Regency Belles & Beaux
Page 38
“I trust you realise that there can be no refund for an early withdrawal,” Mrs. Simpson replied immediately, dashing her hopes.
“Oh, but I thought...”
“Lucy’s fees are paid up until the end of this half term as you know, so she may stay until October but no longer. I always make it perfectly clear when I accept a pupil that fees are to be paid in advance and no refunds can be given. Otherwise we would all be at sixes and sevens. Do you also wish to withdraw Caroline and Eleanor?”
“No. My own circumstances are not changed. Caroline will finish at Christmas, as we agreed, to be ready for the start of the Season. Eleanor will remain for another full year in addition, but I want Lucy to finish today. Sadly Major Ridgeway’s estate can no longer support her or enable her to make her debut as we planned.”
“I see.” Miss Simpson's face changed slightly and she peered at Lucy over the small spectacles on her nose. “I am truly sorry about your father, Lucy. This is very sudden. Was he ill?”
“He died at the battle of Talavera.”
“Yes, of course. He was a soldier, so he died a hero’s death,” Miss Simpson murmured. “He was a brave man, Lucy, you must be proud of him and seek to be worthy of his memory.”
“I’ll try.” Lucy whispered and nerved herself to ask the question she had carefully prepared, before she lost what little courage she had. “Miss Simpson, I wonder whether it might be possible for me to stay here as one of your assistants? I’ve often helped with the younger pupils. I must support myself now and I thought that this way I could use some of the knowledge you have taught me.”
Miss Simpson’s eyes seemed to bore into her and Lucy found it difficult to meet them. Miss Simpson’s narrow lips pursed in the manner she had when something displeased her. Lucy immediately knew that her plea had fallen on deaf ears; she had seen that look on her teacher’s face too often not to recognise it now.
“You are not the easiest or the most biddable of pupils, Lucy, and your attainments are modest, despite the efforts of your teachers. I am sorry to disappoint you, but my assistants require more skills than you possess, so I must refuse your request. No doubt you will find another path more suited to your talents than the schoolroom. However I advise you for your own sake that, wherever you go, you must curb your tongue and your impatience. Then you should do better than you have done here. Now I suggest you collect your things from your classroom and say goodbye to the other girls. Tell Miss Reynolds that I gave you my permission to interrupt her class while you do so.”
Anger at Miss Simpson kept Lucy’s head high as she emptied her desk and spoke to the others. Her friends, Amelia and Elizabeth were both in tears, once they realised she was leaving for good, but that horrible Susan Wilson had a very smug grin on her face. She bid Lucy an insincere goodbye asking her to keep in touch. As if I would, Lucy thought. The best thing about leaving school is that I won’t see her ever again!
Caroline and Eleanor were upset when they saw her packing although they had known beforehand what was to happen. Their sympathy and support protected Lucy from the sharp tongues and avid curiosity of some of the other girls. It helped Lucy through the difficult time for which she was thankful. I never cared much about either Caroline or Eleanor before, Lucy thought ruefully. They were just there, living in the same house with me, but I heard Caroline tell Susan Wilson exactly what she thought of her today. I wouldn’t have done that for her if she was the one in trouble. What a beast I am, when she is so good.
Walking down the road later, Lucy felt that she had never spent a more miserable day in her life, but worst was yet to come.
Chapter Three
“It is simply not possible,” Lady Westmore stated, in her clear ringing tones. “A London Season is an expensive undertaking for me as well as for the families of the young ladies I sponsor. While I am prepared to continue with our arrangements as regards your daughter, Caroline, I am afraid I must now decline to sponsor Lucy. I shall offer her opportunity to one of the other parents who have contacted me. It is most unfortunate because the time I have already invested in her debut has been wasted.”
Lucy saw Mrs. Beckwith's cheeks redden, but her cousin clasped her lips firmly together, as if she was biting back an acid reply. Lucy wished her cousin would give this awful woman one of her blistering set-downs but she knew it would not happen. Caroline’s interests demanded discretion. Lucy did not want to blight Caroline’s chances, but a wave of jealousy and disappointment overwhelmed her. Her temper rose and she found herself standing on her feet.
“Come, Cousin,” she said, her tone icily polite. “We’re wasting even more of Lady Westmore’s valuable time and I, for one, have important things to do this morning.” Lucy bobbed a small bow towards her hostess and, without waiting for Lady Westmore’s butler to show her out, she stalked from the room. She heard Lady Westmore exclaim ‘Pon rep!’ in an outraged voice and the murmur of Mrs. Beckwith’s apology. Lucy’s eyes stung, but before she could embarrass herself by weeping, she hurried to the front door of the imposing house and ordered the footman to,
“Open it, please! I’m leaving!”
Startled, the servant swung it ajar without protest and Lucy ran down the steps. Blinded by tears, she did not wait for her cousin. She rushed along the pavement automatically turning right in the general direction of Mrs. Beckwith's house. She did not look where she was going, so she walked straight into the arms of a young man walking the opposite way.
“Ouff!” She staggered backwards. He reached out and steadied her.
“Now aren't I fortunate?” His voice said above her head. “’Tis not every day lovely young ladies throw themselves into my arms.” A finger went under her chin and tipped her face upwards. She saw his smile fade as he asked,
“Why are you crying, Alannah?”
She felt a sudden thrill as she looked into his eyes before she remembered where they were and reared backwards. “Leave me alone. Take your hands off me!”
He promptly released her, causing her to stumble. Then he took hold of her again and this time she did not pull away.
“Can’t have you falling over, now can we?” A kerchief was applied to her cheeks and then handed to her. “Blow your nose, there’s a good girl.”
“I’m not a child!” She glared at him, taking in the laughing dark eyes framed by long sandy lashes. His hair was almost hidden by his hat but she thought it was a dark colour. He dressed more like a tradesman than a servant or someone of her own class yet he spoke confidently to her in his soft accent without any deference. She dropped her eyes to the hand that still held her and noticed a thin white scar running across the back of his hand and vanishing into his cuff.
“Lucy, what in the world are you about?” Mrs. Beckwith bustled up behind her, her voice sharp, calling her to order.
Lucy whirled around, suddenly conscious of how close she was standing to her rescuer.
“I tripped and this gentleman kindly stopped me from falling over.”
The young man removed his hat and bowed to the irate elderly lady.
“Patrick O’Rourke, at your service, ma’am.” The soft voice and his ready smile provoked no answering gleam from Mrs. Beckwith and Lucy wondered why. Her guardian liked male company, especially if the person was handsome.
“Thank you, sir, I’m grateful for your assistance to my cousin, but, now that I am here, we need not detain you any further.” Her tone was frosty but her coldness did not seem to affect him.
“May I be permitted to call upon you tomorrow to ensure myself that the young lady has suffered no injury?”
“I think not. Again our thanks and a good day to you, sir. Lucy, come.”
Mrs. Beckwith caught Lucy’s arm and hurried her along the road. Lucy twisted to look back over her shoulder and saw that he was standing still, watching them. She received a sharp tug from her cousin and reluctantly turned away.
“Why were you so rude to him, Becky? Indeed he helped me and did no harm.”
Patrick O’Rourke smiled to himself as he walked away. ‘Lucy’ was a pretty name for a pretty girl, and a lively one if he was any judge of the matter. No simpering miss and unlikely to be boring, even though she seemed very young. Dark haired lasses always appealed to him. She had a heart-shaped face and big blue eyes, drenched with tears. How odd that he had felt something the first time he touched her. For a second he wanted to shield her from all the winds that blew. His first love, many years ago, had affected him like that before politics had got in the way, as it did far too often in Ireland. Margaret was probably married and the mother of a family by now. Would he even recognise her if he saw her again? Not that such a meeting was likely. He had a healthy regard for his own skin and no desire to return to Dublin.
For a moment or two he wondered if he should call on the young girl who had bumped into him. She seemed willing enough to meet him again and it would tease the old dragon who had pulled her away. The idea appealed to his sense of humour though he knew it was far too dangerous. Both of them were well dressed and they might possess influential friends. Now was no time for dalliance or to draw attention to himself. He must finish his work and go. He had already obtained medical supplies and was just about to visit the agent in London who collected information on ship movements and cargoes. Afterwards prudence dictated that he leave the country as soon as possible and take the various messages to their destination. He sighed and walked on, without enquiring either the young lady’s name or her direction.
“How could you put me to so much shame?” Mrs. Beckwith asked as soon as they sat down in the parlour of the unpretentious house she had occupied since her husband’s early death. “Speaking to Lady Westmore like that! She’s a vindictive woman who enjoys spiteful gossip. I would have thought you’d have more sense than to provoke her. She’s bound to make me suffer for your rudeness. I shudder to think what she will say about you to her acquaintance. You’ve seriously jeopardised your future and affected Caroline’s. Even if we receive a generous offer from your grandparents, you could never be presented in London this year. Lady Westmore would certainly create a scandal if we did so and tittle-tattle needs time to die down. And another thing — let me tell you that young ladies do not stand in the arms of a man in the middle of a public street where anyone can see her, like a hoyden! If you have no care for your own reputation, at least have some for mine and your cousin’s.”
“But I didn’t intend to, I assure you Becky.”
“Don’t lie to me; I saw the whole thing. A true lady would have stepped back immediately, made her thanks and departed, not stayed cuddling a complete stranger.”
Lucy realised that both complaints had some justification. It had seemed natural to stand there in his arms after her first startled reaction. She had completely forgotten all about propriety until Becky spoke to her.
“Forgive me, Becky, I was so angry…”
“Miss Simpson is right. You will never make your way in this world unless you learn to hold your tongue before it can get you into further trouble. Remember that you are no longer the rich Miss Ridgeway, about to make your debut into society. For which fact, let me tell you, I am truly thankful. Another such outburst as you have treated us to today would ruin you completely and made people wonder whether I was a proper person to have charge of you.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Lucy murmured. “I’m ruined already,”
“Perhaps, perhaps not, but in any case, how you behave at this time reflects on me and on Caroline. I won’t have you bringing us into disrepute by your wanton behaviour.”
“Caroline! Caroline! It’s always Caroline. What about me? How do you suppose I feel?” Lucy could not control herself any longer, despite her good intentions.
“Lucy, I have put up with your megrims and bad temper for years for the sake of your father…”
“And the money he was paying you!”
Mrs. Beckwith rose to her feet.
“Enough! You ungrateful little wretch! Go to your room at once and consider carefully how you have behaved today and the conduct which will be required of you in future. You’re to stay there until I give you permission to leave.”
Lucy got up and went to her bedroom, more because it was what she wanted to do than in obedience to her cousin’s order. It must be admitted that she thought very little about her behaviour, or her uncertain prospects. A pair of dark eyes and a cheeky grin were much more interesting than such gloomy reflections. She kept wondering whether she had truly felt anything when the young man touched her or whether it was her imagination playing tricks. Would she ever see Patrick O’Rourke again?
She continued to be in disgrace for some time. Mrs. Beckwith hardly spoke to her, when she was allowed to leave her bedroom at last, underlining her displeasure. By then, Lucy was thoroughly bored and prepared to promise almost anything in order to escape from confinement. She was unexpectedly grateful to Caroline, who begged for her release because she wanted to claim her cousin’s company on her own expeditions. Since Mrs. Beckwith did not object, Lucy walked with Caroline in the park or visited Hookham’s bookshop or looked at the latest fashions in the shops on Bond Street or Conduit Street. The girls had been in the habit of doing these things as soon as they were judged old enough to go out with just a maidservant trailing behind them.
Even this pastime had changed though. For the first time in her life, Lucy did not join in her cousin’s raptures over such elegant trifles as a fan or a lilac bonnet trimmed with lace. She knew that she would not be able to buy such expensive articles now. Window shopping, once so fascinating, had turned into a bitter-sweet experience. She tried to keep her resentment under control and answer in the way she used to do. She kept reminding herself that it was not Caroline’s fault that Papa had died and left her destitute. Caroline had often been thoughtless but she was not malicious. Lucy had never needed to be grateful to anyone before and it rankled, although she realised she was being unjust. She was thankful to find her cousin unchanged, for none of her so-called friends had even visited her to ask how she did. It was as if she had vanished and been rapidly forgotten.
Lucy secretly hoped that, on one of their expeditions, she might meet Patrick again but every day brought disappointment. Discreet questioning of the servants revealed that he had not called at the house or even been seen nearby. No doubt he had taken her cousin at her word and avoided the area. He would have found it easy to discover who she was and where she lived. Lady Westmore’s butler or one of the footmen would not be above accepting a bribe. He must not have been interested enough to make the attempt. Eventually she consigned his memory to the back of her mind with the rest of her might-have-beens.
Time dragged, not helped by the weather which stayed cold and grey, unusual for early September. Often the girls’ walks were cut short and some days it was impossible to go out at all. Lucy was left alone when her cousins were at Miss Simpson’s, but Mrs. Beckwith set tasks to keep her employed. Such activities as needlework, painting and trimming her bonnets, very quickly palled. She was bored and yet she did not want her life to change any more than it already had. She found that she actually missed school. Not the lessons although she had always been proud of the sharp wits that had enabled her to learn anything she wanted to learn without working hard. It was the company of the other pupils and even some of the younger teachers that she regretted. I wish I had been more content when I was there and taken the trouble to make more friends, Lucy thought. Although I am unlikely to see any of them ever again.
It seemed to Lucy as if her whole life had stopped while she was waiting to hear fr
om Mr. Soames. Mrs. Beckwith mentioned him at least twice a day and Caroline and Eleanor kept asking her whether she had heard anything yet. No news came and Lucy began to believe that the solicitor either had not written his letter or that her grandparents had not replied.
So she was a little surprised when she was called into the parlour just after the post had been delivered. She found her guardian dressed for leaving the house and working her fingers into a pair of leather gloves.
“Mr. Soames has sent me a note asking us to call on him at our earliest convenience,” Mrs. Beckwith told her.
“Has he said why?” Lucy asked.
“No. Hurry and fetch your bonnet and pelisse. We will go to him directly.”
Sitting in the hackney, Lucy found her hands shaking and she twisted her fingers together to keep them still. She stared blindly through the coach windows. There must be some news, otherwise Mr. Soames would not send for them. Was it good or bad? Either way Lucy knew it would affect the foreseeable future at least. The more she thought about it, the more she was unsure whether she wanted her grandparents to acknowledge her or not.
Please let them pay for my debut. No more. Let them allow me to stay with Becky and let my life continue in the way it has always been. If you do, Lord, I promise to mend my ways. I’ll keep my temper and be nice to other people even if I don’t like them very much. I’ll try to be a better person. I really will, she prayed.
The journey seemed endless before the coach deposited Lucy and Mrs. Beckwith on the doorstep of Mr. Soames’ office. His clerk received them and showed them to seats in a small room, badly in need of a thorough dusting. The air smelt of paper, ink and a damp mustiness, Lucy thought. Apparently, Mr. Soames was engaged with another client and would be with them directly. Lucy idly ran her finger down the spine of one of the immense volumes on the nearest shelf. She was promptly called to order when a dirty patch appeared on her gloves. A nervous retort sprang to her lips but she bit it back. She did not want to be sent to wait outside while her cousin and the solicitor decided her fate. She had to know!