by Mary Nichols
‘Good,’ he said, watching as Beth ran to join the boys. ‘Now, at least we can talk uninterrupted.’
‘Talk? What about?’
‘You and me. Will you give me leave to speak to your papa?’
She turned to face him and found herself looking into eyes so dark they were almost black, and yet there was a golden light in the depths of them which seemed to be drawing her in, drowning her, taking her will and her reason. She knew she ought to fight it, but she could not. She stood, gazing at him, her mouth slightly open.
A strand of hair had come loose and was drifting across her face; unthinking, she lifted her hand to push it away. He reached out and caught her wrist to stop her, then with his other hand wound the strand about his finger. ‘You do know what I mean, don’t you?’
‘N…no. Yes, yes, I suppose I do.’
‘Then what is your answer?’
‘I don’t know. I really don’t…’
‘Then perhaps this will help you to make up your mind.’ He pulled the strand of hair gently but insistently, so that she leaned towards him. She knew he was going to kiss her and she wanted it. She wanted to know if it would make her feel any different, if the rubbery feeling she had in her legs would intensify or lessen, whether she would regain her breath or lose it altogether.
‘Lavinia! Lavinia!’ It was Jack’s voice, loud and insistent. ‘Andrew let go of the string and the kite is stuck fast in a tree. Come and see!’
She came out of her trance and turned towards the boy. Edmund released her. ‘Damn him!’ he muttered.
Lavinia felt the world right itself. The grass and the sky were in their appointed places; her feet were on the ground and the man beside her was pink with anger. She ignored him and ran towards the children. ‘Look! Look at it!’ Jack shouted. ‘I told him to keep away from the tree. It isn’t as if it wasn’t the only one for miles.’
‘I can’t help the wind, can I?’ Andrew retorted. ‘Anyway, I can get it. I’ll climb after it.’
‘You’ll do no such thing,’ Lavinia said, looking upwards. ‘It’s too high, you’ll fall.’
‘Then will you get it, sir?’ Jack asked Edmund. ‘You can reach that bottom branch easily.’
‘Certainly not!’ he said brusquely. ‘I don’t intend to risk my neck for a yard or two of coloured cotton. It will have to stay where it is.’
‘Lord Wincote is right, children,’ Lavinia said but, though she agreed with him, she did not think he needed to be quite so bad-tempered about it. ‘Now, I think it is time to go back to the others, they will be wondering what has become of us.’
The children left reluctantly, mourning their kite, and they all walked silently back to the main party, with Lavinia wondering what would have happened if they had not lost it at that particular moment. The first person they saw was James. He did not need to ask the children why they looked so downcast, they surrounded him all talking at once.
‘We lost our kite.’
‘It went into a tree and stuck.’
‘I wanted to climb up and fetch it but Vinny wouldn’t let me.’
‘And glad I am of that,’ he said, looking at Lavinia. Her cheeks were unusually pink and she would not look at him. He glanced at Wincote, whose face betrayed anger. What had happened? Would she tell him if he asked?
‘Lord Wincote said he couldn’t get it, either.’
‘Oh, be fair, Jack,’ Lavinia put in. ‘It was too high to reach.’
‘In that case you must consider it lost, young shaver,’ James told him. ‘Now, I thought you wanted to play cricket.’
‘Oh, we do, we do!’
The game was soon organised with men, children and even the younger ladies taking part, becoming helpless with laughter when they dropped a catch or their bats missed the ball. The children shrieked their delight or consternation, depending on whether the unfortunate ladies were on their side or not. James had endless patience with them, teaching them how to bat and bowl, until everyone had had enough and Major Greenaway came to tell them the races were about to begin.
‘If you want to take part, Wincote,’ James said, turning to Edmund, ‘I suggest you find your mount and make your way to the start.’
‘Certainly. And I’ll put a little wager on the outcome.’ He turned to Lavinia. ‘I will rejoin you directly, my lady.’
The two men left and Lavinia shepherded the children to a spot where they could watch the races in safety. The course was a hilly one which would test the stamina of the horses as well as their speed, especially as they were to race in a series of heats in which only the first two would compete in the next round. Lavinia was surprised at the number of entries, far more than the members of their party, but then she remembered that James had been talking about the event before she had suggested the day out.
The children became very excited as the starter dropped his flag and the race was on. They cheered themselves hoarse for James, jumping up and down in excitement when he came to the front and Lavinia found herself joining in, willing him across the finishing line first. Edmund was in the second heat and she expected the children to shout for him, but for some reason they were reticent and put their support behind Donald Greenaway.
‘Are you not going to cheer Lord Wincote?’ she asked.
‘No,’ Jack said. ‘We do not like him.’
‘Why ever not? He helped you fly your kite.’
‘Only because he wanted to talk to you.’
‘And when the kite was stuck, he would not to fetch it down,’ Andrew added. ‘He was angry.’
‘Perhaps he is not very good at climbing and he would have spoiled his clothes. You must not blame him for that, my loves.’
‘Uncle James would have got it down if he had been there.’
‘Well, perhaps,’ she conceded.
Edmund won his heat with Donald very close behind and both went on to the next heat. After four gruelling races there was only James, Edmund, Donald and a rider Lavinia did not know to battle out the final. She was tempted to cheer the unknown, simply because she could not bring herself to favour either Edmund or James. James won and she went over to congratulate him and commiserate with the others. Edmund, who saw her coming, quickly changed his look of disgruntlement to a smile and offered his hand to James. ‘Well done, Corringham. I am in your debt for fifty guineas, I believe.’
‘Yes. No hurry, though.’
‘Oh, but there is. A debt of honour is a debt of honour.’ He almost winced as he said it. ‘Shall we say double or quits in the carriage race?’
‘Done!’ James said. He would not ordinarily have accepted, but Wincote had set his hackles up and he could hardly refuse without inviting some sharp rejoinder. He could easily afford to lose a hundred guineas, but could Wincote? It would be interesting to find out.
Lavinia watched with her heart in her mouth as the men raced for their phaetons, which were already being brought to the start line by grooms. James’s vehicle, having such high wheels, was not as stable as Edmund’s and this became evident as the race progressed since he had to use every ounce of his skill to keep it upright. Several times one wheel left the ground as it bumped over a tussock of grass but it jolted back and miraculously kept going. James’s handicap enabled Edmund to draw ahead and for a moment it seemed he had the race won, but his horses were tiring and slowly James came abreast of him. Their wheels were so close several times that it looked as though they must collide; Lavinia could hardly bear to watch.
Little by little, James drew in front and won by a head. The grooms grabbed the reins to steady the horses and the riders jumped down to shake hands. Lavinia and the children raced to join them, but they were beaten by Frances, who had been frightened out of her wits. ‘James, don’t ever do that to me again,’ she scolded him. ‘My heart is beating enough to burst.’
He smiled at her. ‘We were in no danger, Mama. Neither of us is foolish enough to risk our lives for a hundred guineas. Isn’t that right, Wincote?’
E
dmund smiled at him through gritted teeth and inclined his head as if to agree.
After that the ladies’ races were tame affairs, which Lavinia won easily, there being few women prepared to take up the challenge and none in her league. She derived little pleasure from her victory. Somehow, the day had been spoiled. She did not know why. Was it because Lord Wincote had failed to kiss her? Or that he had had the temerity to try? Or was it that he could, with a little effort, have retrieved the kite? If he had not been there and there had been no one but the children to see, she might have attempted it herself. It was not so many years before she had been climbing trees at Loscoe Court dressed in her brother’s breeches.
Or was it something to do with the races? James might not have been prepared to risk his life, but Lord Wincote’s expression had been a strange one, as if James had won more than a hundred guineas. His had been furious and afraid. Oh, she could understand someone being frightened by that gruelling race, but not after it was over. It had taken all his self-control to smile at her when she had offered her commiserations. But in a minute he was his usual urbane self and escorted her to join everyone else in the shade of a chestnut tree to eat the picnic the servants had prepared.
Afterwards they rested in or beside the carriages, leaving their horses unharnessed to graze. Lavinia leaned against the tree trunk with her eyes shut and Beth’s head in her lap, as James and Donald got up and strolled away, taking Jack and Andrew with them.
‘Well?’ James asked when as the boys scampered ahead. ‘Did you discover anything?’
‘He is in debt, no doubt of it. The Cumberland estate is mortgaged to the hilt, but the story goes that he expects a windfall, something to do with his grandfather’s will.’
‘Or Lavinia’s dowry.’
‘Possibly. At any rate, the word is strong enough to make the dunners hold back. I’ll try and find out more.’
‘Make it quick, if you can. I believe he has already made advances.’
‘Step in yourself, then.’
‘I intend to.’ He paused, noticing the boys pointing up at a tree. ‘In the meantime, let’s have a look at this kite and see if we can’t get it down.’
Half an hour later, the peace of the heath was disturbed by the return of an excited Jack and Andrew, hauling on the string of a bravely flying kite. ‘Uncle James got it down,’ Andrew shouted, waking the slumberers. ‘I knew he would, even though Lord Wincote said he couldn’t. See, it flies as well as ever.’
‘Put it away now, Jack,’ the Duchess said. ‘I think it is time we returned home.’
Lavinia was indifferent to the argument going on about who should ride with whom on the return journey, which was solved by James taking the two boys with him, leaving room for her to ride with the Duchess. She was glad of that; she did not want to ride with either James or Lord Wincote. James would quiz her about how she was feeling, advising caution, and Lord Wincote would go on about speaking to her papa and at that moment she did not know how she felt or what she wanted.
Chapter Five
Lavinia wore yellow for Lady Graham’s ball. The open-fronted gown, worn over a satin slip in pale lemon, was of a gossamer silk so fine it was almost transparent. It was shot with silver thread which seemed to ripple as she moved. It had a low square neckline and small puffed sleeves, drawn in with silver ribbon. The same silver ribbon delineated the high waist and more of it was threaded through her lustrous hair which Daisy had braided à la Didon.
She stood in front of the long mirror, appraising herself, turning this way and that, glad she was already out and did not have to wear white, which didn’t suit her. Her figure was good, her skin clear and her eyes bright with anticipation.
‘You look real lovely, my lady,’ Daisy said, as Lavinia slipped her feet into yellow satin shoes with silver buckles. ‘You will have all the dandies at your feet.’
The idea of being in demand was not unwelcome; it had happened two years before at her own come-out ball, and she would have to be made of stone not to enjoy it, but she had always been aware that her father was one of the richest men in the kingdom and that her dowry might have something to do with it. It was that confounded dowry that she found so bothersome. How could she possibly know a suitor wanted her for herself, because he loved her? How could she tell?
How could she know that Lord Edmund Wincote was sincere? She liked him, and might very well be falling in love with him so, if that were the case, she shouldn’t even be thinking about her dowry. Would he need an answer tonight? What would she do if he approached her father and offered for her without waiting for her agreement? It would all become very complicated. James had said she must be certain. Perhaps something might happen tonight to make her sure.
She smiled as Daisy draped a lightweight taffeta cloak about her shoulders, handed her a pair of white gloves and her reticule and stood back, her job done. ‘Thank you, Daisy. You do not need to wait up for me, I can undress myself and we might be very late.’
She left the maid picking up the discarded day clothes and went down to join the Duke and Duchess. For once her father was free to go with them because of further developments in the royal saga. Since the King was unable to rid himself of his wife without having his own indiscretions exposed, his government had instead created a Bill of Pains and Penalties. If passed, this would strip the Queen of her rights and privileges without the necessity for proof, and grant the King a divorce.
‘It is a mockery of justice and so I have said,’ declared the Duke, when he came home that afternoon.
‘Then your conscience is clear, my dear,’ Frances had replied. ‘Put it from your mind and let us enjoy what is left of the summer. You do not have to attend.’
He sighed. ‘Unfortunately, I do. Everyone entitled to sit in the House of Lords must be there, and refusal could lead to a heavy fine or even imprisonment. We are all to be in our places by ten in the morning on the seventeenth of August.’
‘So much for the Season being extended for the coronation,’ Lavinia put in. ‘The effect will be disastrous with half the gentlemen absent. Poor Constance’s ball will be quite spoiled with everyone talking about the latest developments.’
‘Then we must set a good example, Vinny, my dear, and not mention it,’ the Duke had replied. ‘Nothing will happen for another month, so we may as well make the most of the time.’
And now here she was, about to be borne away to a ball where her own future might be decided. This business with the King and Queen had really brought home to her the terrible consequences of entering into a marriage without love. She was unusually quiet as they left their carriage at the door of the Graham house in Holles Street.
Lord Graham had done his best for his daughter on two previous occasions and was still trying, though now the flowers were those common in almost any summer garden instead of exotic ones imported from abroad, and the music was provided by a string quartet and not a full orchestra. Nor was the ballroom as crowded as on the first occasion when there had been little room to move, though one would hardly have believed it before entering it, judging by the volume of noise.
It seemed everyone was determined to air their views on the Royal marriage. There were hundreds of witnesses to the Queen’s adultery, so it was said, all who were being brought over from Italy at the government’s expense and probably paid to give evidence into the bargain. Lord Brougham was going to bring up the King’s indiscretions whether His Majesty liked it or not, including a romp with the daughter of a tavern-keeper and his illicit marriage to Mrs Fitzherbert, which everyone knew about.
‘I knew it,’ Lavinia said, leaving the Duke and Duchess to find seats, while she stayed to commiserate with Constance who was standing beside her parents.
The shy, quiet Miss Graham had abandoned the dull colours she usually wore and was in a blue taffeta gown which set off a commendable figure and heightened the colour in her cheeks, while her carefully dressed hair had been brushed until it gleamed. There was a glow about her th
at Lavinia had not noticed before, as if she had suddenly come alive. Could there be an offer on the cards? ‘You look lovely,’ Lavinia said sincerely.
‘Oh, Vinny, I am so glad you came,’ she said, reaching out for her friend’s hand. ‘It is going to be a disaster.’
‘No, I am sure it is not,’ Lavinia soothed. ‘The babble will die down when the music begins for the dancing.’
However, it was not so much the music which silenced everyone but the entrance of Sir Percy Ponsonby. His attire was certainly colourful—a buttercup-yellow breeches suit of satin, a pea-green waistcoat, red-heeled shoes, cream hose and an enormous lace cravat. But it was not his dazzling appearance that had everyone open-mouthed—it was the lady on his arm.
Although past the first blush of youth, she was extraordinarily beautiful, with oval features, rosy cheeks and hair as black as a raven’s wing. Her diaphanous gown was of a pea-green spider-gauze only decent because of the silk slip she wore under it. Round her throat a heavy necklace flashed with precious stones, matched by eardrops and a thick bracelet. She was generously curved without being fat and stood beside her escort, surveying the company as if summing them all up before making the grand entrance.
‘Where, oh, where did he find her?’ Lavinia murmured as the couple moved into the room and, bowing this way and that at Sir Percy’s many acquaintances as though they were royalty themselves, they joined the Duke and Duchess of Loscoe.
‘Sir Percy is so often the odd one out,’ Lady Graham told Lavinia. ‘So when he asked if he might bring a friend, I was happy to oblige. But I have never met her.’
‘I must go and be introduced,’ Lavinia said, unable to contain her curiosity. ‘Please excuse me.’
She returned to her parents, just as Sir Percy was presenting the lady to the Duchess. ‘Your Grace, may I present Lady Rattenshaw,’ he was saying. ‘She is but lately returned to England from India. Sir Arthur, her husband, died just over a year ago. He was serving with the East India Company, don’t you know, died of one of those terrible diseases they have out there.’
