The Mistress of Hanover Square

by Anne Herries

  ‘Max has his footmen on duty all night so you should be quite safe,’ Gerard told her. ‘I shall see you in the morning, but you will sleep in and I have things to do—so you need not look for me before noon.’

  Amelia nodded and went into her room. Martha came when she rang the bell and unfastened her gown at the back, helping her off with it.

  ‘What is that smell, Miss Royston?’ she asked, wrinkling her nose. ‘You do not have a new perfume?’

  ‘No…’ Amelia glanced around her. ‘I had just noticed it myself—it smells like lilies…the exotic ones they grow in hot houses that have strong perfume.’ She took a step towards the bed, halting as the smell became overpowering. ‘I think…behind the chair…is that a pot of lilies? It is not easy to see, but I believe it must be the source of that smell.’

  Martha went quickly to look. ‘Now how did that get here? I swear it wasn’t here when I came in earlier to turn down the bed. The nasty thing!’ She picked it up and went to the door, speaking to someone outside for a moment. ‘I’ve given it to the footman to get rid of. I wonder who could have put that in here.’

  ‘I cannot imagine for one moment,’ Amelia said. ‘Have a look around the room to make sure nothing else has been hidden and then you may go to bed. I am sure you have become tired waiting up for me.’

  ‘I like to see you when you come back from a ball, miss. Have you enjoyed yourself?’

  ‘Yes, very much,’ Amelia said, watching as Martha went round the room, looking behind chests and under tables. ‘I am sure you will find nothing else. Remember to lock the dressingroom door when you go out, Martha.’

  ‘Yes, of course, miss. I have kept it locked since you told me. If someone entered your room, they must have a key or they came from the hall. You do not lock it when you leave.’

  ‘Whoever it was must have entered from the hall. Lord Coleridge assured me that we have both keys to the dressing room. I have not been accustomed to locking my doors during the day. I have never needed to before, but I shall consider it in future.’

  Before retiring, Amelia checked the door to the hall and the one to the dressing room. Both were locked. She was pensive as she pulled back the top covers on her bed and looked to see if anything unpleasant had been placed between the sheets. They were fresh and sweet smelling, just as Martha had prepared them for her.

  The lilies were further evidence that someone was stirring up trouble for her. She had not dreamed up the intruder of the previous night—and there were the letters that no one would admit to having taken down to the hall. She had not bothered to ask Max if he had franked them for her, but she might do so in the morning.

  She knew that if she spoke to the footman outside the door, Gerard would come to her, but she did not consider the pot of lilies reason enough to disturb him. Their perfume still lingered and she found it strong so she opened her a window a little to let in some fresh air. It seemed odd that Emily should complain of a strong soap used for washing her kerchiefs and now the lilies…

  Amelia’s thoughts were confused. Emily would not lie to her, but Marguerite had implied that she had taken the letters—and that she had seen her coming from Amelia’s room this very evening. If she had not trusted Emily implicitly, she might have wondered if her companion had played a trick on her.

  Why would anyone take some letters? Why would they hide a pot of lilies in her room? Supposing it was all part of a clever plot to make her believe that Emily was lying to her…Amelia dismissed the idea immediately. Someone was trying to unnerve her. Why? Was it to make her so distressed that she called off her wedding?

  She thought it must be the most likely explanation. Yet why should anyone want to prevent her happiness? The only person she could think of who refused to accept her marriage was her brother. However, he had not been invited to Coleridge for the ball, because Helene did not like him.

  Michael could certainly not be behind the odd things that had happened this past few days—though he might have paid someone to do it, of course. A servant, perhaps?

  In another moment she would be thinking that Martha had placed the lilies in her room herself! This was so foolish and she would not think of it any more.

  Martha had left a jug of lemon barley by her bed. She poured some into a glass and drank most of it. It was a little stronger than usual, but not unpleasant. She snuffed out the candles and closed her eyes. No one would disturb her sleep that night!

  Martha awoke her by pulling back the curtains the next morning. Amelia yawned as she sat up, feeling that she could have slept a little longer, but as she looked at the pretty enamelled carriage clock she kept by her bed, she saw that it was almost noon.

  ‘I am late this morning,’ she said as she sat up and threw back the covers. ‘Please pour me a cup of chocolate while I dress. Lisa will think I have deserted her.’

  ‘I looked in twice, miss,’ Martha said. ‘You were sleeping so soundly that I thought it best not to wake you.’

  ‘I must have been tired. I do not usually sleep this late even after a ball.’

  Amelia went behind the dressing screen, washed and dressed in the greenstriped linen gown that Martha brought her. She drank her chocolate at the dressing table, while Martha brushed her hair and wound it into a shining twist at the back of her head, securing it with pins.

  ‘Thank you. I shall not eat, because it will be nuncheon very soon. I must hurry to spend a few minutes with Lisa before we are summoned.’

  Amelia went up to the nursery. Nurse Mary was folding clothes as the children played with puzzles and books at the table.

  ‘I am sorry to visit so late. I overslept this morning.’

  ‘Miss Ross has been to play with the children,’ Mary said. ‘Miss Barton usually comes, but she hasn’t been this morning. It is the first time she has missed since before Christmas.’

  ‘She had a headache last night. Perhaps she still has it.’

  Amelia spent a little time with the children. She promised Lisa that she would return later that day.

  ‘We are going to Ravenshead tomorrow,’ she said. ‘I shall have more time to take you for walks then, my love.’

  ‘Will you be my mama then? Must I call you Mama?’

  ‘I shall always be your friend,’ Amelia said. ‘If you wish to call me Mama, you may, but if you would rather call me Melia, you can, Lisa.’

  ‘Nanny said I would have to call you Mama—-even though you are not my mother…’ Lisa frowned. ‘My mother died, didn’t she?’

  ‘Oh, darling, yes, she did, soon after you were born. Why do you ask?’

  ‘How did my mama die? Did it hurt her?’ Lisa’s eyes were dark and a little fearful.

  ‘No, she wasn’t in pain. She had been ill for a long time—and she just went to sleep. You shouldn’t think about it, Lisa. Your mama loved you and she would want you to be happy.’

  ‘You won’t die, will you, Melia?’

  ‘No, my love. Not for a long time.’

  Lisa clung to her hand. ‘Promise me you won’t go away and leave me and never come back.’

  ‘I promise. I may go somewhere for a visit with your papa sometimes, but we shall both come back to you. We love you very much and we shall all be together as much as possible.’

  ‘Thank you for telling me.’ Lisa’s eyes fixed on her intently. ‘I love you, Melia.’

  ‘I love you too, my darling.’ Amelia embraced her, then looked into her face. ‘Who told you that your mama died?’

  ‘I asked Emily, because she said—’ Lisa broke off as Marguerite entered the room. ‘I want to read my book…’ She ran to pick up the picture book, her head bent over the beautiful illustrations.

  ‘Emily is unwell,’ Marguerite said. ‘She has vomited this morning and I think she has a fever. I believe she may be sickening for something. Perhaps we should ask for the doctor to call?’

  ‘Yes, perhaps we should,’ Amelia said. ‘I must go, Lisa. I shall come again later.’

  Amelia hurrie
d from the room. She felt anxious about Emily. It must be something more than strong perfume on her kerchiefs if she had been vomiting. She would visit her and then make a decision about sending for the doctor.

  ‘I am sorry to be so much trouble,’ Emily said, looking pale and wan as she lay with her head against a pile of pillows. ‘I do not know what is wrong with me. I was awake most of the night and vomited three times.’

  ‘I am so sorry you are ill,’ Amelia said. ‘I shall send for the doctor. He will give you something to help with the pain.’

  ‘I never have headaches. I thought it was the perfume on my kerchiefs, but it throbs so and I feel terrible…’ Emily put a hand to her head. ‘I am sorry to cause all this bother, Amelia.’

  ‘You are not causing a bother. I shall call the doctor and hope that you are well enough to travel in the morning, Emily. However, if you are still unwell, we shall put off our journey for a few days. I have no intention of leaving you behind, my love.’

  Leaving Emily to rest, Amelia went downstairs. She was late entering the dining parlour and apologised to the assembled company.

  ‘I am sorry to keep you waiting, but Emily is most unwell—and I slept late.’

  ‘I am so sorry Emily is unwell,’ Helene said. ‘Have you sent for the doctor?’

  ‘Yes, I spoke to one of your servants, Helene. Emily is too sick to keep food down. I have asked Martha to make her a tisane and I shall go up to her as soon as I have eaten.’

  ‘I could help nurse her,’ Marguerite offered.

  ‘It would be better if you stayed away from Miss Barton,’ Gerard said from across the table. ‘If she is sickening for something infectious, I would not wish it passed on to Lisa. Your first duty is to the child, Miss Ross.’

  Marguerite’s face remained impassive, but, happening to look at her, Amelia noticed that a little nerve flickered at the corner of her eye. She was not sure if Marguerite were angry or distressed.

  Amelia frowned. ‘I promised to visit Lisa this afternoon, Gerard. Perhaps I should not—unless Emily is merely suffering from an excess of nerves?’

  Gerard stared at her for a moment in silence, then inclined his head. ‘I shall bow to your good judgement, Amelia. However, it might be best if you left the nursing of Emily to Martha or one of the other maids.’

  She gave him a reproving look. ‘Emily is my friend. She needs me.’

  ‘You are Lisa’s mother now. She should be more important to you. I hope you will not let her down, Amelia.’

  Gerard’s expression was hard to read, but she thought that he was angry. Amelia was puzzled and a little hurt. How could Gerard think that she would desert Emily when she was so ill? Lisa had her nurse and Marguerite, and if Gerard was afraid of crossinfection then she would simply have to stay away from the nursery until Emily was better.

  She did not like his tone or the way his words seemed to imply that Amelia’s own wishes must come second to the child’s. Of course she would never intentionally let Lisa down, but neither could she abandon Emily when she was so ill.

  Gerard had been acting a little oddly recently. Amelia was not certain what some of his remarks were supposed to mean. She would ask him to explain, but for the moment it did not look as if she would have time to speak with him alone.

  The doctor visited Emily. After examining her, he shook his head and looked grave, but said nothing until Amelia followed him into the small sitting room.

  ‘She has no physical signs of illness other than the vomiting and the headache. There is no fever and I cannot see any sign of a rash—nor does she have any lumps in her stomach that might indicate an internal problem.’ He polished his little round spectacles on a white kerchief. ‘Could she be suffering from an excess of feeling, perhaps? Has she suffered a disappointment?’

  ‘Yes, I believe she may have.’ Amelia frowned. ‘That happened some days ago and she was well enough then, distressed but not unwell. Are you sure there is nothing wrong with her?’

  ‘It is my opinion that she is of a delicate constitution and, as you may know, some ladies go into a decline after suffering a severe setback.’

  ‘I would not have thought that Emily had a delicate constitution.’ Amelia wanted to say more, but held the words back. ‘Thank you for your time, sir. You may send me the bill.’

  ‘I shall send something that may help with the headache—but I believe she needs a tonic to lift her spirits. Perhaps she should go to Bath and take the waters there.’

  ‘Yes, perhaps. I shall suggest it to her.’

  Amelia returned to Emily’s bedchamber after he left.

  ‘He will send something for the headache, but I believe one of Martha’s tisanes would do as well, Emily.’

  ‘I am not sure, but I think it was the tisane that made me sick,’ Emily said. ‘Martha brought it to me and I left it beside my bed. I was sleepy and did not drink it then, but later…something woke me. I got up to relieve myself and then drank the tisane. Some minutes later I started to vomit.’

  ‘Martha’s tisane could not have caused you to be sick,’ Amelia said. ‘She has made them for me many times when I have felt a little unwell and they always do me good. It is very strange.’

  ‘Well, perhaps it was not the tisane,’ Emily said. ‘I feel a little better now, but I shall not get up. I want to be well enough to come with you tomorrow, Amelia.’

  ‘If you are not, we shall delay our departure. I shall not leave you behind, dearest. If you are not completely better once we are at Ravenshead, I shall call another doctor. I would send you to my own doctor in Bath, whom you know and like, but I cannot come with you.’ Amelia was thoughtful. ‘Unless you would like to go alone?’

  ‘No, I should not. I do not want to leave you. Especially at the moment…while you may be in danger.’ Emily’s fingers moved nervously on the covers. ‘I have not forgotten that it was you those rogues meant to snatch when I was kidnapped—the things they said…’ She gave a little shiver. ‘You must be careful, Amelia—even when you think there is no reason.’

  ‘I know you care for me, Emily. We must just hope that you are soon feeling well again, my love.’

  Amelia came upon Gerard as she was on her way back from the nursery. She had spent a pleasant hour reading to Lisa. The child seemed much happier than she had at Christmas, though she had clung to Amelia and was clearly reluctant to see her leave.

  ‘You have been to visit Lisa?’

  She met Gerard’s questioning gaze, looking directly into his eyes.

  ‘The doctor says that Emily may be suffering an excess of the nerves. I am not sure that he is correct, but he says there is no fever. She is not infectious. I have visited Lisa as I promised her. Had Emily been infectious, I should not have visited the nursery until it was safe.’

  ‘Are you annoyed with me for suggesting it?’

  ‘You have every right to protect your child. I know she is important to you.’

  ‘It was not simply that…’ Gerard frowned. ‘Something odd is going on, Amelia. I am not sure what it is, but I have sensed it for a while.’

  ‘I am not sure that I understand you, Gerard. I know Emily was abducted at Pendleton, but nothing else has happened since then. Unless you know something I do not?’

  ‘There was the matter of the intruder in your bed-chamber.’ Gerard hesitated. ‘A footman saw a woman leaving the back stairs that evening. She went into the hall and up the main staircase. He did not see her face clearly for it was dark and she had no candle, but he thought she wore a grey gown. He thought it odd that she did not carry a candle and reported it to Max.’

  ‘Perhaps there was sufficient light from the stars.’

  ‘But why not take a candle—unless she did not wish to be seen?’

  ‘You think a woman came to my room—a woman who was not a servant?’

  ‘I think perhaps she might have been your intruder.’

  ‘I was not harmed and nothing was taken.’

  ‘But someone was there a
nd must have had a reason.’ He frowned. ‘The footman thought it might have been your companion.’

  ‘You cannot think it was Emily?’

  Amelia had said nothing to Gerard of the letters taken from her desk or the pot of lilies in her room, because the incidents were merely annoying and not of consequence.

  ‘We only have Miss Barton’s word—and Northaven’s, of course—that she was abducted.’

  ‘Gerard! How could you?’ Amelia raised her brows. ‘What are you implying? You do not think that Emily would lie about a thing like that? Why would she pretend to be abducted?’

  ‘At the moment I hardly know what I think. Yet something is nagging at the back of my mind.’

  ‘You must tell me later.’ Amelia smiled. ‘Here comes Marguerite.’ She went forwards to meet her. ‘Are you on your way to the nursery? We have good news, Marguerite. Emily is not infectious, but she is far from well. I have told her that we shall not travel to Ravenshead until she is better. Indeed, if she does not recover I may have to take her to Bath to visit my own doctor. However, in that event, you would accompany Lisa to Ravenshead—she needs the comforts of her home about her.’

  ‘I am sad to hear that Emily is ill. Is there anything I can do for her, as she is not infectious?’ Mar-guerite’s gaze flicked towards Gerard and for a moment her eyes seemed to spark with an emotion that might have been resentment.

  ‘She would rather be left to rest. The vomiting has passed, but she still has a headache. Besides, as Gerard said, you came to us to help with Lisa, did you not?’

  ‘Yes, of course. I just wish to be of as much help to you as I can, Amelia.’ Marguerite glanced at Gerard and for a moment her eyes were hard with dislike. ‘I shall not hurt or abandon you.’

  ‘I am sure you would not.’ Amelia smiled and kissed her cheek. ‘I do not know when Emily will be able to resume her duties. In the meantime, I shall need your help, Marguerite.’

  ‘You know that I am always willing to be of service to you, Amelia.’