Regency Belles & Beaux

by Michele McGrath

  The door opened a short time later although to Lucy it seemed as if several hours had passed since they arrived. Mr. Soames’ clerk returned and showed them into his office. The little old man rose as they entered and smiled at Lucy.

  “Good news for you, my dear. Your grandmother has written to me and said that your family will acknowledge you.”

  “Oh!” Lucy dropped into the chair the clerk held for her. All the strength seemed to have gone from her legs.

  “It has taken a long time for them to answer,” Mrs. Beckwith remarked. “What exactly did they say?”

  Mr. Soames handed her a letter, the lines of writing much crossed on the page. “Read it for yourself, ma’am.”

  Mrs. Beckwith perused it with difficulty, tracing the words with her forefinger. “I can’t understand it at all,” she finally said, handing it back to him. “You must tell us what it says.”

  “Very well. First of all, the letter is written by Lady Mary Ridgeway. General Sir Walter Ridgeway has recently died and the estate has passed to his eldest son, Sir Edgar Ridgeway. Lady Mary writes with her son’s consent. She acknowledges the death of Major Ridgeway and confirms that she was aware of Miss Ridgeway’s birth. Major Ridgeway wrote to tell his parents of this event but the General would not allow her ladyship to answer his letter at that time. To summarise, Lady Mary offers Lucy a home with her in County Cork. She takes note of Lucy’s age and the interrupted plans for her debut. She regrets that she is unable to come to London at this time so she intends to present Lucy at the Viceroy’s drawing room instead during the Irish Social Season.”

  He stopped as Mrs. Beckwith clapped her hands. “How wonderful! All we could have hoped for. Why Lucy, you will be presented after all!” She looked at Lucy’s face. “Aren’t you happy about it?”

  “It’s good that my grandmother wants to offer me a home,” Lucy said, trying to keep her voice steady. “Although I hoped to stay in London.”

  “It is even better in the circumstances,” Mrs. Beckwith glared at her. “There are many eligible families in Ireland. If Lady Mary presents you, then there should be no difficulties such as you would find here if you continued under Lady Westmore’s patronage. The daughter of a peer has far more status than the wife of a mere baron.”

  Mr. Soames gave a discreet cough and both ladies turned to him.

  “Lady Mary directs that Miss Ridgeway should be sent to Cove in County Cork as soon as possible. Then she can meet her relatives and be prepared for the start of the Social Season which runs from January to St. Patrick’s Day in March. Sir Edgar Ridgeway has enclosed with his mother’s letter a banker’s draft to cover her expenses. I’m sure that you will agree that is most generous of him.”

  Lucy did not really listen to much more of the conversation, which ran on financial issues, although she realised that her guardian was pleased. Her thoughts whirled. She did not know whether to laugh or cry. On the one hand, her grandmother had acknowledged her and would fulfil her dream of being presented at a court, even if it was not where she had expected it to be. On the other hand, she would have to travel to an unknown country, leaving everyone else behind. Dublin might be the second city in the British Isles but Lucy had never met anyone who had been there, except perhaps the elusive Mr. O’Rourke. Maybe it will be all right, she said to herself. I can make my family like me if I am careful. But oh! I’m so scared. Papa would be ashamed of me and would call me ‘faint heart’ and I deserve it. I must pretend to be as happy as Becky. After all, being presented is better than making hats or looking after a fat pug for some old woman.

  Mrs. Beckwith was obviously both relieved and delighted. She chattered all the way home. Lucy heard barely one word in ten although she managed to make appropriate noises and answer questions at the right time, so she escaped reproof. She had never seen her guardian so happy and did not understand the depths of relief Mrs. Beckwith had experienced when the contents of the letter had been disclosed to her.

  “Now I can order proper clothes for you at last,” Mrs. Beckwith exclaimed. “You will have to be content with one or two day dresses and an evening dress though. Everything must be made in a hurry so they are ready before you leave.”

  “Oh, Becky, do I really have to go?” Lucy blurted out without thinking.

  Mrs. Beckwith stared at her in surprise, her face darkening. “Of course you must. Your grandmother’s offer is better than we could ever have expected and let me tell you, your uncle’s bank draft is most generous. I remember that your father once told me that he was his mother’s favourite child and she was prostrate with grief whenever he quarrelled with his Papa. No doubt that is the reason she has decided to offer you a home. You will be with your relatives and be presented! It is all we could ask for. You must certainly go.”

  “But I don’t know anyone there and you said that Irish people are encroaching…”

  “Some of them are,” Mrs. Beckwith said briskly, “but you are unlikely to meet any of that sort of person in Lady Mary’s house. You will be mixing in quite different circles, just as you do here. Now hurry along. I must organise a lot of things in a very short time.”

  Chapter Four

  The next three weeks passed in a whirlwind of activity. Thanks to the good offices of Mr. Soames, Lucy’s passage was booked on the brig “White Hart” sailing out of London River. The ship called at Portsmouth, Plymouth, Cove and Dublin before returning to England.

  “It’s a well found vessel that has made this journey often. It’s not as comfortable as some, nor as expensive, but it’s only for a few days. The captain’s wife accompanies her husband and has undertaken to chaperone Lucy on the voyage. There will be no need for you to hire a maid to accompany her,” Mr. Soames told Mrs. Beckwith. “Lady Mary will arrange for someone to meet Lucy on the quay at Cove. Weather permitting, the ship sails with the tide on the second day of this month, so you must bring Lucy there early in the forenoon. The brig can’t wait for her if you are delayed, because they carry other passengers as well as cargo.”

  “We won’t be late,” Mrs. Beckwith promised.

  Using the remainder of Mr. Ridgeway’s money, Mrs. Beckwith set out to refurbish Lucy’s wardrobe. “I won’t have your grandmother saying that I sent you to her in rags,” Mrs. Beckwith said as she harried anyone who could sew to make the necessary alterations. In addition to her mourning clothes, Lucy kept the amber walking dress which had already been delivered to the house. Some of Caroline’s older dresses were fitted to her as well. Those in white, cream or pale mauve were considered suitable for later in the year, worn with a black sash and black gloves. When Caroline protested the loss of a favourite frock, Mrs. Beckwith told her to hold her tongue as her cousin’s needs were more pressing at the moment. A quantity of shawls, bonnets, pelisses and gloves were found or bought for Lucy, plus shifts, nightgowns, stockings and other essentials. All these were packed into a large trunk, clearly marked with her name and destination.

  Lucy, whose opinions had not been asked during the process, stood still when the dresses were fitted to her, sat down or moved as requested. Where once she would have thoroughly enjoyed all the preparations, a combination of the dull mourning colours and her apprehension of the future, stilled her tongue. When Caroline made an unwise remark about her new clothes and congratulated her on her good fortune, Lucy snapped,

  “You aren’t the one who has to leave.”

  “It’s such an adventure,” Caroline replied, “Your relatives must be both rich and kind to send you so much money. Mama is in raptures. I wish I was going.”

  “You wouldn’t say that if it really was you,” Lucy told her impatiently.

  I suppose it is an adventure, she thought later. I might as well think of it like that since I have no choice but to go. Then perhaps I can manage to exist for these next few days and say goodbye to everyone and all the places I have ever known.

  From that moment the days seemed to speed by even more quickly. Before she knew it, Lucy was hugging her
cousins and climbing into the hackney which would take her to the dock where the White Hart was moored. Mrs. Beckwith had taken advice from friends who had travelled abroad. So she insisted Lucy wear her oldest dress with an outgrown pelisse and a bonnet of Caroline’s which she unearthed from the attic.

  “No point in spoiling your good clothes on board the ship,” she told Lucy when the girl protested that she would look like a dowdy. “When you reach Ireland, you may give the dirty garments away to the poor, who will be grateful enough to have them. You can bring out your better outfits just before you arrive, but be sure to wear only black when you meet your grandmother for the first time. She’s bound to expect it and you don’t want to be found wanting in any little attention.” Mrs. Beckwith chattered on about all the festivities of a Dublin Season. She had spoken to certain people in her acquaintance who had lived in Ireland. Listening to her, Lucy found she was able to keep her mind off the imminent parting with the last person she considered to be her real family.

  When, after they had been travelling for a little while, Mrs. Beckwith fumbled in her reticule and pulled out a small case. Lucy’s interest revived.

  “What’s this, Becky?” she asked.

  “It belonged to your mother. Your father gave it to her when you were born and she wanted you to have it. I never knew what happened to her other jewellery but your Papa gave this to me and asked me to keep it safe until you were of an age to wear it. So I am giving it to you now.”

  Lucy opened the box and saw a gold locket with the initials C and M intertwined on the lid. She pressed the little catch and the locket sprang open. A miniature of her father in his uniform gazed up at her. On the other side was a picture of a very pretty lady. Lucy only recognised her smile. It had been such a long time since her mother smiled at her and she felt tears start to her eyes.

  “Keep it safe,” Becky was saying. “Don’t wear it on the ship. It’s gold and is valuable if someone took it and tried to sell it. Miranda loved you and she wanted you to remember her.”

  “I’d forgotten her face,” Lucy said. “Now I shall never forget either of them. Thank you, Becky.”

  When they arrived at the quay, Mrs. Hardie, the captain’s wife, hurried down the gangplank to greet them. Lucy thought she seemed nice although she smelled strange to Lucy’s unaccustomed nostrils. She learned later that a mixture of salt and tarry ropes clung to the clothes of anyone who ventured on board a ship. This aroma was overlaid with a cheap rose perfume. Mrs. Hardie was small and lively, with rosy cheeks and a beaming smile. Lucy liked the friendly little woman immediately.

  “What a lovely girl!” Mrs. Hardie exclaimed with admiration, causing Lucy for once to blush. “Be sure I’ll take good care of her,” Mrs. Hardie, reassured Mrs. Beckwith, “and hand her over to her relatives when we get to Ireland. Don’t you worry about her at all.”

  Mrs. Beckwith, who did not like partings, wanted to send Lucy on her way without further delay. She was afraid that Lucy might throw another of her tantrums or, worse still, begin to weep. She was on the edge of breaking into tears herself, so she took the girl quickly into her arms.

  “Be sure to write to us,” Mrs. Beckwith said as she hugged her goodbye. “Be good, watch your tongue and make us proud of you.” Mrs. Beckwith bussed her on the cheek. She felt Lucy shaking.

  “I will.” Lucy, controlling herself with difficulty, kissed her cheek. “Thank you for everything you have done for me for so many years, Becky,” she stuttered.

  Moved by the unexpected words, Mrs. Beckwith kissed her again and then stepped backwards. Mrs. Hardie took Lucy’s hand.

  “Come now, my dear, let me get you settled into your cabin. The ship will sail very shortly.”

  “Oh, but I would like to stay and wave to my cousin,” Lucy objected.

  “Better to come below when the boat isn’t rolling about all over the place. It takes a while to find your balance, you know. Anyway you shouldn’t ask anybody to stand around in this nasty cold wind. You don’t want your cousin to catch a chill, do you? Say goodbye now and come with me, there’s a good girl.”

  So Lucy gave Mrs. Beckwith a last hug. Then she climbed the gangplank and descended into the dark creaking hull of the brig. The small space that was Lucy’s assigned cabin was situated towards the stern. It had no windows and consisted of simple rough-cut wooden walls which enclosed a bunk and a chest. A lantern hung from a hook, swaying slightly. Mrs. Hardie pointed out to Lucy the high sides of the bunk which would prevent her from falling out when the ship rolled. Her trunk had already been brought aboard and stowed with the other cargo, according to Mrs. Hardie. Lucy carried only a small bandbox containing her nightdress and a few other necessities for the journey.

  “You won’t need anything more until we’re almost into Cove. I’ll have everything brought up to you then and you can change your clothes. This cabin is right beside me and my husband, so I’ll always hear you if you call. You’ll have your meals with us in the saloon and with Mr. Anselm, a curate who’s travelling to his new parish in Ireland. There’s only the two of you aboard this trip for now, although there may be some others who have booked their passage at Portsmouth or Plymouth. Put your things into this chest when you go to bed, so they won’t be thrown about when the ship moves. Be sure to blow out the lantern whenever you leave the cabin. It’s dangerous to keep it alight if you aren’t here.” Mrs. Hardie handed her a tinderbox. “Put this in your pocket to light the lantern again when you need to. I’ll leave you to settle in.”

  Feeling rather shaken, Lucy sat down on the bunk and looked around her.

  “Mrs. Hardie?”

  The captain’s wife turned in the doorway. “Yes?”

  “Where do I wash or attend to my personal needs?”

  Mrs. Hardie smiled, realising what the girl was really asking. “There’s a chamber pot and some paper in the drawer under your bunk which you empty in the head. That’s what we call a privy onboard a ship. There are two of them. One’s in the bows for the men and there’s another which my husband had fitted for me when I began to sail with him. That’s the nearest and the one you should use. Come along, I’ll show you where it is.”

  She led Lucy to a narrow door further down the passageway. It opened into a small bleak space with a raised wooden bench around the side of the ship. There was a hole in the bench and, peering through Lucy saw the brown muddy water rolling beneath her. There was a certain smell about the place but it was not bad enough to upset her due to the strong breeze that was blowing through the opening.

  “Mrs. Hardie?”

  “Yes?”

  “I’ve never emptied a chamber pot in my life.”

  “Haven’t you? Well, it’s time you did then. We don’t carry servants on this ship. No space for them. So we all have to make do for ourselves. It’s easy enough. Don’t fill it too full. Dump it out of this hole and wipe it out with the paper. If you can, it’s better to use this head than the pot as much as you can, especially if the weather is rough, so nothing gets spilled.”

  Lucy’s cheeks reddened at the plain words. How awful!

  “You’ll soon get used to it,” Mrs. Hardie continued, “Life at sea is different from life ashore but it doesn’t take long to learn how to manage. I know. No one was more disgusted than me on my first voyage. As for washing, few passengers bother much about that, I’ve found, especially the men. The cook brings me a pan of hot water from the galley for my own needs every morning. I’ll tell him to bring another for you at the same time if you want me to.”

  “Yes, please if you would. Thank you.”

  Rather overwhelmed by the unexpected and unwelcome discoveries, Lucy left her and retreated to her cabin. She took off her bonnet and pelisse and fitted her bandbox into the chest as she had been told. Then she sat on her bunk and thought about the voyage to come. She had not realised life aboard a ship would be so difficult. Why had she not been more grateful for the attentions of the servants in Mrs. Beckwith’s house? She could demand h
ot water whenever she wished, even a bath, merely by ringing a bell and asking for it. A pretty chamber pot or an imposing commode in a small room down the hallway saw to her toilet needs. She had never troubled to find out how either of them were emptied and whose task it was, one of the housemaids probably. She felt a moment of pity for the unknown minion.

  I’m only on the ship for a few days, she told herself, trying to be cheerful. “It’s an adventure just as Caroline said. How horrified she would be if she could see me now.” Lucy imagined her cousin’s face and giggled. It won’t matter if I am dirty at the end. I’ll have a long bath when I reach Cove or even at Plymouth, if there is time to go ashore. Mrs. Hardie will be able to tell me.

  Lucy lay back on the rather hard bunk and lost herself in her thoughts. The journey to the docks and the emotion of the day, plus the fact that she had not really slept much the night before, had tired her out. She drifted off into sleep. The ringing of a bell, shouting, feet pattering above her head and being thrown against the side of the bunk brought her to her senses. For a moment she could not remember where she was until her eyes steadied on the swaying lantern. A lump rose in Lucy’s throat. Heavens, she was going to be sick!

  I must get out of here, she thought. She found her pelisse, which had tumbled onto the floor. Her bonnet had vanished but she did not dare stay to find it. She opened the door and clung to the sides of the frame until she could force herself into the passageway. A glimmer of light told her which way to go; all the rest of the ship seemed to be in darkness. Lucy lurched forwards, holding the walls until she reached the stairs. She crawled upwards out into the blessed daylight. A gust of wind took her breath away and whipped her hair from its pins into wild confusion but the terrible sickness receded. The world tilted and she cantered out of the doorway until she was brought to an abrupt halt by a stack of cargo secured to the deck. She clutched one of the boxes until a hand caught her upper arm and she looked into the smiling face of a sailor.