The Mysterious Miss Fairchild (HQR Historical)

by Sarah Mallory

  ‘Thank you.’ If the Grishams had been having this conversation, Jane would have flown across the room to kiss her mother’s cheek, but Aunt Pridham did not encourage such shows of affection, so Natalya merely smiled and dropped a slight curtsy. ‘If you will excuse me, I am excessively tired and will go to bed now. It is very late.’

  Bidding her aunt and uncle goodnight, she made her way up the stairs, not to think about the pleasures of the forthcoming outing, but to recall the delights of the evening and Lord Dalmorren serenading her. Just the thought of his voice, a rich, powerful tenor, sent a shiver down her spine. All the way to her toes.

  Chapter Five

  The monument on Lansdown had been erected in the last century, to commemorate the heroism of Sir Bevil Grenville and his Cornish pikemen at the Battle of Lansdown during the Civil War. Natalya had seen it before, but she was very ready to enjoy another outing to Lansdown Hill, where on a clear day one could enjoy views over the rolling countryside.

  When Mrs Ancrum’s barouche pulled up in Sydney Place, the hood was down and Mrs Ancrum was making use of her parasol. Natalya climbed in beside the old lady and allowed the footman to drape a rug across her knees, but it was hardly necessary, for the day was warm as well as sunny. She made herself comfortable while Mrs Pridham exchanged a few words with Mrs Ancrum.

  ‘It is very kind of you to take such an interest in Natalya, ma’am,’ her aunt concluded.

  The old lady waved away her thanks.

  ‘Nonsense, I enjoy her company.’ She added, in her blunt way, ‘I thought last night she was looking a little peaky. She spends far too long cooped up at her studies and not enough time in company.’

  Mrs Pridham’s smile became a little rigid.

  ‘We are eager for her to have every accomplishment, ma’am.’

  ‘Then you will not object to today’s little jaunt,’ replied Mrs Ancrum, casting a triumphant glance towards Natalya. ‘Purely educational!’

  She ordered the coachman to drive on, waved one regal hand to Mrs Pridham and settled back in her seat with a sigh.

  ‘Lord, how the Pridhams do object to any trip of pleasure. I am even more sure they must be Puritans.’

  Natalya giggled as she put up her own parasol. ‘Pray do not be ridiculous, ma’am.’

  ‘Hmmph. I am sometimes surprised that they allow you to come out with me.’

  ‘They allow it because you are highly respected and your friendship counters any rumours concerning my birth. I am excessively grateful to you, ma’am. I am well aware that without your patronage I would not be so readily accepted in Bath.’

  Mrs Ancrum shushed her and reached out to take her hand.

  ‘Anyone who knows you must admire and respect you, Natalya. I wish I might do more to refute the rumours.’

  ‘Can you not, ma’am?’ Natalya turned to look at her.

  ‘Not as much as I would like.’ The old lady squeezed her hand. ‘Your birthday is only a few weeks away now, my dear. I am sure the Pridhams will explain everything then.’

  ‘But what if—what if my worst fears are confirmed?’

  ‘Pish! If there was anything disreputable about you it would have come out by now,’ she said cheerfully. ‘The Pridhams are far too circumspect about you, that is all. It is their reticence that causes people to speculate.’

  Natalya could not deny it had added to her doubts about her parents. Her aunt and uncle were kind enough, but they kept her at a distance. She could not recall ever receiving a warm kiss on the cheek from her uncle, or being hugged by her aunt. She could not deny they treated her well, spared no expense in looking after her, but they did it out of duty. Not affection.

  ‘No,’ continued Mrs Ancrum. ‘A respectable marriage would do a great deal to help, if only the Pridhams could see it.’

  Natalya kept silent about her own thoughts on this.

  ‘That is the reason I invited Dalmorren to join us last night,’ continued Mrs Ancrum. ‘I want him to see what a good wife you would make for his nephew. I know he would get little encouragement from your aunt and uncle.’

  Natalya bit her lip. ‘Perhaps they have other plans for me.’

  ‘What plans should they have, other than to see you comfortably established? No, when you reach one-and-twenty I am sure you will discover that your birth is perfectly respectable.’ She stopped and seemed to struggle with herself, then she said with unwonted force, ‘But even if that should not be the case, your true friends will stand by you, never fear.’

  Natalya wondered sadly how many true friends she had, but as Mrs Ancrum abruptly changed the subject at that point she followed her lead, pushing doubts about her future to the back of her mind. It was futile to speculate. Uncle Pridham had promised to tell her about her family when she came of age and after that she would be able to make her own choices for the future.

  * * *

  Lansdown Hill was every bit as delightful as Natalya remembered. When they alighted from the barouche, she gave Mrs Ancrum her arm and they strolled to the monument, where, at her elderly friend’s behest, she related the story of the battle and they took a moment to remember the lives lost and the suffering of those caught up in the more recent battles in France and the Peninsula.

  They were making a final perambulation of the monument when a rider appeared and stopped some distance away. As they watched, he dismounted, secured his horse to a tree branch and came striding towards them.

  Mrs Ancrum stopped. ‘Bless me, it is Lord Dalmorren!’

  Natalya had already recognised him and she felt the blush rising through her body. She kept her eyes lowered as Mrs Ancrum called to him.

  ‘Good day to you, Tristan. This is a surprise.’

  ‘Really, ma’am?’ There was the merest hint of a drawl in his voice. ‘Have you forgotten that I told you I would be riding up here today?’

  Natalya looked up, startled, but Mrs Ancrum’s countenance was all innocence.

  ‘It quite slipped my mind,’ she said. ‘But now you are here you can give me your arm, if you please, while we continue our walk. Poor Natalya must find me a burden.’

  ‘Not at all, madam. And, if you recall, we were about to return to the barouche.’

  ‘That was to spare you the exertion of supporting me longer that was necessary. Now that Tristan is here he may take your place. In fact, he can give you his other arm and we can take a closer look at Sir Bevil’s statue.’

  Natalya bit her lip, torn between amusement, embarrassment and indignation. His Lordship, on the other hand, appeared to be completely at his ease. He laughed.

  ‘Mrs Ancrum, you are the most outrageously designing creature. You deserve that I should whisk Miss Fairchild away and leave you to your own devices, but that, I suspect, might suit your purposes even better!’

  The old lady chuckled. ‘Stop it, Tristan, you are putting my young friend to the blush!’

  ‘You have already done that,’ Natalya told her, cheeks flaming. She said crossly, ‘I am minded to leave you both and walk back to the carriage alone!’

  ‘Pray do not do that, Miss Fairchild.’ He put up one hand. ‘Mrs Ancrum merely wishes to help. Let us be frank about the matter, your aunt and uncle put every obstacle in our way, but I should like to know you a little better.’

  Recalling her own disastrous attempt to arrange such a meeting, Natalya knew not what to say. Tristan smiled down at her.

  ‘If you return to the carriage now, Mrs Ancrum will feel obliged to accompany you. Surely you do not wish to curtail her pleasure?’

  ‘Of course she does not,’ said that lady. ‘Come, my lord, you may give me your arm and Natalya may walk along beside us with perfect propriety. No one can complain about that!’

  The matter was settled. They turned back to the monument and Natalya was persuaded to repeat her account of the battle. Lord Dalmorren appeared genuinely
interested and gradually, under his gentle questioning, she relaxed and began to enjoy herself, although she could not be persuaded to take his arm.

  ‘How pleasant this has been,’ declared Mrs Ancrum, when at last they strolled back towards the barouche. ‘I am so glad we met you here, Tristan. Perhaps you would like to join us for refreshments at the hostelry just down the hill?’

  Tristan demurred and glanced towards Natalya, who gave in to the promptings of her rebel self to say, ‘You would be very welcome, my lord. Mrs Ancrum would appreciate your escort back to the Paragon, too, I am sure.’

  ‘Very well, then, if you do not object, I should like to join you.’

  He smiled, transforming his rather stern features into something much softer and Natalya felt again the sudden tug of attraction. Heavens! Perhaps the Pridhams were right to keep her so confined, if she could be affected by a gentleman on such a short acquaintance. It occurred to her that there were other gentlemen, including Freddie Erwin, whom she had known for longer than Tristan and yet she felt not the slightest spark of attraction.

  She stole another glance at him as he escorted Mrs Ancrum towards the waiting carriage. He was every inch a fashionable gentleman with his tall hat and boots polished to a mirror-like gloss. In fact, she thought he looked even better in riding jacket and buckskins than in his black evening coat. The frightening thing was that she had had several gentlemen pointed out to her as handsome, but not one of them made the breath hitch in her throat, or made her stomach swoop when they looked her way.

  They reached the carriage and she waited for Lord Dalmorren to hand her in, steeling herself for his touch. Yet despite thinking herself prepared, she could not prevent her fingers trembling in his grasp or the sudden giddiness that attacked her.

  ‘Steady now.’

  He helped her up the steps and she managed to sit down, but even then, when she was settled beside Mrs Ancrum, her spine burned where he had supported her. She could still feel his hand on her back, strong and secure.

  ‘Well, how fortunate that we should meet with His Lordship,’ remarked Mrs Ancrum as the carriage began to move.

  Natalya dragged her eyes away from the sight of Lord Dalmorren, riding beside the barouche on a glossy black hunter.

  ‘You planned this.’ She glared at Mrs Ancrum. ‘Just as you planned last night’s little party. You are trying to, to throw us together.’

  ‘I only want to give Lord Dalmorren the opportunity to know the real you, Natalya. The clever, lively, accomplished young lady that I know, not the insipid obedient little doll that the Pridhams would like you to be. If he takes a shine to you, he will support young Mr Erwin when he makes his offer. And heaven knows you will need some support, for I fear you will get very little from your own family.’

  ‘Freddie Erwin is not going to propose to me. And I would refuse him if he did,’ Natalya told her. ‘I do not love him, ma’am.’

  Mrs Ancrum looked as if she was about to say one thing, then she changed her mind. She smiled. ‘I am sorry for it, if that is the case, my love, but I understand. You must think me a foolishly interfering old woman.’

  ‘Oh, no, ma’am, no! I know you have my interests at heart, truly I do, but believe me when I say that I would not be happy marrying Mr Erwin.’

  ‘Then I have quite mistook the matter.’

  ‘You and Lord Dalmorren both,’ muttered Natalya, bitterly.

  ‘But I hold by my belief that it is better for you to be given a little more freedom than you are granted by your aunt and uncle. How can you learn to be easy in a gentleman’s company if you only see him when you are hedged about by chaperons?’

  She gave in. ‘You are perfectly correct, ma’am. Sometimes I feel quite...quite shackled by my life. My every word, every look is scrutinised.’

  ‘Oh, my poor dear,’ exclaimed Mrs Ancrum with ready sympathy. She patted her hands. ‘You must enjoy yourself when you are with me, then. I shall keep you safe and I will not let you stray beyond the bounds of propriety, but I should like you to know more freedom than you are generally given.’ A roguish twinkle appeared in her eyes. ‘Try a little flirtation with Lord Dalmorren, if you wish. Since you tell me you are not intending to marry his nephew, it cannot hurt!’

  Natalya forced a laugh and shook her head. She said nothing but she thought, with some alarm, that such an idea must not be given room to grow. A flirtation with His Lordship could do her a great deal of damage!

  * * *

  The hostelry where Mrs Ancrum had bespoke refreshments was situated almost halfway down Lansdown Hill. When they arrived Lord Dalmorren quickly dismounted to help the ladies step down from the carriage. They were clearly expected, for Natalya had barely alighted when the landlord and his wife both ran out to welcome the visitors. They were shown into the private parlour, where a cold collation had been set out and wines, lemonade and ale were arranged on a sideboard.

  Natalya found she was very hungry. She sat down at the table with her companions to enjoy her meal and afterwards Mrs Ancrum declared she needed a rest before resuming her journey. Natalya made her comfortable in the only armchair and placed a glass of wine on a little table at her elbow.

  Tristan was pouring himself a tankard of ale, but she knew he was watching her. She glanced around. The only other seating in the room apart from the chairs round the table was a large wooden settle. If she went to sit there, would Tristan join her? Natalya wondered. Would he sit close, their shoulders, possibly their thighs, separated by only a few thin layers of cloth? Her cheeks grew hot and she was alarmed to discover how much she liked the idea.

  ‘Will you take a glass of wine, Miss Fairchild?’

  Tristan was standing at the sideboard, waiting for an answer. She dare not look at him for fear he might read her lustful thoughts.

  ‘A little lemonade would be very welcome, thank you.’

  She returned to the table and sat down. At least its thick wooden top would provide some sort of barrier between them. She felt a little hysterical. She was being nonsensical. There could be no danger sitting here in this room with Mrs Ancrum present. But her hand still shook as she accepted the glass of lemonade from Tristan.

  He could not but notice and she tried to laugh it off.

  ‘I think I must be a little tired. The fresh air...’ She tailed off lamely.

  ‘And being out so late last night.’ His eyes glinted. ‘Cinderella.’

  The memory of their enjoyable evening flooded back. How he had stood beside her while she played, turning the pages. Singing with her.

  Singing to her, gazing at her while he sang cara mia.

  Stop it, Natalya!

  She sat up a little straighter. ‘What nonsense. Midnight is not late at all. It was merely that Mrs Ancrum had promised her maid would escort me home and my aunt had no wish for me to inconvenience anyone.’

  ‘I see,’ he replied gravely. ‘The Pridhams take great care of you. Which of them is your blood relation?’

  She stared into her lemonade, turning the glass slowly between her hands.

  ‘I do not know,’ she said, her voice low. ‘My uncle has promised to explain everything on my birthday. The fourth of June. I will be one-and-twenty.’

  ‘Ah. Then you will be free to marry whomsoever you wish.’ He leaned forward. ‘But why must Pridham wait until then to tell you about your parents? Why can he not tell you now?’

  ‘I think that might have something to do with trustees.’ She saw his brows rise and spread her hands. ‘I must have some, I think. There has been no lack of funds for my upbringing, but I do not think it is entirely within the Pridhams’ control. Occasionally, when Mr Pridham is angry he says, If I had my way, which makes me wonder if perhaps he receives instructions from elsewhere.’

  ‘That would suggest that you are not a pauper, then.’

  ‘No.’

  Neither did i
t prove she was an eligible match. She glanced towards the armchair, where Mrs Ancrum was dozing. The old lady’s reticence to tell her what she knew only added to Natalya’s suspicions that she was baseborn. If that were so, there was nothing she could do about it. No respectable man would marry her.

  Tristan shifted on his chair. ‘After the fourth of June your uncle will not be able to forbid the banns. If Freddie returns and proposes, will you accept him?’

  She was about to repeat once again that she had no interest in his nephew when she recalled Mrs Ancrum’s words, that if a man loved her, he would not care about her birth. If Freddie did care for her, and if he was intending to make her an offer—and Tristan’s presence in Bath suggested that was the case—then perhaps she should accept him. After all, marriage to a good, kind man must be preferable to the fate she feared awaited her, if she was illegitimate.

  ‘Well, is it so difficult a question?’

  His voice sounded harsh and unfriendly to her overstretched nerves.

  ‘Not at all,’ she snapped. ‘However, Freddie has not yet asked me to marry him. And in any case,’ she added, goaded by his scowl. ‘I shall wait until I attain my majority before making any decisions about my future!’ She pushed back her chair. ‘Mrs Ancrum is stirring. It is time we were going. Perhaps, my lord, you will summon the carriage.’

  * * *

  When Tristan reached George Street he dismounted and handed the reins to the waiting servant. He did not enter his hired house, but stood on the flagway, pulling off his gloves and frowning as he watched his man lead the horse away.

  The more he saw of Natalya Fairchild the more he liked her, but that did not make her any more eligible a match for his nephew. Katherine would want to know something of her future daughter-in-law’s pedigree and every avenue he had tried so far had come to a dead end. He could not even discover anything about the Pridhams, although they appeared to have a considerable income.

  No one knew or was willing to divulge anything about Miss Fairchild’s natural parents and even Natalya had not been told. His doubts and fears might yet be allayed and she might turn out to be perfectly respectable, even an heiress, but the more Tristan saw of Natalya the more he was convinced she was not the bride for Freddie. They might be the same age in years, but she was far more mature.