‘I daresay I can speak for him this Friday night,’ she said after a moment. ‘Yes, I believe I can.’
‘Splendid. That is possible for you, Charles? Excellent. Then, if you will both forgive me I must be on my way. I relinquish Miss Lucas to your care, Charles, and I will look forward to seeing you both this Friday at 27 Bedford Row to dine. Good morning, Miss Lucas!’
And this time, he let her hand go, and bent his head and went quickly away, walking with a smooth easy lope, and she stared after him and bit her lip and wanted to weep with rage, while at the same time feeling her chest thicken with excitement at the thought of this Friday. Very confusing feelings indeed, and quite incomprehensible. But then, Amy Lucas had never been in love before.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Dinner had been over for some time, and they were sitting about the drawing-room comfortably, talking desultorily and all seeming to be very relaxed. But in fact there were undercurrents pulling in different directions, and Martha, sitting upright and with her embroidery on her brown silk lap, as befitted a lady of her years, watched her guests above the flash of her needle and pondered.
There was Oliver, for a start. He had been invited especially to entertain her, and so was sitting fairly near her, ostensibly sharing conversation with her, but in so abstracted a manner that Martha had long since given up attempting to make any sense of his occasional utterances. He was staring dolorously at Amy Lucas on the other side of the drawing-room and making no attempt whatsoever to hide his feelings. Martha sighed softly. After all these years of apparently happy bachelorhood, it was little short of tragic, she told herself, that he should let himself be so captivated by such a flightly madam as that one.
She looked casually across at Amy Lucas, exquisite in flounced seagreen taffeta, and tried to be objective about her; but it was difficult. She had taken a sudden dislike to the girl this evening, which had quite surprised her, for she was polite enough; indeed her manners had been charming, and perfectly punctilious, as were those of her excessively handsome brother.
Martha looked at him now, and once again felt that stab of irritation that the sight of his sister aroused in her, and set her needle down for a moment to give some thought to her own reactions. As an intelligent woman, she was not one usually given to making harsh sudden judgements on people; why had she done so with these two apparently delightful people?
She thought carefully. Was it the foolish manner in which Miss Amy Lucas had behaved at her niece Phoebe’s house? No, it was not that. Martha had found that little display quite touching at the time, and far from a cause for dislike. At most it might have made her impatient, for she had little use for the flutterings in which so many modern misses indulged themselves. But what she felt now was not impatience but plain dislike.
So, what was the cause? She looked again at the brother and sister, and then after a moment picked up her sewing again, and bent her head to it. Poor Oliver, she thought. He will have no joy at all from this one.
For she felt now that she knew what it was that had sparked her dislike. On one side of the room sat Miss Lucas flanked by Mr Charles Wyndham and her own much-loved Felix, while well away from them was the other little group — this time Fenton, with the two Henriques sisters sitting one on each side of him. Each Lucas, in his and her own way, had taken the centre of the stage, and it was this that Martha found unpleasant and so dislikable.
She pondered further. Was the real problem that she objected to Felix’s interest in the Lucas girl? That was a painful thought, but one that had to be faced. Ever since the death of Felix’s father, Alex, far away in Scutari, there had been no room in her life for anyone but Felix. She had returned from the Crimea sick, exhausted and emaciated by her experience, to find the sixteen-year-old Felix waiting for her at the docks. And he had taken one look at her, and without a word tucked her hand into the crook of his arm and led her to a waiting carriage. He had returned with her to Bedford Row and the care of the now dead Miss Carrie Garling, who had been her friend and her predecessor as the Secretary of the London Ladies’ Committee for the Rescue of the Profligate Poor who owned and ran the Bedford Row house as a hostel, and in the ensuing weeks of her slow recovery had remained firmly by her side. They had, in those long-ago days, built and then cemented a relationship which though it owed its inception to the love they had both borne the dead Alex had developed from their mutual respect and growing affection for each other.
And throughout the succeeding years it had grown, this closeness. They were friends in a way that no blood related people could ever be. And although the situation had been regularized when legal adoption proceedings were taken and she became his mother in the eyes of the law, it had never changed from being a deep and satisfying friendship between equals in intelligence and in respect for each other, despite the disparity in their ages.
But now, for the first time, he was sitting beside a girl of near enough his own age and showing an interest in her that hurt Martha. And Martha looked at him again, and bit her lip, remembering. She had only once before in her life suffered such sharp stabs of the emotion she was now experiencing, and hated the feelings when she had had them then. It had been when Alex was alive, and she had found herself jealous of the boy Felix, for whom Alex felt so much love and concern. And now, it was Felix himself who was creating the pain of jealousy. She bent her head once more to her sewing. The undercurrents here tonight were indeed powerful ones.
‘So, tell me, Miss Lucas, can you be happy performing in this show? I can quite understand the need to do so, for no one knows better than I how one must, in the theatre, accept disagreeable engagements occasionally in order to live, but I wonder, can you be happy as a dancer?’
Charles Wyndham set his head on one side and beamed at her in a self-satisfied way and she stifled a moment of irritation. It was odd, really, because he was just such a man as she would once have regarded as extremely interesting and indeed exciting. He had told her with only a hint of mock modesty of his history, from his birth in Liverpool via his schooldays in France and his medical training in Dublin to his military adventures in the American Civil War. He had told her of his attempts to build a theatrical career, first as an amateur and now as a professional, and had made several witty and edged remarks about the people he had met and had to deal with. Altogether he was amusing and attentive and pleasant to look upon. So why was she not more interested in him?
She slid a look sideways at Felix, only to find he was sitting back comfortably in his chair and looking at her, and he quirked one eyebrow as he caught her glance and grinned, and she primmed her lips and turned back to Charles Wyndham with a somewhat exaggerated display of interest in what he was saying.
‘— so, tell me of yourself, Miss Lucas. You are quite the mystery lady, you know, as far as I am concerned! I daresay our host here knows a great deal about you — but I am woefully ignorant. Will you tell me all?’
‘All, Mr Wyndham?’ she said and dimpled up at him, and then heard a dry little cough from Felix and looked at him again, and once more his eyebrows quirked, and she said hastily, ‘There is not a great deal to tell. My brother and I are orphaned —’
Usually she would have made much of such a statement, giving it all the pathos she could and engaging her audience’s sympathies at once, but with Felix sitting there beside her, silent and a great deal too aware of her, that was impossible. So she went on in a matter-of-fact tone, ‘After my mother’s death we decided to come to England to seek theatrical success. There is really little more to say.’
‘But why England, Miss Lucas?’ Wyndham seemed genuinely interested. ‘I know, for I have worked there — though with no marked success, I must confess! — that there are excellent theatres in your own country. I would have thought that the London stage had little to offer than say, New York —’
‘I have — had — well, perhaps still have — connections in London,’ Amy said. ‘My father — well, he was English. From London.’
‘Indeed? So you have relations here?’
‘That is what I would very much like to know.’ She kindled now, and sat up a little straighter. ‘I have always thought there must be someone here who will remember my Papa. He was such a — such — oh, such a lovely man! Funny, you know, and kind and so — well, I know he was what my Fenton and Cabot uncles called feckless —’
She stopped at the puzzlement of his face. ‘Oh, dear, I am rattling on. Well, you see, my Papa came to Boston from England, and married my Mamma, who was Mary Fenton and was one of such a proper family! Her mother’s family were Cabots, you see, and in Boston that is a very important thing to be, a Cabot. So I think the uncles were not kind to Papa. And I always thought, well — I am sure that my Lucas uncles, if I have any, are as Papa was. Kind and funny. And if I could find them —’
‘Well, now, Miss Lucas —’ Wyndham began, but suddenly Felix was on his feet, and holding out a hand to her.
‘Miss Lucas, will you allow me to tear you away from Charles’s beguiling company to come and talk to Aunt Martha? I feel we have neglected her sorely this evening. You will forgive me, Wyndham? I am sure you will — look, there is Miss Sarah, with an empty chair beside her —’
Charles’s brow furrowed as he stood up and politely obeyed his host. A pleasant enough evening so far, he thought. But some strange undercurrents. If the man wants to keep the delectable Miss Lucas to himself, why did he so cheerfully consign her to my care t’other morning? Indeed very strange.
‘Well, to tell you the truth, Miss Henriques, I am frightened when I contemplate the future.’
Fenton looked lugubriously at Isabel Henriques, who, much touched, put out her hand to pat his, lying so negligently but conveniently close between them, and at once pulled it away, her cheeks warm and her eyes very bright. Looking at her, Fenton thought she was really quite a delightful sight. Especially adorned as she was in pretty earrings and a charming necklace, both of which bore the unmistakable watery gleam of diamonds. Her liquid eyes shone no less, and he looked deeply into them and dropped his voice a little lower.
‘You see, I am fit only for a stage career. I have no talents other than myself, my voice, my care for the great words of the great writers of our noble language, and of course my body. And my late injury —’
He sighed and shook his head and then straightened his shoulders.
‘Well, I must not repine, I am indeed fortunate to have the use of my limb, let alone my life. Had it not been for Mr Caspar — ’ he shook his head again. ‘Well, I dread to think of what the future might hold.’
‘You must not worry yourself, please, Mr Lucas,’ Isabel said, urgently, and with some daring again put out her hand and rested it with equal negligence near his own, so that with just the smallest movement on his part, they could inadvertently touch.
‘I have heard my brother — he is my half-brother you understand — speak of you to Mamma and Papa. And he is most concerned that all should go well with you. He cares deeply for all his patients, my brother Freddy, but I feel he has a special concern for you — as indeed we all have — you really must not worry — ’
Obligingly Fenton allowed his hand to make the necessary move so that his little finger almost overlapped hers, an occasion which made Miss Isabel feel almost swooningly happy, and made her lustrous eyes more liquid than ever.
‘Do you have concern for me, Miss Isabel — I beg your pardon — Miss Henriques?’ he said softly.
‘Please, do call me Isabel — there is no need for greater formality — and yes, yes, indeed we all do. For you and your sister, of course — that is why we were all so pleased when Cousin Oliver was able to find some acting for you both — well, I know it is not precisely acting, is it, but I am told by Cousin Phoebe that you sing divinely in rehearsal and look forward with great eagerness to hearing you when the show starts — and well, I am sure one day the people who arrange plays will come to hear of you and see you and make you a great actor —’
‘You are too kind —’ he smiled deeply into her eyes and quite deliberately closed his hand over hers. No accident now. ‘I am so glad Mr Wyndham took your sister away — but you will not tell her so, will you? She is a dear sweet girl, and I hope will always be my friend. But I am glad he took her away. Are you?’
All Isabel could do was lower her thick lashes over her shining eyes and sit modestly saying nothing. But she did not pull her hand away from his. The undercurrents in this corner of the room were running close enough to the surface to be almost a full flowing tide.
‘I am sure you make too much of my small talents, Mr Lackland,’ Amy said, and smiled at Martha, trying to engage her attention. She was interested in the older woman, partly because she mattered so much to Felix Laurence (a fact which Amy knew should not matter to her, but did, all the same) and partly because she had been kind to her on New Year’s evening in Tavistock Square. But tonight, Martha seemed cool and remote, so Amy, a little puzzled, returned her attention to Mr Lackland.
He was looking at her with his eyes seeming blank behind his round spectacles and with his bald head shining in the gaslight and she smiled at him almost absently, very aware of Felix sitting comfortably on Oliver’s other side. Why was it that this young man could make her feel so uneasy? Ever since she had been very small she had been at ease in company, well able to sparkle at will, well able to make other people dance to the tunes she piped — and suddenly she remembered the way Felix had talked scathingly of girls who made others dance to their piping and lost the thread of what Oliver was saying. She shook her head almost imperceptibly to recover herself and concentrated.
‘— that you would succeed in such an entertainment was never in any real doubt. Indeed, I am delighted, truly delighted, that all is going so well now with rehearsals. At first, I cannot deny, I was most concerned, for you were so unlike the way you had been at my sister’s party. But this past few days — why —’
He beamed suddenly, one of his rare smiles that seemed to lift his face into much younger lines.
‘— why, you have been quite quite delightful! And your brother’s singing is pleasant, very pleasant. We shall have an excellent show, I am certain. I hope to be able to — well, no details now —’ Again that young smile lit his face. ‘— but, I daresay we can adjust the rates on the pay list in a manner that will not meet with your disapproval!’
‘Will Miss Lucas be performing every night once the show opens, Cousin Oliver?’ Felix asked abruptly.
‘Eh? Oh — well, now, I am not perfectly sure at present — why do you ask? Are you wishing to book your tickets in advance?’ Oliver laughed heartily at this. ‘It will be a good idea, for I shall be using handbills, you know, and some of the more costly methods of putting the news of the show abroad. I confidently expect we shall be hard put to it to find places for all those who wish to attend!’
‘Of course I shall come to the show, cousin. But I asked not for myself but for Miss Lucas. She tells me she has some — ah — business of her own she wishes to conduct in London, and if she is occupied each night, then she will be in some straits to prosecute it. And usually, I seem to recall, you run some different programmes on different nights?’
‘Well, yes, sometimes I do —’ Oliver said somewhat unwillingly, and removed his glasses and began to polish them busily on his large white handkerchief. He looked very naked, Amy thought, without them. A little lost and rather touching, like a worried baby, and she smiled at him, a very bright and direct smile and he caught it and flushed brick red and hastily hooked his spectacles back round his ears and settled them fussily on the bridge of his nose. ‘— and I would not for the world wish to prevent Miss Lucas from any other matter that is of importance — is it anything in which I can be of help, Miss Lucas?’
She blinked and looked at Felix and opened her mouth and he shook his head and said easily, ‘Oh, it is a matter to do with her family, Cousin Oliver. I thought I might be of some guidance in it — there is no need to
concern yourself. You have ample to do with preparing the show. So, when will the performances be?’
‘Well, I thought — let me see now —’ Oliver took a small booklet from his pocket and began to turn the pages over with some flurry. ‘I suppose we can say — yes, I think perhaps we could run the other programmes, without Miss Lucas, on Monday, and your brother, Miss Lucas, can then have his free evening on Thursdays. I trust that will be suitable for him? Monday is never much of a day, and I doubt we will miss you so much as we would on Thursdays — yes, Mondays for you — I hope that will be enough time for you to deal with whatever the matter is? If not, we could perhaps —’
‘Oh, ample, cousin, ample —’ Felix got to his feet and crooked his arm at Amy.
‘Well, now, Miss Lucas, I feel we must go and talk to my cousins Isabel and Sarah. Delightful girls both, and we have all monopolized you so all evening you have had no time for any of the girlish chatter that I am convinced young ladies much prefer to wasting time on dull male topics —’
As she allowed him to lead her across the broad expanse of the drawing-room she hissed, ‘I thought you were a direct man, Mr Laurence? That gibe about girlish chatter was extremely devious, I would say! And what about this family business you were speaking of? If that isn’t devious, I do not know what is! What were you talking about?’
He stopped in the middle of the drawing-room and at a point at which they were just out of earshot of all the rest of the room’s occupants, and stood there looking down at her.
‘Devious, you say? I think not. I was simply using the common drawing-room device — of speaking to you in terms that you would understand but which others would not. I have heard my cousins and their husbands and wives do it many times.’
‘We are not a husband and wife,’ she said tartly and once more felt her face suddenly react with what was becoming a hateful redness; it was quite ridiculous that this man could make her behave so! ‘And what is this family —’
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