Regency Belles & Beaux

by Michele McGrath

  “Could you fit these dresses to Miss Lucy, Morgan?”

  “Easily, madam, with Millie’s help, if she could be excused from her other duties. I’ll turn up the hem or put in a few tucks, so you won’t know it was made for another person.”

  “Let us see what they look like on Lucy.”

  For the rest of the afternoon, Lucy tried on the dresses and stood still while Morgan and the sewing maid, Millie, pinned them to her. Lady Mary left them after she had seen and approved the first garment. Lady Ridgeway went away about half an hour later and Lucy could not help being relieved when they both had gone. She lost her nervousness and was able to discuss the alterations with the servants, as she had often done with the dressmakers at home. This time, however, she was careful to ask for their help and not just to give them orders, so the session became quite enjoyable. By the time they had decided on six dresses, the daylight had vanished and one of the maids came to fetch Lucy to attend the schoolroom tea. She put Mrs. Warren’s dress back on, leaving Millie busily stitching at another for that evening’s meal. Guests would join them and Lady Ridgeway had charged Millie with having the dress ready in time.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Lucy was very pleased to appear in her new dress. Even if it was a dull black crêpe, the style was fashionable. Her hair had been dressed high on her head, with one or two curls allowed to fall onto her shoulder. With her pearls, black gloves and a fan loaned by Lady Ridgeway, she felt older and far more sophisticated than she ever had before. As she came into the drawing room, she saw O’Rourke as he rose with the other men at her entrance.

  Her aunt came forward. “I need not introduce you to Mrs. Warren or Mr. Anselm, my dear, but let me make you known to the Reverend Mr. Warren and our neighbour Mrs. Lovering. This is our niece Lucy Ridgeway, Charles’s daughter.”

  Lucy curtseyed and looked into a set of kind eyes under bushy white brows. She immediately liked Mr. Warren as much as his wife. Mrs. Lovering was a different matter, entirely. She seemed stern and distant. Next day Lucy discovered the reason for her attitude, after asking Nell. The lady appeared so critical of her that she wondered if she had a smut on the end of her nose. She endured another meal which would have been difficult except for the presence of the Warrens. Both husband and wife possessed the art of making polite conversation, proposing different subjects when the discussion flagged and making sure that no one was overlooked. O’Rourke seemed more at ease than she would have expected him to be, although he smilingly turned aside an enquiry on a point of church doctrine.

  “You must ask Mr. Warren, ma’am. Being in his company even for such a short time has shown me that I was a lamentable student and should have paid far more attention to my lessons. I shall have to rectify the fault before I inflict myself on my congregation.”

  “Nonsense,” Mr. Warren said. “Anselm is extremely sound and, when he has spent a few years as a curate, I am sure we will hear great things about him.”

  Lucy’s eyebrows rose and she looked down, so her surprised expression should not be observed. Her heart was in her mouth several times during dinner when O’Rourke answered questions with a seeming carelessness. She was heartily glad when the meal ended. She learned that the supposed Mr. Anselm was due to board the stagecoach to Dublin on the following day and had accompanied his hosts to say farewell.

  “I’m sorry you’re going so soon,” Lucy said primly, aware of the eyes watching her. “Thank you for helping me. I wish you good fortune in your new situation and for the future.”

  When the ladies retired to the drawing room, Mrs. Lovering asked,

  “May we please have some music, Lady Ridgeway? No doubt Miss Ridgeway would like to play for us?” Her eyes seemed to bore right into Lucy.

  “Lucy?”

  “Although I was taught to perform on both the pianoforte and the harp, I possess little skill at either,” Lucy said truthfully. “I would be ashamed to play in front of you.”

  “I’m sure you have no need to be, my dear. Indulge us please,” Lady Ridgeway replied.

  Having no choice, Lucy rose, went over to the piano and lifted the lid.

  “Oh. What a fine instrument.” She ran her fingers across some of the keys. “The school’s piano had such a flat tone. I learned only one piece without music…”

  “There’s music in that cabinet beside you,” Lady Ridgeway said.

  At that moment, the gentlemen came back into the room. O’Rourke came over to her.

  “Are you going to play for us? Good. May I help you find your music?”

  As their heads drew together, O’Rourke whispered,

  “I’ll come to Dublin as soon as I can. Look for me there.”

  “You’re not going further?”

  “No, not yet. Oh, here is the piece you were searching for,” he said more loudly, standing up with a sheet of music in his hand. It looked complicated and Lucy knew that she dared not attempt it.

  “Shall I turn the pages for you?” he asked.

  “If you please, but I need no music for this song. I know it by heart.” Lucy turned to the others who were waiting expectantly. “I haven’t played for some months so I beg you will excuse my mistakes.”

  She poised her fingers over the keys and started to play one of the first pieces she had ever learned, the old air of Greensleeves. She always chose it whenever she was asked, because who needs to learn more than one piece? Now, as it came to an end, she offered a prayer of thanks for her old music teacher. Miss Norman insisted that a lady of quality must know more and perform all of them elegantly. She was a formidable lady and Lucy had not dared to flout her She felt ashamed for the times she abused the poor woman. There were a couple of simple songs in the pile of music sheets and Lucy fumbled her way though them before standing up and closing the piano lid. She stood before them, her cheeks hot as she acknowledged the muted applause.

  “Thank you, you’re kind but I know I am not a good player. Please forgive me.”

  “Can you sing?” Lady Mary asked.

  Lucy’s head came up, her whole face changed as she smiled. It was the one thing at which she had excelled, having a naturally sweet tone and the ability to stay in tune. Also she liked singing because it did not require her to study. Unfortunately the school had always stressed the playing of instruments rather than choral music, ‘which anyone can manage even farmers’. Why didn’t I offer to sing rather than play the piano? How silly of me!

  “Indeed I love it, if someone will accompany me.”

  “I will.” Lady Ridgeway rose and sat down at the instrument. “Can you sing ‘Cherry Ripe’?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  She waited for the introduction to be played and then her voice soared out in the old favourite. After the opening few bars, she could see her audience sitting up and taking notice. This time the applause was genuine and Lady Ridgeway smiled and said,

  “Well done, my dear. You must sing for us again.”

  “Well, you have one talent at least,” Mrs. Lovering murmured. Her voice was low but Lucy knew she was meant to overhear.

  Genuinely happy for the first time in months, Lucy enjoyed the rest of the evening and even saying goodbye to O’Rourke did not prove to be difficult. He squeezed her fingers as he kissed them and she could not help squeezing his back. She hoped no one overheard his whisper,

  “Until we meet in Dublin, Alannah.”

  The following day, Lucy asked Nell why Mrs. Lovering had seemed so critical and unfriendly.

  “Didn’t anyone tell you?” Nell exclaimed. “Your Papa was supposed to marry her daughter Cecily. It was all arranged, although the engagement hadn’t been announced. Then Uncles Charles wrote that he had married your mother.”

  “No wonder she didn’t like me!” Lucy gasped. “I didn’t have the least notion.”

  “You are far prettier than Cecily and her daughters. She has three now and all as plain as puddings. Don’t be concerned though, Mrs. Lovering doesn’t like anybody.”
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br />   The days leading up to Christmas were filled with bustle and excitement. People came visiting and Lady Ridgeway took Lucy to visit her neighbours in return. Lucy found this difficult because she had to be on her best behaviour. She also had to remember the story she had agreed with O’Rourke, which naturally aroused interest. She did not want to make a mistake and be banned from seeing him in Dublin. The life of a young lady proved to be far more boring than she had imagined and it reminded her of her time in Saint-Malo. There were few topics of conversation but this time they concerned the weather, farming and difficulties with the servants.

  The times she enjoyed the most was when she played with her cousins and no longer had to mind her tongue. Despite the difference in their ages, Nell became a friend with whom she could chat and laugh. Peter had been so much in his sister’s company that he acted in similar ways and she liked him too. She had never lived in the same house as a boy before, Mrs. Beckwith having only daughters. Peter was disappointed because Tom was not coming home for Christmas from the Royal School at Enniskillen, having been invited to a friend’s house for the holidays.

  “Peter is always much nicer when he doesn’t need to pretend that he is almost grown up, as he does when Tom is at home,” Nell confided. “Tom can be quite horrid at times.”

  On the morning of Christmas Eve, the snow began to fall as they left the church. It stopped by noon but remained lying on the ground. After luncheon, Nell and Lucy put on galoshes and went for a walk, revelling in the crisp air and the sight of the laden trees against a pale turquoise sky. To his disgust, Peter was forbidden to go with them, so they were surprised when a snowball suddenly hit Lucy in the middle of her back. She gasped and whirled around to find Peter, his cheeks red with the cold, stooping to pick up another handful of snow. A snowball fight soon ensued with all three cousins laughing uproariously. This continued for some time until they were all coated with snow. They did not notice the short winter day was ending and the shadows growing longer, so they jumped when Lady Ridgeway called out,

  “Peter, Nell, Lucy come inside at once!”

  She stood on the terrace accompanied by a groom and behind her stood Lady Mary. Lucy thought that Lady Ridgeway looked anxious and cross but Lady Mary seemed as if she had suffered a great shock.

  “Mama, don’t scold us please, we’ve been having such fun,” Peter begged.

  “I told you not to go out at all, so it will be the price of you if you get one of your putrid sore throats! Come inside this instant.”

  Lady Ridgeway hurried her children off to the side door but Lady Mary stood still, staring at Lucy as if she had never seen her before. Lucy had been following her cousins but now she stopped and asked,

  “Are you all right, Grandmamma? I’m sorry I let Peter stay with us. I forgot that he gets sick because he was enjoying himself so much.”

  Lady Mary made no answer.

  “Grandmamma? Are you ill? Shall I send for someone to help you?”

  Lady Mary shook herself and replied,

  “No. There’s no need. Come inside, I want to talk to you.”

  Lucy was miserable as she shed her wet clothes and made herself presentable enough go down to the drawing room. If Peter became ill it would be her fault. As the oldest of the cousins, she should have stopped the game. She wondered if Lady Mary would tell her that she was going to be sent away.

  She found Lady Mary alone in the room.

  “Sit down, Lucy. There is something I must tell you.” Lady Mary said, “When you first came here, I was disappointed because you did not look like my son. I couldn’t see anything of him in you at all. Charles was the favourite of my children because the others are all like their father and he favoured me. He understood me and I understood him. So it was a great shock when he married your mother. I never saw him again. Until the solicitor wrote to me, I didn’t know what happened to him after he left. So I couldn’t ask him to return after my husband died. I sent for you in the hope that you would take his place in the family but you seemed like a stranger. I even wondered if you might not be his daughter at all but an imposter who had come in my real granddaughter’s place. Yesterday you sang and Charles was a good singer. Then this afternoon when you laughed…” Tears sparkled in Lady Mary’s eyes. “For a moment I couldn’t see who was laughing and I thought it was him. You laugh just the way he used to do when he lived here as a boy.”

  Without thinking, Lucy fell on her knees before her grandmother and put her arms around her. Lady Mary stiffened and then relaxed.

  “How good it is to hear that laugh again.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Christmas passed in a whirl of excitement which Lucy thoroughly enjoyed. Her grandmother had accepted her into the family. Peter did not fall sick, despite all the dire forebodings after the snowball fight, so the festivities were not marred. Lucy met more of the neighbourhood families at church and through visits. She went to several dinners and to a small dance held at Kniveley, the home of Lady Mary’s friend, Mrs. Sims. Only twelve couples stood up on the dance floor and Lucy was partnered by the younger son of the house, who proved to be a good dancer. She found herself well able to follow the steps of the dances although a few were new to her. She mentally thanked Mrs. Beckwith and even the hated Lady Westmore for arranging her lessons. Lady Ridgeway praised her and said that she should have no difficulty during the forthcoming Social Season.

  After Christmas, the household was in turmoil, packing for the trip to Dublin. General Ridgeway had not bought a house in the city but rented a property close to Fitzwilliam Square. Peter could not come with them, but stayed at home to work with Miss Reynolds and his tutor. Lucy discovered to her surprise that she would miss him. Nell, however, got her wish. After much pleading by both girls, she was allowed to accompany the party.

  The journey was not pleasant for the roads were bumpy and full of mud after the constant winter rain. The coaches became mired on two occasions but Lucy said that even travelling on rough roads was far better than being at sea. When the carriages drew up at the door in Lower Hatch Street she saw the house that would be her home for the Season. At first sight it reminded her of London, tall and with large windows on the first two floors. Her own room was on the third floor, not far from Nell’s. The girls had asked to share a room but Lady Ridgeway decreed that Lucy would often be up late and return when Nell should be asleep. As soon as the family were unpacked and the rooms set to rights, Lady Mary and Lady Ridgeway took Lucy visiting. Several of their friends and acquaintances had already arrived in the capital. Sir Edgar accompanied them occasionally although he often retreated to one of the gentlemen’s clubs that he frequented.

  The ladies’ visits produced invitations to select dinner parties, musical evenings and a few informal dances, for the Season was only starting. Lucy’s spare time was taken up with fittings for new clothes. Now that Lady Mary had taken responsibility for her, she decreed that more outfits were needed than the ones contrived for her in Kinsale. Officially out of full mourning, Lucy could now wear white, mauve and darker colours. Delighted to be able to put away her black gowns, she hoped she would not have to wear mourning again for a long time.

  Lucy went to a dancing teacher who also specialised in preparing girls for their presentation. They had to be trained in the full court curtsey while wearing a train. Lucy was certain she would trip and fall over the wretched thing but she soon learned that all of her fellow debutantes shared the same fear. Parading around the room with an old sheet pinned to her shoulders, she found that a movement was possible in spite of the difficulty. She came out of one of these sessions, accompanied by Rose, her Dublin maid, when she saw O’Rourke walking down the street towards them.

  “Why there is Mr. Anselm,” she cried in surprise, remembering his assumed name only just in time. She was glad he was still wearing his clerical costume, which had stopped her from making a grave mistake. He came up and bowed over her hand, sweeping off his hat. She noticed that his hair had now been
restored to the dark hue she remembered from England.

  “Miss Ridgeway, how nice to meet you here,” he said.

  “I didn’t expect to see you in Dublin, Mr. Anselm.” Lucy turned to Rose. “Mr. Anselm is an old friend of mine whom I haven’t seen for some time. We have much to talk about.” She smiled at O’Rourke. “My I claim your escort to the house we are staying in?”

  “It would be my pleasure.” He offered her his arm.

  “Rose, go home please and tell Lady Ridgeway where I am. We will be with you shortly.”

  Lucy waited until Rose was some distance away before she said,

  “I didn’t believe you’d be here. Isn’t Dublin too dangerous for you?”

  “I told you I would. I came a few days ago and have been keeping out of sight. In this disguise I’m safe enough for a while. Once I learned your family had arrived, I visited your aunt. She told me where you were this afternoon. Tell me what happened since I left Kinsale and then I’ll tell you the rest of my story.”

  Lucy did as he asked. When she had finished, he said, “I’m glad your grandmother has recognised you. It’s what you always longed for, isn’t it?”

  “I did once but I’m not so sure now.”

  “Why not?”

  “The girls I meet here have little to talk about other than their dresses and their beaux, who is going to the next party and who is not.”

  O’Rourke laughed. “You were like that when I first met you.”

  “I was not! How horrid you are.”

  “Don’t turn away from me, please. I didn’t mean it. Don’t you want to know what happened to me?”

  It took more coaxing before her curiosity overcame her sudden pique, for his remark had stung. He told her that he had been accepted in Dundalk and had managed to act his part so far. He had asked for leave to go to Dublin, pleading the need to consult a doctor and it had been permitted, although he was expected back soon.

  “I doubt I can go back,” he told her. “My theology isn’t good enough to keep up the masquerade, even if I should want to. Someone is sure to challenge me on a point of religion and I won’t be able to answer them. I never thought I should be glad of the lessons the old priest beat into me and I didn’t pay him enough attention. I’ve decided that once I leave Dublin, I won’t return.”