by Mary Nichols
‘I do not know what you expect her to do,’ his father said. ‘The poor are always with us. It is a fact of life. And education only makes the masses discontented.’
‘I do not agree. If everyone was educated even to a minimal degree and had a vote, they could have a say in how the country is run.’
‘That’s Chartist rubbish. I do not want to hear any more of it, Richard.’
Diana wanted very much to join the debate, but decided to keep silent. Arguing on the side of the poor would not endear her to her employer, but she admired Richard for his stance. She had witnessed his concern when he had given the two urchins money for food. But charity was not enough. Richard had once said, ‘There but for the Grace of God go I’ and the same could be said of her. She had been desperate when she walked into Harecroft’s Emporium that day a year ago and she would be eternally grateful to Mr Harecroft and more especially to the dowager Lady Harecroft for giving her employment. She dare not do anything to risk that. Would its continuance depend on the answer she gave Stephen? She had a strong feeling it would. She would have to think long and hard before making up her mind.
When the last of the carriages had passed, they thanked their host and made their way down into the street where the crowds showed no sign of dispersing. They were still noisily cheering. It was quite a struggle to make their way through them. Diana had her bonnet knocked off and someone trod on the hem of her skirt and tore it, but she dare not stop and try to do anything about it for fear of being bowled over. Somehow Stephen became separated from her and it was Richard who took her arm and guided her through the throng.
‘Oh, dear,’ she said. ‘I did not know crowds could be so frightening. I feel as if I am going to be trampled underfoot.’
‘No, I have firm hold of you,’ he said, tucking her hand under his arm and holding it with his other hand. ‘I will not let you go.’
She looked sharply at him, but his expression was bland and she decided his words had no hidden meaning.
They had only been at home a few minutes and hardly had time to wash and change for dinner, when Lady Harecroft returned. She was very tired and disinclined to talk and said she was going straight up to bed and would tell them all about it the next day.
‘I knew it would be too much for you,’ John said.
‘At least I did not fall down like poor old Lord Rollo when he tottered up the steps to pay homage to the Queen. He is well named—he rolled all the way down them.’
‘I hope he was not hurt,’ Diana said.
‘He said not. The Queen rose to help him herself, but he got up and made his obeisance without further mishap. Now, I am off to bed. Are you going to watch the fireworks?’
‘I am not venturing out again tonight,’ Mrs Harecroft said. ‘I shall watch from the upstairs windows.’
‘Neither am I,’ Stephen added. He had been knocked over in the mêlée and had grazed his hands. ‘I am sorry if you had hoped to go out, Diana.’
‘No, I would not dream of it,’ she said. ‘I think the crush will be too great and we can see as much as we want to from the windows.’
‘And tomorrow is a working day,’ John added, proving that the business was never far from his mind, even in the midst of national rejoicing.
‘And tomorrow evening there is the Coronation Ball at Almack’s,’ Mrs Harecroft put in. ‘Stephen tells me you have consented to be one of our party, Miss Bywater.’
‘If that is agreeable to you, ma’am.’
‘Certainly it is. Do you have something suitable to wear?’
‘Yes, thank you,’ she said, wondering if, had she said no, they would have rushed round to find her something or decided not to take her. ‘It is something of my mother’s I have altered.’
Mrs Harecroft gave an almost imperceptible grunt, but did not comment.
They ate the cold collation Cook had prepared and afterwards they trooped upstairs to Mrs Harecroft’s boudoir, whose windows faced towards Green Park where the fireworks were going to be set off. They could not see the park because of the buildings in the way, but they had a good view of the sky above it, which was lit by brilliant colours and patterns. It was two o’clock in the morning when they made their way to their beds.
It was hard to settle down to work the next day, but Diana was determined not to give Mr Harecroft any cause for dissatisfaction and so she put her head down and got on with it. In the middle of the day, she went down to join Stephen in the staff dining room to eat the packed lunch the Harecroft House cook prepared for them each day. ‘I expect Lady Harecroft is on her way back to Borstead Hall by now,’ she said, though it was Richard and not her ladyship she was thinking of.
‘No, she over-tired herself yesterday and is going to rest today. Richard will take her tomorrow.’
‘Oh.’ Why did her spirits suddenly rise at the thought that he had not gone from her life? If she were sensible, she would wish him gone. He made her uncomfortable with his steady gaze as if he could read her thoughts. Oh, she hoped he could not; it would be too mortifying for him to know the effect he had on her. But perhaps he did know. Perhaps it was something he practised on every woman who came into his orbit. His character was so contradictory; he was compassionate, a champion of the poor, and yet cynical and disparaging, especially to his brother and quite often to her. He helped her, protected her, at the same time as he distrusted her. He did not want her to marry Stephen. He had not said so in as many words, but he had implied it. Was he simply trying to protect his brother—what did he suppose she was after? The Harecroft money? But if she were as coldly calculating as that, would she not have chosen to ensnare Richard, who was after all his father’s heir? The idea of anyone being able to ensnare that gentleman was almost laughable. She gave up asking questions she could not answer, to pay attention to what Stephen was saying.
‘Father has said we may leave work early to visit your papa, then we will have plenty of time to prepare for the ball. I am really looking forward to dancing with you. Do you know all the time we have known each other, we have not danced together?’
‘The opportunity has not arisen.’
‘We will make up for it tonight.’
She smiled, but did not answer, and a minute later they rose to go back to work.
At four o’clock he came to her room. ‘Put that ledger away,’ he said. ‘Father has said we may go. I have had the gig brought round. It will have us at St Thomas’s in no time.’
Her father was looking very much better: his mouth was lop-sided, but nothing like as bad as it had been and he was almost coherent. ‘You are early,’ he said, looking past her at Stephen. ‘Good afternoon, young sir.’
‘Good afternoon, Captain. We are early because we are going to a ball tonight.’
‘Lucky you.’
‘Yes, I believe I am.’
‘Going to a party too, I hear.’
‘Who told you that?’ Diana demanded. She had been careful not to mention it to him. It might make him miserable if he thought he was depriving her of enjoyment.
‘Captain Richard Harecroft.’ He looked at Stephen. ‘Your brother, I believe.’
‘Yes.’
‘Came to see me. Said he hoped I would allow it.’
‘It was not his place to do so,’ Stephen said, a statement with which Diana totally concurred. ‘I was going to speak to you about it myself.’
‘He saved you the bother.’
‘I cannot think why he would,’ Diana said. ‘He knows, as everyone knows, I have declined to go.’
‘Why?’ her father asked. ‘It will do you good to enjoy yourself for a change.’
‘I cannot and will not leave you.’
‘Do not worry about me. I have been offered a place in a private nursing home. Clean and wholesome, not like this place.’
‘By Mr Richard?’
‘He was the emissary for his great-grandmother. She sounds a redoubtable old lady.’
‘She is,’ Stephen said. ‘And she is v
ery fond of your daughter.’
‘Papa, do you mean you have agreed?’
He looked at her and smiled his crooked smile. ‘Wouldn’t you? I have been promised attentive nurses, good food, fresh country air, walks in the garden and Toby for company.’
‘Where? How will I be able to visit you?’
‘I am told it is near Borstead Hall.’
Stephen laughed and turned to Diana. ‘You must remind me to thank Great-Grandmama. You will have to come now.’
Diana managed to keep her temper long enough to kiss her father goodbye.
Diana returned to Harecroft House and, seeing Richard taking his ease in the drawing room reading a pamphlet, she exploded. ‘You had to take it out of my hands, didn’t you? You had to go behind my back and wriggle your way into my father’s good books, making promises…’
He had risen when she entered and now put up his hand. ‘Hold your horses! What have I done?’
‘You went to see my father without me. You did not even say you were going. How dare you! How dare you assume I would agree to go to that silly party, simply because you had removed all obstacles.’ She was furious, even more so when she noticed Stephen grinning as if he enjoyed seeing his brother put down.
‘I have not removed all obstacles, Miss Bywater. The biggest one remains.’
She had opened her mouth to carry on in like vein, but stopped. ‘What is that?’
‘Why, you. No one can make you go if you do not want to. And it is all one to me what you do.’
‘Then why did you do it?’
‘Great-Grandmama asked me to.’ He was having trouble keeping a straight face. Angry she was magnificent; her expressive blue-grey eyes flashed like polished steel. Either she was genuinely aggrieved or she was a consummate actress.
‘And that makes it right, does it?’
‘Naturally, it does. She is even more terrifying than you are when she is thwarted.’
‘Oh, Diana, do calm down,’ Stephen said. ‘You want to come, you know you do, and if your father is agreeable, what harm has Richard done?’
‘Are you blind or stupid? Papa has had his head filled with promises of goodness knows what and now nothing will satisfy him but he must go.’
‘Can you blame him? That place he is in is the most unwholesome, disgusting place I have ever entered that does not call itself a pigsty.’
‘But have you thought what will happen after the party is over? Where will he go? I cannot afford the luxury of a private nursing home.’ And then she burst into tears.
The brothers looked at each other in consternation. ‘Diana, why are you crying? It is nothing to weep over,’ Stephen said, raising his hand to touch her arm.
She shrugged him off. ‘Let me alone.’ And with that she ran from the room.
‘Are you going after her?’ Richard asked. His first reaction on seeing her tears was to rush to her and take her in his arms to comfort her, if Stephen had not been there, he might very well have done so, which would have been a grave mistake.
‘Do you think I should?’
‘It is up to you.’
‘I think I will leave her to compose herself. When she is calm, I will talk to her. What I cannot understand is why Great-Grandmama asked you to see the old man.’
‘I suppose she thought you were too busy. You had better ask her.’
‘Maybe I will. Are we eating before we go to Almack’s? The food there is nothing to boast about and is served so late, I shall faint from hunger before we get to it.’
‘Oh, we cannot have you fainting, poor Miss Bywater has had enough to contend with today without standing over your inert body. I believe we are to have dinner at six, which will give everyone ample time to dress afterwards.’
Diana, who had gone to her room and flung herself on the bed, could not bring herself to go down to dinner. She was so angry she was sure she would not be able to keep her temper and her eyes were so red they would all know she had been crying. How could she have let herself down so badly, letting them see her in tears? She looked at the lovely gown, hanging on the wardrobe door. She had spent hours altering it and was very pleased with the result. Now she would not wear it. It wasn’t fair, it really was not.
There was a light tap at the door and before she could tidy herself or splash her face, the door opened and Lady Harecroft entered. ‘Oh, my dear child, what is the matter?’
Diana straightened her back and lifted her chin. ‘My lady, you may rule your family, but I am not one of them and I do not think it was fair of Mr Richard to go behind my back to my father. He might have known that Papa would be tempted by the offer of good food and country air. It was not well done, not well done at all.’
The old lady smiled a little; this young woman was not overawed and spoke her mind. She admired her for it, though it was no more than she expected. She sat beside her and took her hand. ‘Do not be angry with Richard, my dear. I asked him to go.’
‘So that you could manipulate me into going to your party. I do not know why it is so important that I should be there. I have not accepted Mr Stephen’s offer of marriage. I am not even sure he meant it.’
‘Why do you say that?’
‘Oh, I don’t know. It was the way he said it, I suppose. He talked about my job and how we could work together, implying my job depended on my saying yes.’ And tears began to well up again. Angrily she scrubbed at them with a sodden handkerchief. ‘And now I have no home, thanks to him.’
‘He was perhaps a little clumsy.’ The old lady offered her a clean handkerchief from her own pocket. ‘But I am sure he was sincere. And I am sure something can be done to find respectable accommodation for you and your father when he has recovered.’ She watched as Diana pulled herself together. ‘Now, we are not going to talk about your job or whether you are going to accept Stephen or not. I am going to tell you why I asked Richard to speak to your papa.’
‘Why did you?’
‘I am a very old lady and I have taken it into my head to have a birthday party.’ She held up her hand as Diana opened her mouth to speak. ‘My daughter, Alicia, has said she will arrange it, but I am afraid it will be too much for her without assistance and it came to my mind that you could be a great help to her. My grandson tells me you are very practical and good at organising and so I want you to come down to Borstead Hall for the week before the party.’
‘A week! But what about my work at Harecroft’s?’
‘John is prepared to let you go.’
‘That does not excuse going to my father behind my back. I had decided not to go and so I told him nothing of the party.’
‘I guessed that was the case and I thought any father who loved his daughter would not want her to make such a sacrifice for him. And I was right. He wants you to go.’ She patted Diana’s hand. ‘Do not be angry with me. I need you. Please say you will come.’
Diana thought about her father in that poky room in the hospital with nothing but four dingy walls to look at and only a busy doctor and a nurse to talk to until she arrived and then her visits did not last long. And he missed Toby and Toby missed him. Country air, if only for a week, would help him to get better. She gave the old lady a watery smile. ‘Very well, but I come as an employee to help make your party a success.’
The old lady clapped her hands like a child being given a treat. ‘Oh, that is wonderful. Now, no more moping. I shall have a tray of something sent up to you and then Mathilde will come to help you dress for the ball. Go and enjoy yourself.’
Chapter Five
By the time Mathilde had bathed her eyes with lavender water, helped her to wash and dress and done wonderful things with her hair, Diana was feeling more cheerful and was looking forward to the ball. There was nothing she could do about lodgings or her job until she returned from Borstead Hall and she had to admit that country air would help her father to recover and perhaps later he might even be able to find some light work for himself. She should be grateful, not angry. All the same, s
he did not intend to forgive Richard and Stephen too readily.
She clasped her mother’s necklace at her throat and, picking up her fan and reticule, made her way downstairs. She was halfway down when she realised Richard was at the foot of the stairs looking up at her. His expression was one of open admiration as he bowed to her.
‘The chrysalis has turned into the most dazzling butterfly,’ he said, unable to take his eyes off her. He had known she was beautiful, but in that soft green gown with its delicate embroidering, she was truly lovely and a match for any society beauty.
‘If you think flattery is going to turn me up sweet, you are mistaken, sir,’ she said. ‘I am still displeased with you.’
She reached the ground floor and he took her gloved hand and raised the back of it to his lips. ‘I am truly penitent.’ The trouble was that the laughter in his eyes belied his words.
‘Where is Stephen?’ she asked to remind herself, and him too, who was really her escort.
‘Not down yet. He always takes longer to dress than I do. Allow me to escort you into the drawing room.’ He offered his arm, but she pointedly ignored it and walked a little apart from him. It was easier to maintain her stance if she did not touch him, not even to lay her fingers on his sleeve. The sleeve belonged to a black grosgrain dinner suit, which fitted him so well she knew it must have been fashioned by one of the capital’s premier tailors. With it he wore a white brocade waistcoat and a white cravat carefully, but not flamboyantly, tied. His hair, almost the same colour as her own, was carefully brushed and curled about his ears and into his neck. She had an almost overwhelming urge to touch it and clenched her fists firmly by her side lest she do it without thinking.
They did not speak as they entered the drawing room. No one was there. She was standing beside him near the hearth when Stephen joined them. He was dressed almost identically to his brother, the only difference being that he wore a purple cravat and had slicked down his hair instead of letting it curl. He stopped when he saw Diana. ‘My dear, you look beautiful in that dress. It is most becoming. Do you not agree, Richard?’
