Loving Lucy

by Lynne Connolly

  He smiled slightly, and a flash of understanding passed between them, the first for years. “I had to try. Your mother ignored Mr. Chumleigh’s efforts to contact her, so he turned to me. I had no luck with her ladyship either, but I had to try to see if you would talk to him.”

  “I appreciate it,” she said gravely, and looked at him properly. Perhaps the shock of this terrible discovery heightened her awareness, but the antagonism fell away, and she remembered the boy she had played with and saw the man he had become. He wasn’t her enemy at all. He had never mentioned her fortune or marrying her for it because he didn’t want it. “Have I wronged you?”

  He smiled. “Maybe. But with Bernard constantly harping on about your fortune, and your mother’s constant antagonism to me you can hardly be blamed for it.” He paused at the mention of his dead brother. “Believe me, Lucy, I don’t desire your fortune. Not as Bernard did. Your father was very fair; he left the estate in good heart. I have more than I need, more than I ever expected to have.”

  Some cynicism still remained. Who wouldn’t want her fortune? But she could believe that he wasn’t as eaten up by her money as some of her suitors had been. And now, she could believe he had her interests at heart. Of course, he wouldn’t want to see such a fortune dissipated, but now she thought afresh, she realised he had never made an extraordinary push to get it.

  Tentatively, she smiled at Lord Royston. He smiled back, warmly. “Truly, Lucy, I value your friendship more than I do your money.”

  She didn’t know whether she should believe him, but she would always be grateful to him for his actions today. “It was very good of you to persist. You could have left me to my fate.”

  He shook his head. “I’ve heard rumours about Sir Geoffrey, and not just his money. This difficulty is of recent date, but - delicacy doesn’t permit me to say what I’ve heard.”

  This, naturally, made Lucy more agog. “What have you heard?” she demanded, just as if she was the imperious schoolgirl once again, demanding he climb an apple tree for her.

  She thought he remembered it too, since he laughed a little, despite the nature of the conversation. “Truly I should not say.”

  “He’s had mistresses?” She shrugged. “All men have had mistresses.”

  He drew back a little. “He doesn’t keep them for long. And that, Lucy, is as far as I’m prepared to go.” She could see he meant it by the firm line of his mouth, but determined to find out more. Perhaps the scandal-sheets would have something. She didn’t usually read such rags, but she might make an exception this time.

  Mutely she turned to Lord Wenlock, but he shook his head. “Suffice it to say that I, too, am glad you’ve decided to break it off.”

  “Is this – whatever - is it widely known?”

  “It’s not discussed a great deal,” Lord Wenlock replied. “Just that - most people seem to know it.”

  “Men you mean.” Her mouth curled in disgust.

  “Yes,” said his lordship, but he wouldn’t say any more either. Perhaps Mr. Chumleigh would tell her, Lucy thought, but not today, with these two prudes present. She would have to come back sometime soon, and she would ask him then.

  Putting the thought to the back of her mind to be pondered on later, she turned back to the papers in front of her and studied them one last time before she drew them together and gave them to Mr. Chumleigh to put with the others. “There’s no mistake?”

  “None at all.”

  “And it couldn’t be his steward, or another employee?”

  “It seems that some of the entries are in his own handwriting. And there are some notes, written by Sir Geoffrey, pertaining to the matter.” Lucy didn’t ask how Mr. Chumleigh got those notes. He had his methods. She did know he was totally reliable.

  She got to her feet and reached for her bonnet. The gentlemen followed. “I’ll tell them before dinner that I cannot marry him. Geoffrey is the only guest tonight. That way my mother will hear at the same time.”

  Chapter Nine

  Lord Royston took Lucy home in his carriage but very little was said on the return journey. She let him hand her into the carriage without a qualm, knowing she had nothing to fear from him now.

  She sat in silence for a while, gripping her hands tightly together, and mentally said goodbye to the sweet dreams of the past week or so. But she didn’t cry. That might come later, but not here.

  Finally she turned to look at his lordship, who was watching her with concern in his eyes. “Do you think this is why Geoffrey warned me against you?”

  He nodded. “Perhaps. Or perhaps he is jealous of you. He might care for you, Lucy, but he is not the man you have imagined him to be, the man he displays in public. Be careful.”

  She agreed, but couldn’t see how Sir Geoffrey could have any power over her, once she had broken off her connection with him. “I hope it doesn’t create too much scandal.”

  “I think,” said Philip, a militant gleam in his eye, “I can persuade him to take it like a gentleman and not make a fuss.” Lucy didn’t doubt it.

  At the end of the journey she let him take her hand and kiss it, and hand her down himself. She wouldn’t have done that an hour or two before. With a friendly smile she hurried indoors, followed by her hulking bodyguard and went straight upstairs to change for dinner.

  Lucy decided on a rich blue that evening. She wanted to appear in control, stately, not a frivolous girl, and so she tried to dress the part. Her only jewellery was a sapphire pendant, suspended by a fine gold chain, and a pair of small sapphire studs for her ears. She drew on her long evening gloves and studied herself in the mirror. Her gown suited her dark hair and brought out the brilliance of her eyes. It was a rich, heavy satin, glowing dully in the light of the fire and the candlelight. It wasn’t quite dark outside, but it had been a damp March, so the lights had been set early.

  When she went downstairs her fiancé was waiting for her, but her mother and aunt weren’t down yet. He moved to take her in his arms but she moved a little to the side, so she wasn’t facing him, and her kiss wasn’t a lingering one. This would be more difficult than she had thought.

  “Why what is it my dear?” A look of perturbation crossed his handsome face. “Is there something amiss?”

  She moved away from him, towards the fire. “Maybe.”

  “Are you feeling quite well?” His look of concern would have touched her yesterday.

  “Quite well,” she assured him in a firm voice.

  To her relief her mother came in, closely followed, as ever, by Aunt Honoria. She smiled broadly at her future son in law and gave him both her hands, which he kissed before he released them. Lucy watched the performance cynically. She had heard the expression “the scales fell from her eyes” but she had never experienced it before. How could she have let herself be borne away by a handsome face, a powerful body? If she had any vestiges of feeling for him they were of wonder that anyone could set out to deceive their fellow beings so thoroughly. Her emotions were such that she almost wanted to defer the scene that would inevitably come, but she knew if she didn’t face it now, she would be tempted to procrastinate.

  Her mother began to make small talk with Sir Geoffrey, and Lucy used the time to work out how she could start the tricky topic. Geoffrey, after one quizzical look at his betrothed, went to sit next to her ladyship, while Aunt Honoria came to sit next to her niece. “Did you bring any books home today, Lucy?” she asked mildly. Lucy at once felt guilty. Her aunt loved to read, and preferred the lighter kind of material available. She had few enough pleasures of her own. Most of her day was spent pandering to Lady Royston’s needs and desires. The books were her chance for solitary pleasure, and Lucy felt sorry she had deprived her aunt of it. “I’m sorry, Aunt Honoria, I didn’t get any. I was distracted - something else came up.”

  Aunt Honoria’s thick brows went up in query, but she didn’t ask anything else.

  Lady Royston was pursuing the subject of mutual acquaintances with Sir Geoffrey and
was charmed to discover she had several things in common with the baronet’s (now sadly deceased) mother. “How strange we did not meet.” she was saying. “I too attended Miss Turlington’s seminary in Bath for a short time. What year was she there?”

  “In about ’80, I believe,” Sir Geoffrey replied after a moment’s thought.

  “Why, so was I.” Lady Royston cried. “How delightful. But she must have been just a little older than me, I fancy, otherwise we would have been bound to meet. Of course, I met her later when we were both out, and yes - I think I could give her a year or two. Such a shame she isn’t here to see our families conjoined. The Sanders’s are an old family, I think?” she knew very well; it had formed part of her enquiries.

  “Indeed, we’ve been in that part of Hertfordshire for seven hundred years now. The house is very ancient, but my grandfather had it remodelled, so it has a very modern aspect from the outside.” He turned to look at Lucy. “I hope you will learn to love it as much as I do.” He gave her one of his charming smiles and without thinking, she smiled back.

  Brought to a new awareness of her purpose she stared at him for a moment until a gentle, “Lucy.” from her side recalled her to her decision.

  It was time. She took a deep breath. “I do not think it will be possible to continue our engagement, Geoffrey. I’m very sorry.”

  She saw the blackness descend on to his face; a frown creased his brow. The silence fell heavily between them. “What do you mean?” Lucy heard menace in his voice.

  “Certain things have come to my notice,” she explained, careful to keep perfectly still. “In the light of them I think it may be inadvisable to continue.”

  Her mother sat bolt upright by his side, her mouth a perfect ‘o’ of astonishment. Closing it, she swallowed, and demanded. “If there was anything to be found, I would have found it. I’m surprised at you, Lucy. Can this be capriciousness?”

  “No, Mama.” She gripped the sticks of her closed fan tightly, trying to find support from somewhere. “I met Lord Wenlock in Hookham’s this afternoon, and he took me to see Mr. Chumleigh. Lord Royston was there.”

  “My God.” Sir Geoffrey exclaimed in sudden fury. “Didn’t I tell you to keep away from him? You were lucky to escape with your life.”

  “Lucy what do you mean by this?” her mother demanded, her voice rising in anger. “How could you go against my word in such a way? And those two men? Your reputation.” She took a deep breath in preparation for what her daughter could see would be a tirade, and so Lucy took the chance to speak.

  “It seems Sir Geoffrey has less to his name than he led us to believe - “ she began, but she was cut short by Lady Royston’s onslaught.

  “You would believe the word of a Cit over the word of a gentleman? I thought I had brought you up better than that, Lucy. You went with these men - men who may want to encompass your early demise - to an address in the City.”

  “I took Greene,” she protested, but her mother swept this aside with one imperious wave of her hand. Her eyes blazed with fury. “He has orders to protect you against such assaults and he will be dealt with. This is more than a mother can be expected to bear. How could you be so stupid, so blind to the proprieties, so unaware of your own safety?”

  “They mean me no harm –“

  “I think Sir Geoffrey has proved that they do. Why anything could have happened. Lord Royston could be standing in this room now, gloating over his increased fortune. Do you know how many bodies they find in the Thames every year? Do you?”

  Lucy decided to let her mother say what she needed to. She would say it anyway. “No, Mama.”

  “Hundreds.” Lady Royston said dramatically. “They lay them out in sordid little rooms and expect the relatives to come and identify them.” She shuddered. “Can you imagine who they would lay you next to? How you would be discovered? Oh Lucy.” Lucy couldn’t decide if her mother was more agitated at the thought of her daughter’s early death or her mixing with the lower orders in such a way. “I would have nothing, no one.” Sir Geoffrey laid a gentle hand over hers and she glanced at him gratefully. “At least someone has a thought for a mother’s sensibilities. I shall have one child I can rely on, even if it is only by marriage.”

  “But Mama - “ Lucy protested.

  Lady Royston glared at her. “If you think that I’ll send a notice to the “Post” based on tittle tattle from someone I don’t trust you can think again. The scandal. You would be labelled as a jilt for all to point at. No, Lucy, you have made your decision and you will marry Sir Geoffrey next month. He is better than you deserve and well you know it.”

  Bewildered, Lucy couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She knew her mother had heightened sensibilities for social niceties, but surely, this wasn’t so bad? She would be called a jilt for a while, but she knew her fortune would lure them back. For all its vaunted superiority, society still relied on hard cash for its supremacy. And why should her mother take Sir Geoffrey’s part in this way? Did she fancy him herself? She shook her head. “No, Mama, I will not.”

  “I don’t think you have been listening to me -” her mother began, but just then, the door opened on Lane, coming in to announce diner. One look at his mistress’ face made him bow gravely and leave again, going down to the kitchens to report to his particular crony, Mrs. Jenks the housekeeper; “She’s in a bate. Better make sure everything upstairs is shipshape, She’s bound to find something.” Thus warned, Mrs. Jenks hurried off to drag her housemaids from their dinner to send them upstairs to check everything again. Just to be on the safe side.

  Back in the drawing room, there seemed to be no stopping Lady Royston. She was adamant that the marriage would go ahead, scandalised that Lucy should go with Lord Royston anywhere, much less an address in the City. She brushed aside any attempt by her daughter to explain. “No, Lucy, my mind is made up. Sir Geoffrey is an excellent match and he will make you a fine husband. You will marry him next month.”

  “But he’s a cheat.” Lucy managed to gasp out. All her careful preparation was ruined, all her thought out speeches unsaid. Her mother would hear none of them.

  Lady Royston turned an unbecoming shade of pink, as her rage increased. Sir Geoffrey looked at her with some alarm. “If I may speak to Lucy alone for a while, I think I can persuade her of the rightness of it,” he purred. “Dear Lady Royston I would hate to cause you any further distress. I’m sure this is but wedding day nerves. Lucy is a carefully protected girl, and she may be feeling some qualms. May I reassure her?”

  At his smooth, light voice Lady Royston stopped in her tirade. She studied at his handsome features instead, his smooth face, his sincere expression. “You’ll be overlooked in the front parlour.” Something changed, something subtle. Lady Royston and Sir Geoffrey considered each other gravely. “Her room is on the next floor up from this,” she told him.

  Lucy felt her aunt’s hand grip her arm. “No.” that lady cried in her small voice. “You cannot.”

  “It’s done all the time,” said Lady Royston smoothly. Her face had regained its natural colouring and she was almost smiling. “There will be no talk of postponements then. I will tell the servants Lady Lucy isn’t well, and you sir, have taken her to rest. They will know what to think, I am sure.”

  Lucy seemed to be the only one who didn’t know what the purport of her mother’s meaning was, but she knew she would be glad to get out of her presence. Perhaps when she confronted Sir Geoffrey with what she knew, what she could say about him, he would leave her alone. So when he stood up and offered her the support of his arm she took it gladly and let him take her upstairs.

  ***

  Lucy considered her room her only sanctuary in this house. Any conversation would be heard from the dining room if they used the front parlour, and the drawing room was available to any guests. Servants could come in at any moment. But she still felt awkward, showing Sir Geoffrey into her bedroom, even though she knew he was a gentleman. He sat down on the chair by the fire, lea
ving her to sit at her dressing table and turn to face him.

  “Now my dear. What is this nonsense?”

  Lucy took a few deep breaths to steady herself. Her mother’s attack had made her feel unsure of herself, but when she remembered those papers, the clarity of what they had told her made her strong again. “I went to see Mr. Chumleigh to find out the results of his investigation.”

  “With the one man who wishes you the most harm in the world?”

  “But I don’t think he does.” She found a ring on her dressing table, and began to fiddle with it, turning it over in her fingers without looking at it.

  He saw the nervous gesture and smiled. Lucy didn’t think she liked that smile. She couldn’t recall seeing him use it before, a kind of superior, all knowing smile. “If you are dead, he gets all you have. If you’re married before you die, then he does not, so he must act now. He knows I’ve won. We went to the same school, did you know?” It didn’t come as any surprise to Lucy; there were only a few schools to choose from. He must have gone to Eton then, like Lord Royston. “I never liked him there, either. I always knew I would win in the end.” He paused and looked her over assessingly, making her feel like a piece of merchandise. “And with such an entrancing piece of bait, too.” He smiled again. “Don’t mistake me, Lucy, I do love you, I do want you for my wife. But I can’t deny your fortune is an added attraction. Can you doubt it?”

  “I don’t want to marry you, Geoffrey.”

  “You will, my dear, you will, when you know what joys await you.” He still smiled. “Our marriage is to start tonight, it seems. The ceremony next month will be a formality, confirming what has already taken place.”