Regency Debutantes

by Margaret McPhee

  ‘Are you comfortable enough, Miss Marchant?’ There was something in his look that made her think that he had more than an inkling of her thoughts.

  ‘Yes, thank you, my lord, quite comfortable.’ She nodded and glanced away, unwilling to let him see just how much he affected her.

  Fortuitously Mr Dalton sounded the first notes upon the piano and then Lottie began to sing, and Kathryn was saved from any further embarrassment.

  Chapter Nine

  Lottie had just finished her third rendition to rapturous applause when Anna Marchant threaded her way quietly to the back of the drawing room, to stand beside the Viscount of Ravensmede’s chair. She ignored Ravensmede, smiled sweetly at his grandmother and leaned towards Kathryn. ‘Dearest niece,’ she whispered, ‘may I have a minute of your time?’

  Kathryn’s heart began to thud within her chest and a certain uneasiness started to squirm within. A sense of foreboding rippled down her spine. For one awful moment she was seized by the sudden overwhelming desire to just run through the door and keep on running—far away from Aunt Anna and this house. Her eyes flickered towards the door longingly. And then common sense prevailed. Kathryn knew very well that there was no way out. She could not refuse to speak to her aunt. So she took a deep breath, looked at the dowager, and said quietly, ‘Please excuse me, my lady.’ Then she nodded and rose to follow Mrs Marchant.

  Ravensmede stood to let her leave. As she squeezed past she heard the silk of her skirt slide against his legs, and smelled the clean citrus scent of him. She looked up to read the unspoken question of concern in his eyes, and tried to hide the fear in her own. Then she had passed him and was following Aunt Anna across the floor and out of the drawing room.

  Anna Marchant waited until Kathryn was seated in the small room before closing the door behind her. The click of the latch echoed in the silence.

  Kathryn recognised it as her aunt and uncle’s own personal parlour. It was much smaller than the drawing room and nowhere near as ornate. The décor was a cool combination of duck-egg blue and pale grey, with no hint of warmth or welcome. A small pile of tinder, sticks and coal dross had been set up within the hearth in readiness for a fire. The temperature of the evening outside meant it had not been lit; the chill in the parlour suggested that it should have. Kathryn suppressed a shiver. Nothing of the summer warmth pervaded the little room. The light of the candles in the wall sconces flickered within the gloom. She noticed that the heavy blue curtains had been pulled to shut out the daylight. Everything about the place felt dim and dank and claustrophobic. Her fingers smoothed nervously over the silk of her skirt. ‘You wished to speak to me, Aunt?’

  ‘Yes.’ Mrs Marchant took the chair between Kathryn and the door. Now that they were alone all pretence of amiability had disappeared. Her eyes were a cold hard blue; her lips pursed to a thin, narrow line. ‘I wish to know exactly how matters are between you and Lady Maybury.’

  Distrust tutored Kathryn’s words. ‘Why, they are very well indeed. Lady Maybury is both kind and thoughtful. I could not ask for more.’ She waited to see what this game was about.

  ‘And how fares the child?’

  ‘The child?’ Kathryn stared at her aunt.

  ‘The child that necessitated such a sudden and immediate move to Ravensmede House.’

  Kathryn’s fingers pleated the violet silk of her skirt between them. ‘Lady Maybury’s house is in Upper Grosvenor Street,’ she said carefully. ‘Maggie, the little girl who was involved in the carriage accident, is recovered and back living with her family.’

  ‘How fortuitous.’

  Kathryn said nothing. A horrible suspicion was forming.

  ‘Does Lord Ravensmede spend much time visiting Upper Grosvenor Street?’

  ‘No.’ The violet silk twisted tighter in her hands.

  ‘But I’ve heard he’s inordinately fond of his grandmother.’

  Kathryn could guess where this was leading. Perspiration beaded cold upon her skin. ‘We’re missing Lottie’s singing.’

  ‘So we are.’ Anna Marchant smiled a vicious little smile. ‘Then I had best come straight to the point, hadn’t I?’ The faint strains of music and a high pitched melodic voice drifted through the barrier of the door. ‘Certain rumours have come to my ears, Kathryn, rumours involving you and some very improper behaviour.’

  The blood rushed in Kathryn’s ears. She felt the tripping of her heart. Her eyes widened in shock.

  ‘If you are intent on destroying your reputation then I have a right to know exactly what you are up to.’

  Kathryn rose from her chair, her cheeks scalded with embarrassment and anger. ‘How could you say such a thing? Any rumours to which you may have listened are false.’

  ‘Don’t give me that, you little bitch,’ snapped her aunt. ‘I know that you’re lying; it’s written all over your face.’

  ‘I think I should return to Lady Maybury now,’ said Kathryn with a great deal more control than she felt.

  ‘Oh, no, I haven’t finished with you yet, miss.’

  Kathryn hid her growing fear and made to move towards the door, only to find her way blocked by her aunt.

  ‘You’re going nowhere until you tell me exactly what’s been going on.’

  ‘Aunt Anna—’

  ‘Don’t “Aunt Anna” me! You leave here with Ravensmede and his grandmother on the premise of going for a drive in Hyde Park, and the next minute you’re installed in the old woman’s house as her companion, without so much as a by your leave. The first that your uncle knows of it is a letter from Ravensmede!’ Mrs Marchant advanced towards her niece.

  Kathryn instinctively backed away.

  ‘Do you think I know nothing of his reputation?’ The older woman’s mouth twisted to a snarl.

  ‘The child’s leg was injured in her fall, and Lady Maybury was in need of immediate assistance,’ said Kathryn with force.

  ‘And what of Ravensmede?’

  ‘He could not be expected to look after a four-year-old girl.’

  ‘But he could look after you, miss, very well indeed.’

  Kathryn stiffened at the insult. ‘You malign both his lordship and me!’ She thrust aside the memory of just exactly what she and the Viscount had shared.

  Mrs Marchant stepped closer. ‘He’s the only man to have shown an interest in you, though God knows why he should have taken notice of so plain a creature. And why else would her ladyship have taken you up? It stands to reason, if you’re indulging Ravensmede’s interest.’

  ‘Lady Maybury would never stoop to such a scandal. Her reputation is beyond reproach.’ The eyes that were normally a clear pale grey became dark and stormy.

  ‘Lucky for us all,’ said Anna Marchant, ‘else your reputation would be in tatters, miss.’ She took another step towards her niece.

  Kathryn felt the press of the wall against her back. ‘My reputation is unblemished.’ A sliver of guilt stuck in her throat.

  Mrs Marchant stepped closer still. ‘That’s not what I’ve heard, and I mean to have the truth from you, you selfish little trollop. You have no thought in your head for anyone other than yourself.’

  Kathryn scanned the room for an escape route, but the only way out was the same way through which she had entered.

  ‘If you cast your reputation to the gutter then what of Lottie? Innocent of all blame, yet she’ll suffer just the same.’

  ‘Aunt, you’re mistaken—’

  Anna Marchant’s hands closed hard around the tops of Kathryn’s arms. ‘Tell me what you’ve been up to, girl, or, so help me, I’ll have the truth from you one way or another!’

  ‘Leave me be!’ Kathryn struggled to free herself, but her aunt was much larger and stronger.

  ‘Tell me!’ Anna Marchant said again and tightened her grip.

  Kathryn’s ordeal went no further: the door of the parlour swung open.

  Anna Marchant spun to face the intruder, her hands dropping to her sides.

  ‘Mrs Marchant,’ said the man�
��s voice, but for all its drawl there was in it an unmistakable flint-like quality.

  Anna Marchant flushed to the roots of her golden hair. ‘Lord Ravensmede,’ she said, unsure of quite how much the Viscount had seen or indeed heard.

  His expression was one of cold contempt and every line of his face held the promise of retribution. Mrs Marchant surreptitiously backed away towards the corner of the room.

  His gaze slid to Kathryn who still stood, as if pinioned, against the wall. Her face had drained to a powder white. ‘Miss Marchant, my grandmother has need of you.’ The words were innocent enough, but the tone was loaded with danger. ‘You appear to be somewhat distressed. Has someone upset you?’ His focus drifted questioningly towards Anna Marchant, and the colour of the woman’s cheeks darkened to a deep puce.

  Kathryn’s hands kneaded at the violet silk. ‘No!’ she almost shouted, then more calmly, as if regaining control of her emotions, ‘No, I am quite well, thank you, my lord. I was just about to return to the drawing room.’

  ‘As I’m sure is Mrs Marchant,’ he said smoothly, and waited for the golden-haired woman to cross the floor before them. Anna Marchant did not look back. Only then did he place a supportive hand on the small of Kathryn’s back and guide her in her aunt’s wake. Lottie was still singing as they quietly settled back into their seats. No one commented on the ladies’ short absence.

  Kathryn never knew how she made it through the rest of that evening. Certainly the knowledge that Lord Ravensmede was never far from her side gave her strength. She could hazard a very good guess at what would have happened within that horrible little room had he not interrupted. A nausea was rising in her stomach and she longed for nothing more than to flee from the house in Green Street. One look at Lady Maybury’s face told her that was not possible. The dowager seemed to be in her element, relaying stories of Kathryn’s artistic abilities, introducing her new companion to all and sundry, ensuring that everyone knew just who Kathryn Marchant’s mother had been. Through it all Kathryn endured with a smile, a murmur of the right response, and an interested expression as the most trivial of stories were told; and all the while she was conscious of the Viscount standing so very close by, guarding her with his presence.

  Strangely enough, at the end of the evening it was not Lottie’s musical achievements that were talked of by all the best people. Rather, the sudden emergence of the quietly refined Miss Kathryn Marchant, with her water-colour talents, held that coveted spot, thanks to Lady Maybury.

  Anna Marchant had some inkling of the matter and it did not please her. ‘It was a mistake to invite your cousin,’ she conceded to her daughter in the few quiet minutes they had alone. ‘I learned nothing, and, because of that battleaxe dowager, Kathryn has managed to steal your thunder.’ She flicked a gaze at her daughter. ‘For heaven’s sake, don’t you dare start crying. Do you want them talking of your hideous red blotchy face instead of tonight’s performance?’

  Lottie’s pouted lips trembled, but she swallowed back the tears that threatened to fall. ‘I saw you take her out of the drawing room. And then Lord Ravensmede went and fetched you both back.’

  ‘Interfering villain! I fancy that I must be right in my supposition.’

  ‘Mama?’ Lottie’s still-watery eyes opened wide and round in bewilderment. ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘No, you never do.’

  Lottie’s lips began to quiver again. ‘But that mean cat has ruined my evening.’

  ‘She could ruin a whole lot more than that,’ said her mother ominously.

  Fortunately the comment was lost upon Lottie, who continued unabated with her complaining. ‘Only see how Mr Dalton is looking at her, I’m sure he means to offer for her instead of me. Oh, I shall never forgive her if he does. How I wish she was living back here, then you could box her ears and none of this would ever have happened.’ Lottie’s voice whined close to hysteria.

  ‘Calm yourself.’ Her mother moved a blonde ringlet from across Lottie’s cheek. ‘Unlike you, my darling, your cousin is a nobody.’

  ‘But Lady Maybury said Kathryn’s mother was one of the Overton Thornleys, and everyone was much impressed,’ she snuffled.

  ‘Elizabeth Thornley was a strumpet and her family disowned her. The Overton Thornleys wanted nothing more to do with her or her children. Why else do you think we were forced to take Kathryn into our home? Just because Lady Maybury has her in favour does not alter that fact. It was not so long ago that Kathryn was scrubbing floors and washing your linen. Hold that memory close. She may have tried to steal this evening from you, but I don’t mean to just stand by and watch that little bitch get away with it, or anything else for that matter, my dear. No. Cousin Kathryn may find she has a little surprise coming to her.’ Mrs Marchant’s hand turned to stroke her daughter’s bright golden locks. ‘Just you trust your mama, Lottie. I shall see that Kathryn gets her due, be very assured of that.’

  ‘Such a delightful evening, thank you, Nick. You may call on us tomorrow,’ said the dowager when Ravensmede’s town-coach halted outside her house in Upper Grosvenor Street.

  ‘I’d rather call on you now.’ Lord Ravensmede’s eyes flickered towards Kathryn before returning his grandmother’s gaze.

  ‘As you will,’ she said.

  Only once they were all seated within the dowager’s drawing room did she speak again. ‘Kathryn, my dear, could you go and fetch me a suitably interesting book from the library? I’ve a mind to hear you read a little before I go to bed—that is, if you’re not too tired.’

  ‘Certainly, my lady.’

  Lady Maybury waited until the door closed behind Kathryn before turning to her grandson. ‘Well, out with it. I take it you want to tell me what went on between Kathryn and her aunt.’

  Ravensmede didn’t even comment upon his grandparent’s bluntness. ‘Anna Marchant had her pinned against a wall and was threatening her when I found them.’

  ‘Good gad! Little wonder the gel looked powder white when you brought her back through.’

  Ravensmede looked directly at his grandmother. ‘I need to talk to her…alone.’

  A white eyebrow arched high.

  ‘I would know exactly what Mrs Marchant was up to this evening.’

  The faded green eyes held his. ‘You know that I should not allow it,’ she said quietly.

  ‘And you know I would not ask were it not so important.’

  They looked at each other for a moment longer.

  ‘Very well,’ Lady Maybury uttered at last. ‘I need not say the rest.’

  Ravensmede nodded, and dropped a kiss to the lined velvet cheek. ‘Thank you.’

  When Kathryn returned to the drawing room, complete with book in hand, it was to find Lord Ravensmede standing by the unlit fireplace. Of Lady Maybury there was no sign.

  She hesitated halfway across the rug, as if a little unsure of herself. ‘My lord…where is Lady Maybury?’

  Ravensmede saw the pallor of her cheeks and the signs of fatigue around her eyes. ‘Sit down, Kathryn.’

  ‘I think she’ll like this one.’ She gestured to the small leather-bound book gripped within her hand. ‘It’s a collection of works by Lord Byron.’

  He said nothing, just waited for her to sit down upon the sofa.

  ‘Perhaps I should check if she needs my assistance.’

  ‘Kathryn…’ and the word sounded like a sigh on his lips ‘…my grandmother has retired for the night. I want to speak with you before I leave.’

  Her eyes widened. ‘I do not think that’s a good idea, my lord.’

  He shrugged. ‘I disagree.’

  She was still wearing the violet-and-cream evening dress. He noted how well the colour became her, how enticingly it fitted around her small bosom. The neckline was plain, the violet silk a fine contrast to the exposed smooth white curves of the tops of her breasts that rose and fell at such regular intervals. Suddenly conscious that he was staring, he dropped his gaze lower to where her fingers plucked at her skirt. He
knew then the level of her unease. ‘You need not be afraid, Kathryn. I only wish to speak to you.’

  ‘What do you wish to discuss?’ A note of caution sounded in her voice.

  ‘That which happened this evening at your aunt’s.’

  Her fingers tightened around the violet material. She swallowed. ‘There is nothing to say about that, sir.’

  ‘Oh, but I think there is, Kathryn.’ He watched a hint of panic flit across her face.

  Silence stretched between them.

  ‘Kathryn.’ The word acted as a prompt, as he knew it would.

  ‘We…we had a disagreement, that’s all.’ Her focus shifted away to study the pattern on the rug.’

  ‘Then it must have been a very heated disagreement; she had you against the wall when I walked in.’

  ‘She was merely making her point, rather forcibly.’

  ‘She was threatening you,’ he said succinctly.

  ‘No…she was just—’

  ‘Damnation, Kathryn, why are you trying to protect her?’

  She glanced up at him then and he caught a glimpse of guilt and embarrassment in her eyes, before her gaze skittered away again. ‘I-I’m not.’