‘Don’t go too far, Lucy!’ Benjamin shouted. ‘It looks as if it’s going to snow!’
Chapter Seven
‘Ben!’ Robert shouted at his little brother. ‘Don’t let her out of your sight! Not with Markham on the estate!’
Lucy heard Robert shout, but chose to ignore it, although she didn’t ignore the import of the warning. She slowed her horse to a gentle trot and leaned over to release the right stirrup, she then lifted herself up on her left foot and swung her right over the horse and manoeuvred her skirts until they were comfortable. After that, she kicked Polly into a full-fledged gallop, leaning her face beside the mare’s neck and urging her on. She glanced over her shoulder and was not surprised to see Benjamin riding like a demon to try and catch her.
She had to leave! It was a simple as that. She had to get away before her unruly tongue decided to give Lady Phyllida Allen, the daughter of an Earl, a verbal lashing for her importuning of Buxton. Lucy hadn’t liked the undercurrent in Lady Phyllida’s voice, the sultry undercurrent of intimacy, as if Buxton was one of her beaus. Or worse, her intended. Not that it was any of her business who the Earl decided to court. She wondered why he was there. Maybe he is looking for a wife! She thought as a spear of jealousy jabbed through her midriff. Well it won’t be me!
‘Lucy! Slow down!’ Benjamin called, so she ignored him. They thundered across the meadow, until they reached the hedgerow. Lucy carefully set Polly onto the right pace as she approached the Hornbeam hedge and was ecstatic when Polly sailed over the first hedge, took two paces and glided over the second. Lucy was almost over her neck as she landed on the other side. The drop into the next meadow was almost ten feet from the top of the hedge, as the land tended to flood in rainy weather and the ground level had been dropped to stop the lane from being washed away, but Polly had known it was there and Lucy managed to keep her seat. She glanced over her shoulder as she heard a strident neighing from Benjamin’s horse, to see his head bobbing off down the lane to the gateway. She laughed as she realised that his horse had shied at the second hedge.
Gradually she slowed Polly back to a steady canter, until she reached the next hedge, where she sought the gateway, trotted through and pulled Polly up outside the Church Yard. She slid from Polly’s back, pulled the reins over her head and deftly tied them to the Lynch gate. She patted the mare’s neck, whispered some sweet nothings in her ear and then went through the lynch gate into the cemetery. She strode over to the memorial for her father and stood to say a prayer.
‘I wish you wouldn’t take the Dower Lane in such a reckless way.’ Benjamin said quietly from behind her.
‘You’re just jealous because you can’t do it.’ Lucy said firmly, she turned with a ready smile, ‘or rather your horse can’t.’ She sighed deeply. ‘Robert’s can’t either. I think the space between the hedges is too narrow for your stallions, but Polly can handle it just fine.’
‘What’s the matter, Luce?’ Benjamin asked and stroked two gloved fingers down her cheek. She watched his breath plume in the still air as she debated whether to tell him the truth or not. If it was Robert, she would have admitted her discomfort at Phyllida Allen’s importuning, but she didn’t have quite the same relationship with Benjamin. There was a distinctly brother sister relationship between them and Benjamin, like Richard, had made too much fun of her in the past. Robert represented a more fatherly figure, being the eldest.
‘Nothing is the matter.’ She spoke calmly. ‘I just took the opportunity to get away from the houseguests.’
‘Did you find Lady Phyllida’s importuning as tasteless as I did?’ he asked with his tongue in his cheek.
‘Yes.’ she replied simply. ‘What time is it?’
Benjamin pulled his hunter from his waistcoat and looked at it. ‘Almost a quarter of twelve.’
‘I need to get back. I promised Mrs. Egerton that I would help her with the arrangements for the ball tonight.’ Lucy paced away to her horse and untied the reins. She climbed up onto her horse and waited for Benjamin to join her.
‘Then I shall accompany you back.’ He stated and they set off, trotting along the lanes to Bassett Hall.
*****
The magnificent ballroom had taken an age to prepare and Evelyn had started the footmen to polishing the floor a fortnight before Christmas. Lucy decided it was all worthwhile as she looked down and saw her reflection in the parquet finish. The walls had been washed, the chandeliers cleaned and filled with good quality candles that should last the night. All three chandeliers were down ready to light, which made it difficult to get around the ballroom, but the staff managed. Egerton was supervising the laying out of the seating for the small orchestra that had been hired from London, Mrs. Egerton was in the still-room putting the floral displays together and the maids were placing them exactly where Evelyn told them to. Lucy smiled as she looked at the flowers, most of which had been grown in the hot-house just for such a purpose.
‘Do you need any help, mother?’ She asked as she stopped beside Evelyn.
‘Yes.’ Evelyn blurted and lifted her arm to point at the footmen fixing a swag across the ballroom. ‘Help John and Stuart with the placing of that swag. It needs to be central or it will look stupid.’
‘Yes, Mother.’ Lucy said and went with a soft smile. If she hadn’t known better, she would have thought her mother was in a panic about the ball that night, but Lucy could tell by the sparkle in her mother’s eyes that she was revelling in the challenge it represented. She was now the Earl’s mother, if not the Dowager and therefore the success or failure of the event as a whole would reflect not only on her, but on Robert as well. If anything went seriously awry, it would damage the name of Bassett on the ton, possibly for ever more, certainly for the next few years. It would certainly leave Lucy as a spinster on the shelf and probably ruin Robert’s chances with the icily beautiful Lady Caroline. While she watched John and Stuart in death defying positions, as they hung the swathe of midnight blue silk over the French doors to the terrace, Lucy contemplated Lady Caroline. She hadn’t seen a great deal of her, as she spent a lot of time with her mother and had not ridden out that morning. Lucy hoped she wasn’t shy, especially of her brother and that she would show herself to great advantage that night at the ball. She prayed that Lady Caroline wasn’t just a simpering miss and actually had a brain, because she would struggle if her beloved favourite brother married some gormless chit that Lucy would end up hating! She had appreciated Lady Eleanor’s quick wit, when Lady Phyllida was accosting the Earl of Buxton’s person and wondered when she was due for her first season.
The silk was draped very effectively and correctly without Lucy having to say a word. She smiled as she left the ballroom and moved onto her personal maid Betsy, who was just vanishing into what would be the card room with an armful of Holly.
‘What are you about, Betsy?’ she asked gently so as not to startle her maid.
‘I’m in charge of the card room, Miss Lucy.’ Betsy replied with a bright smile. ‘It’s a good job we cut all the Holly yesterday.’ She continued and thrust her chin at the French door to the terrace. Lucy walked to the glass and looked out at the gently falling snowflakes. She watched the wintery scene for a few minutes as the terrace boundary was slowly obliterated by the snow.
‘It looks like it will settle, Betsy.’ She whirled about and smiled mischievously. ‘Snowball fight, tomorrow morning! Servants against the guests?’
‘Oh no! Miss Lucy.’ Betsy disagreed in panic. ‘I should be afeared for my life should I hit a Duke!’
Lucy smiled and helped with the fan display for the mantle and then helped Mr. Egerton and the footmen set up the tables for cards. There were four tables, each one square and only large enough to seat one person a side. The chairs had been brought down from the attic before Christmas and given a thorough cleaning and airing. The gilded legs looked a little worn, but the seat covers had washed up beautifully and the deep blue and gold covers looked like new. Of course, the colour w
as matched to both this particular room and the ballroom and the fifty five chairs had taken the footmen and maids considerable work, but they were astonishing. Lucy had even overseen the washing of the covers, after the footmen had removed them from the chairs and it had been quite satisfying helping them to be nailed back into position with the bronzed upholstery studs, over the new stuffing.
The rest of the afternoon vanished and soon it was time to dress for dinner. Betsy helped Lucy have a bath, keeping her hair dry and get into her best underwear before donning the superbly tailored dark teal, silk evening gown. It was a rather plain gown when compared to some of the gowns the debutante’s wore. But Lucy had liked the simple lines, the unfussy nature of it and the sombre colour. The plain, square neckline was positively high, as it almost covered the whole of Lucy’s breasts, leaving just a hint of rounded tops and a small shadow of the cleavage it beheld. There was no decoration on the bodice at all, just an Ivory ribbon fashioned into a bow at the very centre, just under her bosom. The gown was made of Moiré silk and it shimmered like the surface of a pool when Lucy walked. The hem line was also unadorned and fell straight to the floor. Just Lucy’s matching slippers poked out of the front. The back of the gown was fashionably pleated at the centre of the bodice which was laced, rather than buttoned. The laces were made of the same silk as the gown and zigzagged up between Lucy’s shoulder blades. Around her neck she wore a simple strand of pearls and on her arms were a simple pair of ivory satin gloves that nearly reached the little puff sleeves, but fell short enough to reveal an inch of perfect ivory skin.
She sat at the dressing table as Betsy brushed her hair. ‘It’ll be lovely, tonight, Miss Lucy.’ Betsy said as she pulled all of Lucy’s hair into a ponytail on the crown of her head and tied it tightly with an ivory ribbon. From there, she inserted pins and pearl encrusted combs to keep Lucy’s hair up all night.
Timothy was there waiting to escort her down to dinner and again he smiled at her attire in approval. ‘Nice gown.’ He murmured as he held out his arm for her to take.
‘Oh! You do look nice, Lucy.’ Evelyn said as they reached her door and they walked down stairs. Timothy preened like the proverbial peacock as he sauntered down the stairs between his beautiful mother and sister.
This time, the men were already in the drawing room waiting for the ladies to appear. As Egerton sounded the dinner gong, Evangeline de Lacey cornered the Duke of Markham and kept him talking so long that he had no choice but to invite her to accompany him into dinner. Lucy ended up seated between Jasper Allen and Joseph Stapleton and the conversation was lively to say the least.
‘Will there be local gentry attending this ball tonight?’ Jasper asked softly.
‘There will, indeed. When Bassett Hall throws a ball, everyone of any note is always invited.’
‘Who will be coming?’ Joseph asked abruptly. Lucy hadn’t had much contact with the unusual Earl of Greystone, so she was always excessively polite to him. He was called strange and unusual, but nobody seemed to know why.
‘The Vicar and his wife, Reverend and Mrs. White from the parish church. Sir Terrence Digby and Lady Digby, the local Magistrate and his wife. He’s a Baronet.’ Lucy sighed. ‘And there will be Lord Ascot and his family. He has a rather large family and almost all of his five daughters are already out.’ She laughed delightedly at Jasper’s almost gleeful look.
‘Goody. More debs to vet!’ Jasper said jovially. ‘I adore looking over the debutantes at any ball. It’s rather like going to Tattersall’s to admire the horseflesh on display.’
‘Are you both under pressure to marry, then?’ Lucy asked innocently.
‘No.’ Jasper replied jovially still.
‘Yes.’ Snapped Joseph Stapleton, making Lucy look at him enquiringly. ‘My mother is insisting I find a wife this next season. Not that I want one, but she is insisting.’ He turned his relatively blank expression on her and asked. ‘Would you do me the honour?’
Lucy burst out laughing. ‘My apologies, My Lord.’ She spluttered. ‘I don’t mean to belittle the honour of your proposal, but I find myself unable to accept your hand at this time.’ She saw him shuffle his bottom on the chair and at that point she realised he’d been in earnest. ‘That was a real proposal?’ she gasped out as Joseph solemnly nodded his head. ‘I’m sorry. I genuinely thought it was a joke.’ She was quiet as she studied him. Joseph Stapleton could never be called handsome, but his face was arresting. His golden eyes were set wide apart in a relatively square face, with a very large Roman nose and full lips surrounding a large mouth that looked a little like a fish when he had his mouth open. He was tall, at least a head taller than Lucy, but he was almost skin and bone, as if he hardly ate anything, although Lucy was sat watching him devour his dinner with relish. She sighed, of course it was impossible that she could or would accept such a wishy washy proposal, especially from the Earl of Greystone. ‘I thank you sir, for the honour of your proposal but I cannot accept.’ She said quietly and smiled gently for him. He graciously nodded his head and turned to speak to Eugenia Ponsonby, who was sitting at his other side.
‘That was quick thinking!’ Jasper whispered. ‘You could have ended up with him for the rest of your natural!’
Lucy’s only response was a facial shrug and then she concentrated on her plate as the last course was brought in.
After dinner, Robert and Evelyn had to greet the local guests and formed a receiving line in the hallway, which included Lucy and her remaining brothers. The snow had increased, so the Reverend White made the most of it. ‘Good evening, My Lord.’ He said heartily to Robert as he bowed. ‘It is blowing a gale out there! I hope you will provide us with accommodation should we get snowed in!?’
Robert smiled generously. ‘Of course, Reverend. The Dower House has already been made ready for guests should the need arise.’ Robert looked out of the front door as Egerton opened it for Sir Terrance Digby. ‘And it looks as if the need has arisen. That’s quite a blizzard!’
Robert left the line and approached the door to look out. ‘Digby! It seems you managed to get here.’ Robert stated and shook Digby’s hand.
‘Hallo Robert.’ Digby replied as he took off his snow splattered cloak. ‘Yes, if we hadn’t left earlier I should not have risked the journey.’
‘Do you think Ascot will come?’
‘Maybe, but I would doubt it. He lives closer than we do and he might have decided not to risk his horses!’
It was another half an hour before Robert dismissed the line and the Hastings family went into the ballroom.
*****
Wilfred had been disconcerted to be left in the company of Phyllida Allen, not that he couldn’t cope with the silly chit, but that Lucy had ridden off and left him. There had seemed an air of disappointment about her when she rode away from the tree. The rest of the morning had gone quite well and the tour of the Stud had been informative and interesting. Hastings had some very nice horseflesh. He had already asked for a foal from the black stallion. But during dinner he had heard Stapleton’s ridiculous proposal and his heart was in his mouth just for a moment, when he thought Lucy might accept him. His father had given him a speaking look, meant to convey “ask her soon or lose the opportunity!”
Wilfred had been in the refreshment room since dinner and had imbibed some brandy, so it was with unsettling disappointment that he returned to the ballroom just as the Duke of Markham was escorting Lucy onto the end of the line for a country dance. She smiled coyly and almost simpered at his charm. Wilfred looked around for Robert or Benjamin, but they were not in the ballroom. Howard was though and Wilfred made straight for him.
‘Howard.’ His friend turned from talking to his sister Eleanor. ‘Markham has enticed Miss Hastings into a dance.’ Eleanor gasped and all three turned to look at the dancing couple. ‘See if you can locate her brother and I will endeavour to stop him from taking her somewhere quiet.’ Howard nodded, held his arm out to Eleanor and they slowly and quietly left the ballroom.
Wilfred stationed himself between the French doors and waited for the set to finish.
Sure enough. Markham escorted Lucy straight to the French doors. She looked uncomfortable when Wilfred straightened up and spoke. ‘Miss Hastings. I wonder if I might have a moment of your time. There is something I need to discuss with you.’
‘Of…of course.’ She seemed flustered and embarrassed. The Duke merely bowed and walked away. Lucy opened her mouth to thank the Earl for waylaying them but Wilfred spoke first.
‘So, are you another of Markham’s conquests?’ he asked harshly, stunning Lucy into silence. ‘Another one of his whores?’ He watched the expected rage bloom on her face and didn’t even try to stop the slap that aimed unerringly for his cheek. He could have grabbed her wrist, if he’d wanted to, but he needed her angry, so that she would go to her room or seek out her brother, as she had the last time.
‘How dare you!’ she spat, brushed past him and hurried out of the French door onto the snow covered terrace.
‘I thought you’d given up insulting Miss Hastings.’ Howard said softly from beside him.
‘It was the quickest way to get her out of this room.’ Wilfred looked about and saw Markham in the middle of the set for the cotillion.
‘I think she’ll never accept a marriage proposal from you now.’ Howard said.
‘Where is Eleanor?’ Wilfred asked with a raised eyebrow.
‘With your mother.’ Howard said and tilted his head towards his parents standing on the other side of the ballroom. His father had a frown as he looked over at Wilfred.
‘If Dovedale should ask about this incident. Tell him I’m trying to protect her.’ Wilfred abruptly turned around and left for the refreshment room, where he downed another large brandy.
*****
It was almost twenty minutes later that Markham approached Robert and asked after Lucy.
‘Bassett?’ He murmured in his ear as Robert had just laid down his last trump card. ‘Have you seen your sister?’
Pride and Retribution Page 12
