by Anne Herries
‘I shall be only too pleased to fetch whatever it is you wish.’
A maid entered at that moment, bringing a large silver tray set with an exquisite tea and coffee service of elegant silver with bone handles, and delicate porcelain tea bowls. There was also a plate of tiny biscuits and almond comfits.
‘Will you pour for us both please, Eliza? I take my tea with a drop of milk and one lump of sugar.’
Eliza poured the tea into the delicate bowl, added a little milk and used the tongs to select a small lump of sugar, which she added to the bowl. She handed it to Lady Sarah, who thanked her, stirred it once, sipped and nodded her approval before setting it on the wine table at her side.
‘Would you like a comfit, ma’am?’
‘No thank you, but please try one, Eliza. Cook made them especially in case you arrived.’
Eliza tasted one of the comfits, as she had been bidden, and expressed pleasure as she ate the delicious treat. She poured a cup of tea for herself and resumed her seat.
‘What other duties are required, ma’am? So far it seems that I am to be treated as a guest rather than an employee. I should like to be of use to you in whatever way I may.’
‘I really require only companionship,’ Lady Sarah assured her. ‘You will be as…a cousin or a younger sister to me, Eliza. I hope you will accept me as a friend, because that will be more comfortable for us both. There cannot be more than two-and-twenty years between us. My son is but seven and twenty and I married when I was sixteen. My son was born ten months later.’
‘You hardly look more than nine and thirty, ma’am.’
Lady Sarah laughed and looked pleased, though she denied it. ‘I feel so much older some days. My life has been very quiet until recently. While my husband lived I resided at home in the country, often alone. To have the company of a young lady of your age is a delight for me.’
Eliza hardly knew what to say. She had not considered that she would be so fortunate and found it difficult to realise that she was going to live in such favoured circumstances.
‘Now, if you have finished your tea, I shall ring for Millicent Browne. She is my housekeeper here and she will take you up to your room. Please take your time to refresh yourself after the journey and then come down to me. We have a dinner engagement this evening, but this afternoon is free for us to talk and get to know each other. Dinner this evening is just an informal affair with friends, but I shall send you a gown you may like to wear.’
Eliza thanked her again. A woman came in answer to Lady Sarah’s summons. She was dressed in a plain black gown with a neat lace collar and a gold brooch fastened at the throat. Her bright eyes looked at Eliza curiously, but her manner was welcoming as she led her along the landing and up a short flight of stairs.
‘Her ladyship put you in one of the family rooms, miss. She wanted you close to her apartments so that you could pop in and out when she is resting, as she does some afternoons.’
‘Thank you, Mrs Browne,’ Eliza said. ‘I hope that I shall be of some use and not cause more work for you. I am quite happy to make my bed and keep my room tidy.’
‘Well, that is kind of you, miss. Not all guests are so thoughtful, I can tell you, but it will not be necessary. Her ladyship told us you were to be treated as family, and that’s how it will be.’
‘I must do something to earn my keep.’
‘Your nice manners and cheerful smile will cheer her ladyship and that is all that’s needed, miss.’
Mrs Browne stopped outside a room and opened the door, ushering her inside. The room was very pretty, furnished with satinwood pieces that struck Eliza as being exquisitely made, and the décor was of pink and cream with a touch of crimson here and there.
‘What a beautiful room,’ she exclaimed. ‘I have never had such pretty things. Thank you for giving me such a lovely bedchamber—and roses on the dressing chest. How very kind.’
‘Her ladyship wanted things nice, miss. We are all fond of her and we shall be obliged to you if you can cheer her up—she’s not had a good life.’
‘Oh…’ Eliza wondered what was meant, but was too polite to enquire. It was not for her to gossip about her employer the moment she arrived. ‘I am sorry to hear that. I shall certainly do my best to please.’
Left to herself, Eliza took off her bonnet and pelisse, depositing them on a chair. She ran her fingers over the surface of the beautiful dressing chest and the matching writing table and chair, bending to sniff the roses, which gave off a wonderful perfume. She could not quite believe her good fortune.
Sitting down on the edge of the bed, she thought about her extraordinary day yesterday. First the hold-up that was not truly a hold-up at all since the highwayman had turned out to be a man she had previously met and was clearly not very skilled at his work. A little smile touched her mouth as she remembered his kiss and her quite inappropriate feelings.
How foolish she was to feel such a strong attraction to a man who would never mean anything to her. She had been very fortunate in securing such a comfortable position and must do nothing to jeopardise her good fortune. If she saw Mr Seaton again, she would be sure to keep her distance, but it was unlikely that he would come to Bath.
And even more unlikely that he would be interested in a mere companion. A man as well connected as Daniel would surely have no trouble attracting a suitable wife. Yet his smile, his concern for her when he knocked her down, the feeling she had when he kissed her, would linger in her mind.
Daniel frowned at himself in the mirror. It would appear that he had made a fool of himself by holding up Cheadle’s carriage. Eliza had travelled alone and was adamant that she was going to be the companion of a lady in Bath. He had felt foolish and angry, and that kiss had been unwise because he had not been able to get her out of his mind since.
An interview with his bank in Bath had revealed that his finances were, if anything, worse than he had imagined. Even if he were prepared to live like a miser and work all the hours of the day and night, he was not sure that he could hang on to the estate. His mind should be focused on his own problems—and his cousin’s death. He could not afford to be thinking of a girl with eyes that made him want to kiss her senseless.
He had come to Bath to hear the worst, but also in search of Cheadle, whom he’d learned was due to stay here. It would be his chance to bargain for the ring and see if he could get anything of worth out of him—and he did not mean money, though the ten thousand his father had lost to the marquis was the cause of his immediate problems.
He had not come to Bath to discover if Miss Eliza Bancroft had been telling him the truth. If they were to meet that would be by the way and of no importance. It would be quite ridiculous if he were to allow himself to be distracted by that impish smile of hers. Quite ridiculous and impossible.
If he were sensible, he would try to find an heiress to marry him, as his uncle had suggested. The notion did not sit well with him, but short of taking up a life on the road he could think of nothing else that would produce enough money to pay those damned mortgages.
Susanne Roberts had been giving him suggestive looks in town when he visited earlier in the Season. He had stayed well clear because he could not imagine himself being tied to such a silly girl. However, beggars could not be choosers. He might bring himself to the point of asking if he could put the memory of Eliza Bancroft’s tantalising mouth from his head.
He had an invitation to dine with the Roberts family in Bath that evening—and it would do no harm to keep the appointment.
‘That lilac silk becomes you well,’ Lady Sarah said as Eliza twirled for her, holding the silk draped across her body. ‘Yes, I like it—and the grey is perfect for small evening affairs. However, you will need a ballgown or perhaps two—and I think you should have white. You may trim them with delicate touches of black lace if you wish, but I think white is perfectly acceptable—do you not agree, Madame Millaise?’
The seamstress nodded her approval. ‘I do not think an
yone would take exception to it, milady,’ she said, her accent markedly French despite her excellent grasp of the English language. ‘A discreet touch of black is all that is needed to make it perfectly respectable, non?’ She looked at Eliza, as if asking a question.
Eliza hesitated, waiting for her employer to speak.
‘Yes, that is my opinion. What do you think, Eliza, my dear?’
‘I will be advised by you and madame,’ Eliza said, feeling anxious as she looked at the growing pile of silks her employer seemed to feel she needed. ‘Mama particularly told me she did not wish me to wear mourning for more than a few days, but I like the grey and lilac. I should choose those shades at any time. I had not thought of white, but I am sure it will be perfect.’
‘Yes, I believe it will. You are an attractive girl, Eliza, and will pay for dressing.’
Eliza blushed. She had never thought of herself as particularly attractive, though Betty always said it, but wearing good clothes certainly made her feel much more stylish. She had already adapted two evening gowns that her employer had given her from her own wardrobe, one a simple lilac silk, which had had long sleeves. Eliza had removed the long sleeves and made them shorter, trimming them with some heavy cream lace. She had added more lace to the bodice, and, worn with the gold pin that had been her mother’s, the alteration had completely transformed the gown so that even Lady Sarah had not recognised it. The other was grey silk and had very elegant lines. Eliza had merely adjusted the waist and hemline, feeling that she could not improve on its design.
‘Will mademoiselle be advised by me as to the style the gowns should be?’ the Frenchwoman asked.
‘Yes, thank you,’ Eliza replied. ‘I am not perfectly sure of the latest fashion—or what would be appropriate for a companion to wear.’
‘You need not worry about that side of it,’ her employer said. ‘I wish you to feel comfortable in what you choose, Eliza, and I am sure madame knows exactly what will become a girl of your age.’ She turned to the seamstress. ‘That is enough for one day. When can you have the first ballgown ready?’
‘By Friday lunchtime, milady.’
‘Very well. Eliza can manage with what she has until then. We shall attend the assembly that night, but until then we have only a dinner with friends and a trip to the theatre. You may wear the grey to dinner at the home of Lady Roberts, Eliza, and the lilac to the theatre. Your own walking gown will be sufficient until madame has made your new ones.’
Eliza thanked her. Her first visit to the Pump Room and the library had shown her that her clothes were by no means fashionable enough for Bath, at least if she were here on a visit for pleasure, though she thought them adequate for a companion. However, Lady Sarah had made it clear that she wanted her companion dressed suitably when they were in company and, although overwhelmed by what seemed excessive generosity, she accepted the new gowns as necessary—a part of her employment.
That did not stop her being excited by the prospect of wearing such lovely clothes. Lady Sarah’s cast-offs were far finer than anything she had ever possessed and she knew that both were almost unworn, though possibly purchased when her employer was younger.
She thanked the seamstress for her help, assisted the young girl who carried out the materials and walked to the door with them both. When she returned to the sitting room, Lady Sarah was sipping a glass of restorative wine.
‘Come and sit down, Eliza. You must be quite exhausted after that,’ she said. ‘I always feel drained after fittings for new gowns.’
‘It was a new experience for me,’ Eliza replied with a smile. ‘I always made my own gowns with Mama’s help. She was an excellent seamstress.’
‘With a little training you could be a fashionable seamstress,’ Lady Sarah said. ‘Your own gowns are quite acceptable for the country, my dear, but you need a little town bronze.’
Sarah wondered why a companion should need to look fashionable but she did not question her employer. She considered herself fortunate to be treated so well.
‘Perhaps you will go to the library for me this afternoon, my dear. I do not like the book I started last evening. It was well recommended, but The Mysteries of Udolpho is not to my taste. I should prefer something more sensible, I think.’
‘Have you read the story of Tristan and Iseult?’ Eliza asked. ‘I have just finished reading it and enjoyed it, but I shall see what else I can find that you might like.’
‘Lady Roberts recommended the story I asked you to bring yesterday, Eliza, but I think it foolish. I will try the story you recommended, but I think I should like poetry or perhaps something of Miss Austen’s—though I believe I have read most of them.’
‘I shall see what I can find. In the meantime I will fetch the book I brought with me.’
Eliza went upstairs to put on her bonnet and pelisse. Thus far she was finding her duties light. Indeed, it was like staying with an aunt rather than working for an employer and she felt very spoiled to be leading such an indulgent life. Eliza had always helped her mother in the kitchen and with parish work when her father was the rector, and she found it strange to be so idle.
It took but a moment to find the book and to put on her pelisse. She went back down to the parlour and took her leave of Lady Sarah, setting out for the lending library. The afternoon was pleasantly warm and the walk would be welcome after a morning spent choosing silks and trimmings for her new gowns.
Eliza reached the library without seeing anyone she knew. She had met only a handful of Lady Sarah’s friends so far and was not acquainted with any other companions, so did not linger to gossip with anyone. Her search for books that her employer might find rewarding took a little longer, but she came away with three she thought interesting. It was as she came out of the library that a man walking backwards as he said goodbye to a friend almost trod on her toes. She gave a squeak of alarm and dropped her books. He turned instantly, an apology on his lips. The colour came and went in his face as he saw her. Her heart raced, for it was the man she had both longed and yet feared to see again.
‘Forgive me,’ he said. ‘Did I hurt you?’
‘No, I stepped back at once.’
He bent to pick up the books, looking at her contritely. ‘I must seem a clumsy fool to you, Miss Bancroft. I am so very sorry for causing you to drop these.’
‘It was a mere accident, Mr Seaton,’ Eliza replied, a slight heat in her own cheeks as she accepted the books and their hands touched. Her stomach fluttered with some disturbing emotion she did not wish to recognise. This was so foolish. To like him so much when she knew it could only lead to distress! ‘I assure you I am unhurt.’
‘No thanks to me,’ he said ruefully. ‘May I help to carry these for you? Perhaps I could buy you tea and cake to make up for nearly knocking you over?’
‘I assure you there is no need to do either,’ Eliza replied. She longed to say yes, to spend the next hour talking with him over some tea and cake, but her time was not her own. She must remember the vast chasm between them. He was related to an earl and she was a lovechild with a dubious background and no prospects ‘I must take these back to my employer. She is waiting for me.’
‘Then I suppose I should let you go,’ he said, but turned and walked by her side. ‘How are you enjoying your stay in Bath? Is your employer an old dragon?’
‘Lady Sarah is neither old nor a dragon. She has been extremely kind to me. I am fortunate to have found such employment. Indeed, there is little for me to do except enjoy myself.’
‘That is fortunate.’ His eyes were intensely blue and seemed thoughtful as he met her gaze. ‘I imagine there are not many companions in that position.’
‘Perhaps not,’ Eliza replied. ‘I did not expect to meet you here, sir. Have you given up your former employment?’ Her eyes sparkled as she teased, for she knew that his one and only attempt at highway robbery had been a mistaken desire to save her from a fate worse than death.
‘I rather think it gave me up.’ Daniel laugh
ed huskily. ‘Had my unfortunate encounter been with any other young lady of my acquaintance, I think I should even now find myself behind bars.’
‘That would be harsh indeed. You gave the coachman a little fright and that was bad of you, but you caused me no harm. Indeed, I have smiled to myself more than once over the incident.’
‘You find me amusing, Miss Bancroft?’
‘I found your attempt at highway robbery amusing.’ She saw him frown. ‘Does that offend you?’
‘Yes and no,’ he replied honestly. ‘I think it was my own fault, but no man enjoys being thought a fool.’ She sensed he had withdrawn slightly and regretted her careless remark.
‘I did not think you a fool, sir. I see I have offended you. Forgive me. I must get back, for Lady Sarah will wonder what keeps me.’
He tipped his hat to her again, stopped walking and allowed her to go on alone. Eliza did not glance back, though she sensed that he was watching her walk away. She was sorry if she had offended him, but that was better than allowing him to imagine she was ripe for dalliance. He had kissed her once without invitation. It must not happen again. A young woman in her circumstances ought not to be seen encouraging the attentions of a man who was related to an earl.
Daniel watched her walk the length of the street. She had a trim figure and was in many ways unusual, being possessed, he suspected, of a strong sense of humour. It piqued his pride a little to know that she found him amusing. Yet he could hardly blame her. Most women would have thought him a clodhopping fool for nearly knocking her down not once but twice, and then there was the ridiculous hold-up. She was remarkably patient and tolerant, and he discovered that he found her enchanting. There were few enough young women with her wit and sensible manner and he could not suppress a sigh. If she were only an heiress… He laughed and shook his head. Such a prize would not be long on the shelf. Had she had money as well as her other attributes she would have been spoken for long ago.
