Mrs Sommersby's Second Chance

by Laurie Benson

  ‘Why? You never go out. I was beginning to think you must be in a ditch somewhere with your throat cut...probably clutching profit and loss statements with your dying breath.’ His voice was rough with anxiety as he grabbed the papers from the desk that Lane had intended to review today.

  ‘Well, as you can see my throat is fine—however, those papers aren’t. If you keep crushing them in your fist, I might have the devil of a time reading them when you are through.’

  As Hart dropped the papers on the desk, his sharp blue eyes became hooded like a hawk. ‘I looked for that handy analysis you love to do, but didn’t see it, so I thought I’d take a crack at recalculating the numbers myself.’

  ‘Any luck?’

  ‘No. I was too worried about you to concentrate. Sanderson didn’t know where you were. He said you were always here by eight. We even went to your room at the hotel, you know, to look for you.’

  ‘We?’

  There was a small nudge at Lane’s back, moving him slightly forward from where he stood in the doorway.

  ‘Yes, I’m here as well. Hart brought me in through the back door.’

  It was Hart’s wife, Sarah, standing behind him, holding two cups of coffee. Lane stepped inside, allowing her to pass so she could put the cups down on his desk.

  ‘You just walked past me, you know. I was out in the corridor, waiting for these cups, and I said hello, but you walked on by.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘Out there.’

  ‘I did?’

  ‘You did.’

  Hart openly studied Lane as he took his cup. ‘What has got into you?’

  ‘Nothing. Now get out of my chair and leave me alone. I have work to do.’

  Lane just needed to focus. Having Hart and Sarah here would only serve as a distraction. Hart stood and switched places with him, as his friend exchanged looks with his wife.

  ‘You’re really not going to ask me.’ Disbelief was in Hart’s voice.

  It took Lane a minute before the realisation of why Hart was here struck him like a brick.

  ‘You know. You have news about the money.’ He couldn’t say it fast enough.

  ‘Well, it’s about time. Yes, I have news. We have come all the way from London to tell you that I have found an investor in this venture of ours.’

  The weight that Lane had been carrying around in his chest was suddenly gone and he threw his head back and closed his eyes in relief. ‘Thank God! Who is it? Do I know the gentleman?’

  ‘It’s Lord Musgrove.’

  ‘I don’t know anything about him.’

  ‘Well, he didn’t know anything about you either, so the field is even. He has agreed to fund this endeavour of yours, but he wants to see for himself what he will be investing in.’

  ‘He’s coming here?’

  ‘Yes, he should arrive shortly and, if all goes as planned, we will be signing a contract with the man and getting the money we need to purchase and rebuild that hotel.’

  Soon, he would show Lord Musgrove just how profitable this spa was going to be and he would finally be able to make an offer on the hotel next door. His vision was finally going to happen.

  He let out a long breath and rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands.

  ‘Something is different about you,’ Hart commented before taking a sip from his cup. ‘I can’t quite put my finger on what it is, but there definitely is something different about you. Where were you this morning?’

  ‘I told you I was out. I went for a walk in Sydney Gardens. It’s this pleasure garden I discovered not far from here.’

  ‘You were walking in a pleasure garden all this time?’ He raised his cup to his lips and took a slow sip, studying Lane over the rim of porcelain. ‘That’s all you have to say? You aren’t going to ask me fifty things about Musgrove in the span of thirty seconds?’

  ‘It’s a woman.’ Sarah’s brown eyes narrowed on him as she tapped her finger on her lips.

  ‘No.’ There was a definitive sound to Hart’s word, until he glanced between Lane and his wife and then looked at the wrinkled papers on the desk. ‘Oh, hell, you’re right. It is a woman. I never thought I’d see the day.’

  If Lane rubbed his brow hard enough, could he make these two disappear from his sight?

  ‘Well, I for one think it’s a good thing.’ The warm, friendly smile Sarah gave him matched the tone of her voice. ‘Everyone should have a special someone.’

  Hart sat on the corner of the desk with even more of a bemused expression. ‘I’m not disagreeing. It is a good idea. Tell us about her.’

  ‘Why don’t you tell me about Lord Musgrove instead?’

  ‘Because at the moment you couldn’t give a damn about Lord Musgrove and you know it.’

  The smile on Sarah’s face widened. ‘This is why you walked past me and didn’t see me, even though you looked right at me. You were thinking of your lady friend.’

  ‘Lane has a lady friend.’ The sing-song voice that Hart used made Lane want to punch him.

  ‘Are you twelve?’

  ‘It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been accused of being that age. Now tell us about her.’

  ‘There isn’t anything to tell. I have met a woman. We are friends. That is all there is to it.’

  Hart adjusted his seat on the desk. ‘There has to be more.’

  ‘There isn’t.’

  His friends exchanged a look, which was never a good sign. His relationship with Mrs Sommersby was complicated enough. A change of subject was in order.

  ‘Tell me about Lord Musgrove. How did you meet?’

  ‘Andrew Pearce introduced us. So where did you meet this woman?’

  ‘At the spa. Did Lord Musgrove indicate how much he was willing to invest?’

  ‘Everything we need. He is interested in diversifying outside his tobacco interests. Were you bathing when you met her at the spa?’

  Sarah swatted him on his shoulder.

  ‘I’m simply trying to fill in the details so I understand how this woman could possibly bring my friend into such a state that he forgot to analyse a profit and loss statement. This is unprecedented.’

  ‘I didn’t forget.’

  ‘Forgive me, you had better things to do.’

  ‘No...yes...will you two leave me be so I can look at these figures in peace?’

  ‘Come with me, Sarah. We will leave Lane to pretend he is working when we know he will be pining for his...oh, what was the word?’

  ‘His friend,’ Sarah replied with a laugh.

  ‘Oh, yes, his friend. I will inform you when Lord Musgrove arrives. In the meantime, we are staying with Lyonsdale at Number Twelve on the Royal Crescent. Send word to his home if you need anything.’

  What he needed was Mrs Sommersby. He couldn’t call on her. He didn’t know where she lived. If he wanted to see her again, he would have to go to a place he knew she would be. When they met at the park by the Crescent that day, she had mentioned various entertainments in town that she thought he might enjoy. Then he recalled seeing her name in the Chronicle that morning.

  ‘Do you dance, Sarah?’

  His friend’s wife paused by the door and appeared very pleased with his question. ‘I do.’

  ‘I might be in need of your help, if you are so inclined. I think there is a chance I will need to polish up on my skills. They are probably a bit rusty.’

  ‘It would be my pleasure, Lane. I am happy to help in any way I can.’ She scrunched her shoulders up towards her ears in excitement and gave him one last bright smile before closing the door behind her.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Clara stood on the edge of the dance floor in the large ballroom of the Upper Assembly Rooms with the Dowager Duchess watching Harriet fade into the woodwork as her sister Ann took centre stage among a group of young
gentlemen.

  She looked over at the Dowager standing beside her and tried not to frown. ‘I thought you were going to invite Mr Greeley this evening.’

  ‘The man was called out of town on a family matter.’

  ‘Well, that’s unfortunate. If she wasn’t an unmarried young woman, I’d take her with me into the card room.’

  ‘If she wasn’t an unmarried woman, you wouldn’t have to. And where is your Mr Lane this evening?’

  ‘He is not my Mr Lane and I have no idea.’ She hadn’t seen or heard from him for days and was beginning to wonder if he, too, had been called out of town.

  ‘Pity. There was something about that man I liked.’

  There was a lot about him that she had liked as well—more than she would care to admit, even to herself. She couldn’t trust herself when it came to men. She had married for love and it had turned into a disaster. It was probably smarter to keep her distance from him anyway.

  ‘Well, if those gentlemen are not here this evening then we should take it upon ourselves to look for additional gentlemen to throw at Miss Collingswood,’ the Dowager said, scanning the groups of people around them.

  ‘I don’t know if Mr and Mrs Collingswood would appreciate us throwing men at their daughter.’

  ‘Nonsense. They want to see her wed. We want to help facilitate that. There could be another gentleman here that she might like. Although I do think Greeley is perfect for her.’

  ‘Are you suggesting that we split up and search this room?’

  ‘Are you mad? I am too old to walk around and search for anything. At my age, the best course of action is to survey the selection from right where we are standing.’

  Clara’s gaze travelled over the room—at least what could be seen of it from where they were standing. On the dance floor ladies and gentlemen moved to the music that drifted down around them from the orchestra that played on the other side of the ballroom. And there were groups of people standing along the edges of the dance floor and sitting on the benches behind them. There were so many gentlemen in formal black attire with black breeches, white stockings and black shoes that they all blended into one. She was about ready to turn back to the Dowager when her eye caught the friendly nod of Mr Charles Whelby.

  It had been four years since she had been introduced to Mr Whelby in this very Assembly Room, shortly after she had returned to Bath after staying for months in Paris with her niece Juliet. In that time, the gentleman who owned an estate just outside Bath and visited the city frequently had become a friend. He made his way through the crowd to her, looking completely unruffled in his impeccable evening attire.

  ‘I didn’t know you had returned from London.’

  He rose from his bow with a sparkle in his grey-blue eyes. ‘If I knew you would be missing me that much, I would have called on you directly after we crossed the river.’

  ‘I always miss you when you are gone. I become completely despondent. It is remarked upon by all who see me and is written about extensively in the Chronicle,’ she replied with excessive dramatic inflection and let out a long sigh.

  ‘I’ve told you there is a remedy for that, but you refuse to marry me, so it appears, until you do, you will find your name in the papers with some regularity.’

  Shaking out her fan, she hid her smile from him, but knew by his expression that he saw the merriment in her eyes. Glancing at the Dowager, she saw Eleanor was watching their exchange with marked attention. ‘Your Grace, may I introduce you to Mr Charles Whelby? Mr Whelby is a friend and terrible tease. Mr Whelby, may I present Eleanor, the Dowager Duchess of Lyonsdale?’

  ‘Your Grace, it is an honour to make your acquaintance.’ In the candlelight from the five enormous cut-glass chandeliers hanging high above the room, the small diamond stickpin in his cravat winked at them as he bowed.

  ‘Did I hear you have recently come from London, sir?’

  ‘I have, Your Grace.’

  ‘I am quite fond of London and spend most of the year there myself. Most people my age prefer the countryside. I find no comfort in being left with such a restricted number of companions.’

  ‘Well, one can never accuse Bath of being a city with restricted company,’ he replied. ‘Here the company can change from day to day.’

  ‘That is true. It’s one of the reasons I agreed to spend a month here.’

  Clara fluttered her fan near her chest. ‘Another is that she probably has matched every available female of her acquaintance in London and needed to expanded her circle of unwed women.’

  ‘There are worse things I have been accused of. Which leads me to ask after your marital state, Mr Whelby.’

  ‘Shameless. She is shameless.’

  The Dowager ignored Clara’s comment, which was of no surprise. When she had matchmaking on her mind, she was relentless. ‘I take it you are unwed.’

  ‘I am,’ he replied, appearing as if he was trying not to smile at the boldness of the woman. ‘I had asked Mrs Sommersby to marry me, but she refused.’

  She would never marry again and place her future in the hands of a husband. No man would relinquish his investment decision-making to his wife. Men were too proud for that. And she was too smart now to turn over control of her future to someone else. That feeling of panic was rising again and she reminded herself once more that she was fine. No one was ever going to force her to marry.

  The Dowager looked at him with a sympathetic smile.

  ‘Oh, do not feel sorry for him. What Mr Whelby has forgotten to mention is how that proposal occurred.’

  ‘It was given in earnest.’ He appeared affronted, but she knew him better.

  ‘He had come down with a particularly bad cold and wanted someone to nurse him back to health.’

  ‘As a wife would do,’ he explained in his defence, adjusting the cuff on his impeccably cut tailcoat with his head bent down so all she could see was his very close-cropped brown hair that was just starting to turn grey.

  ‘Well, since you will not be marrying Mrs Sommersby, perhaps we might interest you in meeting another lady?’

  ‘She is not a fine pair of embroidered gloves that you can offer like that,’ Clara said, chastising her outspoken friend.

  The Dowager waved her pink-gloved hand at her. ‘I didn’t say that she was—however, I find being direct is the best course of action. This way no one can misconstrue your meaning.’

  ‘I don’t believe anyone could ever misconstrue your meaning.’

  ‘Which has served me well in life and why I am so good at determining which people should be together.’ She turned her attention back to Charles. ‘Mr Whelby, if you would care to meet a lovely young woman who is in attendance tonight, please let me know.’

  ‘I will, should I decide to expand my social circle.’ Once more he seemed amused by the Dowager’s directness. It was amazing that he hadn’t made an excuse to run away by now.

  ‘Capital. Please do. Now, if you will both excuse me, I think I will go and save that girl from boredom.’ She walked slowly away from them towards Harriet. Clara couldn’t imagine what the woman did to relieve boredom in a ballroom and she wasn’t certain it would be good for her to find out.

  ‘What a very unusual woman,’ Charles said, following the Dowager’s progress across the room with his eyes. ‘Which is the woman she is championing?’

  ‘The one with the red hair in the long-sleeved, white-muslin gown and the blue ribbon in her hair.’

  ‘Ah, I see now.’ His attention was fixed on Harriet. ‘Well, the girl is fortunate to have someone looking out for her future.’

  ‘She is a lovely woman who is overshadowed by her younger sister.’

  ‘Well, I can see why. The sister is a diamond of the first water.’

  Clara looked across at Ann in a white muslin gown similar to Harriet’s, but with one pale pink satin ribbon
under her breasts and another woven through the curls in her blonde hair. She was addressing her very attentive suitors in a lively manner and ignoring her sister’s obvious discomfort.

  ‘You really think the sister is that stunning?’ she asked.

  ‘Of course. Don’t you? It’s no surprise all the young bucks are flocking around her with those looks...and she appears quite charming.’ He nodded towards the group with his head and let his gaze linger on them.

  Clara turned to watch them as well. ‘But you can’t hear what she is saying. How do you know she is charming?’

  ‘Watch the way she smiles. Look at the way she engages each of the men.’

  ‘But what about her sister?’

  ‘What about the girl?’

  ‘The younger one is doing nothing to make it easy for her to join in the conversation. She is not engaging with her.’

  He shrugged. ‘If the sister wanted to contribute to what was being discussed, she would join in, instead of standing back the way she is.’

  It wasn’t that easy. She knew that from experience. She knew what it was like to stand beside a sister that men wanted and they barely noticed you at all, even though you were less than two feet from her. She knew what it was like when you tried to join in a conversation and the people around you didn’t even acknowledge what you said. It was as though you were invisible. Eventually you stopped contributing. Being invisible was so much easier on your soul when you were the one who decided it was how you wanted to be.

  Charles’s attention remained on the little group. ‘Who are they?’

  ‘They are the Collingswood sisters. Their family is leasing the house next door.’

  ‘On the Crescent?’ His brows rose as he nodded his head in approval of the fashionable address. ‘They must have deep pockets. What of the father?’

  ‘He is a barrister who has presented his cases before Parliament and the son of a baron.’

  Charles was casting an appraising gaze over Harriet and Ann. ‘Neither are spoken for?’

  ‘No. I know the blonde has had numerous offers, but has not found a gentleman that suits her fancy.’