“We shall see,” said her ladyship. She glared at Lucy for a moment and then with moved towards the door. “Come, Honoria.”
She lifted her skirts and swept from the room.
Lucy watched her go with mixed emotions. Then she turned back to Philip who looked at her quizzically. “Is that what you wanted?”
Lucy let her air of cool hauteur fall away, leaving her as she was. “Partly. I want her to understand what she did was wrong. I don’t know if she ever will, because she won’t admit it, ever. But I will have what is mine.”
He nodded. “I’ll see to that. She rooked you for years.”
“I don’t think she saw it like that. She thought it was her right to use my money, and Mr. Chumleigh was given no powers to control her spending. She could spend my allowance, and her own, and all on herself if she wished to. Not that she ever did that,” she added with a burst of honesty.
“Well your fortune is still larger than I thought possible,” he said. “My behaviour today will probably convince your mother that I married you for it, but you know that’s not true.”
She sat down again and he sat next to her, taking her hand and holding it in a loose clasp. “Yes, I know,” she replied, smiling into his face.
“My love, you’re too trusting,” he said warmly. “You accepted Sanders, and now me, despite what the people you relied on said about me. All I had to do was make love to you.”
She shook her head. “Sir Geoffrey set out to deceive me – until he lost his temper. We were friends for years, and the coolness only dates from a fairly recent date. Then, when we were forced together, I realised the warmth I felt for you was more than gratitude or friendship. I didn’t quite know what it was, but I’m so glad I decided to put it to the test.”
“So am I.” He drew her to him and kissed her gently. “Now – would you like to go to the park? We could take the carriage. It’s a fine day, and you should take some air.”
“I’d like that. May we ride to the park and then walk? We can talk to more people that way.”
Laughing, he stood and drew her to her feet. “It sounds delightful. Go and get your hat.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
They took the carriage to the park and left it outside while they strolled amongst the paths. Hyde Park was at the centre of the fashionable world, and it was noticeably more populated today than it had been the previous month. London was filling up fast, and many people were here, in open carriages, sporting vehicles, on horseback or, like Lord and Lady Royston, on foot.
Lucy was in high spirits, and knew she looked well. Happiness added a glow to her features, enhancing the modish Russian style blue pelisse and high crowned befeathered hat she wore. Philip, natty but as understated as usual was proud to be seen with her.
Strolling up one of the wider paths, they saw a group of people who moved aside a little when they approached. “Oh Lord.” Philip murmured. “Lady Jersey.”
Besides being one of the Patronesses of Almack’s, Lady Jersey was the acknowledged leader of London society. A lady of uncertain years, with a fine figure, a mass of Moore hair and sharp eyes, her disconcerting sense of humour was yet another weapon in her formidable repertoire. Lucy realised this was her greatest test yet, and then, with a light heart, realised she didn’t care very much. She had what she wanted.
Nevertheless she smiled and made her curtsey when, with a slight smile, Lady Jersey intimated she wanted to speak with them. She watched Philip’s bow critically. “So it’s true then.” she said.
Lucy met her gaze frankly. “It is true, Lady Jersey, we are married. Nearly a week now.”
“Hmm,” her ladyship said. “I must say you’re looking good on it. How does your mother feel about it?”
There was a hush. It was the question everybody wanted to know the answer to. “I think she will reconcile herself to it in time.” The reply seemed to release the breath of the half dozen or so people present. “She visited us this morning, and while this was not the match she wished for, it isn’t negligible.”
“Sir Geoffrey too much for you, eh?”
Lucy smiled. “Far too much.” From the look in Lady Jersey’s eyes, Lucy thought she might know something about Sir Geoffrey’s private life. It wouldn’t surprise her; Lady Jersey always seemed very well informed. It angered her that while so many knew about Sir Geoffrey’s proclivities, no one thought to warn her when she became engaged to him. But revenge hadn’t such a hold on her that she wanted to pay everyone back for every slight, and she knew she had some blame, for allowing herself to be rushed into something so unsuitable. Besides, she told herself, it was less revenge than justice.
“I found my feelings for Lord Royston were stronger than I had previously supposed,” she confessed, knowing Lady Jersey preferred the truth. “We have not been close for some years, but when our relationship changed from distance to cordiality, I found in him what I wanted in a husband.”
Lady Jersey seemed pleased with her speech. “Prettily said. I’m certain you will be an asset to society, in time. Permit me to send you vouchers for Almack’s.”
“Thank you ma’am, we would be delighted.” Lucy put her hand on Philip’s arm again and made to move off, but her ladyship stopped them. “A moment – these Carmichaels – I believe they are relatives of yours?”
“My cousins, Lady Jersey,” Philip replied. It was his turn now.
The feathers in her ladyship’s hat quivered as she turned all her attention to Lord Royston. “From the City?”
“Indeed ma’am, but the family is good, and their manners impeccable. They have considerable – assets.”
Lady Jersey’s eyebrows went up. “Do they indeed? Then they have some chance of success. I have seen the beauty, and I think it might be amusing to follow her progress. The other two – I think one may have established herself already?” she looked at Philip archly.
“It’s very possible,” Philip replied. “There is another, but she is younger and her mother doesn’t allow her everywhere yet.”
The lady nodded, setting her feathers bobbing again. “Quite right. But their background is totally trade?”
Lucy knew Philip wouldn’t like that. “As was my mother’s,” he said quietly.
“Quite,” Lady Jersey agreed hurriedly. “But they don’t insist on smelling of the shop-floor.”
“Our wealth is in land, ma’am,” Philip said. “Theirs is in cloth, mills and exports. One day it might surpass ours.”
There was a general titter, as though Philip had said something amusing. “Well it would be better to engage in a respectable profession than sponge off one’s better-off relatives,” Lucy said. “Or to try to make a living at the card-table.”
Lady Jersey turned a stern look on her. “As to that,” she said, “I think there can be no argument. Are you thinking of anyone in particular?”
“Oh no,” said Lucy carelessly. “But I’ve known any number of people who render themselves useless that way.”
“In-deed,” said the lady. She turned a thoughtful look on to Philip. “Where do these relatives of yours commonly reside?”
“Red Lion Square,” he replied promptly.
Her ladyship turned and regarded her hangers-on with a thoughtful look. “Not the best address, but not too shabby. I may make them a visit.”
So the Carmichaels were accepted into polite society. While their unfortunate connection with trade rendered them ineligible for the highest echelons, by her visit Lady Jersey gave her tacit consent for their appearance at many fashionable gatherings, and for people who wished it to acknowledge them.
Languid young men, recognising a Diamond, asked their mothers to invite Frances Carmichael to their parties. When she was invited, her sisters also had to be included, and so the house in Red Lion Square found far more pieces of pasteboard balanced on the fireplace than they had before.
Lucy watched their progress with satisfaction. Her first protégés – and her first success. Philip watched Lucy.
Under his care she began to blossom. She felt more secure, and happier than she felt she had any right to be. In a very short space of time it became generally known that the match between Philip and Lucy Moore had not been for any family convenience, but was genuinely a love match. Philip never tried to hide it, and Lucy tried to become used to being called ‘my love’ in company.
One morning, at breakfast, she found a long box next to her plate. Glancing up at Philip, who sat opposite her, she saw him watching her fondly. She smiled and opened the box.
Inside was a necklace of cameos, each medallion joined by a double fine gold chain. She touched them, and looked up at him. “Thank you.”
“Happy second anniversary,” he said.
“What?” she thought for a moment. “Wretch.” she said remembering. They had been married for two weeks. “But it’s lovely.” when she looked closer at the cameos she could see that each one related in some way to love. Venus of course, and Cupid, and a medallion which seemed to depict Venus and Mars. To wear it was to accept his love, to display it.
She wore it that night, at Lady Denny’s. The beginning of the season was always a flurry of coming-out balls, launching this season’s debutantes, and this was no different. Lady Denny’s offering was somewhat horse-faced, and that would become more pronounced over time, but she was a sweet girl with a thoughtful disposition, and would provide a man who looked for more than beauty in his life’s partner with a very satisfactory wife. Tonight, despite a white gown which ill became her pale fairness, she was in alt, and didn’t want for dancing partners, despite the presence of Frances Carmichael.
That family’s roots in Trade had not deterred any but the highest sticklers. Frances was in great demand, and in high good looks. Her golden beauty attracted all the younger bucks, and Lucy saw with smug satisfaction that she would be one of the hits of the season.
Lucy wasn’t unaware of the mild sensation she was causing herself. She knew she looked well, and as a married woman she could be a little more daring in what she wore. Tonight she was in red – deep, rich red velvet, with a gold cord under her breasts, and gold trim to the sleeves and the hem, but otherwise quite plain, with a scarf of embroidered gold gauze caught about her elbows. They showed off the rubies to perfection, one of the jewels her mother had been forced to give up. She was now Lady Royston and her mother the Dowager. Her mother would always take precedence over her on formal occasions, but Lucy was the wife of the current head of the family, and a great lady. She didn’t feel like a great lady, but she knew she looked like one.
Philip, she thought, was every inch the great man, and she was proud of him. Even the arrival, much later on in the evening of Sir Geoffrey Sanders failed to dent her spirits.
She didn’t know he had arrived until she felt a touch on her elbow and looked up to see Philip staring at the door. He looked away immediately, and she scanned the area and saw him. Tall, handsome, perfectly dressed, but heartless.
Despite her best efforts their gazes crossed at one point, and he bowed slightly to her. She nodded coldly back, and turned away. She knew they were watched. This was the first time since her marriage they had been at the same private function, and people would be agog to see how they behaved.
They were to be disappointed. They ought to know the Moores better than that. The family had a distaste for scandal which could amount to mania in the more eccentric members, and Lucy and Philip were both Moores. There was no one within earshot, so Lucy smiled brightly at Philip and said; “I feel nothing. My love, I feel nothing.”
He smiled back in relief. “I think that means you’re getting better. What will you do if he asks you to dance?”
“Try to refuse. I won’t waltz with him, but if I have to I’ll stand up for a country-dance. Let him think what he likes, at least for now.”
Sir Geoffrey saw Frances and his face seemed to light up, just as it had done once for Lucy. She wondered if he could turn that look off and on at will and concluded that he could. Frances was charmed to accept his hand for the waltz, and they were the most handsome couple on the floor. “He’s heard about the money,” Lucy said to Philip.
“Undoubtedly. Shall we leave them to get on with it?” He offered her the support of his arm and they ventured on to the floor.
***
Sir Geoffrey’s pursuit of Frances became more obvious over the next few days. He called for her at her home, took her driving in the Park, and made a point of discovering her movements, so he could be there too. Occasionally he was forced to put up with the company of her sister Janet, but this was a small price to pay, although the chaperonage was rigorous. He didn’t object. This heiress might have less than the last, but still enough to get him out of dun territory, and perhaps with some over for his plantation. And she was a conquest he could be proud of.
She seemed shy of kissing him or encouraging any intimacy at all, but he was content to woo her gradually. Even better, he discovered she was a pea-goose. She wouldn’t be awake to his plans, as Lucy had been, she wouldn’t object to his use of her fortune. And as for his other pursuits – his mouth watered at the thought.
Lucy watched the progress of the courtship carefully, but was also careful to give no outward signs of doing so, but the day he called at Red Lion Square she was there on quite another matter.
She went into the drawing room and immediately held out both hands to Christina, standing next to Lord Wenlock. They were taken in a firm clasp and they kissed cheeks. “I’m so pleased for you.” said Lucy. “When is it to be?”
“Just as soon as the banns are read,” said Christina. “Then Edward wants to take me into the country to meet his mother.” Lord Wenlock’ mother was an invalid, crippled by arthritis, and preferred to stay in the country. Lucy had only met her once, years ago when she had been well enough to come up to town, but she had liked her very much and even wondered wistfully why her own mother couldn’t be as kind and loving.
“You will love her,” she said firmly, and turned to greet a smiling Mrs. Carmichael. “I’m so pleased.” she said.
“So are we,” said the lady firmly, and Lucy sat down next to Janet. The sofa was large, but it needed to be. For a large lady Janet didn’t seem to have many soft curves, being rather squarely built and Lucy had the feeling that she was a heavy girl. But she was in spirits too. Frances sat next to her mother, on another sofa, and then the maid brought some tea and Lucy settled down for a comfortable gossip.
The front door bell jangled, and in a moment or two the butler brought in a card. Mrs. Carmichael handed it to Lucy without comment, and then looked at the butler and shook her head. “No,” said Lucy quickly. “Don’t deny him on my account.”
Mrs. Carmichael looked quickly at her and asked; “If you’re sure?”
“Oh yes,” Lucy said. “That’s over now.” No one but Philip knew of the nights she still woke up sweating from a dream, and that was the way she was determined to keep it. The dreams were a little less frequent now, she was sure of it, and the sight of him no longer filled her with such horror she wanted to run from him.
When Sir Geoffrey entered the drawing room he found a coldly correct Countess of Royston, extending two fingers for him to take, the expression on her face betraying nothing of the turmoil inside. Lucy felt that if she could face him with equanimity it might go some way towards making her feel better in herself. But she wished Philip had come with her instead of going to his club.
Castigating herself for cowardice Lucy schooled her face to keep perfectly still. Sir Geoffrey looked searchingly at her for a moment, but she betrayed nothing, and at last he took a chair and sat next to Frances. She seemed pleased to see him, but not vulgarly so. Lucy once again blessed the excellence of Mrs. Carmichael’s instructions to her daughters. They all behaved with a confidence born of the knowledge of how to behave, none of the gaucheries betrayed by even the highest born in the land, whose upbringing was sometimes left wholly to servants.
Mrs. Carmichael seemed a l
ittle chillier, more reserved in her dealings with Sir Geoffrey, but if he had only known this aspect of her, he might take it as usual. Certainly he seemed to see nothing amiss.
With all the arrogance of the naturally handsome and well born he took over the conversation, telling the ladies of the last evening at Almack’s he was privileged to attend. Since his object must be to make them envious, and to display his own good ton, Lucy didn’t join in, until bidden by the eldest Miss Carmichael. “Oh, it’s nothing wonderful,” she said. “The refreshments are notoriously bad, and there are far grander rooms elsewhere in London. It’s only the company people go for, and not to be seen there when you are expected to is not to be thought of.”
“You know Lady Jersey, I believe,” said Janet. She was the most inveterate reader of the popular press, and considered her new move into the ton akin to joining the stars in the sky at night.
“You have to,” Lucy said. “She has to approve of you. I like her, but not everybody does. She has a finger in every pie, knows exactly what is going on and where. But I’m not one of her bosom-bows and neither is my mother. My mother considers Lady Jersey to be an encroaching woman with no style.”
There was a slight laugh, since Lucy smiled ruefully when she said it. She would have preferred to lapse into silence again, and listen to the others, but Janet seemed determined to draw her out. “Will Christina be sent vouchers when she is Lady Wenlock?”
Lucy cursed inwardly. Sir Geoffrey said quickly; “Oh may I offer my congratulations? That is fine indeed. I had thought Lord Wenlock had the same ambitions as myself. To hear it is not so is a relief, as he would be a difficult rival to beat.” and he turned and smiled at Frances in the most sickening way. Lucy remembered just such a smile turned on her, and sickened a little at the thought. Frances smiled shyly back at him.
Christina murmured her thanks for the congratulations, but seemed uncomfortable. She had seen Sir Geoffrey’s handiwork, and wasn’t as practised a social dissimulator as Lucy. “When is it to be?” asked Sir Geoffrey.
Loving Lucy Page 29
