Loving Lucy

by Lynne Connolly

  Janet looked away, blushing even deeper, and Lucy suddenly realised what she was getting at. “Of course,” Janet went on, “I know he’s far above my - our - touch, but he may marry wherever he wishes, and he is such a perfect gentleman.” Lucy smiled, when she thought of her recent experiences with the perfect gentleman. “I don’t know if he has any partiality,” she said, carefully choosing her words, “But I think he might be expected to look for a conformable wife at Almack’s.”

  Janet smiled and nodded. “I know, but he is an orphan, he has no-one to please but himself. And his mother was my mother’s sister.”

  “He may not wish to marry so close a relative,” Lucy said, seeing a way out.

  Janet shrugged her broad shoulders. “It happens all the time,” she said. “Only sometimes - sometimes I have thought he might not be entirely indifferent to me.”

  And I thought he was completely indifferent to me, Lucy thought. But she said nothing.

  ***

  “Fiona, can you spare a moment?”

  Lucy cursed inwardly but turned with a smile and went in to Mrs. Carmichael’s bedroom. She’d got ready quickly because Philip was coming to dinner again, and she’d hoped for a little time alone with him before everyone else came down. She hadn’t seen him for two days, and she was surprised at just how much she missed him.

  “This? Or this?” said Mrs. Carmichael. She held up two necklaces, one a pretty, light gold one with a cameo, the other a gold pendant. Lucy indicated the gold pendant.

  “Thank you,” said her hostess. “Won’t you sit down?”

  There was a boudoir chair by the window. Lucy drew it up and sat down. Mrs. Carmichael looked at her steadily then she turned back to her mirror and put the cameo necklace down. Putting the pendant around her neck, she said, “What do you think of our fine cousin Lord Royston?”

  Lucy, taken by surprise, tried for a neutral reply. “He’s very pleasant, ma’am.”

  Mrs. Carmichael merely said, “Hmm.” But she went on; “May I tell you something about him? Something you might not know?” She didn’t wait for a reply. “He’s my sister’s son. She died when he was five, so he’s been without a mother for most of his life, but my sisters and I did everything we could to fill the space his mother left. She was a lovely woman, but not strong. Perhaps I’m fonder of him than I have any right to be, but sometimes I feel as protective to him as I do to my own son.” She turned round in her chair and smiled. “There has only ever been one woman for him.” She paused, and then looked Lucy directly in the eyes. “Do you know who that is?”

  “No,” said Lucy, taking the path of least resistance.

  “Lady Lucy Moore, the one woman he can never have.”

  Despite her desire to keep calm, Lucy thrilled to the confirmation. “How do you know?”

  She sighed. “He told me once, when he was feeling particularly vulnerable. But he knows he can’t have her; he’s always known.” Lucy carefully kept her face clear of all expression except a grave concern. “But I think, my dear, he may be becoming fond of you.”

  Lucy couldn’t resist. “I thought he liked Janet.”

  “He likes her well enough, nothing more. My girls are good prospects; I’ve brought them up as well as I could and they have ten thousand each.”

  Lucy was astonished. “That’s better than many girls in society.”

  Mrs. Carmichael smiled complacently. “As I said, they’ll do well. But I don’t think my Janet is going to be a countess. Not a Countess of Royston, at all events.” She smiled. “She likes Royston; it’s only to be expected. He’s an attractive man. But I think he may be showing a partiality for you. Now you’re not to dwell too much on the idea. He can have anyone - almost anyone - he chooses, but I wanted to make sure you knew, and see how you felt about it.”

  “Well,” said Lucy, seemingly unsure. “I like him.”

  “Good. Love frequently comes out of liking. It’s all a lot of married couples ever feel for each other.” She looked at Lucy who must be showing a little of her inner feelings, for she went on; “I just wanted to know if you could like him. I feel I should take care while you are here, especially since your mother can’t be with you. If you took him in dislike, I would discourage him for you.”

  “Oh no.” said Lucy quickly.

  Mrs. Carmichael smiled. “Then we’ll let matters take their course, shall we?” Looking at Lucy again she said; “you look a little like her; perhaps that’s why. But he likes you for yourself now, I’m sure of that.”

  “Have you seen Lady Lucy then?” she asked anxiously.

  “Yes, once or twice, but never close up,” replied the lady. “From what I’ve seen you have certain things in common. Such a shame she’s had to leave London. We could have taken you somewhere she would be and you could have seen for yourself.”

  “Yes,” Lucy said timidly, wondering how that would be achieved.

  “Also,” Mrs. Carmichael continued. “I wanted to ask you something.” She looked at Lucy seriously and clasped her hands in her lap. “I know you might think this is forward of me, and you don’t have to answer if you don’t wish to. But - it seems that your mother was very anxious for you to come to London.”

  “Yes,” said Lucy doubtfully. She hadn’t the least idea what Mrs. Carmichael was getting at now.

  “I just thought - well, that you might have a prior agreement of your own?”

  “I don’t understand.” She really didn’t understand.

  “Did your mama want to get you away from Edinburgh for a time?”

  Lucy saw then. She didn’t have to say much to prolong that speculation. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “An unfortunate connection?” Mrs. Carmichael lifted her eyebrows in query.

  “Yes ma’am. It would not have done. Now I have been away for a while, I can see that.”

  “Such a sensible girl.” Mrs. Carmichael smiled. “These things happen in the best regulated families. Believe me I won’t tell a soul.” Lucy felt that Mrs. Carmichael’s daughters might be apprised of the situation before they slept tonight. But no one else, of course.

  She nodded. “Most mistakes can be corrected. I have written to my mother telling her I’ve changed my mind.”

  “Good girl. I’m sure you’ll feel better for it. Now be off with you; I’m sure I heard the front door not fifteen minutes since.”

  Lucy was sure too; that was why she’d left her room.

  She found Philip alone, and without pausing, went straight into his waiting arms. He moved against the door to prevent anyone else coming in and kissed her, sweet and long. “I’ve missed this.” he said.

  “So have I,” she confessed. “But someone will be down any minute.”

  “Better make the most of it then.” He kissed her again.

  Lucy laughed a little shakily, but made no effort to break away. “Mrs. Carmichael has noticed your partiality for me. “

  “Perceptive woman.” He drew back and smiled at her. “Does she mind?”

  “She thinks it might be good for you. She also thinks my Scottish mother sent me to London to avoid an unfortunate attachment.”

  He laughed. “A neat twist. She always did see too much. She is perceptive, but she tends to draw the wrong conclusions sometimes. Let her think it.”

  “I rather thought I might.” She smiled and reached up one hand to touch his cheek. “And you’ll face Astley’s with us tonight?”

  “Yes; it could be amusing. Have you ever been?” he turned his head so he could kiss her hand and the memory of that other time flashed across her mind.

  “No; Mama didn’t think it suitable.”

  He studied her for a moment, and then said; “Your Mama is turning London upside down in her own way, but she’s looking in all the wrong places. She’s sent to see if your body’s turned up, she’s visited every friend she has, in case you sought sanctuary with one of them.”

  “Did she get the letter I wrote?”

  He smiled again. “Yes; I had it
delivered by hand and then visited her about an hour afterwards. She was furious.”

  Lucy looked distressed. “Oh no. I wanted to explain things and stop her worrying, that’s all.”

  “Your refusal to marry Sanders seems to have made her all the more determined that you should have him. I don’t know why she doesn’t give the thing up and send the notice. The day, the very hour that wretched contract expires, I’m sending a notice to the papers. With your permission.”

  “Freely given.”

  He bent his head to her again, but they were forced apart by the sound of feet on the stairs outside.

  When Janet came in, Lucy was sitting in a chair on one side of the fire and Philip on a sofa opposite. He stood up when she came in and she moved to sit next to him. “The others will be down in a moment,” she said, simpering at him. Lucy wasn’t sure simpering suited the large Janet. She would be much better if she presented a dignified aspect to the world, instead of using tricks better suited to a frail schoolroom miss.

  The others joined them in short order, and they set out soon after to WestminsterBridge, near where Astley’s was situated.

  Astley’s amphitheatre was the first purpose built arena of this type in modern times. The Romans had had their circuses, and this was the nearest equivalent. Lucy had never visited it before, but many other people of her acquaintance had, especially as children. Her mother had not considered it suitable, and consequently it had been one of the places Lucy particularly wished to see.

  Philip found his attention entirely taken up by Janet Carmichael, who insisted on taking his arm and walking with him, but Lucy, in the company of Rodney Carmichael, was content enough. The experience was novel enough for her to be totally caught up in it.

  When they passed through to the main arena from the entrance hall, Lucy caught her breath in delight. Their seats were on the first tier, so they looked down on the great arena. There were seats set all around, except for the proscenium where the artists would enter. It was heavily sprinkled with fine, clean sawdust, and was the biggest arena Lucy had ever seen. Rodney laughed when he heard Lucy’s exclamation of surprise. “It’s the largest in Europe, so they say,” he told her. “The chandelier is one of the largest in existence, too.” Lucy looked up to see the massive chandelier, holding more than fifty lamps. “Goodness.” she exclaimed. “Worthy of the Regent himself.”

  “Oh. Have you ever seen one of his residences?”

  “No, of course not, sir, but I’ve read about them,” she replied hastily.

  “Mr. Carmichael.” she heard from behind them. “I didn’t know you were attending Astley’s tonight.”

  They both turned round in their seats. Behind them were three young ladies, with three youths and an older lady, presumably their chaperone. If their gowns had any more room for furbelows and frills, she couldn’t see it. Their hair was ablaze with jewels, as were their nearly exposed bosoms and bare arms. Lucy’s eyes widened in delighted astonishment.

  They were introduced. The ladies turned out to be the Misses Pulteney, daughters of a colleague of Mr. Carmichael, and the young men, their swains. The older lady was their aunt, here, as Lucy had presumed, as their duenna.

  “Why, Mr. Carmichael we haven’t seen you in this age.” cried one. “I shall ask Mama to send you a card for our next at home.”

  “Thank you,” he replied gravely.

  Her sister flourished a spangled fan. “So unlike you to have neglected us.” she said, pouting. She eyed Lucy speculatively. “And you are Miss Moore, from the North. Christina told us of you when she came to see us the other day.” Lucy inclined her head and smiled. “How are you finding London? It must be a great change from Scotland. I have heard people still walk barefoot in the streets there.”

  “They do here,” Lucy replied.

  “But not our sort.”

  Lucy wondered what ‘our sort’ was. “I’ve never seen it,” she said truthfully.

  “Will you be going back soon?” was the next question.

  Lucy thought it impertinent, but she answered without rancour. “Fairly soon.”

  Glancing over to Philip she could see he was taken by the encounter, but since he hadn’t been introduced, took no part in it. He wasn’t to be spared for long. The girl who sat just behind him, the eldest Miss Pulteney, looked at him speculatively without speaking, and Rodney was forced to introduce them.

  All three girls smiled and fluttered, and Lucy saw Philip’s chest rise and fall in a sigh, but it was the only indication he gave of his exasperation. “They keep their grand relations very close, milord.” said the eldest Miss Pulteney. “How is it we have never seen you at one of little soirees?”

  Unanswerable without being rude, Rodney saved him. “His lordship is frequently out of town,” he said. He received a grateful glance from Philip behind Janet’s broad back. “Oh, if I was a member of the ton I declare I would never leave town.” said Miss Annabelle. She spread her fan over her face and simpered.

  A sharp crack distracted her. Lucy had opened her own fan, and flicked it before the front of her face before closing it with an equally sharp sound. A gesture of annoyance, but she redeemed herself by smiling sweetly at the sisters. “Do you stay in London all year?” she asked. If they could ask impertinent questions then so could she.

  “Nearly, although we go to Brighton once in a while,” replied Miss Annabelle. “There is simply no better place to be.” her head glittered with hair ornaments. Lucy was afraid one or two might fall out, and watched closely.

  “And how do you like Astley’s, Miss Moore?” asked her eldest sister. “Do you have anything like it in the North?”

  “No, nothing,” replied Lucy. She glanced towards the proscenium, but nothing was happening yet. “No, I don’t think there’s anything like it in the world.” Miss Pulteney agreed complacently. “Do you have supper afterwards?”

  “We hadn’t made any plans,” said Mrs. Carmichael, much to Lucy’s dismay.

  “Then shall we make up a party? There’s a neat little set of supper rooms close by - perfectly respectable.”

  It was agreed upon, and then, at last, the show began.

  Lucy lost herself and her troubles in childish wonder at what passed before her eyes. Horses performed magnificent tricks and danced to music; the little dogs made her laugh, and the clowns and their acrobatics amused her mightily. She didn’t notice Philip watching her, taking pleasure from her amusement.

  She was terrified when the tightrope walkers performed high above her head, and clutched Rodney’s arm in sympathetic support for the acrobats balanced precariously above them. She was so enthralled she didn’t notice it wasn’t Philip until he winced and she had to look away and apologise to him. The look of delight on her face completely reconciled Rodney to her too-tight pinch, and he smiled back at her.

  When the show ended Lucy applauded as wildly as everyone else, and laughed in her joy. She had rarely enjoyed herself so much, or taken such little notice of her surroundings. Her companions took a great deal of their pleasure from her enjoyment of something she so evidently had never seen before. Philip, smiling, looked away for a moment, and then hastily turned his head back towards Janet, hoping Lady Derby hadn’t seen him. She would be bound to demand an acknowledgement, if she saw him - or worse - Lucy.

  Offering his arm to Janet, he stood up with most of the people around him, and moved into the centre of the crowd of people all heading for the nearest exit. The Pulteneys were calling and speaking loudly enough for everyone. “Not as good as last time, but very good.” cried one, to be followed by; “I think I like the monkeys best.”

  Discussing the show, they made their way out of the theatre.

  Janet clutched Philip’s arm so possessively he didn’t have a chance for a quiet word with Lucy, but Lady Derby seemed to have gone now. The supper rooms being declared near by, they decided to walk.

  Lucy found Rodney to be a kind and attentive escort. She hoped they could remain friends when she
was forced to tell them who she really was, but somehow she doubted it. These people were very kind, and they might not appreciate the deception she was perpetrating on them. With a guilty pang, she knew they were right, but she also didn’t know what else she could have done. Other than marry Geoffrey.

  The supper rooms proved to be comfortable, respectable, and not at all fashionable. Lucy relaxed, and enjoyed the company.

  It was astonishing to her to see the depths of vulgarity uneducated people with some money could achieve, but after her first shock, she began to appreciate it. Looking at the expensive profusion of the elder Miss Pulteney’s attire, suddenly it occurred to her; “Why not?” It obviously gave the lady pleasure to flaunt her wealth in this way.

  On the other hand, she found their manners a little wanting. Some of their questions, far more intrusive than the questions of the Carmichaels, made her wince. Some she found amusing.

  “Miss Moore, have you ever been to Court?” asked one.

  “Well,” Lucy said carefully, trying not to tell any actual untruths, “I’m not from the most senior part of the family, you know. There are lots of Moores, we’re a prolific family.”

  “Oh yes, but I wondered if you had attended it since you’ve been in London.”

  “No, I’ve barely been here two weeks.” Lucy protested.

  “Don’t you get an invitation because you are a Moore?”

  “Oh no,” she said, “You have to be more than that.”

  “Oh,” said the girl in obvious disappointment. “I could take you to see St. James’ Palace one day, if you wanted.”

  Lucy thanked her for her kindness, but left the invitation open. “I’m very interested in the other sights,” she told them. “I’ve never seen anything like Astley’s before, and I loved the shops.”

  “Yes, I do believe the shops are the best anywhere.” said the girl. “And if you know where to shop - such bargains. Look what I got.” fishing at the pendants dangling into her décolletage, she selected one and showed Lucy a locket, which opened on a blank space. “I’m going to put a picture of my sweetheart in it - but I haven’t got a sweetheart yet.”