The Chaperon (Sisters of Woodside Mysteries Book 2)

by Mary Kingswood

  But Lucy had never been shy. She chose a sofa in the middle room and approached two matrons sitting there, the feathers on their headdresses waving as they conversed in low voices.

  “I beg your pardon for interrupting,” Lucy said with a smile, “but I am here to chaperon the Miss Kingsleys and I wondered where—?”

  “Oh, you must be Mrs Price,” one of them cried. “Oh, do sit here, Mrs Price, and tell us how dear Augusta goes on. Pray move along, Lydia. There now, dear, do sit down between us. I am Mrs Banstead and this is Mrs Terence Lytham. Oh my word, Mr Cherry is full of energy tonight! And so elegant a dancer! So you are a widow and only two and twenty. You poor thing! How dreadful! Was it an accident?”

  “Oh no. He just dropped down dead on his way home from church one Sunday. The vicar was mortified, and promised to shorten his sermons in future.”

  For a moment, they stared at her, horrified. Then her smile reassured them and they laughed, although uncertainly.

  “You are very brave, dear,” Mrs Banstead said, patting her hand. “Oh, Mrs Partridge! Do come and sit with us. This is Mrs Price, who is looking after the Miss Kingsleys. Mrs Price, this is Mrs Partridge, whose husband owns the bank in Market Clunbury.”

  And so the evening progressed, until Lucy felt she knew all the matrons of the neighbourhood, and had not had a single moment of solitude since she arrived. Deirdre and Winifred returned to her at intervals, only to be claimed immediately by another young man. It was all very pleasant until she saw Mr Kingsley looming over her, a disagreeable scowl on his face.

  “A word, Mrs Price, if you please.”

  Obediently she followed him to a quiet corner, away from the musicians.

  “Madam, you are not here to gossip to all the local tabbies,” he hissed. “You are supposed to be minding my daughters.”

  “And so I am, Mr Kingsley,” she said equitably. “They have not been out of my sight for a moment. Miss Kingsley danced the first two with Mr Cherry and the second two with Mr Exton, and is presently not dancing, but standing with one of the Mr Pipers, although I am not very sure which one, for there are so many of them. Miss Winifred danced the first two with Mr Edward Turlington, and the two next with Mr William Turlington. She is presently dancing with Mr Cherry. I have not seen any sign that either of them favours any particular young man above any other, although certain of the young men betray a distinct partiality.”

  He grunted, looking at her through his bushy eyebrows. He looked dreadfully fierce when he did so, like a warrior of old deciding whether to skewer her with his sword or spare her, just this once. But she was not afraid of him. Like all men of a certain age, their bad temper could generally be turned aside with a little sweetness.

  “As for the gossip,” Lucy went on with a smile, “I have learnt that Mrs Banstead’s daughter’s husband is returning from India, and that Mrs Partridge’s niece is in the expectation of a happy event in the autumn, which news will bring pleasure to Mrs Kingsley, I am sure.”

  Mr Kingsley grunted again. “Ha! That is true enough, for she loves to know all our neighbours’ business, and they ours, I daresay. Was there a soul here tonight amongst the ladies who did not know at once who you are?”

  “I think not,” Lucy said. “That is because all those gossipping tabbies are Mrs Kingsley’s friends, who care about her and wish her well. I have heard a great deal of concern expressed for her tonight. We all need friends, Mr Kingsley. ‘No man is an island’, as the saying goes. No family is an island, either. Mrs Kingsley has many friends, which is a testament to her essential good nature.”

  He was silent for such a long time that she was sure she must have offended him, but instead of the expected rebuke, his voice was softer. “Well, I had my doubts about you, Mrs Price, but you are a competent chaperon despite your youth, I grant you that.”

  And so saying he strode off.

  5: A Challenge

  Lucy was left standing alone, rather bemused. Mr Kingsley was a little abrupt but she guessed that there was a good heart beneath the bluster. Perhaps he was unsure how to deal with young women, just as Lucy was unsure about young men. Or perhaps it was worry about his wife that made him sharp-tongued.

  “All alone, Mrs Price? May I fetch you some punch? Or lemonade?”

  Mr Audley, smiling down at her with those golden eyes. That could not be right, for no one actually had gold-coloured eyes, only cats. But perhaps there was something cat-like about him, sneaking up on her in that silent, predatory way.

  “Not dancing, Mr Audley?”

  “I have already danced with the mayor’s daughter and the banker’s wife, so my duty is done for a while. Since you cannot dance, I thought I might have the pleasure of sitting with you for half an hour instead. At least allow me to procure you some refreshment.”

  She would have liked to refuse the drink, but she was thirsty, and there was no sign of supper yet. “Thank you, some lemonade would be very pleasant.”

  He was back in no time, and with a glass of wine for himself as well. “Shall we sit down?” he said, with his quick smile, indicating some empty seats nearby. And then, of course, he sat himself beside her. But there was nothing she could do about it, and perhaps it would be useful to know something of Mrs Kingsley’s brother.

  “You have an estate at Stoneleigh Hall, I understand, Mr Audley? Mrs Kingsley has told me that it is very fine, although she has not seen it since she was a young child.”

  “That is true in all particulars,” he said, and his eyes lit up with such amusement that she felt as if he were laughing at her. “I do have an estate a Stoneleigh Hall, it is indeed considered very fine and Gussie has not seen it since she was… oh, perhaps four or five years of age. My father chose to live in Bath in his later years, so the house was rented out. When he died, I was but ten years old and had no need for an estate, so the tenants stayed on. Mrs Nightingale died a few years ago, but Mr Nightingale lives on and I do not care to throw him out of his home of many years. Just think if the shock should carry him off. I should not like the death of so elderly a gentleman on my conscience.”

  “And so you stay on in Bath? It must be hoped that you have pleasant lodgings there, for I do not think it could compare with such a fine estate.”

  “My lodgings are very pleasant indeed,” he said, laughing outright. “I have a house in the Royal Crescent.”

  Lucy laughed too. “Oh — that must certainly be very pleasant! Now I must adjust my ideas, for I had imagined you in some little house in a back street, with two rooms for yourself and an attic for your valet. The Royal Crescent! I am speaking to a gentleman who lives in the Royal Crescent. This will increase my consequence enormously, so I thank you for your condescension, sir. And did Mrs Kingsley share these pleasant lodgings?”

  “Indeed she did, until her marriage. What think you of Mr Kingsley?” he added quickly, as if to divert her attention away from himself.

  “I do not feel I yet know him well enough to evaluate him properly,” Lucy said. “I should not wish to judge a man too hastily.”

  “Discreetly answered. Was he ringing a peal over you just now?”

  “Ringing a—? Oh, berating me, you mean? Well, you know how fathers are. He has two daughters who are eighteen years of age, so naturally he worries about them. But he need not, for he will have no trouble finding them husbands.”

  “And there can be no other object in a young lady’s mind but finding a husband,” he said gaily. “Tell me of your husband, Mrs Price, for he must have been a very special man to win your heart.”

  “Indeed he was,” Lucy said, although smiling at this rosy vision of marital affection.

  “But what was he like? What sort of a gentleman was he?”

  “What makes you think he was a gentleman?” she said.

  But he only laughed, perhaps thinking she was being arch. “Of course he was a gentleman, although I admit I know nothing of his family. Did he live in the country or town?”

  Lucy hesitated. Ev
eryone in Brinshire had known exactly who Walter Price was, but here she was a stranger and must expect to be questioned. She would not lie about it, for she was not ashamed of Walter, not in the least, but she felt some reluctance to have her marriage brought into the open in this disagreeable way.

  “He lived in the country, although I am not sure why you wish to know, for my husband cannot be of the least interest to you or anyone else here.”

  “Now that is where you are quite wrong, Mrs Price.” He leaned forward to speak to her in a low voice, his eyes fixed on hers. “I wish to know everything there is to know about you, and especially about your husband. I should particularly like to understand what qualities he possessed which won the admiration of so discriminating a lady as yourself.”

  Lucy leaned away from him, disgusted by such obvious flirtation. “Mr Audley, Walter Price was seventy six years old and almost blind, the retired manager of our home farm. I thank you for the lemonade. Pray excuse me.”

  As she rose in a froth of indignation, he laughed and leaned back in his chair, gazing up at her with a smirk on his face. “Ah, you are such a tease, Mrs Price.”

  With an annoyed click of her tongue, she strode away.

  ~~~~~

  ‘Dearest sister, I am so glad to hear that you are well settled, and finding Mrs Kingsley so amiable, and the Miss Kingsleys too, and are very comfortable in your accommodation. A priory sounds so old and draughty, so I am glad that most of the house has every modern convenience. I am glad, too, that there is plenty of company, and that you do not have to wait for a fortnightly ball or card party for your diversion. The Kingsleys sound like a generous couple, to entertain so frequently. Do tell me more of the young men who call, and whether any are handsome or rich or well-mannered, or perhaps all three! I cannot wait to hear all about your first ball in Shropshire, and whether it went well and you enjoyed it. I hope you had some good conversation on the chaperons’ benches. Have you seen anything of Uncle Arthur yet? Have you heard any more from Margaret? I had one letter to say that she had arrived safely, but I should be glad to know more of her situation, so if you hear anything, please do let me know. Your affectionate sister, Annabelle.’

  ~~~~~

  Two days later, Uncle Arthur came to call. Lucy had sent him a short note to tell him of her arrival at Longmere Priory, and had begun to wonder how soon she might ask for the carriage to go to Market Clunbury to visit her uncle, so she was pleased to see him.

  Arthur Tilford was her mother’s only brother, but there was nothing of her delicate prettiness in this fat, balding man, his hair and eyebrows, perhaps red once, but now so pale that his head looked like a giant egg. He had been an attorney before his marriage, and still looked not quite comfortable as a gentleman. His greatcoat was well cut, yet not quite in the latest fashion, and his rather fine waistcoat sported a prominent stain, as if he had spilt his soup.

  He brought with him his wife, Aunt Laurel, who was the oldest sister of Mrs Kingsley and Mr Audley, although not the slightest trace of a family resemblance was discernible. She was a thin, faded creature with mournful eyes, and mousy brown hair that had perhaps once been blonde. She looked as though life had worn her to a standstill, but then after providing her husband with twelve children, perhaps that was no more than the truth. And although she wore a round gown, and not the more fashionable slimmer style of dress, Lucy thought her aunt might be increasing again.

  Uncle Arthur greeted Lucy with apparent pleasure, enquired after her sisters, expressed his sadness at her father’s death and declared that he had had no notion that his finances were in such a perilous state. “A bad business, that’s what it is, Lucy, my girl, leaving his daughters to starve like that. I suppose he expected me to take care of you, but you understand how it is. A wife and twelve children already under my roof, and… various relations quite dependent on me, you know how it is. There’s not a penny to spare for any of you.”

  “Of course not, uncle. We had no expectation of the sort, I assure you.”

  “Hmpf. And you’re very well placed here, I daresay. Very comfortably situated.”

  “I am indeed, and Mr and Mrs Kingsley could not have been kinder.”

  Aunt Laurel said nothing at all. When Lucy enquired after the children, her aunt said only, “They are well, thank you,” in such a thread of a voice that Lucy wondered if she should have some hartshorn to hand.

  Mrs Kingsley was pleased to see her sister and brother-in-law, and berated them for not visiting more often. “You have not been since before Christmas. Will you come for dinner one evening? The weather is mild at the moment, and the road is quite dry. You will be in no danger of getting bogged down, you know.”

  “Well now, well now,” Uncle Arthur said, beaming at her. “That’s very handsome of you. I can’t say whether Laurel will be up to going out at night, but I should be delighted. Quite delighted. Very kind, sister.”

  Aunt Laurel turned her huge eyes on her husband, but said not a word.

  Mr Audley came in to greet the Tilfords, but no sooner had he made his bows than Uncle Arthur drew him out of the room again. “I small matter of business to discuss with you, brother.”

  But they were not gone long, and soon afterwards, Uncle Arthur decided it was time to leave. Deirdre and Winifred, who had sat politely with the visitors, escaped in a flurry of muslin, Mrs Kingsley turned back to her novel with a sigh and Lucy moved back to the writing desk to continue her letter to Annabelle.

  Mr Audley brought a chair to sit beside her. “You do not seem to know your uncle and aunt well, Mrs Price. Is it a long time since you have seen them?”

  “I have never seen them in my life before,” she said.

  “How extraordinary! And yet you live so close.”

  “Close? Would you say so? No more than a day’s travel, yet somehow we never visited them, nor did they ever come to Woodside. We seldom saw any of our relations. Aunt Pru came to Mama’s funeral, and two of Papa’s cousins came to stay once, when I was eight or nine.”

  “How sad,” he said, and for once she felt he was speaking from the heart. “I have more relations than I well know what to do with, and they all expect to see me once a year, at least.”

  “How touching that they are so fond of you,” she said.

  He laughed and shook his head. “No such thing, I assure you. They wish only to beg fifty or a hundred pounds from me, or, which is worse, to parade all the neighbourhood’s spinsters before me, for a single man of fortune is the greatest affront to their sensibilities. They cannot think about that fine estate of mine without imagining one or other young lady of their acquaintance presiding over the teacups there. But I am in no hurry to wed, Mrs Price. No hurry at all. There is too much enjoyment to be had as a single man to induce me to relinquish that state soon.”

  Mrs Kingsley laid down her book. “There is the truth from his own lips. Now you see why I warned you against my brother, Lucy.”

  “Gussie!” he cried in mock dismay. “You warned Mrs Price against me? How infamous of you.”

  But Lucy smiled. “You need not worry about me, Mrs Kingsley. My heart is hardened against young men, for they are duplicitous and insincere.”

  “Why, that is a harsh judgement indeed!” he cried. “I must protest, Mrs Price, at this condemnation. Surely there are some young men who are honourable and trustworthy?”

  “Perhaps there are,” she said easily. “Indeed, I am sure there must be some. But how may one detect the one who is honourable and trustworthy amongst so many rogues and scoundrels? I have never found a way.”

  ~~~~~

  Leo was rather taken aback by this conversation. He had thought that a young widow would be easy fruit to pluck, whether for a little flirtation to while away the days until he could move on, or, if he were lucky, for something more. But he knew a challenge when he heard one. He had warned her, very clearly, that he was not hanging out for a wife, and she had responded by saying that she was not hanging out for a man at all, in a
ny capacity. No, he corrected himself, not a young man. And it was true that she had shown a distinct preference for elderly Mr Cockcroft, and avoided anyone younger. She had joked that her husband was a man in his declining years. Six and seventy! But that could not possibly be true, for who could prefer grey hair and sagging skin to youthful masculinity? No, she was setting him a test, and if he could meet her conditions, whatever they were, then he would surely be rewarded.

  Still, she was a prickly specimen, for all her smiles and easy chatter. What would appeal to her? He would have to think carefully on the matter, and perhaps the best strategy would be to get to know the lady better. To that end he suggested taking Deirdre and Winifred shopping in Market Clunbury.

  “That is very kind of you, Leo,” Gussie said, when he first broached the scheme. “But do not be spending money on them, not when Peter has spoken so explicitly on the matter. If he does not want you giving money to me, he will not want you giving money to the girls, either.”

  “I shall tell him of my plans, naturally, but really, Gussie, even Peter cannot object to a man buying presents for his nieces from time to time. Who else am I to spend my money on, after all, but my sisters and their families?”

  Gussie laughed. “Why, your own family, of course, Leo. Find yourself a pretty young baronet’s daughter and hoist yourself up in the world a little.”

  “Surely you know me better than that, sister dear. I have no interest in hoisting, or in pretty daughters for myself, for that matter, but I am quite content to buy a trinket or two for your pretty daughters. I have a very enjoyable day in mind. We shall visit a few shops and the circulating library, have a light repast at the Lamb and Pheasant, and then drive home past the waterfall, if the road be fit. Mrs Price shall come with us to make sure nothing untoward occurs. What could be pleasanter? And if you have any commissions in town, I am sure Mrs Price would be happy to fulfil them for you.”

  “Well, I can see no objection. When did you have in mind?”

  “I have some business to attend to in town tomorrow, so that would suit me very well, but another day would do, if you have other plans for the girls.”