‘You have these letters with you?’
‘Oh no, they are safely put away in Little Furzewell. But I can recall what was said in them, especially the description of the gentleman who had stolen your heart. Tall, blue-eyed and fair-haired. He sounds very handsome, Aunt.’
The dowager sat back in her chair and regarded Lucia through narrow, suspicious eyes. ‘What is it you want?’
‘I have already told you. I want you to take me to London with you. We will pretend we are reconciled. You need not do much more, everyone will understand that at your advanced age you cannot be expected to accompany me everywhere!’ She ignored the small inarticulate sounds coming from the dowager and continued blithely. ‘Morry – Miss Morrison, my old governess – will act as my companion. It will not cost you a penny – ‘
‘Of course it will!’
Lucia shook her head. ‘I have my father’s one thousand pounds, plus a little I have managed to save, and the small legacies to Grace and Miss Morrison.’
‘That will not go far.’
‘Far enough.’ Lucia met her eyes with a challenging look of her own. ‘Unlike Papa, I have calculated the cost of this little venture.’
The dowager put up her hand. ‘Tell me no more. It is all nonsense. Quite ridiculous. I will not do it.’
Lucia shrugged. ‘Then I shall have no choice but to sell these letters to raise the money I need. I am sure they will fetch a fair price.’ She tapped her cheek, pretending to consider. ‘I could make them public, but perhaps the present Viscount Quidenham will buy them, just to prevent a scandal.’
The dowager’s eyes snapped. ‘You would not!’
‘I do not wish to do so, but…’ she let the words hang for a moment, then said coaxingly, ‘I really am asking very little of you, Aunt Evadne. I merely want you to go along with the pretence that we are reconciled. Just for one Season.
‘You see, I have a cousin on my father’s side. Grace Bower. She is an excellent seamstress and I intend to make her a sensation in Town.’
‘Impossible!’
‘Is it, though?’ Lucy waved a hand, indicating her muslin gown with its delicate acanthus leaf embroidery and holly-green spencer. Would you have known this was not made by a London seamstress? Or that my bonnet and mantle were fashioned by Grace’s own hands in our cottage at Little Furzewell? No, I thought not. I shall hire a house in London, where she will set herself up as a modiste. Morry and I plan to help her, until she can afford to take on an assistant or two. And I shall go about the Town during the Season, wearing her creations, and being a great heiress, everyone will want to know who supplies my gowns –’
‘An heiress?’
‘Of course.’ Lucia opened her eyes very wide. ‘Everyone will assume I am to inherit your fortune.’
‘Never!’
‘No of course not, Aunt, but everyone will think it.’
‘Oh no, they will not! I shall not allow such a thing.’
‘Come, Aunt, it is only for one Season. I promise you I have no designs upon your fortune at all. Once Grace is established, her business will make sufficient money to provide for all three of us. All I require from you, dear Aunt, is your co-operation for a few months.’
For a long, long moment the faded blue eyes stared at Lucia, who kept her own gaze steady. One thing Papa had always told her was that when gambling, the higher the stakes, the more confidence one must show. At last the dowager exhaled in what was very nearly a sigh.
‘Wicked, wicked girl,’ she snapped. ‘You would not dare.’
‘Needs must, Aunt.’
*
Ten minutes later Lucia returned to the little sitting room. Miss Morrison had been perched on the edge of a chair but she jumped up when the door opened.
‘Well, Lucia, what did she say?’
‘I cannot claim that she has welcomed me back with open arms,’ admitted Lucia, throwing her mantle about her shoulders, ‘but Lady Quidenham has agreed. We are to accompany her to London in the spring.’
‘Oh, glory be! She must not be as stony-hearted as she appears, my love.’
Morry knew nothing about the letters to Grandmama, still tied up in their faded ribbon but now safely hidden beneath the gowns in Lucia’s linen press. And she would certainly not approve of her use of them, so Lucia merely smiled, put on her bonnet and gloves and led the way out of the morning room.
From the hall came the rumble of male voices. Another visitor, and one the butler clearly considered more important than themselves, Lucia decided, for Aston was hovering anxiously around the new arrival and issuing orders to the waiting footman to come and take charge of their visitor’s many-caped greatcoat.
She could not deny that the gentleman cut an impressive figure and she regarded him with interest while she paused just outside the morning room door for Morry to catch up with her. He was tall, and his hair, when he had removed the curly-brimmed demi-bateau, was seen to be a light brown, cut fashionably short. Lucia’s knowledge of fashionable society was not vast, but she thought he was too plainly dressed to be a dandy. No fobs or seals adorned his person, his only ornament was a heavy gold signet ring. His figure was good, and muscular, too, judging by the way his square-cut tail-coat fitted across his broad shoulders with no need for extra padding. A glance at his powerful legs, encased in close-fitting buckskins that disappeared into a pair of highly polished Hessians, gave the impression of a sportsman. She wondered if he was what they called a Corinthian.
This observation was the work of a moment while Lucia was somewhat hidden by the marble pillars that ran along each side of the hall. However, as she moved further into the hall, the gentleman looked towards her, his face registering nothing more than indifference, and faint boredom.
Lucia noted this but was not at all offended. Her spirits were still uplifted by the success of her meeting with Lady Quidenham and she sailed out of the house, meeting his gaze as she passed him with a confident look of her own, and a little smile playing about her mouth.
CHAPTER THREE
‘Sir Darius Claversham, ma’am.’
Darius walked into the room, saying as the door closed upon him, ‘My dear Lady Quidenham, are you quite well?’
‘Perfectly,’ she snapped. ‘Why should I not be?’
He lowered his long frame into a chair.
‘You invariably greet me by some adverse remark regarding my tardiness, my appearance or my manners. Your silence is a trifle unnerving.’
‘I was thinking. Nothing to do with you.’
‘About your previous visitor, perhaps?’
He fell silent as a footman entered with a decanter of madeira and two glasses. It was rare to find a visitor at Quidenham House, even more so to see a young and fashionably dressed female. The interval while refreshments were served gave him time to think about the young lady he had seen leaving the house. He was not conceited enough to expect everyone to recognise him, but he was not accustomed to young ladies giving him back look for look. Not unless they were brazen demi-reps bent upon securing his interest, and he was confident she was not that. He asked, as the dowager waved away the footman,
‘May I ask who she was?’
‘Nothing to do with you. Where are you bound this time?’
‘To Leicestershire, to enjoy a little hunting with the Garwoods.’
‘I suppose your mother and sister are installed at Claversham for the winter?’
‘Yes. I escorted them there two weeks ago.’ He reached into his coat and pulled out a sealed letter. ‘My mother sends her regards. When I told her I had arranged to break my journey here, on my way to Leicestershire, she wrote this note for you.’
‘Who said you could stay here? I agreed to you having dinner with me, nothing more!’
‘I invited myself, ma’am, being the impudent dog that I am. Aston is seeing to it.’ He reached across and put the letter upon the table at her elbow. ‘My mother’s letter for you.’
‘I’ll read it later, when you are gon
e.’ Lady Quidenham made no effort to pick it up but regarded it with a frown. ‘Full of gossip and nothingness, I suppose, as usual.’
‘My mother thinks you like to be kept up to date with the world.’ He met the old lady’s discontented gaze and added gently, ‘You have become something of a recluse, ma’am.’
‘And what of it?’
‘Nothing, merely that a little more society might do you good.’ He allowed himself a grin. ‘It might improve your temper.’
‘There is nothing wrong with my temper!’ She glared at him, her beringed hand tapping on the arm of her chair. ‘I do not enjoy society. It is mostly populated by fools.’
‘I agree with you, ma’am, but one must mix a little, you know.’
‘I don’t see why I should.’ She gave a little shrug. ‘And I am not a recluse! I go to London every spring, visit the theatre, attend the odd talk, if there is anything to interest me.’
‘You are gay to dissipation, in fact.’
‘You are insolent, Claversham! Why should I go to parties and mix with people I dislike?’
‘How do you know you dislike them? You barely speak to anyone in Town these days.’
‘I prefer my own company. The friends I had as a young bride are all dead and my own family has been a disappointment to me.’
His eyes gleamed as he sipped his madeira.
‘What, even me?’
‘I meant my blood relations! Even so, you are the only one of Quidenham’s family to come near me. One or two of ‘em came calling, but they were trying to ingratiate themselves with me, for my fortune. I could see that from the first, and soon sent them packing. Everyone is intent upon making use of me. Not you, perhaps,’ she conceded. ‘That is why I allow you to come here.’
‘Magnanimous of you,’ he retorted. ‘But, seriously, ma’am, perhaps you should let others make use of you. It would give you something to do. You spend far too much time alone.’
She shot him a darkling look. ‘I may yet surprise you.’
‘I hope you do.’ He finished his drink and put down the empty glass. ‘But we have had this conversation so many times it becomes tedious. Instead, we will take a turn about the gardens. That will while away an hour before dinner, which you insist upon serving far too early!’
‘I keep country hours, Claversham, and don’t see any reason to change my habits for your infrequent visits.’
‘No, of course not. I despair of your changing your habits for anyone.’ He rose and held out his hand to her. ‘Come along. Let us go outside while there is still a little sunshine.’
*
Regular readers of the Society pages in the various newspapers were surprised to learn that the Dowager Lady Quidenham would be arriving in town a month earlier than usual that spring. Those who were well acquainted with the dowager might also have been astonished to note that she would be accompanied on this visit by her great niece, Miss Lucia Luckington.
Her carriage was blown into Portman Square with the first of the March winds, followed closely by a second vehicle carrying her ladyship’s dresser and Miss Morrison. As Miss Luckington’s appointed companion, Morry had been invited to ride in the carriage with Lucy and her great-aunt, but initial meetings between the dowager and the former governess had not gone well. Miss Morrison’s natural timidity intensified under Lady Quidenham’s acerbic manner and Lucia had acquiesced to her friend’s entreaty that she should be allowed to travel with the staff.
Quidenham House in Portman Square belonged to the Viscount, but the dowager still considered it very much her own. Since she staffed it and ran the house at her own expense and graciously allowed Lord and Lady Quidenham to occupy the guest rooms for their infrequent stays in town, all parties were quite content with this arrangement.
The dowager preferred to travel at a stately pace and her progress to London took three days, giving Aston sufficient time to post ahead and prepare the household for her coming. Thus, when the carriage pulled up, a footman ran out to open the carriage door and assist Lady Quidenham and her niece to alight and the butler was waiting in the hall to show them into the drawing room, where a cheerful fire blazed.
It was Lady Quidenham’s habit to revive herself after a journey with cake and a glass of madeira, and Lucia was happy to join her, after which she went up to her room, where she found her old governess unpacking her trunk.
‘Morry, it is not your place to wait on me!’
‘And who else is to do it, pray?’ asked Miss Morrison, smiling. ‘We agreed I should help you until we could hire a suitable lady’s maid. And besides,’ she added, shaking out another gown, ‘I would rather be here than sitting downstairs with you and her ladyship. I have to confess I cannot help but quake in her presence!’
Lucia laughed. ‘Thankfully I shall only require you to act as my companion when she is absent, so you need not be in her presence so very often! Aunt Evadne can be a little sharp, I know, but we have rubbed along surprisingly well during the journey. I am only sorry you did not share our comforts.’
‘I was very happy with Miss Fixby, I assure you. Her ladyship’s servants enjoy a greater degree of luxury than I ever knew as a mere governess.’
‘But to travel with her ladyship’s dresser!’ Lucia gave an exaggerated shiver. ‘I find Fixby even more terrifying than my aunt!’
‘Yes, well,’ Miss Morrison looked a little self-conscious. ‘She did try to intimidate me at first, but we had a few, er, words about it, and I think we understand one another now.’
‘Well done, Morry!’
‘I would not have said anything, only she began to abuse your sainted father, Lucia, and that I could not allow. I hope she will keep a civil tongue in her head in future.’
‘And I always thought you such a quiet, gentle soul,’ said Lucy, regarding her in admiration.
‘I am, in the main,’ replied the old governess, her grey eyes glinting, ‘but where those I care about are concerned, I can be a tigress!’
Lucia laughed and hugged her. ‘Then we shall do very well here!’ She walked across to the window, which overlooked the square’s private gardens. ‘Knowing my great-aunt, she chose this room for me in the hope I would be disturbed by the noise and bustle of the square, but the aspect is very pretty, as I shall tell her over dinner. Now, you had best go and unpack your own things, Morry, and leave me to finish off here. I have managed without a maid for years now, so I am sure I shall cope. Oh, by the bye, I have told my aunt that you must join us for dinner. No protests, Morry, you are here as my companion, and I insist that you should be treated as a guest. So off you go now, but call for me at the dinner hour and we shall support each other through the coming ordeal!’
Dinner was served in a dining room that was almost as chilly as Lady Quidenham’s manner. The truce that had held during their protracted journey was at an end and the dowager lost no time in resuming hostilities.
‘I hope you do not expect me to accompany you out and about tomorrow. It always takes me several days to recover from the exigencies of the journey.’
‘I would not dream of your exerting yourself so soon,’ Lucy replied sweetly. ‘You may recline upon the sofa while I make a list of all your acquaintances and we will send out invitations to a little soirée you are going to hold, to introduce me into society.’
‘A soirée? No. I never entertain.’
‘That is what will make it all the more special, Aunt.’ Lucia smiled, in no wise discomposed. ‘Pray, do not look so anxious, ma’am. I will arrange the whole. Three weeks should be sufficient notice, don’t you think? You shall set the day to suit yourself, too. All you need do is to be there on the night.’
In vain did Lady Quidenham protest. Lucia countered her every argument, and all with a smiling good humour that only added to the dowager’s choler. When the meal was over she led the way back to the drawing room in high dudgeon. Miss Morrison, although she was in ignorance of the hold Lucia had over her aunt, did have some experience of Lucia’s stron
g will and thus felt a little sympathy for the old lady. She overcame her terror of her hostess sufficiently to escort Lady Quidenham to her chair and moved the fire-screen to a more satisfactory position.
Lucy watched this little episode with interest, half-expecting poor Morry to be rebuffed, but Lady Quidenham, quite unused to having her wishes opposed, was still smarting from the experience and accepted Miss Morrison’s efforts in silence. There followed a half hour of stilted conversation, until the tea tray was brought in and the dowager asked Lucia to make herself useful.
As she busied herself with the teapot, Lucy said, ‘If you would rather not venture out, Aunt, then perhaps Morry and I will visit my cousin in Orchard Street in the morning. I should like to see how she has settled in.’
‘I thought you wished to compile my invitation list,’ retorted Lady Quidenham. ‘If you have forgotten that already….’
Lucy laughed. ‘No, I have not forgotten it, ma’am, but you said yourself you never leave your room until eleven.’ She handed her aunt a cup of tea. ‘We shall be back by then, I assure you.’
The dowager’s eyes narrowed dangerously and Miss Morrison stepped into the breach, saying with a little laugh, ‘Dear Lucia has so much energy! I vow I am fatigued just watching her.’
‘But watch her you must,’ snapped Lady Quidenham. ‘I may be lending her countenance while she is in Town, but that does not give her leave to kick up a scandal.’
‘Oh no, I have no wish to do that,’ Lucy assured her. ‘All I want to do is to meet the right sort of people. Mamas who think that gowns from the modiste who supplies Lady Quidenham’s niece will help to launch their daughters into the ton.’
The dowager’s claw-like hand tightened over the head of her ebony cane.
‘By heaven, madam, you think very highly of yourself!’
‘No, no, I think very highly of Grace’s talent. She made the travelling gown I wore on the journey, and you said yourself it was exquisitely tailored. And she also designed this gown.’
Lucia stood up and gave a little twirl, causing the Van Dyke points of her lace overdress to swing out.
A Season of Romance Page 41
