The Belle Dames Club

by Melinda Hammond

  ‘Mama-Nell.’ Clarissa was instantly suspicious. ‘What has happened? Has he – has he spoken to you?’

  Lady Wyckenham felt her spirits slump even further.

  ‘Yes,’ she said dully. ‘It is all agreed.’

  Lady Wyckenham would not say more during the short coach journey back to Charlotte Street and since they alighted at the same moment that William arrived at the front door, Clarissa could not press her further.

  Lady Wyckenham greeted her stepson with delight.

  ‘Why William, my dear boy, you are home very late. How was your lecture?’

  ‘Oh, very interesting, ma’am, thank you.’ He stood back to allow the ladies to precede him into the house. ‘How was Lady Maramond’s? I am sorry I could not come with you, but when I heard of the lecture on the Plight of the Poor and Alternatives to the Workhouse—’

  ‘You could not bear to miss it,’ Clarissa finished for him. ‘Really, William, I do not recall you were always so zealous about the plight of your fellow man. Have you been converted, Brother? Have you had your own road to Damascus?’

  William looked uncomfortable.

  ‘We must all do what we can to give comfort to those less fortunate than ourselves.’

  Lady Wyckenham took his arm.

  ‘For shame, Clarissa, do not tease your brother. Come, William. We will go into the drawing-room and you can tell me all about your evening.’ As she walked off with William, Lady Wyckenham gave her stepdaughter such a saucy look that Clarissa could not help but smile. Her stepmama was determined to tell her nothing more that night. Clarissa declined the invitation to go into the drawing-room, and retired to her bedchamber. She allowed Becky to undress her, but once she had dismissed her maid and was lying between the warmed sheets, she could no longer ignore her own over-riding concern: Lord Alresford’s behaviour on the terrace.

  His kiss had shaken her. She had been kissed before, by James, her fiancé, by fumbling schoolboys and once by a man who considered himself a rake, but those kisses had not moved her and any attempt to embrace her she had repulsed. Anne had laughed when they had discussed this, and told her that when she was in love it would be different. Is that what it was, thought Clarissa, love? Alresford’s touch had sent a wave of heat raging through her body and she had found herself pressing herself against him, willing him to keep his arms around her while she enjoyed the novel sensation of his mouth on hers. But now, lying alone in the darkness she was confused: she was not at all sure that she even liked the earl. Certainly she did not think constantly about him, or sigh whenever he came into view, but when he was near everything seemed a little more … comfortable. She laughed to herself.

  ‘That is not the feeling one should have about a lover,’ she murmured, snuggling her hand against her cheek. ‘That is the feeling one has for a favourite old gown!’

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  The next morning Clarissa rose early and spent the first hour dashing off notes to all the members of the Belles Dames Club. Then she went to Lady Wyckenham’s bedroom and announced that she had invited everyone to pay a morning visit.

  Lady Wyckenham, sipping at her hot chocolate, spluttered and was obliged to put down her cup.

  ‘You have invited them all here? But William—’

  ‘Dear ma’am, I know we said we should not meet here again, but your news last night is too urgent to discuss in a shop! Besides, how can William object to your having visitors?’

  ‘I know it is unreasonable,’ muttered Mama-Nell, nervously plucking at the bedcovers, ‘but I am sure he will be suspicious.’

  Clarissa did her best to reassure her, and when William looked into the drawing-room moments after the last of the ladies had arrived, she was prepared to deflect any awkward questions. However, William merely bowed to the assembled ladies and made his stately way across the room towards his stepmother.

  Lady Gaunt, who had known William since he was a baby, said playfully, ‘My goodness, William, is that a new coat? Very smart, my dear. I vow you are looking positively modish.’

  He afforded this sally no more than a faint smile and addressed himself to Lady Wyckenham.

  ‘I am going out, ma’am, and wondered if you have any commissions for me?’

  ‘Going out?’ She smiled at him, inordinately relieved. ‘I had thought to collect a parcel of muslin today from New Bond Street….’

  ‘Well, that is on my way, ma’am, if you would like me to call in for it.’

  ‘Did you not tell me you were going to Whitehall today, to see William Grenville?’ asked Clarissa. ‘I thought that was why you were staying in town. Whitehall is in quite the opposite direction, surely.’

  William flushed a little.

  ‘Yes, well, I have another engagement today, in Mount Street. I have arranged to see Grenville tomorrow. Mama-Nell?’

  ‘I thank you for your offer, William, but I do not think it would accord with your dignity to fetch anything as dull as muslin!’ remarked Lady Wyckenham, twinkling. ‘Simmons shall send a footman for it.’

  Lord Wyckenham did not seem amused at such levity. With a hasty bow he left them, and as the door closed behind him his stepmother gave a very audible sigh of relief. Clarissa came over and kissed her cheek.

  ‘You see, ma’am, he did not suspect a thing.’

  ‘No he did not appear to mind at all, did he?’ replied my lady, relaxing.

  ‘Now he has gone,’ said Lady Sarah, ‘perhaps you will tell us why you have called us all here so urgently? I have had to cancel a visit to my mantua-maker.’

  Clarissa hastily begged pardon.

  ‘Mama-Nell has received the ultimatum from the marquis!’

  Clarissa was well satisfied with the reaction to her news. A murmur of anticipation rustled around the room. Lady Wyckenham shifted uncomfortably in her chair.

  ‘Well, tell us, Helen,’ commanded Lady Gaunt.

  Clarissa dropped to her knees before her stepmama and grasped her hands.

  ‘Yes, Mama-Nell. You would not tell me anything more last night, and you will agree that I have been very forbearing and not pressed you. Now, however, you must explain if we are to help you.’

  Mrs Leighton-Kettering leaned forward.

  ‘You must not be embarrassed, Helen my dear. We are all your friends, you know.’

  ‘I know, Letitia, and indeed I am grateful.’

  ‘So what have you agreed with him?’ demanded Lady Sarah.

  ‘He leaves for Bath next week, and I am to go with him. He has promised to give me the letters as soon as we set off.’

  Lady Gaunt closed her fan and tapped it gently against the arm of her chair.

  ‘Hmm. Bath. He will go across Hounslow Heath. That is where we will strike.’

  ‘And what is your plan, ma’am?’ asked Clarissa, a little sceptical. ‘If we waylay him is it not possible that he will suspect a trap and snatch the letters back from Mama-Nell?’

  ‘I will destroy them as soon as they are in my hands. I shall tear them up.’

  Lady Gaunt regarded her pityingly.

  ‘Helen, do you know how difficult it is to tear a letter so small it cannot be put back together? No, what you will do, my dear, is ask the marquis to stop the coach on the Heath. There is a pond, no more than a few yards beyond the gibbet at the crossroads. You must tell Lord Ullenwood to stop there, and you will drop the letters into the pond. The water will soon make the ink run, and they will be worthless.’

  ‘That is an excellent idea, Dorothea,’ remarked Mrs Greynard.

  ‘Thank you, Alicia. We will be waiting, and as soon as the letters are gone we shall snatch Helen up and ride away with her.’

  Georgiana and Emily applauded this, but the others looked doubtful.

  ‘Do you think the marquis will let me go quite so easily?’ asked Lady Wyckenham.

  ‘We shall surprise him. He will not be expecting us. And if his guards show any resistance we will fire our pistols to show we are in earnest.’

  ‘Pist
ols?’ cried Letitia, looking shocked. ‘You said nothing about pistols, Dorothea.’

  ‘We can hardly masquerade as highwaymen without them! But be easy, ladies.’ Lady Gaunt put up a hand as the murmuring grew louder. ‘We shall only use the weapons if there is no other way.’

  ‘Well, that is a very good thing,’ declared Lady Sarah, ‘because I cannot shoot.’

  ‘Nor I,’ said Julia. She glanced around the room, her big eyes begging for understanding.

  Augusta Maramond was sitting beside her on the sofa and leaned forward to pat her hands.

  ‘No one would expect it of you, my dear. I think, Dorothea, that perhaps you should be the one to wield the pistol. I have no doubt that you are an excellent shot.’

  ‘I am, of course,’ agreed Lady Gaunt.

  Clarissa gave a little crow of laughter.

  ‘You are a complete original, ma’am! But to be serious: can it work, do you think?’

  ‘We could be hanged for what we are planning,’ said Lady Wyckenham gloomily.

  ‘Nonsense.’ Lady Gaunt’s tone was bracing. ‘If you will play your part, Helen, I have no doubt that we can bring you off safe. The marquis and his henchmen will see only four highwaymen: they would never think to suspect a group of women of such a crime.’

  It took some time to convince Lady Wyckenham, but at last she agreed that it was their best hope of retrieving the letters.

  ‘Good, then it is settled.’ Lady Gaunt rose. ‘Now, I must be away. Helen, you are to confirm the arrangements with the Marquis.’

  ‘He said he would send me word.’

  ‘Very well, you must inform me as soon as you know when he plans to leave for Bath.’ She stooped to press her rouged cheek against Lady Wyckenham’s pale one. ‘Be easy, Helen my dear. This will soon be over.’

  ‘I hope so, Dorothea. I do hope so.’

  ‘Well, William, what an honour to have you accompany us to church.’

  Lord Wyckenham scowled across the carriage at his sister, but Lady Wyckenham intervened before he could retort.

  ‘Now, Clarissa, that is unfair. We were not expecting your brother to join us in town.’

  ‘No, but since he is here I could wish he would show us a little more attention, Mama-Nell.’

  ‘I came to town for one purpose: to assure myself that the rumours of your involvement in some irregular club were untrue,’ he replied in quelling accents.

  ‘And are you reassured?’ asked Clarissa, honey-sweet.

  ‘I think the rumours were greatly exaggerated. You will recall that I walked into one of your meetings the other day: I saw nothing more dangerous than a group of bored, gossiping ladies.’

  Although she was relieved at his words, Clarissa could not resist another attack.

  ‘So you consider you no longer need to have a care for us.’

  ‘Do not be absurd, Clarissa. Am I not coming to church with you? I have promised to be at home for Mama-Nell’s party on Thursday evening, and I will be dining at home with you tonight.’

  ‘That will be the first time in a week.’

  ‘Leave him be, Clarissa.’ Lady Wyckenham tapped her arm. ‘As a man bent on a political career, I am sure he has many great people to petition: people with a connection to Mr Pitt. Am I right, William?’

  ‘As a matter of fact, Mama-Nell, you are. At home in Devon I was very busy with county affairs, but London is where the real power lies, and when I saw Grenville yesterday he promised to consider me for a government post. Something small, to begin with, I suspect, but once I make my mark, who knows where it may lead?’

  My lady smiled at him.

  ‘Well that is very good news, William, and it reminds me: I hope you have no commitments for tomorrow, my love, because Letitia Leighton-Kettering has invited us to dine.’

  His brightened immediately.

  ‘The Leighton-Ketterings are very well connected, are they not?’

  Clarissa saw the amusement flicker across her stepmama’s face.

  ‘I believe they are, William.’

  ‘Then I will most certainly join you, Mama-Nell.’

  ‘How splendid,’ murmured Clarissa. ‘Let us hope you are rewarded by there being at least two cabinet ministers in attendance!’

  Upon their return from church, William went immediately to the library. Clarissa, removing her bonnet, saw Lady Wyckenham grow pale as Simmons handed her a letter.

  ‘Such a long sermon, was it not, Mama-Nell?’ She stepped forward and took her arm. ‘Let us go upstairs; you shall rest while I read to you for an hour.’

  Only when they were alone did Lady Wyckenham break the seal of her letter.

  ‘Is it from the marquis?’ asked Clarissa.

  ‘Yes.’ Lady Wyckenham sank down on to a sofa and opened the letter. She scanned the contents, refolded the paper and pushed it deep into the pocket of her gown.

  ‘Well? What does he say, Mama-Nell? When does he want you to meet him?’

  Lady Wyckenham did not answer immediately. Clarissa sat down beside her and took her hands.

  ‘Dear ma’am, you must tell me,’ she said gently. ‘We need to know the details if we are to help you.’

  Lady Wyckenham’s stared at her, then shook her head.

  ‘I have such good friends: they would risk so much for me.’

  ‘Of course, Mama-Nell, we would risk everything for you, you know that. Now, tell me: when is it to be?’

  Lady Wyckenham closed her eyes.

  ‘Saturday,’ she whispered. ‘Saturday night, at eleven o’clock.’

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Clarissa lost no time in passing the information to Lady Gaunt and when they met again at the Leighton-Ketterings’ dinner the viscountess pressed her hand, her dark eyes gleaming with the light of adventure.

  ‘So we have a day: have you told the others?’

  ‘No. I did not want to risk too many notes. They should all be here tonight.’ Clarissa moved on to join Lady Wyckenham, who was talking to their hostess. When Clarissa came up, Mrs Leighton-Kettering leaned forward to kiss her cheek.

  ‘So it is Saturday,’ she murmured. ‘How thrilling.’ She stepped back and resumed her normal society manner. ‘Lord Ullenwood is joining us later,’ she said, at her most innocent. ‘Oswald invited him to join us for supper: since he allowed me to choose so many of my own particular friends to sit down to dinner with us, I could hardly object.’

  Looking around, Clarissa realized that most members of the Belles Dames Club were present: Alicia Greynard and her husband, Lady Sarah and Sir Toby were all talking to Mr Leighton-Kettering, and the Norwells had just arrived. She was about to turn back when she spotted the tall, black figure of Lord Alresford following Julia and Barnabus up the stairs.

  Letitia observed her start of surprise and took advantage of William’s talking to Lady Wyckenham to murmur, ‘Oswald insisted on redressing the balance since I had invited so many ladies.’ She raised her voice again. ‘I did suggest Sir Robert Ingleton, but he has a prior engagement. However, he has promised to look in later.’

  ‘Ingleton,’ mused William. ‘I have not seen him since he returned from his latest expedition.’

  ‘That is because you have not come about with us,’ murmured Clarissa.

  William flushed.

  ‘You know I have been busy!’

  ‘Stop bickering, children,’ commanded Lady Wyckenham. ‘Oh look, Augusta has brought her obnoxious cousin, Captain Shirley.’

  ‘No doubt Letitia felt obliged to invite him, since he is staying with the Maramonds.’

  Out of the corner of her eye Clarissa saw Lord Alresford enter the room. She hoped he would not approach her but when he did not, her disappointment was as severe as it was irrational. She put up her chin and told herself she really did not care a button for the earl.

  There were sixteen sitting down to dinner – the Leighton-Ketterings’ idea of an intimate little meal. With so many friends present, Clarissa’s only anxiety was whether she woul
d find herself sitting beside Lord Alresford, and since she could not make up her mind whether or not she wished for this, she found herself hanging back while the others took their seats. Lady Gaunt and Lady Wyckenham sat on either side of their host and with Lady Sarah and Sir Toby at that end of the table, Clarissa had no doubt that they would enjoy some lively conversation during their meal. She found herself sitting between William and Alicia Greynard’s mouse-like husband, but since he was as kind as he was meek, she was perfectly content and felt more sorry for Julia Norwell sitting opposite, flanked by Captain Shirley and Lord Alresford.

  Clarissa had formed no good opinion of the sea captain when they had met at Lady Maramond’s rout and, as the dinner progressed, she saw nothing to change her mind. He had a commanding voice, and when he began explaining to Julia Norwell his shipping route, it was impossible for anyone at that end of the table not to hear him.

  ‘… we call the section from Africa to the Americas the Middle Passage, you know, ma’am, and it can take anything from four weeks to three months. Very lucrative exercise it can be, too: we take goods to the African coast – brandy, firearms and the like and trade ’em for slaves. They are then taken to Barbados and when we have cleared the hold there we fill it with sugar or molasses. Of course, now the war is ended we will be able to call again in Virginia, to collect tobacco.’

  ‘But is it not a very dangerous voyage, Captain?’ asked Letitia Leighton-Kettering.

  ‘Aye, ma’am. The Middle Passage is the worst, for with more than four hundred bodies on the slave deck, there is always the danger of disease breaking out, but the profits more than make up for the risk. This last voyage for example, when we reached Barbados, we still had nearly three hundred slaves to sell.’

  ‘Three hundred!’ exclaimed Clarissa. ‘But you said you had over four hundred on board.’

  ‘Indeed I did, miss,’ agreed the captain, puffing out his chest. ‘And only lost a hundred of ’em on the journey. Now on the last leg, when we had collected—’