The Belle Dames Club

by Melinda Hammond

  ‘Excuse me, Captain,’ Clarissa, interrupted him. ‘Is it not wrong to keep these poor people chained and imprisoned for weeks at a time? Does it not conflict with your Christian duty?’

  Silence fell. Captain Shirley looked at first surprised and displeased by her interruption, then his face creased into a smile and he said, as if to a child, ‘People? Madam, these are not people as we would know them. These are blacks. Savages. Heathens at best, but they have no more understanding of our civilized ways than animals. Less in fact, if you compare them to a good hunting dog!’

  There was a little polite laughter and Clarissa felt her anger mounting.

  ‘There are moves afoot to abolish slaving,’ remarked Lord Alresford. ‘What would happen then to your – ah – Middle Passage?’

  ‘Why nothing, my lord, for it won’t happen,’ declared the captain. ‘There are far too many Englishmen whose fortunes are built upon the fruits of the slave trade.’ He looked about him. ‘I doubt there is one family represented here that don’t have some investment in the plantations.’

  ‘But few are wholly dependent upon it,’ replied the earl.

  ‘Begging your pardon, my lord: you are forgetting that it is an Englishman’s duty to help his country to prosper. Those who oppose the slave trade are traitors, sir, traitors!’ He took another mouthful of beef and chewed vigorously. ‘And another thing,’ he said indistinctly, waving his fork at the earl, ‘the slaves on their plantations ain’t so very different from your own people here in England. Both are subject to the master’s whims, sir. If you choose to turn off a tenant farmer, where is he to go, how is he to live? He is as much at your mercy as any black.’

  ‘True,’ agreed Lord Alresford, ‘although I have not transported him thousands of miles from his original home, against his will.’

  Letitia gave a gentle laugh.

  ‘My, my, we are getting very serious, gentlemen. Save this discussion for later, if you will, for I am sure it cannot be good for our digestion. Lady Maramond tells me this is your last night in town, Captain Shirley.’

  ‘Yes, ma’am. I return to Bristol tomorrow. I—’

  Letitia cut him off.

  ‘Then I am sure we wish you a good journey, sir. Mr Norwell, how is your dear mother? Julia tells me she is unwell at the moment; what is it, a trifling cold? Oh, I am so glad it is nothing worse. Does she take lemonade and barley water? There is nothing better for a slight chill….’

  With the skill of a born hostess Mrs Leighton-Kettering turned the conversation and the captain, having lost his audience, gave his full attention to his plate.

  Clarissa, however, found herself disturbed by the exchange. Her appetite had gone and she refused the syllabub and the marchpane. When the ladies withdrew she found herself describing the captain’s conversation to Lady Gaunt.

  ‘Yes, I heard most of it,’ replied the Viscountess. ‘The man has such a carrying voice it is impossible to ignore him. Most likely he developed it shouting orders at his poor crew.’

  ‘Horrible man!’ muttered Clarissa. ‘How can he be so smug, so complacent—’

  ‘I know, it is unforgivable.’ Lady Gaunt soothed her. ‘But I have been working on a way to pay him back. No, no questions now, Clarissa. Wait until Emily and Georgiana are here.’

  Clarissa was intrigued, but her companion refused to say more and Clarissa went off to talk to her stepmother, who was looking decidedly anxious.

  ‘I cannot help it,’ complained my lady, when Clarissa remarked upon it. ‘Dorothea says I am to encourage Lord Ullenwood’s attentions tonight, but I cannot even think of the man without shuddering.’

  Clarissa considered the matter.

  ‘Well, I suppose you will have to make him believe you will keep your word, Mama-Nell. But he knows how reluctant you are, so he will not expect you to fall into his arms.’ She patted her hand. ‘You must be brave, my love. I do not like this subterfuge any more than you, but it is only until you have the letters. You could defy him, you know, tell him to publish, if he so wishes.’

  The gentlemen came in at that moment and Lady Wyckenham’s eyes travelled across the room to rest upon her stepson.

  ‘No. Impossible. Such a scandal would ruin William. And I have you and Anne to consider, my love.’ She smiled, a little sadly. ‘There is nothing I would not do to protect you, darling. Oh look: Emily and Georgiana have arrived.’

  Clarissa turned.

  ‘We had best tell them the day is set.’

  ‘No need,’ sighed Lady Wyckenham. ‘Dorothea is there before us. I will go and join them, and find out from Dorothea if there is any member of the Club who does not know. Oh this is a wretched business!’

  ‘Poor Mama-Nell, are you wishing you had never started the Belles Dames Club?’

  ‘Yes! Well, no. It has been fun.’

  Clarissa laughed. ‘That sounds as if it was all at an end.’

  Lady Wyckenham did not reply, merely patted her arm and walked away.

  Clarissa saw Julia Norwell coming towards her and she said with a smile, ‘I had little chance to talk to you at dinner.’

  Julia shuddered. ‘Do not mention that meal!’

  ‘Poor Julia, was it dreadful for you, sitting between Captain Shirley and Alresford? I fear their opinions are very different.’

  ‘Yes indeed, but I was much too frightened to agree with either of them.’ She dropped her voice. ‘And is it true, are we to – you know – on Saturday?’

  ‘Yes. Dorothea is arranging everything and enjoying herself hugely. I believe she has a penchant for adventure.’

  Clarissa realized Julia was not listening to her. Following her gaze she saw that Sir Howard Besthorpe had come in.

  ‘Julia?’

  Mrs Norwell jumped.

  ‘I beg your pardon. It – it is that man.’

  ‘I thought as much. Poor child, you look like a rabbit locked in the same room with a fox.’

  ‘He – he has not come near me since that night at Norwell House, but I cannot help but be afraid … it is very silly of me.’

  ‘Yes it is,’ agreed Clarissa. ‘The secret is to laugh at him: you cannot be afraid of someone if you think them ridiculous. Put your mind to it, Julia. Picture his riding away from Norwell House, breechless, with his shirt flapping out behind him.’

  Julia concentrated. She watched Sir Howard parading across the room in his hedgehog wig and green corduroy coat. Clarissa saw her smile grow. It was unfortunate that Julia chose to giggle just as Sir Howard was passing them. He did not glance their way, but his reddened face and furious frown told Clarissa that he knew he was the object of their derision.

  ‘Well, do you feel better for that?’ asked Clarissa.

  ‘You were right,’ said Julia, still chuckling. ‘I shall try the same on Lady Norwell, when she is in her gorgon mood, but I shall make sure that she does not know I am laughing at her.’

  ‘I did not expect him to come quite so close,’ admitted Clarissa. ‘He certainly did not like being laughed at: I vow he was so angry those blue ribbons around his knees positively trembled with his rage!’

  ‘And what is it that you ladies find so amusing?’ demanded Barnabus, coming up at that moment. ‘Your servant, Miss Wyckenham.’

  ‘Clarissa has been teaching me not to be so timid,’ said Julia, smiling up at him.

  Barnabus took her hand.

  ‘As long as she doesn’t teach you to disregard me.’ He grinned. ‘Now come along Ju, Mrs Leighton-Kettering wants to hear us sing.’

  He led his wife away and as they moved off Clarissa realized that Lord Alresford was standing behind his friend. There was less than six feet between them and she felt sure he would speak. He took a small step towards her but a sonorous announcement stopped him.

  ‘Sir Gordon and Lady Medway, and Miss Medway.’

  The hand that had been reaching out was withdrawn and, with a stiff bow, the earl turned on his heel and walked away.

  Disappointment stabbed Clarissa.
He would have spoken, she was sure of it, if Florence Medway had not arrived, and now he was going to greet her – but he was to be disappointed, William had reached her first. Never before had Clarissa been thankful for her brother’s punctilious attention to duty. She watched Lord Alresford hesitate, then he turned and went to stand against the wall near the pianoforte. Clarissa hoped his angry scowl would not impair Julia’s performance. Instantly she upbraided herself for being childish: Lord Alresford’s countenance was as impassive as ever. If anyone was displaying an angry scowl, it was herself. Clarissa took a deep breath and schooled her features into what she hoped was a more pleasant expression, determined to be on her best behaviour for the rest of the evening.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  Lady Wyckenham sighed and wondered how soon she could make her excuses and go home. Lord Ullenwood had arrived while Julia and her husband were singing a very pretty Italian duet. This had provided an excuse not to speak, but the way the marquis had squeezed her fingers when they met had made her blush with the memory of past intimacy, and now Sir Robert Ingleton had come up, seen at a glance that she was not happy and demanded to know the reason. She had sent him off to procure a glass of wine for her, but her poor brain felt too tired to concoct an excuse that would satisfy him. She knew the marquis was watching her, and that made her even more nervous. As Sir Robert came back across the room she wondered what she was going to say to him.

  ‘Shall we sit down?’ he said, nodding towards an empty sofa. ‘I believe the Greynards are going to sing next.’ He waited until she had made herself comfortable and disposed her skirts gracefully before handing her the glass of wine.

  ‘Thank you. I think you will enjoy their singing, Sir Robert: Lady Alicia is very good, and her husband is a splendid baritone.’

  She tried to concentrate on the singing but was painfully aware of Sir Robert sitting beside her, one arm thrown negligently along the back of the sofa, his fingers drumming lightly on the silk-covered padding in time to the music. His nearness made the hair on the back of her neck prickle. How pleasant it would be to sink back against him, to feel that arm tighten protectively around her. But it could not be. Tears threatened and she could only pretend to sip at her wine, for her throat was too tight to swallow.

  A smattering of applause greeted the end of the song and the couple were begged to sing again. Sir Robert put down his glass.

  ‘Helen, what is wrong, my dear?’

  ‘What sir?’ she spoke with brittle gaiety. ‘I do not understand you: there is nothing amiss.’

  She met his eyes, only for a moment, and saw that for once there was no smile lurking in their depths.

  ‘You are ill at ease. Have I offended you?’

  ‘No, of course not.’

  ‘Then tell me what is troubling you. I am your friend, you know.’

  Lady Wyckenham blinked rapidly.

  ‘La, sir. You must not be imagining anything is wrong every time I am a little quiet. A lady cannot forever be chattering, you know.’

  He seemed to pull back a little.

  ‘Why do I feel you are fencing with me?’ She took a sip of her wine and did not answer him. At last he muttered, ‘By Gad, you are in a strange mood tonight, madam. I hardly know you.’

  ‘You do not know me at all, sir!’

  ‘That is not true.’ He reached out, ‘Nell—’

  ‘Don’t!’ She snatched her hand away as if she had been burned, and his look of hurt and surprise made her want to cry. Instead she forced herself to say coldly, ‘I am not in the humour for a flirtation, Sir Robert.’

  He stood up.

  ‘Perhaps you are not in the humour for my company.’

  Her heart sank at his sharp tone and it took all her willpower to maintain her haughty demeanour.

  ‘No, sir. I find you extremely tedious.’

  She dare not look up, but she was aware of him watching her, and could imagine his bewilderment.

  ‘Very well. I will relieve you of my – tedious – company, my lady. Goodnight.’

  He walked off and she had the dubious pleasure of seeing him accosted by Emily Sowerby and her sister. She was too far away to hear their conversation, but Georgiana’s strident laugh reached her, and she had no doubt that they were flirting outrageously. Abruptly she rose, wanting to be alone, but the door was on the far side of the room and to leave would involve explanations. Instead she retreated to a window embrasure, thinking she could hide in the shadows provided by the heavy curtains. Too late she realized her mistake, for Lord Ullenwood followed her.

  ‘You are not enjoying the music, my lady?’

  ‘Yes, yes, of course I am. It – is a little cooler here, that is all.’

  He stepped closer.

  ‘Is it? I can discern no difference.’ He reached up to rest the back of his hand against her cheek. ‘Your skin is quite cool.’

  She tensed but did not reply.

  ‘I believe our hostess has announced supper – would you care to eat?’

  ‘Thank you, I am not hungry.’

  ‘I saw you talking to Ingleton.’

  ‘You mistake, sir. He was talking to me.’

  ‘A subtle difference.’

  ‘But significant, my lord.’

  ‘It does not prevent me objecting to it.’

  ‘You will have seen, sir, that I sent him away.’

  He took her hand and lifted it to his lips.

  ‘Very wise, my love.’ She turned from him and would have walked away but he stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. ‘I wish it were possible to carry you off tonight,’ he murmured. ‘You are so damned beautiful.’

  Lady Wyckenham swallowed.

  ‘Saturday will be soon enough, sir.’

  She felt his breath on her neck, then his lips. The curtains and the deep alcove screened them from most of the company, but as the marquis bent to kiss her neck my lady saw Sir Robert standing on the far side of the room, watching them. Slowly, deliberately, she brought her hand up to touch Ullenwood’s cheek. A look of distaste flickered across Sir Robert’s countenance, then he turned away and strode out of the room.

  ‘Sally, have you seen Mama-Nell?’ Clarissa came up, a slight crease in her brow.

  Lady Sarah shook her head.

  ‘Perhaps she has gone into the supper-room. I was on my way there when Lady Gaunt asked me to join her in the little book-room. She was looking for you too Clarissa, and Julia – ah, Julia, love, over here: Lady Gaunt wants to see us.’

  ‘And where are we to go? Where is this little book-room?’ asked Clarissa.

  ‘She said to go past the supper-room and it is the first door in the passage to the right. She said it is never used and we can be quite secret.’ Lady Sarah giggled. ‘Trust Dorothea to know of such a room!’

  ‘What do you think she wants now?’ asked Julia.

  Clarissa chuckled.

  ‘We had best go and find out. Julia, pray do not look so anxious, I am sure it will be nothing dreadful.’

  They slipped out of the salon and instead of following the other guests into the supper-room, they went on towards the passage. As they turned the corner Lady Sarah, who was leading the way, collided with a serving maid hurrying in the other direction. The maid, blushing furiously and with her cap awry, bobbed a curtsy and begged a hasty pardon before scurrying away.

  ‘Well I never!’ Lady Sarah stopped, fanning herself vigorously. ‘Is this the room?’ she asked, pointing to a door.

  ‘Dorothea said the first one,’ affirmed Julia. ‘Pray go first, Clarissa – but do knock, in case someone should be in there.’

  It was indeed a small, book-lined room. Candles burned in the wall brackets and although no fire had been kindled, the curtains had been pulled across the window, giving the room a cosy, intimate atmosphere. The ladies went in.

  ‘I hope Lady Gaunt will not be long,’ said Julia in a hushed voice.

  ‘She said she was going to find Emily and her sister.’ Lady Sarah moved to a ch
air and sat down. ‘Perhaps she has more news.’ She looked up as the door opened again to admit Lady Gaunt with Georgiana and Emily. ‘Dorothea, what are you planning now?’

  Lady Gaunt closed the door softly behind her.

  ‘A little amusement,’ she drawled, her eyes gleaming with mischief. ‘And a way to help Mr Sharp’s cause.’

  ‘Tell us,’ demanded Georgiana.

  ‘Well, the men’s riding dress I had made up for you was delivered today.’

  ‘Dorothea, you didn’t order it yourself!’ breathed Georgiana, awed.

  ‘Of course not: Grantham handled everything. He is proving to be such a treasure, I shall be sorry when I have to let him go. But that is by the by. I thought it would be shameful to have had all the trouble of finding coats and boots and breeches for just one occasion.’

  Emily clapped her hands.

  ‘You want us to wear them to a masquerade!’

  ‘No,’ said Clarissa, frowning. ‘How would that help Granville Sharp?’

  ‘Not at all. But the ill-gotten fortune of a slave-trader could be put to good use in his campaign.’ Lady Gaunt’s piercing gaze swept over them. ‘Well, have none of you guessed? We shall intercept the gallant captain on his way to Bristol tomorrow!’

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  Lady Sarah gave a little shriek and clapped her hands to her mouth.

  ‘Dorothea! How dare you even jest about such a thing.’

  ‘No jest, my dear. We were all mightily affected by Mr Sharp’s talk the other night, yet not one of us has done anything to help his cause.’

  ‘That is not true, Dorothea: you have sent little Samuel to school,’ said Emily.

  The Viscountess dismissed this with a wave of her hand.

  ‘That is an insignificance.’ She leaned forward. ‘The good captain said at dinner that he returns to Bristol tomorrow. You may remember Augusta telling us that he presented letters to the bank to take money out: I would wager my diamonds that he will have a small fortune with him when he leaves tomorrow. I think it would be better if that money went to Mr Sharp’s campaign.’