The Loves of Lord Granton (The Changing Fortunes Series, Vol. 2)

by M C Beaton

  “From what I have heard, life in Calcutta is hardly dashing. One rises early to enjoy the cool air, such as there is. Then one has tiffin, a hot meal which is taken at noon. Then bed for three or four hours. Then when it grows dark, everyone dresses, despite the stifling heat, in English style and goes out to eat long stultifying dinners during which all the men become abominably drunk.”

  “You do not offer hope for any romance in this life. I shall not tell you more of my ideas,” said Frederica crossly.

  “You will have romance enough tomorrow night when you dance at the ball. Have you been practicing your steps?”

  “Yes, as often as I can.”

  “Good girl,” he said absently. And then after a few moments of heavy silence, he said reluctantly, “I should go. I would be very sad if we were to be discovered before the ball.”

  Frederica felt him preparing to make a move. She suddenly said breathlessly, “May I ask you a favor?”

  “If it is in my power, I will grant it.”

  “Will you kiss me?”

  “Frederica! Why?”

  “Because I have never been kissed by a gentleman before and probably will not be ever in my whole life.”

  “Do you mean you wish me to kiss you on the lips?”

  Frederica gave a shaky laugh. “Where else?”

  His long fingers felt for her face in the darkness and then cradled it in his hands. Slowly his lips descended on hers in a gentle kiss. She was suddenly shaken with passion, with a burning heat. The passion seemed to be surging up through her body to her lips.

  He felt her lips against his own, cool and virginal and sweet. He was about to draw away when suddenly those lips beneath his own started to burn and cling. His senses went whirling around and he kissed her more deeply, his mouth fused against hers.

  And then the church clock far above their heads chimed the quarter hour and he drew back, his breathing ragged.

  They rose together. He held open the door of the pew for her. Side by side they walked down the aisle, pausing in the darkness of the church porch.

  “Until tomorrow,” he whispered.

  “Until tomorrow,” she echoed faintly.

  He walked away through the slanting tombstones. She stood where she was, watching him go, wondering whether it might be possible to die from an excess of sweetness mixed with pain and loss.

  Lord Granton walked slowly back to the Hall, bewildered and confused. Frederica! Little Frederica, of all people to inspire such passion in him!

  He should not have kissed her like that, but the sweetness of her lips kept returning to him. And then he struck his forehead and said aloud, “Why, what a fool I am! All I have to do is marry the girl.”

  The more he thought about marrying Frederica, the more exciting the whole idea seemed. He felt like a youth again. He would ask Dr. Hadley at the ball to be allowed to pay his addresses, and then he would make the announcement. His conscience told him that it was a cruel thing to do to Annabelle, but it would no doubt drive Annabelle into the arms of the major. Frederica, after all the slights and snubs and humiliations she had received, would have her moment of triumph.

  Meanwhile Frederica let herself into the rectory by the front door. There was no need to sneak round the back. She could say, truthfully, that she had visited the church.

  “Is that you, Frederica?” called her mother’s voice from the parlor. “Come in here.”

  Frederica entered the parlor, blinking in the light. Her sisters stared at the “new” Frederica, with her elegant coronet of braided hair.

  “Come and sit down by me,” said Mrs. Hadley in a strained voice. Her eyes were red with weeping. The enormity of breaking the news of the banishment from the ball to Frederica at this last minute had struck her, and again she had pleaded with her husband to help her to tell the girl, but Dr. Hadley had said it was her job to do so and had locked himself in his study.

  Frederica sat down and smiled all around, still dazed from that kiss.

  “Frederica, I must tell you, you are not to go to the ball. Lady Crown has forbidden it.”

  “I beg your pardon, Mama?” Frederica smiled vaguely round the room, not having heard a word.

  “I said, you are not to go to the ball,” repeated Mrs. Hadley in a shrill voice. “And you brought it on yourself with that stupid lie about typhoid.”

  “Mama!” exclaimed Mary. “What is this? Why weren’t we told?”

  “Because Frederica might have gone further, might have said something even more dreadful, and then we would all have been stopped from going!”

  In a thin little voice, Frederica said, “Are you saying that I am not invited, that you knew of this, and yet you have waited until this moment to tell me?”

  Amy and Harriet sat wide-eyed. They could think of no worse punishment in the world than being forbidden to go to the ball at Townley Hall.

  “You are so incalculable,” wailed Mrs. Hadley. “Besides, you have never really been interested in such things.”

  Frederica sat there, bewildered. All the gladness and wonder she had felt over that kiss had fled to be replaced by a deep depression. She was only silly little Frederica Hadley from the rectory, not marriageable, who did not know how to behave to her betters and was being punished accordingly.

  Mary stood up. “I shall not go,” she announced, striking her breast. “I shall stay here tomorrow night with my little sister.”

  “Oh, that is stoopid!” cried Amy. “Frederica brought this on herself and nearly stopped us going as well.”

  Frederica stood up. “Good night,” she said abruptly. She turned and walked from the room. Mary, Mary of all people, to make such a generous offer. That was really what had finally overset her. She ran to her room and threw herself on the bed and cried until she could cry no more.

  Lord Granton awoke the next day with an unusual feeling of happiness and anticipation flooding through him. He wondered if he should tell his friend, the major, that he was to marry Frederica. But the softhearted major might tell the Crowns, and he did want Frederica to have her moment of triumph. Besides, the Crowns had no reason to expect him to propose marriage. He had made no advances to Annabelle, nor had he asked Sir Giles for his permission to pay his addresses to her.

  He had anticipated a day free of social duties before the ball, but at breakfast Sir Giles said cheerfully, “Poor Annabelle, although quite recovered from her ordeal, would benefit from some fresh air, and the day is fine. There is nothing she can do here to help with the preparations. My wife will do it all.” Which meant that Lady Crown would supervise an army of servants and caterers. “Why do you not take her for a drive?”

  “Good idea,” said the major, to Lord Granton’s relief. “I will come, too.”

  Lady Crown frowned. “That will not be necessary. I would like you to stay and advise me on some matters, Major.”

  Annabelle dimpled at Lord Granton. “I will not be very long.”

  That meant an hour while Annabelle’s maid helped her into a new carriage gown and rearranged her hair.

  “Where would you like to go?” asked Lord Granton somewhat ungraciously when they were seated in one of the Hall’s curricles.

  Annabelle pouted. She felt her company ought to be enough. “Just around and about,” she said.

  He set out at a smart pace, wishing it were Frederica beside him. Annabelle prattled on about the fine weather and how she would like to sketch that vista of trees and fields over there.

  “I know a very pretty pool quite near here,” he said.

  “The one at Cummins Woods? But you cannot drive to it. One has to walk.”

  “I am sure a short walk will not harm either of us.” He had never thought of himself as a sentimental man, but he suddenly wanted a last look at the pool beside which he had talked to Frederica and taught her to dance.

  Frederica awoke to a dismal day. Once more life stretched out in front of her, flat and dark. But as she washed and dressed, she decided she would go
to that pool to see if she could recapture some happy memories that were not tinged with shame. She had asked him to kiss her!

  And he had not uttered one word of love. He would regard her with amusement as just another conquest. Only look at his reputation. He had been amusing himself with her, passing a boring visit to the country. Would he miss her at the ball? He obviously had not known she was not to go. But perhaps he would be relieved she was not there.

  She joined her family for breakfast. “Why, Mama,” she said sadly, “did you not warn me I was not to go? I have that beautiful ball gown, and now I will never have a chance to wear it.”

  “As to that,” said Dr. Hadley, “you will be able to wear it to winter assemblies in Evesham.”

  “And Dr. Hadley has suggested we engage the services of a dancing master for you,” said Mrs. Hadley.

  Frederica picked at her food. Her unruly tongue! “And it was because I said there was typhoid in the village,” she said.

  Mrs. Hadley nodded. “Then we were all re-invited, but not you. My dear child, what if I had told you then? You might have met the Crowns and said something else and then your poor sisters would be banned as well.”

  “I shall not go,” said Mary stoutly. “I think it is most unfair. We shall have a cozy evening here, and I will read you my poems, Frederica.”

  Frederica was about to remark that she had no wish to listen to poems plagiarized from the Ladies’ Magazine but then realized the kindness of her elder sister’s gesture and said instead, “You are very good, Mary. But it would give me much more pleasure to think of you at that ball. Come now. You can write a splendid poem about it all and read it to me later.”

  Mary’s face registered a conflict of desires. She really felt that Frederica should not be left behind alone, and yet she did long to go.

  “I will wait up for you all,” urged Frederica, “and you can tell me about it.”

  “In that case…,” said Mary.

  “Of course you should go,” snapped Harriet. “I, for one, am not sorry for Frederica at all. She is only getting what she deserves.”

  There was a silence. Frederica drank some chocolate and nibbled at some toast. She felt in some way she was being punished for having been so vain, so stupid. For she had begun to hope that Lord Granton might have come to love her. She had to admit that now. And in the clear light of day, with the sun streaming in through the old mullioned windows of the rectory, her behavior began to seem to her disgraceful. Using her father’s church for an assignation and then begging one of London’s most famous rakes to kiss her!

  And yet, still she decided to go back to that pool.

  Lord Granton and Annabelle stood in silence, side by side, looking at the pool, each immersed in private thoughts.

  I hope we spend most of the year in London when we are married, Annabelle was thinking. The country is so tiresome. All those lovely shops in London, and all the balls and routs and theaters. She supposed he had brought her here to kiss her. Annabelle had never been kissed and wondered what it would be like. Only think of his reputation. What if he went too far?

  A smile curved Lord Granton’s lips as he thought of Frederica. When they were married, they would come to this spot again and remember it was where he taught her to dance, and they would laugh over how stupid he had been to waste so much time meeting her in secret when all he had to do was to ask her father for permission to pay his addresses.

  “Are you enjoying your visit to the country?” he realized Annabelle was asking.

  “Oh, immensely,” he said, smiling down at her. “In fact, I cannot remember when I have enjoyed myself more.”

  “My lord, you flatter me.”

  He looked at her modestly lowered eyelashes, and said, rather curtly, “I did not mean to flatter you. The countryside around here is very beautiful.”

  She gave him a startled look but then decided she could not have heard him correctly. She moved close to him and put a confiding hand on his arm. “You must admit Town is a much more fascinating place.”

  “On the contrary, I am tired of London and I think I would prefer to stay in the country.”

  “But one would go to Town for the Season!”

  “I am sure you will enjoy another Season.”

  So that meant he at least would take her to London every Season, thought Annabelle.

  “I should like that above all things,” she said.

  Her grip on his arm grew tighter, and she gazed up into his face.

  And that is how Frederica saw them as she came quietly through the woods. They looked an intimate couple. A hot wave of shame engulfed her, and she turned and moved quietly away.

  She walked rapidly home and crept up the back stairs to her room, her only sanctuary now, as all her favorite places had become tainted with his presence and with what she saw as the betrayal of her feelings. He had used her as a momentary diversion while his well-ordered life of courtship and proposal to Annabelle went ahead. That he had taken Annabelle to their pool showed that all their meetings had meant nothing to him. She was now beyond tears and very glad that she was not to go to the ball. How would she have reacted when she heard the announcement of his engagement to Annabelle? Better to endure her shame and misery alone and in private.

  Lady Crown, seeing that all the preparations for the ball were well under way, decided to broach the delicate question of Lord Granton to her daughter. If Lord Granton meant to announce his engagement to Annabelle at the ball, there had certainly been no sign of it. Surely the viscount would have told Sir Giles by now of his intentions.

  When she saw Annabelle returning from her drive with Lord Granton, she waited until her daughter was in her private sitting room and went to confront her.

  “You must not be too disappointed, my dear,” began Lady Crown as Annabelle removed her bonnet and passed it to her maid. “You may leave us,” snapped Lady Crown to the maid. “I have private matters to discuss with my daughter.”

  When the maid had curtsied her way out, Lady Crown said, “Sit down, my dear. I fear we must face facts. Granton is not going to propose to you. He said something last night about taking his leave immediately after the ball.”

  Annabelle laughed. “Much you know of it, Mama. I asked him if we would spend much time in London, and he replied that he favored country life but that he would take me to the Season.”

  “He said that! Oh, my little love, I am so proud of you. To think my little daughter has succeeded where so many have failed! But is it not sad that he has said nothing to your father?”

  “He probably wants it to be a surprise,” said Annabelle, “and it might come as a surprise to everyone—except me.”

  The doting mother promptly forgot about her daughter’s singular failure to attract a suitor at the previous Season. Her pride and vanity were every bit as great as that of her daughter, and her momentary flash of common sense had gone. They were, after all, the Crowns of Barton Sub Edge, a worthy family. Lord Granton was a lucky man.

  “Where did you go on your drive, my dear?”

  “That pool in Cummins Woods. Such a dreary spot. But gentlemen are so odd in their tastes.” Annabelle gave a triumphant little laugh. “But I shall soon reform him. I declare I feel in such charity with the world that I have a mind to let that tiresome little girl, Frederica, come to the ball after all.”

  “She deserves to be punished.”

  “Oh, what does it matter? Let her come.”

  Annabelle was still piqued that Frederica had commanded so much of Lord Granton’s attention during that visit to the rectory. Frederica should be at the ball to witness the betrothal of herself to Lord Granton. “Besides,” she went on, “it might be remarked upon were she the one Hadley daughter not to be invited.”

  “As you wish, my love. I shall send a footman to the rectory with an invitation. But mark my words, it is more than Frederica Hadley deserves.”

  “You what?” The major stood stock still and gazed openmouthed at his friend
. They had been walking across the lawns in front of the Hall when Lord Granton dropped his bombshell, his desire to confide in someone overriding his earlier caution. “You mean to marry that odd child from the rectory?”

  “Yes, I do. Wish me well.”

  “No, I will not wish you well,” declared the major, his temper rising. “I have a bad feeling you are expected to announce your engagement to Annabelle.”

  “They have no reason to believe that. Have I declared my intentions?”

  “No, but…” The major looked sharply at his friend. “But it is a wonder the news of your forthcoming engagement is not all over the village. I cannot imagine such as Mrs. Hadley keeping quiet about that!”