enthusiasm. And even Papa, thought Alethea, must have approved of the way in which his lordship sprang down and went to lend a hand with the job. Nothing consequential about that — and the poor man could not help his birth. She was quite sorry to think how sadly she had misjudged him at their first meeting, but there — if a man was so foolishly sensitive about his appearance, he must expect to be misunderstood from time to time.
His lordship, settling back into his seat surveyed his two guests with approval and a happy sense of holiday, thankful that the long drawn out conferences with his father’s agent and lawyer were done at last. Marianne had always been his favourite cousin. She had a gentleness that seemed to him truly feminine, and a quiet sense of humour that peeped out when she was not overshadowed by more strident companions. As for little Miss Forester, she looked surprisingly pretty this morning. Excitement and fresh air had brought colour to her cheeks, and though she had little to say it was obvious that she was hugely enjoying herself. Even as he watched, she sketched the faintest possible acknowledgement to a hawthorn tree that, in its array of blossom, might pass for a lady in court dress. There was a gracious gesture of one slim hand for a young horse that came trotting up to the hedge to watch their passing. Playacting, mused Damon, biting back a smile. And why not? She was little more than a child. Probably saw herself as a princess, or as Cinderella, riding to a ball. He relaxed in peaceful enjoyment of a perfect May morning, grateful that his guests did not seem to desire an uninterrupted flow of animated conversation, but rousing himself occasionally to point out such features as might be of interest to Miss Forester, since to Marianne they were already perfectly familiar.
They had left Town betimes, since they were to partake of an early luncheon with their hostess before setting out on their exploration of the ancient palace. It was not until they had passed Bushey Park, failing, to Alethea’s disappointment, to catch a glimpse of the famous tame deer, but much impressed by the glory of the chestnut blossom, that it occurred to his lordship that it might be as well to warn Miss Forester of some of his aunt’s eccentricities.
“Don’t be surprised at anything she may say,” he advised. “She is forthright to a degree, and will say exactly what comes into her head if she so chooses. Marianne will bear me out that the best way is to stand up to her. She cannot abide what she calls ‘mealy-mouthed simpering’.”
Alethea was somewhat alarmed by this daunting description, but comforted herself with the thought that Lady Emily was unlikely to pay much attention to her insignificant self. And at first sight her hostess’s appearance was reassuring. She was slight and small, no taller than Alethea, though she held herself very erect, and her white hair was piled high on her head in an elaborate coiffeur that had been fashionable in her hey-day and was, in fact, very becoming. Closer inspection revealed a pair of bright dark eyes, a dominant nose and a wide, thin-lipped mouth, all of which conveyed a strong suggestion that this was no sweet old lady who could be written off as a nonentity. However she greeted her visitors with due civility and acknowledged Damon’s presentation of Alethea with friendly welcome. If the bright eyes were agleam with curiosity they held no malice, and though she scolded Damon for extravagance in bringing her flowers when the Palace gardens were ablaze with them she was plainly pleased by the attention.
During luncheon they touched lightly on a number of topics, ranging from the scandalous mismanagement of the late war against what Lady Emily still described as ‘our American colonies’, to the encroaching ways of a number of shabby-genteel persons who had been permitted to take up residence at the Palace. Her ladyship could not imagine what the Lord Chamberlain was thinking of. Since Damon wickedly encouraged her to enlarge on this theme with fluent acerbity, Alethea very soon understood why it was not desirable that her ladyship should reside with her married daughter. So forceful a personality would not take kindly to the management of others, however well-intentioned.
It was at this point that she realised that Lady Emily had turned the whole of that penetrating intelligence upon herself. Casually, skilfully, she was being subjected to a searching inquisition as to her birth, breeding and social standing. Half annoyed, half amused, she answered her ladyship’s questions with calm composure. She had nothing to hide and nothing to fear, so she was even able to admire the artistry of the approach. Her ladyship nodded her satisfaction.
“H’m! Good blood — and it shows. You’re nothing out of the way to look at, but there’s quality in you. Good manners, too. You didn’t like my questioning you so close, but you suffered an old woman’s impertinence and answered me fairly and with courtesy.” And then — could it be apologetically? — “I’m very much out of the world these days. If I wish to know anything I have to find it out for myself. But you’ll do, my gel. Believe me, you’ll do.”
Damon, who had been listening to this exchange with an uneasy notion that something unusual was afoot but nothing that a fellow could put a finger on, heard Alethea say gently, “You do me too much honour, ma’am. It is only thanks to the combined efforts of my parents and my Aunt Maria that I have the least idea how to comport myself in society. I go in constant dread of doing the wrong thing. It seems it is all too easy to be stigmatised as ‘fast’ or, perhaps worse still, ‘a dead bore’. But I am grateful for your ladyship’s kindly encouragement and I shall study to improve.”
Her ladysh
ip chuckled. “Think you’ve put me in my place, don’t you, miss? And very neatly and politely, too. I don’t blame you. I like a gel with spirit.” She turned her attention abruptly to her young relatives. “So you’ve made up your mind to it at last, have you? Looking about you for a wife — or so your Mama informed me in her latest letter. High time, too. Twenty-eight, isn’t it? And doubtless set in your selfish ways like the rest of your sex. You’ll find yourself a crusty old bachelor eccentric if you don’t make haste. And then what’s to become of Byram? Your family have never figured prominently in the history books — which speaks well for their judgement and good sense — but they have always cherished and served their land. Failing heirs of your body, it would fall to your Cousin Barnard — and we all know what he is! A man-of-the-town if ever I saw one. What he didn’t spend on his light-skirts would be squandered at the gaming tables. It wouldn’t take him long either,” she added reflectively, “since he never had any luck to offset his stupidity. And Byram’s coffers are not deep enough to stand that sort of nonsense. You must look about you for a well-born heiress. Not too young, but a sensible wench who would know her duty. Such a one would suit you to a nicety, since you are, thanks be, past the age of falling in love.”
Damon had endured this extremely personal diatribe with commendable good humour, but when Lady Emily added, on a suddenly sharpened note, “Not thinking of offering for your cousin, I hope. That would never do. As like as not to breed a moon-calf,” his mouth tightened ominously. Seeing him on the brink of impetuous and probably extremely blunt speech, Marianne swiftly intervened.
