Loving Lucy

by Lynne Connolly

  “At the end of May,” said Mrs. Carmichael.

  “Marvellous.” exclaimed Sir Geoffrey. His pleasure made his face even more handsome. His hand rested on the arm of the sofa, very close to, but not touching, Frances’. He was very good at this, Lucy thought. Now she was not the object of his gallantry she could study his techniques, see just how delicately he could bring a young lady to him.

  Tea was poured and handed round, and the conversation turned to general matters. Very soon Lucy could take her leave, much to her relief.

  When she described her visit to Philip later, he smiled and took her hands. “My love, I’m proud of you,” he said. “To face him might be the best thing you can do.”

  “I’m sure of it,” she answered. “I mustn’t set him up as an ogre in my mind, I know that. And I don’t want my hatred of him to take over my whole life. I want you to do that.”

  He would have drawn her to him but at that moment the butler announced the first of their dinner guests and they were forced to greet them instead.

  ***

  Three days after that, Mrs. Carmichael sent a brief note to Lucy. It informed her that Sir Geoffrey had made an offer for Frances’ hand. Frances had accepted him, but her mother and father had refused the match.

  The scene was set.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  The landlady of the King’s Arms showed Mr and Mrs Stanley up to their old room with some surprise. She had thought them gone out of town, but they explained to her that now Mrs. Stanley was quite well again, she wanted to visit her dressmaker for final fittings. “We may not be staying the night.” Philip informed her, “But we’ll take the room until the morning. We’re expecting visitors; pray have them shown up when they arrive.” This time there was an adjoining parlour available; they took that too.

  Havey cavey Mrs. Tilson called it. She thought there was something odd about it before, when they had left in such a hurry, and come to think of it, that ring she saw on Mrs. Stanley’s left hand when she took off her gloves wasn’t there before. If the war was still on, she would have thought ‘French spies’ and sent for the constable, but she couldn’t think what these people could be at. And they were dressed as fine as fivepence today, even though they arrived in a public hackney carriage. They’d been lovers when they were here before, no doubt about it, and now – suddenly Mrs. Tilson realised what could have been the matter. Perhaps they weren’t married before. The thought of lovers using her respectable inn for clandestine meetings filled her with indignation, but the tip Mr. Stanley had handed her was staggeringly large, and as long as they were discreet, she would turn her head.

  When the first visitor arrived, Mrs. Tilson showed her up without a qualm. Respectably dressed, not too high in the instep, more like her usual customer. The lady came alone, but was obviously respectable, and there was the parlour. Another good tip.

  Tea was taken up, and then another pot sent for. It was getting dark now, the spring evenings not entirely giving up their tenure to summer, and still they were up there.

  Another carriage arrived outside, and a gentleman got out of it. Mrs. Tilson noted it was a private carriage, but the crest on the door had been painted over. She felt sure if she got close enough she’d be able to smell fresh paint. More complications. She set herself to watch the upstairs rooms, and at the first sign of trouble, tip or no tip, out they all went.

  The gentleman didn’t notice her curious glance at him when she took him up. Very handsome – all dark flashing eyes and insolence. He seemed anxious, not a smile about him, but she sensed pent-up excitement.

  As soon as Sir Geoffrey saw who waited for him in the little parlour, he turned to leave, but saw Philip leaning against the door, arms folded, eyes glittering in unspoken challenge. “What is this?” he demanded angrily.

  “Nemesis,” said Lucy calmly. “Tea?”

  To be offered tea seemed to Sir Geoffrey the outside of enough, but Lucy poured it out anyway. “Where’s Frances?”

  “Frances is at home with her mother,” said Lucy, quelling the triumphant feeling rising within her.

  The other lady in the room smiled coyly at Sir Geoffrey. “Good day.”

  “Frances changed her mind,” said Lucy. “So Janet thought she would offer her services in her stead.”

  Sir Geoffrey looked Janet up and down once, his glance sweeping contemptuously over the ample figure, the round, childlike face. “A joke?” he said, harshly. “Very well. Ha ha. I’m amused. May I go now?”

  “No.”

  Lucy stood up and confronted her erstwhile tormentor, going as close to him as she dared. “Did you really think Mrs. Carmichael would permit you anywhere near her children without some sort of ulterior motive?” she asked, and watched as his face changed from smugness to bewilderment. “She did it as a special favour to me – and to Janet here. Janet has a fancy for you – God knows why, we’ve all remonstrated with her about it – so she’s here instead.”

  “We asked Mrs. Carmichael to allow you to court Frances. You knew she was rich, because we let you know. You thought she was amenable, but she isn’t. She hasn’t seen what you did to me, she’s too young for that – but Mrs. Carmichael and Christina saw it.”

  “So did I,” said Philip softly. “The only reason I didn’t call you out was the scandal it would cause to Lucy.”

  “You saw it?” said Sir Geoffrey. He was bemused, trying to make sense of this confusing turn of events.

  “That same night,” Royston replied. “She came to me. I cared for her, and I got more of a reward than I ever hoped for.”

  “A hundred thousand rewards.” Said Sir Geoffrey. He spun around to confront Philip face to face. “You know that should be mine.”

  “If you’re talking of her fortune, and I presume you are,” said Philip. “I never wanted it, and I never needed it as much as you did. I wanted Lucy. The money is in the bank, and we’ll discuss how to invest it at some future date.”

  “I have a good investment,” said Sir Geoffrey. Lucy could hardly believe he was serious.

  Philip smiled, but without humour. “That damned plantation? You’ll run out of money before you see any returns on that.” He said. “Everyone knows you’re short of liquid capital now, I made sure of that. That means no one will loan you money. They’ll be waiting until you’re forced to sell up, so they can buy it off you cheaply.”

  Sir Geoffrey’s expression changed. The eyes narrowed, the mouth set in a firm, straight line. He was angry. Lucy felt a chill settle over her, but she carefully kept herself carefully schooled so he would see none of her fear. “How dare you meddle in my affairs.” Cried the baronet.

  “The minute you laid a hand on my wife it was my affair,” Philip said calmly. “If matters were different, if she wasn’t my wife, if I hadn’t loved her, still it would have been the same. I’m head of the family, and it would have been my business to uphold her honour. I’ve chosen this way to do it to make sure you don’t hurt any other woman like that and to punish you for what you did.”

  Calculation entered the expression on Sir Geoffrey’s face. “What if I called you out? I have nothing to lose.”

  “I won’t go out with you,” Philip said. His refusal was a flat, absolute certainty.

  “I might make you. Humiliate you, force you into a corner as you’ve forced me. What do you imagine I have to lose?”

  Without losing a beat he spun round and, with an open hand, struck Lucy full in the face, knocking her to the floor.

  Philip was there in an instant, but Sir Geoffrey was ready for him. He put his hands up and faced Lord Royston. “I’ve been dying to do this for years,” he said. “Smug, always within yourself. Come on then!”

  Lucy, helped by Janet, got to her feet and put a hand to her face. Stunned, she watched her husband face up to the larger Sir Geoffrey, but before she could think or move, Janet had moved.

  Covering the ground very quickly for such a large lady, she walked straight in between them. She could
have received a punch for her pains, but instead she put both hands up inside Sir Geoffrey’s, knocked them sideways and hit him.

  Sir Geoffrey staggered, but didn’t fall, and Philip seemed to come to his senses. Walking around the pair, he went to his wife and helped her to a chair. “I should never have allowed it,” he said firmly. He knelt down in front of her and looked anxiously into her face. “I think he might have reddened your face a little, my love,” he said. “May I kill him now?”

  Lucy shook her head. “He didn’t hit me hard, that wasn’t why he did it. He wants you to stand up with him. He wants the satisfaction.”

  “I wouldn’t mind some myself,” said Philip ruefully. He got to his feet and stood by Lucy, taking her hand.

  Sir Geoffrey looked stunned by the blow he’d received. It was no harder than the one he had given Lucy, but twice as shocking. “If you weren’t a woman…” he said in a low voice.

  “What? You would hit her? It seems to me you’ve done your fair share of hitting women,” said Lucy coldly.

  “He won’t hit me,” said Janet stolidly.

  They all looked at her. She looked at Sir Geoffrey. Her gaze softened. “I’m sorry I did it, but you were getting off the point. This is it. I’ve taken a fancy to you, the first man I’ve ever really wanted. I have the same dowry as Frances, and since you won’t get her you might as well take me. Well?”

  Such a forthright speech called for absolute silence.

  Sir Geoffrey looked slowly round. Lucy was smiling now. “That’s it,” she said. “We asked Frances to agree to run away with you, and lead you here. If you refuse, we’ll foreclose on you. Philip has bought some of your debts, you see, just enough to give us a hold on you. If you accept, you can marry Janet, take her dowry, and try to repair your fortunes. Though I wouldn’t recommend the gaming table or that plantation.”

  Grim faced, Sir Geoffrey looked at them for a long time. They waited in silence for him to make his decision. Janet was no oil painting, but she was young enough, and well bred. She bore the same dowry as her sister, and her father was full of juice.

  He sighed. “Very well. Special licences are above my touch at the moment, so I’d planned on Gretna.”

  “No need for that,” said Janet. “We’ll go and tell my father directly. He knows I want you, and he’s said yes. He knows I can take care of myself.”

  Actually it had taken several bitter scenes to wrest permission from her reluctant father, but eventually, knowing Janet had very little chance of contracting an eligible marriage elsewhere, and confronted by pure stubbornness, he had relented.

  Janet came forward, brown eyes gleaming in happiness and put her hand on Sir Geoffrey’s arm. “We should be going now, Geoffrey,” she said. Her accents were unmistakably proprietorial.

  He looked at her and sighed. “Very well.” He allowed Janet to lead him out of the room.

  Lucy and Philip stayed where they were for a moment, and then Lucy gleefully clapped her hands together. “It worked.”

  “Yes, my love, it worked,” Philip said, calmer than his wife. But then, it had been her idea. “I still feel guilty, foisting Janet on to him.”

  “Did you see her hit him?” demanded Lucy. “He’ll never hurt her the way he did me. She won’t allow it.”

  “Do you think he’ll be hen-pecked?”

  “I’m sure of it,” she said in delight. She stood up and went over to the little table, picking up the teapot and pouring herself another cup. She poured one for Philip too, and took it over to him. He accepted it with a warm smile. “My uncle has promised to clear the mortgage on Sanders’s house, as a wedding present, and increase Janet’s dowry. But what Sanders doesn’t realise is that there is no entail involved. He’s going to put the money in trust for their children, and put the word about in the City that Sanders is to be watched.”

  “Properly under his thumb.” Lucy commented.

  She walked over to the window and watched Sir Geoffrey hand his new betrothed into the carriage. It drove out of the inn yard. “How can such a large girl simper like that?” she wondered.

  “She was a vastly pretty child,” Philip said. He put his empty cup and saucer on the table and came up to slip his arms around his wife’s waist. “She looked beautiful when she did that at eight. Her mama said she would lose her puppy-fat as she grew up, but she never did.”

  “But she has what she wants.”

  “So she does. And so do I.” He bent his head and kissed her neck.

  “Philip! Someone might see.”

  “What does it matter? We’re only Mr and Mrs. Stanley,” he said against her skin. “Who cares what we do?”

  “Oh Philip.” She sighed, despite her better judgement leaning back against him.

  “Come on,” he said. He drew her away from the window, towards the adjoining room that led to the bedroom, that room which had seen the beginning of their happiness.

  “Philip, we can’t. We’re supposed to go to the Cowper’s tonight.”

  “We can send our excuses,” Philip said. “The landlady will send someone round with a message.”

  “But-!”

  He lifted her hand to his lips. “After the shock you’ve had I think you should rest. And perhaps I should rest with you.”

  He drew her closer for a long, loving kiss. “Oh Philip.” She said, and then, with more emphasis; “Philip!”

  THE END

  Please visit Lynne’s website at http://lynneconnolly.com for details of all her books.

  You can contact Lynne on lynneconnollyuk@yahoo.co.uk