She had never really had a man for a friend before now. She was glad he was engaged to be married, for she doubted she would have been so comfortable in his presence otherwise. He would have probably flirted outrageously with her, and she would have retreated into an embarrassed silence. She did, though, find herself on occasion pondering what it might have been like to be the object of the earl's flirtations.
But he was betrothed, and so now all she had to worry about were those friends of his.
She pounded her pillow into a more comfortable shape and crawled deeper into the billowy mattress. She was a goose to worry so over nothing. The earl was right. She would politely acknowledge any introductions and then simply fade into the background, as always, unnoticed.
She finally drifted into sleep convinced that she would acquit herself well enough and would not bring shame upon herself or her employer.
Chapter 7
Two days later the dowager's impressive entourage pulled up in front of Bradleigh House in Grosvenor Square. The trip from Bath had proceeded without incident, despite the size of the traveling party. The earl had led the way in his curricle with his tiger perched behind. He was followed by a large, elegant traveling chaise with the Bradleigh crest emblazoned on the doors, housing the dowager, Emily, and Tuttle. A second carriage held Iris, Lottie, and George, a footman whose sole responsibility was the care of Charlemagne. A third carriage brought Luckett, Anatole, and Lucien. Yet a fourth carriage was overloaded with assorted trunks and baggage. Several outriders had been engaged to protect the travelers. Emily now understood the dowager's reluctance to leave Bath, since this grand production appeared to be her normal mode of travel.
The procession of vehicles had created such a spectacle upon departure that it had been forced to move slowly toward the outskirts of Bath. Scores of people, primarily children, had lined the roads at every turn gazing at the elegant entourage. Most assumed that such extravagance must be commanded by no less than one of the royal dukes, and so there was much waving and cheering as the carriages passed. Their slow pace had continued until they had passed through Melksham, at which time the horses were finally given their heads.
The journey had been carefully arranged by the earl to ensure his grandmother's comfort. Stopovers at the White Hart in Marlborough for luncheon and at the Crown in Reading for the night had been meticulously planned in advance so that both inns were well prepared for the weary travelers, with their best meals and their best accommodations.
As Emily had never been to London, she was filled with barely suppressed excitement as the carriages had made their way toward the city. It can't be much farther, she thought, just as one of the outriders pulled up alongside the window of their carriage, signaling for them to draw the curtains. Emily turned to the dowager and raised her brows in question, as Tuttle pulled shut the heavy velvet hangings over the windows.
"Hampstead," the dowager said.
Emily felt her stomach knot with tension. Hampstead Heath! Good heavens, she had forgotten that they would have to pass along this notoriously dangerous stretch of road. Even in the daytime the heavily wooded heath was dark and secluded, a perfect setting for highwaymen. Some of the most infamous "gentlemen," including Dick Turpin and Tom King, had worked Hampstead Heath. Surely the dowager's entourage, with its obvious stamp of wealth and position, would be likely targets for such rogues. She braced herself for the inevitable "Stand and deliver!" Her face must have registered her distress, as the dowager reached over and patted her hand.
"Don't worry, my girl," the dowager said. "We are well protected by Robert and the outriders. Besides," she said, grabbing her reticule, "I always come prepared."
Emily followed her glance and gave a start as she saw a small pearl-handled pistol peeking out from the tiny reticule. She looked up to find the dowager grinning and Tuttle furiously scowling. The situation was so ludicrous that she could not hold back her laughter. She felt her previous tension melt away as she and the dowager fell against each other, giggling like schoolgirls. For the next several miles, even after the outrider had tapped on the window with an "all clear" signal, Emily and the dowager took turns making up stories about intrepid women saving the travelers from the clutches of vicious highwaymen.
When at last they reached London proper, Emily's first impressions of crowded, noisy streets, foul-smelling smoky air, and filthy tenements caused some apprehension. Once they had skirted Hyde Park headed toward Mayfair, she began to relax a bit. Even though there were many elegant residential squares and crescents in Bath, Emily had not expected anything so grand as the enormous houses they passed as they moved along Park Lane. The dowager pointed out Holfernesse House near Hyde Park Corner, and the imposing Grosvenor House at Grosvenor Street.
"I have always known it as Gloucester House," she said to Emily, "as it was the home of the Duke of Gloucester for decades. Not too many years ago, it was bought by the Earl of Grosvenor, who has apparently spent a fortune renovating the interior. I've not seen it myself, of course, since I haven't been to Town in years. But I've heard various reports of either its supreme elegance or its overblown vulgarity. I shall have to arrange an invitation and judge for myself."
They soon turned into Upper Brook Street headed toward Grosvenor Square, which immediately reminded Emily of Queen Square in Bath, where her friend Lady Mary lived. The square was surrounded on all four sides with elegant town houses. Although each was obviously designed separately and therefore did not have the uniformity of style found in Queen Square or Laura Place, there was nevertheless a sense of familiarity that comforted Emily. The square itself was actually a small circular park laid out in a geometrical design of formal gardens and enclosed by a wrought-iron fence with elaborate gates in the center of each block. Emily eyed her new surroundings with pleasure.
The carriages pulled up in front of a large town house in the middle of the western side of the square. It was of gray stone and was distinguished by a classical pediment over the large doorway supported by two Doric columns on either side. There were three rows of windows above, the second row echoing the entrance, with small pediments over each window.
Lord Bradleigh's faster curricle had arrived a few minutes before the other carriages, so that by the time the dowager's chaise pulled to a stop, liveried footmen and grooms had spilled onto the street to assist the new arrivals. Although a footman placed a step beneath the door of the dowager's carriage, it was the earl who assisted first his grandmother and then Emily to the ground.
"Welcome back to Bradleigh House, Grandmother," the earl said as he took the dowager's arm to lead her toward the front door. "It has been far too long since you have honored us with your presence."
Emily and Tuttle walked behind, while their fellow travelers also disembarked. Emily was busy admiring the elegant facade of Bradleigh House and was therefore oblivious to the frenzied activity of unloading the carriages that took place behind her. They were ushered to the spacious entry hall, where they were met by a tall silver-haired man with a stiff military bearing, who was introduced as Claypool, the butler. Emily was also introduced to Mrs. Claypool, the housekeeper, who led the way up the gently curving stairway to the third level, where the bedroom suites were located. Emily smiled as she realized that even amidst all the confusion, Lottie, taking her new duties very seriously, had followed unobtrusively behind and had commandeered a footman to help carry up some of the more portable baggage.
Mrs. Claypool signaled to Lottie, indicating which room had been assigned to Emily, while she escorted the dowager to her suite. Lottie held the door open, and Emily entered the large sunny room which was to be her home for the next several weeks. Lottie quickly scrutinized the room and gave the footman instructions on where to place the portmanteaux. He immediately hurried from the room to help with the rest of the baggage.
" 'Tis a lovely room, miss," Lottie said as she helped Emily out of her pelisse and bonnet.
"Yes," Emily responded distractedly as she sur
veyed the spacious room. It was indeed one of the loveliest rooms she had ever had the pleasure to occupy. It was decorated in various hues of green, rose pink, and white and was dominated by a large bed covered in a fine white silk counterpane embroidered with garlands of ivy leaves. Most of the furniture was of dark wood, and Emily recognized the elegant lines of Sheraton. She found that she was immediately comfortable in this obviously English room, so reminiscent of her mother's taste. It suddenly occurred to her how truly uncomfortable she had always felt among the elaborate gilded French furnishings which the dowager preferred.
She sighed with pleasure as she looked around the room. The far wall was dominated by large three-quarter-length paned windows overlooking the square below. The shutters were open and the curtains thrown back so that the room was bathed in sunlight.
She was overwhelmed. Surely this elegant room was too grand for someone in her position, although at the same time it appeared remarkably comfortable and cozy. She wondered if Lord Bradleigh had commissioned a project of redecoration, or did the charm and cheerfulness of the room reflect his late mother's taste? In any case, it was delightful, and since Mrs. Claypool had been precise in directing her and Lottie to this room, she must assume that there had been no mistake.
A knock on the door heralded the arrival of two footmen carrying a large heavy trunk, which Emily knew contained her new wardrobe. While Lottie began to unpack, Emily stepped across the hall to the dowager's suite, to make sure that she was settling in comfortably.
The dowager's suite of rooms, consisting of bedroom, dressing room, and sitting room, was more formal, more ornate in decor than her own. Perhaps this suite was always held in readiness for Lady Bradleigh and therefore reflected her special taste. Shades of blue predominated, and the furniture was all of either light woods or painted in gilt. The large bed was draped with a tall tent-like structure of royal blue satin with gold embroidery. Although Emily much preferred the room she had been assigned, she did admire the prospect of the large garden which the dowager's rooms commanded.
Iris and Tuttle appeared to have things well under control. "I am going to have a brief rest before tea," the dowager told Emily. "I am thoroughly exhausted from bouncing around like a rag doll for two days. Go ahead, my dear, and have a rest yourself, and I will see you in a few hours for tea."
Emily returned to her room to find that Lottie had completed the unpacking. "Shall I have a bath prepared for you, miss?" Lottie asked.
"I would love a bath, Lottie. Thank you for suggesting it."
Lottie beamed with pride at having pleased her new mistress. She lost no time in ordering that a tub and hot water be brought up at once. Emily could not help but notice this new quiet efficiency of Lottie's since they had left Bath. She suspected that during the long journey Iris, the dowager's abigail, had given Lottie more than a little advice on the proper behavior for a lady's maid. Lottie had obviously paid attention and was now determined to prove her worth.
And so Emily spent the next hour feeling utterly luxurious and quite spoiled as she soaked in a tub of lavender-scented bathwater placed before the fire. She was almost able to forget for the moment that she was a woman in service and not a lady of leisure. She washed her hair and afterward sat by the fire brushing it dry. Lottie then helped her into a freshly ironed dress of pale blue sprigged muslin with a high-necked smocked bodice and long cased sleeves. Lottie also dressed Emily's still slightly damp hair into an intricate braided topknot taught her by Tuttle. During all this time, Lottie had said no more than "Yes, miss" or "No, miss" or "Whatever you say, miss," so that Emily was actually beginning to regret the apparent loss of the former chatterbox.
* * *
Emily knocked at the dowager's door and found that she was ready to go down to tea. A few minutes later the two ladies entered the drawing room with Charlemagne skipping behind. Emily noted with pleasure that this room was also very much in the English taste, with an Adamesque fireplace and plaster frieze of classical figures. Large antique portraits and Italian landscapes adorned the walls.
The earl had preceded them, and he was in the company of a dark-haired woman whom Emily did not recognize.
"Louisa, my dear child!" the dowager exclaimed as she spread her arms in a gesture of welcome. The woman rose, smiling broadly, and rushed into the dowager's open arms.
"Grandmama!" she cried. "I am so happy to see you."
"And I you, ma petite." The dowager hugged her granddaughter and then stepped back to look at her. She tilted Louisa's chin from side to side as she examined her face. "You are much too brown, my girl. Country life is ruining your complexion. But," she said, releasing Louisa, "what luck that you are in Town. Robert must have told you that I am here to give him an engagement ball."
"Yes," Louisa said breathlessly, "and I can't tell you when I've been so excited. Imagine our Rob finally tossing the handkerchief! When we saw his notice in the papers, I convinced David that we simply had to rush up to Town to meet my future sister-in-law. And what do we find but that Rob has bolted to Bath! I was never so provoked." She scowled at Robert, who stood leaning against the mantel grinning at his sister. "But you're here at last," she said as her scowl turned into a warm smile, "and I'm simply beside myself with excitement."
"Louisa, my dear," the dowager said, taking Emily by the elbow and drawing her forward, "I want you to meet my companion. Miss Emily Townsend. Emily, this is Robert's sister Louisa, Viscountess Lavenham."
Emily dipped a curtsy and said, "Lady Lavenham, I am very pleased to meet you."
"Oh, please, Miss Townsend," Louisa cheerfully replied, "you mustn't stand on ceremony with me. Why, Grandmama has written of you so often that I feel you are practically family. Besides, I feel positively ancient when someone curtsies to me like that. Please, sit down and be comfortable. My, what a lovely dress."
She had taken Emily by the arm as she chattered breathlessly, and led her to a chintz-covered sofa. Before Emily could respond, Claypool entered with a footman carrying the tea tray. The dowager claimed a large comfortable chair and settled Charlemagne next to her. She poured tea as Claypool presented trays of warm scones, slices of seedcake, and shortbread wedges. Emily was once again put in mind of the differences between this household and the dowager's, where standard tea fare usually consisted of exquisite tiny tarts, petits fours, and intricate puff pastry confections. Although she had always enjoyed Anatole's delicate French pastries, she experienced an almost childish anticipation for the traditional English treats offered by Claypool. The aroma of the warm scones almost undid her composure, and she had to force herself not to attack her plate with a very unladylike enthusiasm.
Conversation centered on Lord Bradleigh's betrothal as Louisa insisted on hearing every detail, although in her excitement she interrupted so frequently that the earl actually imparted very little information. Unlike her grandmother, Louisa was very pleased about the earl's marriage, as she had despaired of her brother ever settling down. As she was not acquainted with the Windhursts, she had no particular objection to the match. Emily was pleased that Lady Lavenham's energetic personality eliminated any need for her to participate in the conversation. She was able to turn her full attention to the scones.
"When do we meet her, Rob?" Louisa asked. "I have it!" she exclaimed as the earl was opening his mouth to reply. She turned to the dowager. "Let's have her to tea tomorrow. Oh, do say yes! I'm simply dying to meet her."
"I have no objection," the dowager drawled, breaking off a tiny piece of shortbread, which she fed to Charlemagne, "as long as Robert doesn't mind." She looked over at the earl for approval.
"I think it's a fine idea," he said, "as long as you both behave yourselves. Lou, you must promise to allow Augusta and Lady Windhurst to say at least one or two words," Lord Bradleigh said, scowling at his sister, though Emily did not miss the twinkle in his eyes. "I would not like to give them a disgust of our family."
"Hmph!" the dowager snorted.
"And you, Gra
ndmother," he continued, glaring at the dowager, "must promise to try to be polite to my betrothed and her mother, and not to look down your nose at Lady Windhurst with such obvious disdain." He turned to address Emily, who was daintily spreading a scone with honey and cream. "I think, Miss Townsend, that you are the only one I can count on to behave with the proper decorum. I shall have to trust you to rescue the afternoon from any improper behavior on the part of my female relations."
"I will do my best, my lord," Emily replied, smiling as she caught his eye in shared amusement.
"In that case, I shall send a note round to Cavendish Square inviting the Windhurst ladies for tomorrow," the earl said, rising to take his leave. "I am engaged for dinner this evening but will see you all tomorrow, I'm sure." He kissed both his grandmother and Louisa on the cheek before leaving.
"Louisa, my dear," the dowager said as she lifted Charlemagne onto her lap, "I hope that you are free tomorrow morning as Emily and I have much shopping to do. We are building her a new wardrobe and could use your advice."
"Oh, that would be great fun!" Louisa exclaimed. "I would love to join you." She turned excitedly to Emily, who was seated next to her, and grasped her arm. "You simply must visit Mrs. Bell's on Charlotte Street. Her designs are all the rage."
"I had planned on patronizing Madame Cécile, as always," the dowager declared as she offered another morsel of shortbread to Charlemagne. "I see no reason to change modistes."
"Of course Madame Cécile is perfect for you, Grandmama. She knows your tastes and preferences and has a wonderful flair. But," Louisa said hesitantly, her eyes darting from the dowager to Emily, "perhaps for Miss Townsend we could just drop by Charlotte Street? I am sure you will not be disappointed."
"I get your meaning, my girl," the dowager snapped. "You find Madame Cécile too old-fashioned for your taste. I suppose this Bell woman caters to the younger crowd. Very well. Never accuse me of standing in the way of progress, if you call simple straight gowns and pantaloons progress. If you can vouch for this woman, Louisa, we shall try her. But, my girl, how can you possibly trust a modiste who is not even French?"
Candice Hern Page 8
