Loving Lucy

by Lynne Connolly

  “I didn’t come unprepared,” he confessed. He felt in his coat pocket with his free hand.

  Opening the little black box he drew out, he revealed a sparkling sapphire ring. “Oh. “ Lucy breathed, seduced by the fine stone. He took it from the box and slipped it on to her finger. “It seems to fit.”

  “It does, doesn’t it?” She held her hand up to the faint spring sun, moving it and watching the diamond glitter.

  “It’s lovely.”

  “Not as lovely as its wearer.” He looked at her fondly. “Next month I hope to fulfil the promise held in that ring. I must make myself busy. I have a house in Hampshire, but they aren’t suitable for receiving you. With my new status, I suppose I should think about putting it in to repair, shouldn’t I?”

  She smiled. “I suppose you should.”

  Lucy rather liked the idea of being mistress of a large establishment, and she let her mind wander to visions of armies of servants, all obeying her command. The house she remembered from her youth had gone to Lord Royston, but since she’d never been encouraged to think of it as her own, its going had never meant too much to her. Or so she had always persuaded herself. This one, however, would be hers, and suddenly she longed to see it. “What’s it like?”

  He grinned. “Oh a hotchpotch of a place. My family have been there forever, building and knocking down again. There’s an Elizabethan block in the centre of it all, but my grandfather built and built until you would hardly know it was there. M’father hated the place, but I don’t mind it, and I’d rather like it knocked back into shape.” He glanced down at her face. “Do you think you could do it?”

  “If I can’t I’m sure Mama will be able to put me in the way of it.”

  He laughed. “I’m sure she will.”

  ***

  They went upstairs hand in hand, ignoring the curious stares of the footmen in the hall. Lady Royston waited for them with Aunt Honoria in attendance, her face wreathed in smiles. “Such a handsome couple.” she exclaimed. “You will take the shine out of everybody at Almack’s.”

  “Wish me happy, Mama.” Lucy said shyly.

  Lady Royston majestically got to her feet. “Indeed I do, child.” She came across the large room to them, hands outstretched. They each laid a hand in one of hers, and she held them lightly for a moment before letting them drop. With a pretty smile at her intended, Lucy went across to Aunt Honoria, and embraced her. She smelled the faded lavender, drew back and studied the fine lines on her maiden aunt’s face, and in her happiness, briefly understood what it must be like to be overlooked, unmarried, a poor relation. Aunt Honoria was in the fortunate position not to have to scrape for a living, but she was at Lady Royston’s beck and call all day, and she wasn’t allowed any decided opinions of her own. It was as well she never seemed to have any.

  “Be happy, my dear,” she said softly.

  “Thank you, Aunt. I have every intention of being so.”

  She chose to sit next to her aunt, and show her the ring, while her mother and her intended discussed the details of the engagement.

  Lady Royston paused in her plans when a couple of maids brought in tea and refreshments, watched them critically as they dispersed plates of bread and butter and little cakes attractively on the dumb waiter they brought in with them. They waited to be dismissed.

  “You run such an efficient household, ma’am,” said Sir Geoffrey, “Your late husband must have been very glad of your management.”

  “Indeed, he often said so,” Lady Royston agreed. “I trust I have taught Lucy well enough to do the same for you.”

  “I’m sure you must have done, but I must confess it was her beauty and her manners that first drew me to her side.”

  “Right and proper in a young girl,” her ladyship agreed, while her daughter hung her head in confusion. “Come, Lucy, you must know how becoming you look. Pray don’t be abashed.”

  “It’s just - I’ve never believed it before.” She looked up to see a warm look in her betrothed’s dark eyes. When she smiled back at him she heard her aunt sigh. She looked away again, not wanting to make a spectacle of herself, even here, and at her mother. “April,” she breathed.

  “Yes,” her mother said. “We’ll need to get the settlement sorted out, and of course my dear, your trousseau. The settlement should be fairly straightforward so we needn’t bother ourselves about that too much.” She dismissed the vulgar subject of money with an airy wave of her hand.

  She allowed Lucy to accompany her intended down to the front door. “I think you’ve made a hit with my mother.”

  “I sincerely hope so. She is a very sensible woman, and makes me regret my mother’s early death.”

  Lucy looked concerned and lifted her hand for him to touch in the approved manner, but he took it and kissed it instead. That, too, gave her a thrill. Gentleman generally either shook hands or kissed the air about three inches above a lady’s hand. Actually kissing it was an intimate gesture reserved for particular friends, and family. And fiancés.

  ***

  Lucy found herself congratulated by everyone in society. Although sometimes she caught a sidelong glance, or a frown, especially from the older ladies. She put it down to jealousy.

  Curtis brought the post to her. She had breakfast in bed that morning, due to a late night the night before, when she and Sir Geoffrey had met at Lady Danvers’ ball. In fact, her ladyship had been most put out by their presence, as the ball was for the coming-out of her eldest daughter, a sweet maiden of ordinary aspect, who had been decidedly upstaged by Lucy and Sir Geoffrey, and their exciting news. At the end of the evening, Miss Danvers had been launched, but the evening had been Lucy’s.

  So, although she had been late to bed it was with a light and triumphant heart she sat up to look at the post the next day. She thumbed over several invitations and congratulatory messages, recognising several from the mothers of young ladies who themselves had had hopes of Sir Geoffrey. Not being a saint, Lucy allowed herself a few moments of triumph before taking up her chocolate and sipping at it while she perused the rest of her letters. The invitations she put aside for Mama to look at; presumably her mother was receiving the duplicates of them downstairs in her own bedchamber, for although Lucy was over twenty-one, her mother still supervised her social arrangements. If Lucy had seen anything she particularly wanted to attend, it would probably not have been refused her.

  She put down her drink to take up the paper-knife and slit open a missive in a hand she didn’t immediately recognise. The seal was no use; it had been hastily applied and was unreadable.

  “My dear Cousin,” it began.

  “I have read of your betrothal to Sir Geoffrey Sanders and I must beg to offer you my felicitations. As head of the family, I would have preferred to have discovered the fact in a different way, but I can understand why you must be reluctant to do so. I trust all precautions have been taken to ensure your happy future.” It was signed, “Philip,” in large, scrawling letters.

  Pausing only to throw on a lacy bed robe and picking up the pile of invitations Lucy flung out of bed and ran down one floor to her mother’s room.

  Lady Royston sat in state in her large, four-poster bed surrounded by the morning post and the remains of a substantial breakfast. All the ladies breakfasted in their rooms when in town, and her ladyship believed strongly in a solid start to the day. A satin robe in her favourite shade of lilac was thrown around her shoulders, and a pretty cap of lace reposed on her iron Moore curls. Unruffled by her daughter’s precipitate entrance, she held out her arms for a kiss.

  Obediently Lucy kissed her forehead, and then thrust the letter into her mother’s hands. “Did you hear from him?”

  Lady Royston ruffled through the neat pile of unopened correspondence by her side. Eventually, she drew out a letter in the same writing as the one her daughter had received. In her own time she broke the seal and scanned the contents. She held one letter in each hand. “Substantially the same,” she commented. “And
sadly, the wretched man has a point. I fear we must pay him a visit.”

  “Mama.” She was appalled at the prospect.

  Her mother put one of the letters down and patted her daughter’s hand. “It need only be of short duration, but it must be done.”

  ***

  Consequently, the three ladies set forth just before one o’clock. All were dressed in highly fashionable walking dress and bonnets, at their most chilling and aristocratic. Lucy watched the way her mother sailed past the urchins gathered on the pavement, the frosty little nod to the footman holding open the door of the landau for her, and she did her very best to emulate her. Lord Royston’s house was within easy walking distance from their own, but Lady Royston rarely walked anywhere.

  When they stopped outside the house in Grosvenor Square, Lucy looked up at the house where she had spent so much of her childhood. Her mother had rarely missed a season, and always made sure she was accompanied by her precious daughter, so Lucy had become used to the handsome façade, adorned by half a dozen Doric columns. She ascended the shallow steps to the front door with mixed feelings. She had only once been inside since her cousin had inherited, and was nervous as to what she would find within.

  It looked much the same. Only the flowers in the hall were different. The portraits of illustrious ancestors still adorned the staircase; the hard chairs were still ranged around the walls, the table in the centre ready to receive its burden of cards.

  Lady Royston looked around and sniffed. A maid came forward and took their hats, pelisses and gloves, and they were taken upstairs to the main drawing room.

  His lordship was alone, and he came forward to greet them with a polite smile on his lips. Lucy looked around her. He had changed the drawing room. Where pink brocade had predominated there was now pale blue silk; new upholstery on the elegant chairs, new and elaborate drapes at the windows. It was still a handsome room, but more coolly classical than it had been in Lady Royston’s time. Everything looked new, and she smelled the fresh wax on the furniture.

  They sat down and accepted dishes of tea and little cakes with every cordiality. Then, at a small gesture of dismissal, the maids left the room. Lord Royston took a deep breath and sighed. This wasn’t going to be easy. “You forgot to inform me?”

  Lady Royston regarded him coldly. “Just so, sir. It was an oversight, that is all.” She paused and looked away. “It was regrettable.”

  He let silence fall again before he spoke. “I see.” He put down his tea dish. It made a small rattle in the emptiness. “I trust you have checked this man’s suitability to join this family?”

  He looked at Lucy as he spoke, and he thought he could discern the trace of a smile on her face. He hoped so. If this marriage did nothing else, it might give him the opportunity to see more of her. While anything but friendship was out of the question now, he would value that.

  Lady Royston bridled, her shoulders straightening. If she had been less well brought-up she might have snorted. “Suitability. His birth is better than yours, his fortune as good.”

  He looked back at the older lady. “It wasn’t his birth which concerned me. I’m only too aware of the opinion you have of my mother’s side of the family. It was his fortune and his character.” He sat at his ease in one of the blue upholstered chairs, his long legs crossed at the ankles. “You have, I take it, satisfied yourself as to those?”

  “Naturally. I have every awareness of the kind of fortune hunter who has come our way ever since Lucy turned sixteen. I have fobbed off many, and I see no evidence of it in this gentleman. Mr. Chumleigh in the City has investigated his affairs. Sir Geoffrey has been most co-operative, which a gentleman afraid of discovery wouldn’t be.”

  His lordship didn’t speak for a moment. “I’m glad you used Chumleigh. He has a great deal of experience in these matters, does he not?”

  “Yes,” she replied haughtily. “With a girl as well endowed with fortune as Lucy, one cannot be too careful.”

  “I couldn’t agree more.” He looked at Lucy now. She met his gaze coolly, blue stare on blue. That and his dark hair was the only thing he’d inherited from her side of the family. He tried a friendly smile. She smiled back. “Lucy must be properly cared for.” He turned back to Lady Royston. “I cannot have one of my closest relatives in need or married to a wastrel.”

  Nettled, her ladyship replied; “If she chooses to do so it is no concern of yours, sir.”

  “Not if she makes the choice herself. Then we should all have to learn to live with it.” He turned back to Lucy, regarding her with a clear-eyed stare. “Are you happy in this choice of husband?”

  “Oh yes. Most happy.”

  Philip nodded, unsmiling. He saw more than she probably wanted him to, and the more he saw her the more he wanted to talk to her alone. There was nothing he could do today. “Then I offer you my felicitations.” He turned to the Dowager, now visibly triumphant, her head held higher than ever, a small smile played about her lips. “He is reputed to be a man of great fortune. However - but no mind, if you’re happy I’ll say no more.” He hoped to sow a tiny seed of doubt in her. “You will send me an invitation?”

  “Naturally.”

  “Then I’ll do all that’s proper. If you need any assistance pray call me.”

  The interview at an end, Lady Royston got to her feet, and so everyone else was forced to stand. His lordship shook hands with them all and they left.

  He stood close to the window and watched their departure. He’d seen enough to convince him that Lucy wasn’t entirely aware of her fiance’s character. He suspected she was being deliberately misled. The man was handsome, a man about town, but if he could manage it, Lucy would know the whole before the wedding. She wasn’t a child any more, although her mother was desperately trying to keep her that way, and she was quite capable of making up her own mind, if she were given the facts. How to do it he didn’t quite know, but there would be time to work that out later. The marriage wouldn’t be for some time yet.

  Rattling home in the carriage afterwards Lady Royston declared; “He would have put a spoke in it if he could, but I think we’ve confounded him.”

  “It seemed he was only concerned for dear Lucy’s welfare.” said Aunt Honoria mildly.

  Lady Royston turned a look of pure triumph on to her companion. “Yes, he’s very clever, isn’t he? But you see my dear, if Lucy dies without issue, the estate reverts to him.”

  Honoria was shocked. “But surely you don’t think he - “

  “Would want to hasten her death?” Her ladyship let her words sink in. “I wouldn’t be in the least surprised.”

  Lucy was appalled by the implication. They might be estranged, but she never suspected Philip of anything as bad as that. “Mama. He has never said - “

  Lady Royston smiled indulgently at her only child. “Of course not. He has more intelligence than his brother, but his ambitions are the same. Once we made it clear that an alliance with them was out of the question, Bernard Moore never stopped railing at your Papa. It is my opinion that he harassed him into his grave, and I shall never forgive him that.” she dabbed the corner of one eye with her lacy handkerchief in a most affecting way. “However, he, too, has passed on, so I shall say no more on that subject. There is no doubt that Philip Moore is of the same mind, though he has too much sense to harp on it like his brother did. He wishes you married to him, or dead, my dear, and I’m not sure which fate would be worse.”

  Lucy said nothing. She had liked her cousin when she had been allowed to, when her father was alive, but since his death, her mother had kept them scrupulously apart. Lucy suspected it might have been Mrs. Moore’s temerity in producing two healthy boys, as much as her base birth that had resulted in Lady Royston’s dislike, but she never voiced that opinion. Lady Royston believed in hands-on discipline, and her hands could be very hard indeed.

  Chapter Six

  It was impossible to ignore Lord Royston, especially at this time. Family relations must appe
ar to be cordial. At Lady Norris’ ball, Lucy saw him again, and recognised, with a sinking heart, that he was going to ask her to dance.

  To do him justice he danced very well, and he didn’t ask her to stand up with him for a waltz. That was the privilege of her new betrothed husband and those of her admirers who, disappointed but not cast completely down by her choice, asked her to remember them fondly. There were other heiresses.

  Lady Norris’ ballroom was not large, but she made up for that by only inviting the best of the ton. It was beautifully appointed, rows of brightly coloured Corinthian columns heightening the effect made by the highly polished floor, inset with coloured marbles from all over the world.

  She took Lord Royston’s hand and looked up into his face. “I’m surprised Lady Norris invited you,” she said, smiling prettily at him.

  “Oh, I’m received everywhere these days,” he replied calmly. He led her into the set.

  It wasn’t possible to exchange more than trivial pleasantries during the course of the dance; something both parties were extremely good at. They passed from the weather to the new fashion in colours, to the shocking prices hunters were fetching these days with hardly a thought. At the end of the dance, Lucy began to move towards her mother and Aunt Honoria, but Lord Royston had other ideas. “Just a moment, if you please. I need to say something. Will you grant me a moment’s privacy?”

  Lucy looked at him wonderingly, but she knew no harm could come to her with Philip, whatever her mother said, so she allowed him to lead her away. They passed through a card room to a small anteroom near the main salon. “I can’t say too much to you here,” he said, “But I would appreciate another visit from you soon. I have things to tell you.”

  He stood close to Lucy, but she didn’t mind a bit. She was reminded of their long lost friendship, ruined by ambition and greed. “What things?”

  He sighed. “About your future husband. I completed the enquiries your mother began and abandoned.”