The Officer and the Proper Lady

by Louise Allen

  Her mother subsided, fanning herself. ‘Oh dear, oh dear.’

  ‘Mama, I do not want to marry a man who could exhibit such jealousy when I have done nothing to deserve it,’ Julia said, trying for a more moderate tone. ‘Mr Fordyce has no reason to suspect Major Carlow of anything.’

  Lady Geraldine smiled. ‘The day that one did not suspect Major Carlow of something, the moon will be made of green cheese.’

  Julia smiled tightly and poured more tea. This promised to be a long afternoon, and all she had to distract herself was the guilty knowledge that she had lost one suitor and had lost her temper with Hal.

  But to her surprise, and relief, their guest turned the conversation. ‘Have you been to hear Madame Catalani at the Opera yet, Mrs Tresilian?’

  ‘No, I am afraid not.’ Tickets for the opera were not within the house hold budget. ‘I believe she is very good.’

  ‘Oh, stupendous! Her Semiramide has such passion, such dramatic range,’ Lady Geraldine enthused. ‘I have written to ask her to perform at the reception I am giving in honour of the duke.’ There was no need to ask which duke. In a city full of the aristocrats of half a dozen nations, ‘the duke’ could only mean Wellington.

  To Julia’s relief the conversation turned to plans for the reception and her mother’s attention to what she should wear for it. All she had to do was to behave herself and not alienate either of her remaining suitors. That was her duty, especially now that Mama had spent so much money on her gowns. But it all sounded rather dull. It was not until several minutes later that Julia realized what she was thinking. Two weeks ago, she would have been stunned with de lighted disbelief to have a pair of eligible gentlemen showing an interest in her. But then, two weeks ago, she had not met Hal Carlow. I must not think of him. I must marry.

  The next morning there was a note with her post.

  My dear Julia,

  Madame C. has refused my request that she sing at the reception!! And I am laid on my bed with a putrid sore throat and am thus unable to go and reason with the creature face to face. Imagine refusing the Duke!!

  Julia, my reliance is entirely upon you utterly—go and reason with her—my dear Masters is from town and will not return soon enough to press the matter. Offer her what ever is necessary to secure her agreement.

  G.M.

  Julia passed it across the table, trying to imagine herself confronting a demanding prima donna and insisting upon her performing.

  ‘My goodness,’ Mrs Tresilian said faintly. ‘How alarming. But you cannot refuse to oblige Lady Geraldine, not after her kindness to you. You must take Maria and go at once.’

  ‘But, Mama, the marketing…’

  ‘Do it at the same time, dear. The shops in the Lower Town are acceptable, and cheaper.’

  ‘Yes, Mama.’ At least she could not get into any scrapes at the Opera.

  Chapter Six

  Julia stared at the imposing portico of the building in front of her. Did one go through the public entrance at the front, or around to the stage door? Beside her, Maria shifted the weight of the basket from one hand to the other and sighed.

  Julia put back her shoulders and marched up the front steps. She was, after all, the representative of one of the leading figures of Brussels’ Society, calling on a singer of inter national renown. ‘Wait there.’ She gestured to some niches along the walls of the heavily gilded entrance hall. ‘And hide the basket underneath the bench.’

  A bored looking porter approached as Maria sat down. ‘Oui?’

  ‘I am here to see Madame Catalani,’ Julia said in French with a faint smile, trying for the sort of confident and commanding charm that Lady Geraldine appeared to find so easy. ‘On behalf of Lady Geraldine Masters.’ She produced one of Lady Geraldine’s cards. He glanced at it. ‘Madame is expecting you?’

  ‘Of course,’ she said. She was going to look foolish if the porter informed her that the singer was not here.

  ‘Madame is in consultation with the leader of the orchestra. She will not be free for at least an hour.’

  ‘In that case, I will wait. Kindly show me to her dressing room.’ Julia decided she was definitely more afraid of Lady Geraldine’s displeasure than she was of bored porters or even temperamental prima donnas.

  The porter, on the other hand, appeared distinctly un impressed with her. Pre sum ably, he spent his life fending off demanding members of the public—mostly gentlemen—all wanting access to the singers, dancers and actresses. ‘Through there, mam’zelle.’ He pointed to a door. ‘Right along to the end, turn left.’

  ‘You had better go back to Place de Leuvan,’ Julia told the maid. She could hardly accompany Julia and sit in the singer’s dressing room, not with a basket containing fish. ‘I do not want that herring hanging around in the heat. I will take a cab back.’ The cabs in Brussels were clean and respectable; even Mama could not disapprove of her taking one.

  The crimson-flocked wall pa per and gilt and mirrors vanished as soon as she was through the door which opened onto a narrow white-washed corridor leading deep into the back stage area. At one point, she heard a magnificent voice penetrating faintly through the walls. It broke off abruptly, to be replaced by a shriek of displeasure. Madame was obviously not in a good mood. Julia’s steps slowed. She really was not looking forward to this.

  Men and women passed her, all in curious, all hastening along on their own business. She could see the end of the corridor ahead and made herself think positive thoughts.

  Then she heard Hal’s laugh. That rich, wicked chuckle could not belong to anyone else. There was no-one in sight: Julia applied her ear to the panelling of the nearest door. ‘I look a complete fool,’ he said, his voice becoming fainter as though he was moving away. ‘And I’m bloody uncomfortable in this rig.’

  ‘Suits you,’ another man said, sounding as though he was choking back laughter. ‘You look remarkably—’ His voice was cut off abruptly as though an inner door had closed. Silence.

  Frustrated, Julia stared at the door. It was not as though she wanted to see Hal Carlow again. Liar, an inner voice said. Very well, it was not as though she prudently should see him again. Or dared. She knew she should not trust him. So why was she standing here mooning outside a dressing room door at the Opera?

  ‘Dressing room,’ Julia muttered. Of course, he was probably in there, with his friend, waiting for a dancer or a member of the chorus. She felt unaccountably miserable.

  There was a shout of laughter from around the corner in the corridor ahead of her. Men, several of them by the sound of it, and not the incurious stage hands. They sounded English, boisterous, out for fun, and it was a long way back the way she had come. Then one of them came into sight, talking over his shoulder to the men behind him, and she saw his scarlet uniform. Officers—and here she was, back stage and without her maid.

  Julia opened the door and stepped inside, realizing as she did so that she was acting on instinct, going to Hal. The room was empty, but an inner door was ajar and there were sounds of movement from beyond it. Outside, the laughter came closer, stopped. She whisked through the other door, closed it behind her and leant on it. There were two people in the room, but there was no sign of Hal.

  Neither occupant had noticed her presence. A broad-shouldered, dark-haired officer with magnificent side-whiskers had a woman with tumbling golden hair bent back over his arm and was embracing her with fervour. The woman flailed her arms, then caught the man a resounding blow on the side of the head that made Julia flinch. The man dropped the blonde with ungallant promptness and she sat on the floor with a thump.

  ‘Get up, damn it!’ The man was very big and, in his blue uniform, extremely imposing. But Julia could hardly stand by while he assaulted an unwilling female. ‘And don’t look at me like that,’ he added to his victim, hauling her to her feet as Julia reached out to tap his shoulder. ‘You’re enough to put a man off sex for life.’

  ‘And you, sir, are no gentleman,’ Julia said hotly, prodding h
is broad back instead of politely tapping as she had intended. ‘Is it not enough that you assault an unwilling female, without insulting her into the bargain?’

  The woman gasped, rather hoarsely, but then, she had just had a most unpleasant experience. The big man turned round, grinning. ‘You have the advantage of me, madam.’

  ‘I most sincerely hope so. Now, kindly leave, sir. Major Carlow is close by and, I can assure you, he does not stand for such be ha vi our.’ He turned away, his shoulders heaving. ‘Are you laughing at me, sir?’ Julia demanded.

  ‘Oh God forgive me, yes,’ he gasped, staggering to the nearest chair and sinking onto it. The unwilling object of his affections was left face to face with Julia.

  ‘You poor…thing.’ Her voice trailed off. Large blue-grey eyes swimming with tears of mirth regarded her. Turbulent blonde curls cascaded onto broad shoulders and over an startlingly opulent bosom clad in shiny pink satin that seemed under considerable strain. Bright lip stain was smeared over a tanned cheek. A large hand came up and pushed the hair back and it came off and fell to the floor. A wig.

  ‘Hal?’ Julia gaped as the tears began to pour down his cheeks and he collapsed onto the bench next to the big man, holding his sides as he laughed.

  ‘Hell! These corsets!’

  ‘Hal Carlow! What the…the devil do you think you are doing?’

  Behind her the door opened and another six large men spilled into the room. ‘Gentlemen!’ Hal stood up, his appearance, without the wig, beyond incongruous. ‘There is a lady present.’

  ‘You can’t call yourself a… Ah, sorry, ma’am.’ They sobered immediately, and stood regarding her with barely concealed interest.

  ‘This lady has kindly offered to help with the female costumes and macquillage,’ Hal said smoothly. ‘It is extremely kind of her and, as you may imagine, her presence here is not something to be mentioned outside this room.’ The look he directed at the big man who had been embracing him held a definite warning, but the other officer grinned back and nodded as he got to his feet, joining the others in a chorus of thanks.

  Julia found herself being introduced to all of them, including one plump young man who nervously confided that he was the other female character in the entertainment. ‘We’re putting it on for a regimental dinner in ten days’ time,’ he explained. ‘Lieu tenant Hayden, ma’am. I can’t walk properly wearing those, er, am I allowed to say corsets?’

  ‘Yes, of course, Lieu tenant, but only inside this room,’ Julia assured him gravely, suppressing her own giggles. ‘Why don’t you go and get changed, and I will see what I can do with your deportment—and Major Carlow’s.’ She turned to look at Hal. ‘Are we trying for humorous effect or realism?’

  There should be awkwardness between them, but despite the quivering sense of awareness, as though her skin was bare, she was managing to keep up a bland façade in front of these men. She supposed Hal was too. Or perhaps that kiss was simply not of importance to him.

  ‘Humour,’ he said gravely; she wondered how he managed to look so very masculine despite his attire.

  ‘Thank goodness for that,’ she said, making the others laugh. Lieu tenant Hayden stumbled in after a few minutes, red in the face and making a ludicrous woman. ‘Now, ladies, stand up straight, shoulders back—no, not like that, Lieutenant, you are not on parade. Like this.’

  She walked up and down while they studied her. ‘Small steps, you see? And hold your skirts up, just a very little. You do not want to show your ankles.’

  ‘They aren’t swaying much,’ the big man remarked, regarding the rear view of his colleagues as they minced up and down the room.

  ‘What kind of ladies are they, Captain Grey? Respectable ones?’

  ‘Yes, ma’am.’

  ‘Then they need to glide, not sway,’ she said repressively. ‘Like this.’

  Half an hour later, neither man was clomping any more and Hal, at least, could unfurl a fan with dextrous grace. Julia considered that he showed altogether too good a facility with a fan—learned, no doubt, in dubious circumstances. ‘I must go,’ she said, hearing the clock strike twelve. ‘I had quite lost track of time.’

  ‘Let me show you out.’ Hal emerged from the other room, dressed as a man again.

  ‘Thank you. Gentlemen, good luck with your entertainment.’

  They bowed and thanked her and she left, feeling happily that she had made friends.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ Hal demanded, when they were out in the corridor again. ‘They will not talk about seeing you, by the way; you have my word on it.’

  ‘I know.’ She smiled, finding that, after all, it was possible to be alone with him without embarrassment. ‘I liked them all very much. Do you often do this sort of thing?’

  ‘Dress up as a woman? No, I am happy to say. Although we are in the habit of regimental entertainments from our days in the Peninsula. But what are you doing here?’

  ‘Lady Geraldine asked me to persuade Madame Catalani to sing at her reception for the duke. She wrote to her and received a refusal, and now Lady Geraldine is unwell and cannot deal with it herself.’

  ‘Come along then. Where’s her dressing room?’

  ‘It is just down here. You will help me?’ Julia looked up at him, ‘Oh, thank you. I was so nervous.’ And I should be nervous of you, she thought as Hal smiled back and her heart skipped a beat. There was a shadow behind those smiling eyes: he had not for got ten the forest glade.

  ‘Of course I will help you.’ He stopped, just as they turned the corner, and took her hand. ‘Julia, am I forgiven for…for the picnic?’

  ‘When you kissed me,’ she managed to say without stumbling over the word, ‘I should have told you not to. But I kissed you back. I do not know why, but it was very wrong of me.’ He started to protest, but she shook her head. ‘No, I should have known better, especially when you warned me that you are a rake. As for the carriage drive, it is I who should beg your pardon,’ she murmured, looking down so that she was not staring up into those troubling eyes. Then she found that she was looking at his big brown hand enveloping hers, and that was equally troubling. ‘I should not have spoken so sharply when you were only trying to help me.’

  ‘You had experienced a long and rather difficult day,’ Hal said, the bitter edge to the words making her flinch.

  ‘Parts of it were difficult,’ Julia agreed. ‘I enjoyed others.’ She could feel herself blushing. ‘The picnic and the forest and the views were all delightful,’ she added hastily, in case he thought she was referring to that shattering embrace.

  ‘I enjoyed parts too,’ Hal said. Her fingers were still in his grasp and, although he was not holding her tightly, somehow they had become meshed with his.

  ‘We had better find the right door,’ Julia said, a little breath less.

  ‘Mm,’ Hal agreed, not moving. ‘May I ask you something?’ He began to play with her fingers.

  ‘Yes.’ Then Julia thought about it. ‘But I will not promise to answer.’

  He laughed, and she looked up and smiled in return. ‘Wise woman. I just wanted to know: is it very tiresome, being so well-behaved?’ Julia stared. ‘My younger sister, Verity, is good because her spirits are crushed if everyone does not think well of her. And she is very, very innocent and trusting, so it does not occur to her to get into scrapes. My elder sister, Honoria, was extremely fast—’ He broke off, perhaps reading Julia’s thoughts on her face. ‘Yes, like me, but not as wicked. She’s married now—happily, I believe—to a man as wild and unconventional as she is.

  ‘But you, I think, are good, because you know you should be and it is your duty to be well-behaved.’

  ‘You sound as though that makes me an exotic creature, difficult to under stand,’ Julia said, puzzled.

  ‘For a scapegrace such as myself, yes, you are.’ He was still smiling, but something changed in his expression as he asked, ‘Do you never want to rebel?’

  ‘Society is full of well-behaved, unmarried girls,’
Julia pro tested, avoiding the question. ‘To be anything else is to be considered fast, and that is a definite handicap to one’s marriage prospects. Look what happened the other day.’

  It was his turn to flinch, but he let the comment pass. ‘Yes, but you are not one of those just-out, fluffy-brained little things, are you?’ Hal leaned a shoulder against the wall, her hand still in his, and frowned at her. The theatre seemed to have gone quiet, perhaps for the noon meal, and they were quite alone.

  ‘Are you politely telling me I am on the shelf, Major Carlow? At my last prayers?’

  ‘No.’ He shook his head. ‘No, I am trying to under stand you, and you have avoided answering my question, just as you warned me you might.’

  Julia felt the warmth of his hand enveloping hers and the stillness that surrounded them. He had used a cologne that morning, or perhaps it was his soap: just a faint hint of sandal wood teased her nostrils.

  ‘Yes, I do want to rebel some times,’ she said finally. ‘I should not have entered that dressing room just now, I should not be standing here with you. I should have run from that clearing the moment you made Fellowes release me. And I should not snap at gentlemen who give me well-meaning warnings about my conduct.’

  ‘Is that what he did? Pompous idiot,’ Hal said. ‘I should have called him out.’

  ‘You cannot call someone out for being pompous.’ Her little finger had found the signet ring on Hal’s hand and she realized she was fiddling with it. She stopped abruptly.

  ‘How did he find anything to criticise, anyway?’ Hal asked.

  ‘I admitted I knew you,’ Julia confessed.

  ‘Ah.’ Hal released her hand and stood up straight. ‘Well, in that case, I forgive him. He was quite right to warn you.’

  ‘Major Carlow! You cannot spend time alone with me now, er, chatting and then lecture me on the unwisdom of such be ha vi our.’