Regency Innocents

by Annie Burrows

  She felt a peculiar shrinking sensation in her stomach. He was chastising her for not organising a ball she’d had no idea was being held.

  ‘Well, get on with it!’ Robert barked, when she had sat frozen on the sofa staring at him in silence for several seconds. ‘But don’t expect tea up there. Heloise won’t touch the stuff.’

  ‘Are you not coming?’

  ‘Absolutely not!’ What did he know about arranging a ball? It was women’s business. They would enjoy it, no doubt—women seemed to. And it would be a good opportunity for Deborah to get to know Heloise better. The countess had few close friends, but she had already taken to his wife, for some reason that eluded him.

  ‘All I want is my bed. And some peace.’ He needed to remove his false leg. He had been wearing it for longer and longer periods, and it was chafing almost unbearably. This was the price he had to pay for indulging in vanity. He had not wanted his wife to see him hobbling about the place on his crutches. And he had left off having Linney in each night, to rub on the ointment that might have soothed the stump, because Deborah did not like having a servant intrude in their bedroom.

  Rather stiffly, Deborah got to her feet and stumbled to the door. He wanted some peace. In other words, she was irritating him. This was why he had suddenly decided to come back to London. Not only was he was tired of the dalliance, but he wanted his life to go back to the way it had been. He could not have told her more clearly that, if it had not been for the inheritance, he would as soon have not married her at all.

  Chapter Ten

  Susannah had been quite right. The Countess of Walton was a useful person to know. Modistes, milliners, haberdashers—they all fell over themselves to serve such an exalted personage. Even with the Season being in full swing, and all the best dressmakers working flat out to meet the demands of their fashionable customers, they assured the Countess that her friend would have a fabulous creation ready in time for her ball.

  The Countess picked out an underskirt of pink. Since it suited Deborah’s dark colouring, she saw no sense in raising any objections, especially since she was sure that, had she come alone, this particular modiste would have shown her the door. She did demur over the level of the neckline, but both the modiste and the Countess insisted she would not look fashionable if she had an extra inch of lace added to preserve her modesty. Since Robert had stipulated he wanted her to look fashionable, she ended up agreeing to purchase a garment that she felt was little more than a strip of ribbon bound round her nipples, from which quantities of spangled gauze cascaded as insubstantially as a waterfall.

  While the seamstresses set to work on it, Robert accepted an invitation to an informal card party at the house of one Captain Samuels, and an evening at the opera with the Earl and Countess.

  ‘My friends won’t care what you look like,’ he bluntly informed her. ‘So it won’t matter if none of your new gowns are ready. And I thought that sparkly thing you had on at Lensborough’s ball would do nicely for the opera. Just be sure to get a cloak to wear over it. That should not be too difficult, should it?’

  ‘Not at all,’ she had replied, baring her teeth in a polite smile. Not even a clueless, provincial vicar’s daughter could fail to get her hands on an opera cloak with two full days’ warning. She could borrow Susannah’s, at a pinch.

  She managed to enjoy herself eventually, at Captain Samuels’s party, though the angular, sandy-haired officer greeted her with a sort of bluff camaraderie that was quite outside her experience. It took her a little while to work out that all the gentlemen present now regarded her as a fellow officer’s wife and accepted her into their midst as an extension of Robert.

  The evening at the opera was more unsettling still. Whenever the Earl introduced her to anyone as his sister-in-law, they began looking at her as though she was someone worthy of respect. Not at all as people had looked on plain Miss Deborah Gillies. Of course, she was not Miss Gillies any more. Not now she was married. Though just who she was, she was not yet quite sure.

  It dawned on her that it was a miracle she had ever met Robert at all. He moved in completely different social circles from what she was used to. In fact, if he had not been so doggedly determined in his pursuit of Susannah …

  No, she would not allow her thoughts to stray in that direction. She would not allow jealousy to rear its ugly head.

  Besides, nobody could feel jealous of poor Susannah at the moment. She was quite wretchedly miserable.

  For Percy Lampton had not been near her since the day the notice of Captain Fawley’s marriage had appeared in the Morning Post.

  ‘I was not unduly concerned at first,’ Mrs Gillies had confided in her, when Deborah called, the morning after her return to London. ‘Any number of matters could have prevented him from taking Susannah on those daily outings to Hyde Park. But then I began to hear whispers that he was actively avoiding any gatherings where he might run the risk of meeting her again. There is always someone malicious enough to relay that kind of rumour! I do not know what to do with her.’ She sighed, then continued, ‘If it was you, I could tell you to hold your head up, and weather it out. But Susannah does not have so much backbone. She will droop around the ballrooms once she discovers Mr Lampton is not there. Which, of course, is fatal.’

  For a moment or two, Deborah had wondered if she should explain exactly what Percy Lampton had been up to. Only, she wasn’t sure if knowing he had only toyed with her to lure her away from Robert because of their long-standing feud, would make everything worse. Believing he had just been indulging in a casual flirtation was hurting her badly enough. Oh, it made her blood boil to think of the way he had led her friend on!

  ‘A lady should never wear her heart on her sleeve.’ Her mother had shaken her head disapprovingly. ‘Why, you would not let the world see your heart was broken, if you loved some man who did not return your regard, would you? She has ruined any chances she might have had amongst my own acquaintance. I do not know what to do with her. If she cannot pull herself together, I shall have to take her home. And then it will be even worse for her next Season. She will have destroyed any illusion that she could pass for a lady of quality! But anyway, enough of that.’ She had folded her hands in her lap, as though closing the topic.

  ‘I must say it is good to see you looking so well, my dear. The break in the country has done you the world of good.’

  Deborah bade farewell to any hope of confiding in her mother then, for Susannah came drifting into the drawing room. With a determined smile, she launched into a description of The Dovecote. By the time she had recounted the peculiarities of the staffing, Susannah was beginning to look interested. Though she flinched the first time Deborah mentioned the name of Lampton, she did seem to find that lady’s history and eccentricities quite diverting. Deborah felt that, on the whole, her visit had lifted her friend’s spirits, though she wished she could have done more.

  It had been several nights later that she realised there was one way, at least, in which she could help her friend. And it was Mrs Samuels who showed her the way.

  ‘We are going on a picnic on Wednesday,’ she said over her shoulder, while leaning over the edge of the box where they were taking supper at Vauxhall Gardens. ‘The lads are going to row us upriver till we get to green fields. We will be taking two boats, at least. I expect it will degenerate into a race, with neither team wanting to concede until we end up at Windsor!’ She laughed. ‘Do say you will come. It will be tremendous fun. The Countess used to come on some of our jaunts, before that Friday-faced husband of hers put his foot down. She always used to enjoy herself immensely!’

  Score one more point to the Countess of Walton, thought Deborah resentfully.

  Mrs Samuels, seeing Deborah’s reluctance, gave up trying to attract the attention of a particular friend she had seen disappearing down one of the dimly lit paths, and sat back down next to her.

  ‘I realise you might find our set a little overwhelming at first, without your husband,’ she
said in a reassuring tone. ‘Look, why don’t you bring a friend along, to help you keep that pack of ruffians at bay?’

  She tilted her head to where several of their party were frisking about a pair of strolling beauties across the lamplit lawn, like a pack of springer spaniels. She would have been mortified to have been the focus of such boisterous attention, but the beauties were lapping it up. And when one of them dropped her haughty pose of indifference to giggle, causing the young officers to set up a rousing chorus of cheers, it came to her in a flash that this was exactly the kind of diversion Susannah needed. Oh, not that she would get over Lampton’s defection all at once. But receiving the adulation of a fresh set of admirers might at least halt her downward slide.

  ‘Thank you,’ she smiled. ‘I should like that.’

  It was only as she was on her way home that she wondered why the woman had assumed Robert would not come with her. Had he asked Mrs Samuels to take her off his hands? Though it was not as if they saw all that much of each other these days. Life in London was such a whirl. With her having a ball to organise, and Robert being tied up with all sorts of business men in connection with the settling of his new fortune, as well as visits to his tailors and so forth, they only seemed to meet up at mealtimes. Their conversation consisted of relaying their daily schedule, and discussing which invitations to accept.

  ‘Though before long, I don’t expect our social lives will coincide much at all,’ he had once said, sending a chill down her spine.

  Had that been his subtle way of saying he did not want her hanging on his sleeve in public all the time? Until Mrs Samuels’s invitation, she had been trying to laugh off her ridiculous sense of foreboding. Why, Robert did not know how to be subtle. If he had anything to say, he would say it straight out!

  Surely?

  She shook her head. She knew she was unbearably sensitive where her husband’s moods were concerned. She was probably reading too much into his words.

  But as to this picnic … oh, she would love to get beyond the noisy, crowded city streets for one day, and breathe fresh country air for a while.

  And she would invite Susannah to come along. Especially since Robert was not, apparently, going to form one of the party. She did not suppose for a minute that Susannah would find it awkward to run into Robert again, but he certainly would.

  Her shoulders slumped as she climbed the front steps to Walton House. She couldn’t help feeling that if it were Susannah who had married him, he would have escorted her everywhere, proudly showing her off. As it was, he stood stiffly beside Deborah, at the few events they had so far attended as a couple, snapping curt responses to the fulsome congratulations he had received from his military friends. While she did not expect him to look at her with pride, or affection, like some of the other officers did at their wives, could he not at the very least try to look as though he was content with her? That was not too much to ask, when in public, was it?

  She went to the multi-purpose table under the window and pulled open a drawer to extract some writing paper. She would invite Susannah to the picnic, and send the letter via one of Lord Walton’s footmen. Lady Walton had airily told her she must consider them all at her disposal, until Robert hired more servants of their own. She grinned, flicking the end of the quill under her chin as she envisioned Susannah’s face lighting up when a liveried footman of a belted earl delivered a note to her door. And the vicarious thrill her parents would get, when she wrote to tell them that little snippet of news.

  From the shadowy bed, where Robert had been reclining, he saw the mischievous smile that lit her face with a feeling of deep unease. She had looked dispirited on entering. He had always known marrying him would not be a sinecure for any woman. But Deborah normally bore it with the fortitude that carried her through whatever life threw in her path. That grin though, as she penned a letter …

  He grimaced in pain, though for the first time since returning from Berkshire, it was not on account of his leg. He had paid a heavy price for the bliss he had known in Deborah’s arms, for the first few days of his return to London. The devil of it was that it was usually his foot that hurt the most. It was an eerie feeling, to wake with the burning need to fling off the agonising weight of the bedcovers, only to remember that the foot which hurt so abominably was actually lying on some dung heap in Spain.

  No, the spasm of pain that had him rearing up off the bed was not a physical one. It was jealousy. Raw and scalding. He felt its sting every time some fellow congratulated him on his marriage, running appreciative eyes over his lovely young bride. For she was lovely. She had a healthy glow about her that had been lacking when they first met. Two weeks in the country had put flesh on her bones, and brought colour to her cheeks.

  But the sparkle in her eye, as she received the compliments of his fellow officers, chilled him. She would lower her head, and look up coyly through her lashes at men he had considered his friends, and blush receptively at their frankly lecherous looks. He wished he had not taken such pains to ensure her pleasure in the marriage bed. He wished he had been brutish, and swift and made it such an ordeal she would shudder with revulsion at the prospect of a man’s touch. He had thought sexual pleasure was the one thing he could give her, in return for all she had given him. But it had been a grave error. Now he had awoken that side of her nature, there would evidently be no stopping her.

  She must have heard him moving about in the bedroom, for she looked up from her missive, a troubled frown appearing on her face. It did not escape his notice that she shoved the half-finished letter furtively into a drawer.

  He leaned against the doorjamb, feeling unutterably weary. What did a man do in such situations? Demand she tell him who she was writing to? Forbid her to have anything to do with any other man?

  Why should it bother him, anyway? he thought, slouching across to the well-stocked sideboard. He had gone into marriage knowing no woman could stand him. Deborah had tried, he had to give her that. But when it came down to it, of course she would prefer the company of a man who was whole, and handsome and given to dishing out the kind of complimentary claptrap all females lapped up like cats at the cream.

  She frowned when she saw him slump on to the sofa, a large tumbler of brandy in his hand.

  ‘Is your leg giving you pain?’

  ‘No,’ he snarled, tossing back half the drink in one go.

  From the way he was glaring at her, Deborah suspected he wanted to say that she was the one driving him to drink. Suddenly, she decided she would go and visit Susannah in person. Reaching into the drawer, she took the crumpled letter and stuffed it into her reticule. She did not want to leave it lying around for Robert to find.

  ‘Where are you going?’ Robert asked as she set her hand to the door.

  She did not wish to hurt him any further, when he was already in such low spirits, by mentioning the woman he had wanted to marry.

  ‘To visit a friend,’ she replied, hastily escaping through the door.

  A friend. He downed the rest of the drink in one great gulp, and tossed the empty glass among the cushions.

  If he were a whole man, he could scotch her schemes by offering to escort her. Or maybe even follow her. Though what good would that do? If he prevented her from embarking on an affair now, it would only postpone the inevitable. Women were fickle creatures. No constancy in them. He had always known that.

  So why did it hurt so damn much, knowing Deborah was just like all the rest?

  Deborah had sent one of the footmen to procure a cab. She planned to go and collect Susannah in it, rather than have her come to Walton House, and risk her running into Robert. Then they would go down to the landing stage to join up with the rest of the party.

  ‘You are looking decidedly fetching this morning,’ Robert remarked gravely as she tied the ribbons of a new chip straw bonnet in a jaunty bow under her left ear.

  ‘Why, thank you!’ She felt ridiculously pleased by this compliment. He gave her so few. It made them all the m
ore precious, because she knew that when he uttered one, he meant it, not like some men who spouted such stuff almost out of habit.

  ‘Going somewhere special?’

  ‘For a picnic, with Mrs Samuels, Captain Samuel’s wife, and some of his friends. We are taking a couple of launches up the river.’

  ‘It is a fine day for it,’ he remarked, glancing out of the window. ‘Perhaps I shall come with you.’ There was no mistaking the consternation his statement created in Deborah’s breast. And it decided him. He jolly well would go with her, and find out which one of his so-called friends was sniffing round her skirts. ‘An outing with Sammy’s crowd may be just what I need to shake off these blue-devils.’

  Deborah’s heart sank. But while she struggled to find a way to gently explain that he might rather not come, because of Susannah, he had turned on his heel, saying curtly, ‘I shall fetch my hat.’

  Linney sat bolt upright, a concerned expression on his face.

  ‘Should I—?’

  ‘No! No need for you to tag along,’ he snapped. ‘Take the day off. I shall be among friends.’ He did not want Linney to know, quite yet, what Deborah was up to.

  ‘If you are sure …?’ he began doubtfully, glancing at Deborah.

  Deborah gave him an encouraging nod, as her husband disappeared into his room to fetch his hat, and a brand-new ebony cane with a chased silver handle.

  ‘For getting into and out of the boat,’ he explained. ‘I told you I would not need you, Linney. For even if I should slip and fall into the water, there will be half a dozen muscular young chaps ready to haul me out.’

  Suddenly, Deborah understood why Mrs Samuels had assumed he would not be going on such an excursion. Why could she never remember he was not in top physical form?

  It was not until they had got into the cab that she rather haltingly confessed she was going to collect Susannah.