Not Just Lovely Laura

by Jessica Spencer

  “I'm Wimberley's heir. I've come to see the child.”

  Anthony's heir! She'd met him. Anthony had looked unwilling when he had made the introduction. He was Philip something. Philip Lancing. She hadn't liked him at all. His eyes kept hovering on her bosom even though her neckline wasn't all that revealing. What was that slimy toad doing here? Stirring up trouble for Anthony, no doubt.

  “I do not understand,” Mrs. Forsyth said in a chilling tone.

  “Wimberley sent me here about his brat. He told me to keep an eye on the child.”

  “I still don’t understand.”

  “Madam, you don't have to play games with me. I'm Anthony's heir. I know he brought his bye-blow here. He told me himself.”

  “You have been misinformed. His Grace did not bring any child here. Good day, Sir.”

  Philip raised his voice. “You can't keep the child from me. Wimberley won't like it. Here, he gave this letter. You can read it. It clearly says you must give the child to me.”

  “It matters not what the letter contains. His Grace did not leave any child with us. Now if you would kindly leave, I have plenty to do.”

  With that, Mrs. Forsyth called the two men who were waiting for her summons. Lord Lancing didn't go easily. But the men were strong and only too happy to remove his person from the house.

  “You may come out, dear.” Mrs. Forsyth said, opening the door. “I hope you were not too uncomfortable in here. The window is kept shut because it faces the street. Sometimes the odors can be overpowering.”

  Laura guessed Mrs. Forsyth did not want to allude to the caller. How many secrets were hidden within the walls of the home? If Mrs. Forsyth was inclined to talk, reputations would fall like nine pins every day.

  “I wonder what is keeping Teresa. I'll bring Annie myself,” Mrs. Forsyth said and left.

  While awaiting her return, Laura's gaze fell on a sheet of paper. It lay on the faded carpet beside the chair. It was the letter! Laura picked it up. Before she could read more than a sentence, she heard footsteps and quickly stuffed it into her reticule.

  “Here is your lady!” Mrs. Forsyth announced, smiling at Annie. Annie hung back, cradling the rag doll.

  “I hope you haven't forgotten me, Annie.”

  Annie shook her head and gave a shy smile.

  “Are you looking after the doll? Have you given her a name?”

  Annie looked up at the mention of the doll. Smiling broadly, she said, “Fanny.”

  Laura stared at her in stunned silence. How had she missed Annie’s resemblance to the man who had snared her heart?

  Chapter 28

  Annie was eager to talk about her ragdoll. Laura only needed to ask her a question or two to set her off. She was also happy with the book Laura had brought for her. She leaned against Laura and listened to her read. The hour finally over, Laura collected Lucy and returned to Daventon House.

  She ran up the stairs and into her room. Whatever control she had managed to exercise snapped the moment she shut the door. She started to shiver. With shaking hands, she pulled out the pins from her hair and fell weeping on her bed. Her stays felt painfully tight as she took deep gulping breaths.

  How could Anthony be so despicable! Remembering the letter, she pulled it out and smoothed it. Anthony had addressed it to Mrs. Forsyth on his ducal stationery. The curt sentences revealed how heartless and lacking in tenderness he was.

  A man in my position cannot be thus encumbered hence I pray you will hand over the brat to my heir, Lord Lancing...

  As Laura came to the end of the letter, bile rose in her throat. She made a dash for the chamber pot and cast up her accounts. Stumbling over to the washstand, she managed to wipe her face with a wet washcloth. After rinsing her mouth, she rang for Bessie.

  “What happened?” Bessie asked, staring at her disheveled state.

  “I had skimped on breakfast. The carriage ride made me sick.”

  “Shall I call Lady Catherine?”

  “You will needlessly alarm her. I am all right, Bessie. Help me change into a comfortable gown.”

  Bessie complied but kept shooting anxious glances at her mistress. “Shall I bring something to eat?” she asked.

  The thought of food made Laura nauseous. If she refused, Bessie would hover over her or call Lady Catherine or Lady Maria. “Some toast and a pot of tea,” she said.

  With Bessie gone from the room, Laura was beset by the same thoughts. Anthony had fathered Annie while his wife was alive. He had sired her and left her destitute. Who was the mother? Was it a love affair? Or a liaison of a sordid nature?

  Her visits to the home had opened her eyes. She was no longer a sheltered miss. She knew that gentlemen who were received everywhere and introduced to innocent young women, who were courteous and gallant, had another face. They sired children and did not care a whit about ruining a woman's life and leaving their offspring destitute. She had never imagined Anthony to be one of them. He was her childhood hero, and now the man she was helplessly in love with.

  By the time Bessie returned, Laura had come to a decision. She would root out Anthony from her heart. It mattered not that Society was tolerant of such behavior in the case of a peer.

  She was not.

  ***

  “What shall you wear this evening?” Bessie asked, relieved to see her mistress no longer distraught.

  Laura had no wish to attend the ball. If she refused, she would have her mother and Maria descend upon her, wanting to know why. She would not be able to brush aside their questions. Pretending enthusiasm, she examined the gowns Bessie had laid out, and let her prattle on about bracelets and brooches until it was time to dress.

  The ball was in honor of Lady Pamela’s engagement to the Earl of Bastable. It was an arranged match. Laura numbered among Lady Pamela’s close friends. She knew that Lady Pamela had resisted the match at first. Her mother had convinced her that it was better this way. A ton marriage had a better chance of succeeding if it was not based on something as fickle as the human heart. At that time, Laura had pitied her friend. She was convinced that a love match was far better to a prosaic arrangement for gaining wealth or title.

  Now she knew better. If Pamela was to learn that the sour-faced Earl of Bastable had sired children outside of marriage or kept a string of mistresses, her heart would not be shattered.

  As long as husbands did not fritter away their inheritance, wives looked the other way. An arranged match was not to be laughed at. It offered comfort and security. She had four eligible gentlemen vying for her hand. All she had to do was encourage one of them. She liked Lord Ayles’s company. He was also young and handsome. They were all good looking in their own way. Except for the Duke of Berkley.

  Unconsciously, Laura squared her shoulders. She would accept the duke. He would not expect much from her beyond looking pretty and listening to his mathematical hypothesis.

  When the musicians struck the first tune, Laura took to the dance floor on Lord Newington’s arm. She danced with a series of partners. It had become second nature for her to glance around at social events to see whether Anthony was present. Now she resolutely kept her eyes on her partner’s face. There was a single moment when she faltered. While dancing at the edge of the dance floor, she passed Anthony. He was leaning against a pillar with his arms crossed on his chest. His eyes were on her. He was smiling as if she meant the world to him.

  Only her upbringing stopped her from hurtling herself at him and tearing his eyes out!

  ***

  The next day, Laura did not awake until it was noon. She slept so deeply she was not aware of Bessie coming in several times or her mother looking in on her. When she woke up, she felt refreshed until she remembered the shocking revelation of the day before.

  Bessie came in. “You are up, my lady. You must be famished. Shall I bring in a tray?”

  “Is it afternoon already? I promised Lady Maria I would be at Severn House early!”

  Bessie bustled about arranging a bat
h after which she wheeled in a trolley laden with an assortment of meats, pastry, and freshly baked rolls. Laura thought she wouldn't be able to eat a bite. Once she bit into a crisp roll, she was ravenous and ate to Bessie's satisfaction.

  “How should I do your hair?” Bessie asked.

  Laura shrugged. “Style it how you would before we came to London.”

  Bessie plaited Laura's hair and pinned it up as she was told but couldn't resist leaving a thick curl out of the coiffure. She helped Laura into a patterned silk gown. Laura let her clasp the pearl and emerald necklace around her neck and fix the matching brooch to the gown. Pinning a smile on her face, she joined her mother in the carriage to Severn House.

  An hour later, the smile was still in place. The Duchess of Severn had invited a few chosen guests to introduce them to a young talented painter. He was the son of her tenant. Laura took a seat beside the famously silent Lady Martha. She sat with her hands demurely folded in her lap, appearing calm and composed.

  A hush fell over the gathering when Lady Mannering walked in. She looked ethereally beautiful in the sarsanet gown. Her beauty glowed like a candle. Her skin was luminescent and her eyes were dark and mysterious. Dark brown hair, the color of rich chocolate, framed her heart-shaped face. With her trim figure, she looked not a day more than twenty-one. It was difficult to believe she had been married and widowed.

  The duchess made her feel welcome. She complimented her on her looks and her gown. She remembered her deceased aunt who had been her friend. Lady Maria barely left her side. By the end of the evening, many a lady had unbent towards her. They issued invitations, assuring Lady Fanny she would have received a card had they known she was in London.

  Lady Malloy was most insistent. She was hosting another party that very week. “I remember you as a young girl. Your father’s estate borders one of the Wimberley estates, does it not? You must come,” she told Fanny and charged Lady Maria with the task of bringing her.

  Lady Maria brought Fanny over to Laura and told her to keep her company. Laura stood up. “Lady Mannering, shall we stroll around the hall?” she asked.

  Lady Mannering agreed. “Maria needn't do any of this. I have no intention of taking part in the Season,” she said, speaking softly.

  Laura looked at her and glimpsed the strain and unease behind the mask of polite interest.

  “Maria thinks the ton will welcome me back with open arms. She and the duchess can do only so much. I don't need them to open doors. If I was to leave my card, I would be flooded with invitations. Hostesses would vie for my attendance. Not because my presence would add consequence but for a better reason. Everyone will want to attend. They will want to watch me, to gossip about me, and to humiliate me.”

  “Maria says it will be worse if you go into hiding. The best way for a scandal to die down is to face it.”

  “I fear the scandal will taint Lady Maria. I had warned his Grace, the Duke of Wimberley, when he persisted in calling on me. He thought his high rank would protect him. This evening I've pointedly been asked about him. The questions have been artless. Innocent. But I know. They have started coupling my name to his.”

  Laura didn't know what to make of such frankness. It wasn't usual at all.

  “I love Maria and value her friendship. You are her sister now. I will be happy if you accompany her when she calls.”

  Laura nodded. She wished she could ask Lady Mannering how well she knew Anthony. Was he capable of such depraved behavior as to abandon a child?

  Laura brushed the thought aside. Not because the questions were vulgar but because they were a foolish attempt to deny what she already knew. The Duke of Wimberley, with his handsome face and pleasing manner, was a blackguard and worse.

  By the time the evening came to an end, Laura had a pounding headache. “What's the matter with you? Are you unwell?” Lady Maria asked.

  “It's all these late nights.”

  Lady Maria gave her an assessing look. Thankfully, she didn't point out that Laura had woken up only a few hours ago.

  “So what do you think?” she asked.

  “Mr. Crawford is very talented. His watercolors are exceptionally good.”

  “I meant Lady Mannering. She was received well. There should be less gossip now.”

  “She doesn't mean to accept any of the invitations,” Laura said and told her about the conversation.

  “I'll see to it that she accepts a few invitations. She might think me an interfering busybody but will thank me some day. With a little effort on her part and ours, she can regain a footing in society. After that, it is her choice whether she wants to retire to the country or find a husband from the ton.”

  Laura felt her face heating as she asked, “She is afraid the Duke of Wimberley will get a bad name if he keeps calling on her.”

  “She is wrong in that. It will only cause a scandal if she does not attend the Season. Anthony is looking for a wife. Fanny is single. It will be respectable if he squires her around. The gossips will have nothing to say as long as the meetings don't appear clandestine.”

  What Lady Maria said made sense. What didn't make sense was the pain that slashed through her. She didn't want Anthony. She didn’t want anything to do with a man who would turn his back on his own child. Why did it hurt when Lady Maria saw Lady Fanny as a suitable wife for him?

  ***

  Laura started keeping to her room until after breakfast. She tried not to wonder whether Anthony had left for Harrogate. She accompanied her mother to morning calls. She went with Lady Maria to Severn House. She was most attentive to the gentlemen courting her. She went out riding with Lord Auroville. When Lord Southall gifted her a volume of poems, she looked suitably overcome. She let the Duke of Berkley sit beside her on two mornings in a row.

  Laura did everything to forget Anthony. But his face teased her. His smile, his voice, tortured her peace of mind.

  She visited the children’s home on her appointed day. Annie's face lit up as soon as she saw her. “Mrs. Forsyth says I'm to go and live with my relatives soon.”

  “That's wonderful, Annie. I'm so happy you will be living with your family.”

  “I don't know whether I'll like them. I want to come with you,” Annie blurted out.

  Laura gave her a hug. “Your family will love you. How can they not? You are a dear little girl.”

  ***

  “First it was Lady Basset with her ancient idol. Now Lady Malloy is to show us a mechanical wonder. I won’t be surprised if others follow suit,” Lady Maria said.

  They were on their way to Lady Malloy town house, to attend one more entertainment. Lady Malloy was determined to make a name as the foremost hostess of the Season. When Lord Malloy, who had a passion for all things mechanical, acquired a rare clock from France, she decided to throw a party to unveil it.

  Lord Malloy stood beside the clock, telling his guests about it. He looked as excited as a school boy with a new top. “The figure in the pedestal is an automaton. When the clock strikes the hour, the little man takes six steps and hits the gong with his hammer. Two more minutes to go for the clock to strike!”

  True to Lord Malloy’s word and the flawless working of the clock, the figure struck the tiny gong, in time with the clock striking the hour.

  With polite applause and soft murmurs of appreciation, the guests broke up into smaller groups. Lord Malloy disappeared into one of the rooms, no doubt to refresh himself before the figure struck the next hour.

  Tables with bite-sized delicacies were arranged along the walls. This left the guests ample space to admire the mechanical wonder. There was no dancing but nobody minded. Lady Malloy had opened up several rooms. The gardens were well-lit for those inclined to take a stroll. A quartet of musicians was stationed in the garden, another on the terrace. Footmen were everywhere, offering drinks and choice food.

  “I love dancing but this does make a nice change,” Lady Harriet said. “Let's sit down here.”

  “Let's not bother with the
gentlemen for one evening. Let's stick together!” Lady Susanna said, sitting down and spreading her skirts decorously. Laura also sat down.

  Lady Harriet pouted. “My mama won't like it at all. She never tires of reminding me I'm here to catch a husband. I have started to feel like a toad.”

  Laura’s thoughts had drifted to her first ball. She had seen Anthony in this very house. Lady Harriet’s words snapped her out of her reverie. “Toad?” she asked.

  “We have a pond at home. I saw a toad once. It was sitting with its tongue sticking out, to catch a fly.”

  Lady Susanna found it so droll that she started laughing. Heads turned. Five young lords started in their direction. “Open your mouth, here come the flies,” Lady Susanna murmured, curtailing her merriment.

  Lord Webb reached them first. “Lady Susanna! Lady Laura! Lady Harriet! You make a charming picture. It brings to mind a posy of flowers.”

  Exchanging arched looks, Laura and her friends resigned themselves to spending the rest of the evening receiving absurdly extravagant compliments.

  As it was with the ton, where one went, others followed. Soon the young women were holding court. The men complimented them, appropriated their fans to perform the arduous task of fanning, ran to and fro bringing lemonade, and outdid one another in repeating platitudes.

  “What say you? Will Lady Mannering bring the duke up to scratch?” Lord Webb asked in an eager voice.

  Laura managed to grip her glass before it slipped from nerveless fingers. She followed Lord Webb’s gaze. Anthony and Lady Mannering were walking across the hall. Her gloved hand was rested on his arm. They made a striking pair.

  “She has his undivided attention. He is all ears.”

  “So that's why Lady Mannering wasn't standing up with anyone! They may be betrothed.”

  “Lady Malloy is the duke's aunt. She might have planned this as a betrothal celebration. How exciting!”