by Gayle Buck
This final humiliation had been a devastating blow, and it had all but broken her pride completely. The weight of her distress had nearly shattered her composure. But she had managed not to make a spectacle of herself. In a voice that she had not recognized as her own, she had requested that her maid be sent down to her. It had only been through Madison’s offices that she had been able to walk upstairs to her dressing room and attire herself for the journey.
Strange, Lucinda reflected, as she looked around the sitting room. There should be ghostly emotions vibrating forever in these surroundings, but she had felt nothing.
She had actually dreaded reentering the portals of this house and steeled herself against it. She had even wondered whether she could live at Mays House for an entire Season. The memories had come, of course, but she remained oddly unmoved. Simply, the town house was not home to her. She moved within its walls and enjoyed its luxuries, but it was as though she was merely a guest to whom polite hospitality had been extended. It had actually come as something of a relief to discover that the place had so little hold upon her.
Lucinda saw that her companion was looking at her rather strangely. She realized that she had been silent too long and at once volunteered an explanation. “Mrs. Beeseley has promised us a fine roast for our dinner, by the by. I was thinking just now that we must take care to return from our outing in good time so that we do not offend the cook’s sensibilities.” She gestured toward the door, lifting a brow inquiringly. “Shall we go? Are you ready?”
“Oh, I am quite ready.” Miss Blythe smoothed her own gloves and adjusted the reticule strings over her wrist as she moved after Lucinda to the door. Her thoughts were still revolving pleasurably on the promised treat that Lucinda had revealed was in store for them. She voiced her approval of the housekeeper’s diligence. “An excellent woman altogether. She knows how to keep the household well in hand, and she is never behind in the least courtesy. Did you know that Mrs. Beeseley has given orders that my sheets are to be properly warmed each night? That is the mark of the superior housekeeper.” Miss Blythe laughed a little self-consciously at how contented that she had sounded. “Oh, my dear! I am persuaded that I shall very much enjoy my position as your companion.”
“You are to be my chaperone as well, Tibby,” reminded Lucinda as they left the sitting room and traversed the entry hall. “You will be constrained to accompany me to every function that I take a fancy to attend. I only hope that you do not become jaded by all the amusements that we are certain to be offered.”
“Jaded! Oh, I should think not indeed, my lady,” said Miss Blythe. She was mindful of the footmen in the hall and took care to address her former pupil respectfully. “What an ingrate I would be to prefer my last post with the most obnoxious charge of my career to accompanying my dear Lady Mays to any diversion she chose.”
Lucinda laughed, but she shook her head as well. Pausing on the doorstep, she said, “Pray do not call me that when we are private.”
“But the servants, my dear. I must keep a proper distance between us before them,” said Miss Blythe.
“You are my friend, Tibby. Surely that gives you leave enough to disregard what anyone else may say! It is bad enough that you insist upon such formality between us when we are in company,” said Lucinda.
“I own, it does come awkwardly to my tongue,” said Miss Blythe. “I had grown too used to thinking of you as Lucinda Stassart over the years, and old habits die hard.” While they spoke, the ladies had descended the outside steps to the curb where the carriage was waiting. A footman handed them inside, and they made themselves comfortable. As the carriage started off, Lucinda said, “You never did approve of my marriage to Lord Mays, did you, Tibby?”
Miss Blythe looked at her former charge. Her rather plain face reflected her dismay. “My dear.”
Lucinda gave a slight smile. “You said not a word. But I knew that you did not approve. It was why I did not discuss the matter with you. Perhaps I should have done so.”
Miss Blythe covered Lucinda’s gloved hand with her own. “My dear Lucinda, it was not for me to voice my opinion. It would have been quite improper of me to have done so. It is quite true that I harbored strong reservations. You were so young and I had heard something of Lord Mays’s unsavory reputation. But I knew also of your family’s difficulties. Such terrible mortgages and debts and that wretched boy scarcely helped matters!”
Lucinda gave a gurgle of laughter. “My cousin Ferdie. What a coil he always made of things. But he is Papa’s heir, and he could not be left dangling, after all.”
“The experience might have done his character a great deal of good,” said Miss Blythe austerely.
“I suspect that Ferdie is quite past redemption,” said Lucinda candidly. “He never seemed able to stop himself from gambling even when his pockets were all to let. It is why my uncle finally refused to cover his debts any longer.”
“It is a pity that Sir Thomas was not of the same strength of mind,” said Miss Blythe. “Then perhaps you would not have been thrust into such an unequal marriage. Forgive me, my dear! I had not meant to speak so bluntly. It was just that the thought of your cousin, and your own questions, have roused me from my silence.”
“Ferdie’s embarrassments were not altogether to blame for the desperate straits in which we stood,” said Lucinda quietly. “The estate had been mortgaged before ever Papa came into his inheritance. And there were the rest of the debts and the expenses that had accrued over the years. The future of our family fortune would have been staked upon my face in any event. Lord Mays took upon himself the light of a savior when he offered for me. I was willing enough to wed him. You must not think that I was forced to accept his suit.”
Miss Blythe folded her thin lips, considering it best that she did not voice her opinion of that. “I did not think it a good match. But I did hope that you would come to be happy,” she said.
Lucinda smiled. However, there was a quality about her smile that startled her companion. Miss Blythe stared at Lucinda, wondering what possible thoughts could be behind such an expression. She was soon enlightened.
“That is precisely what I intend to be now that I am a widow,” said Lucinda quietly. “I am free at last of my shackles.”
Miss Blythe was unutterably shocked. “Lucinda!”
The hard look settled in Lucinda’s eyes. She glanced at her companion, her mouth forming a tight smile. “I am sorry that my irreverence shocks you, Tibby. However, I will not play the hypocrite. I had no cause to mourn my husband’s death. There was a fleeting regret, certainly, but it was followed almost instantly by a feeling of release.”
Miss Blythe’s lips parted, but she did not utter a sound.
Lucinda cast an anxious look at Miss Blythe. She knew that she had horrified her former preceptress. “Can you possibly understand that, Tibby? Do I sound like an unfeeling monster?”
“No, my dear. I do not see you as an unfeeling monster,” said Miss Blythe slowly. Her soft heart positively bled for the younger woman. “And I believe that I can enter into your feelings up to a point. You were undoubtedly greatly hurt by his lordship, especially when he banished you completely out of his life. It is not at all difficult to understand why you did not hold him in affection.”
“Thank you, Tibby,” said Lucinda gratefully. She gave her companion’s hand a squeeze. “I had hoped that you would understand. It is a comfort to me.”
The carriage had stopped in front of a fashionable modiste’s shop. The carriage door was opened, the step let down, and the ladies descended.
Whatever further thoughts that Miss Blythe might have voiced on the matter she kept to herself, but she could not banish a strong feeling of distress for her former charge. It greatly disturbed her to discover how much the innocent and dutiful young Stassart daughter had changed. She had never guessed it, for up until this moment Lucinda had appeared to her very like her former self.
It was something requiring deep contemplation, for Mis
s Blythe foresaw that her duties as chaperone and companion might be a little more complicated than she had anticipated. As she followed Lucinda, she wondered just what other facets of the young woman’s character had undergone unwelcome change.
Upon entering the modiste’s shop, Miss Blythe swiftly discovered that her position was also to be much more prominent than she had assumed. She was pleasurably appalled when she realized that Lucinda meant to trick her out in an entire new wardrobe.
“Lady Mays! I must protest. I cannot allow you to spend a king’s ransom on my back,” exclaimed Miss Blythe.
“Nonsense, you will be sensible and accept your good fortune,” said Lucinda, laughing. She spied a bright splash of silk and indicated the roll to the woman waiting upon them. “What of that watered green, pray?”
Miss Blythe waited for the saleswoman to move off after the silk before she spoke, but she also lowered her voice so that she could more easily fashion her plea. “Lucinda, you simply cannot order all these gowns and dresses for me. Why, whatever would I do with the half of them? I am a governess. I have never worn such stuff as this. Indeed, I would be very shortly turned off if I were to be so presumptuous as to dress better than my employer!”
“You are no longer a governess, Tibby. You are my companion, and you must be suitably attired if you are to chaperone me to fashionable soirees and balls and such,” said Lucinda. She fingered the watered green that the saleswoman was holding out for her inspection, and she nodded. “Yes, we must have this as well.”
“But my dear!” Miss Blythe looked helplessly at the mountain of bolts of cloth that represented day dresses and walking dresses and evening gowns.
Lucinda squeezed her companion’s arm affectionately. “Never mind, Tibby. I can stand the nonsense if that is what so concerns you. As for what is proper—yes, I can see it in your eyes! That is your next objection.”
“Of course it is,” retorted Miss Blythe. “Why, it would be most improper in me to allow you to give me even a fraction of what you have outlined.”
“It was you who taught me that one must be gracious in accepting gifts in order not to wound the giver,” said Lucinda, smiling. She saw that her companion was still troubled, and she entreated, “Please, Tibby. I have never had anyone upon whom to lavish my ill-gotten wealth. Pray do not deny me this pleasure.”
“Oh, my dear,” said Miss Blythe, shaking her head. She drew her gloved finger over a particularly attractive velvet, daring to visualize the lovely garment that would be made out of it. She wavered and was lost at last.
Lucinda knew that she had successfully carried her point. She smiled, and her brilliant blue eyes began to dance. “We shall have such an amusing time, Tibby, I promise you! You will be quite the grand dame in your new finery.”
“I only hope that you intend to outfit yourself as well,” retorted Miss Blythe.
“Oh!” Lucinda’s expression held astonished realization. “I was taking such pleasure in ordering for you that it completely slipped my mind to order anything for myself.”
“Then you must at once rectify your mistake and give the proprietress pleasant daydreams of being able to retire upon the huge sums you shall be dropping in her shop!” said Miss Blythe tartly.
Lucinda laughed and called the proprietress to her. When the ladies left the modiste’s shop, they had fervent promises that what they had ordered would be given the very strictest priority. Madame the proprietress herself promised to deliver at least two gowns for each of the ladies within the week.
Lucinda was well-pleased with their first foray. “We have made a fair beginning, Tibby. Now all we require are visits to the milliner, the boot maker, the glover, the—”
“Surely, surely you do not intend to make further purchases on my behalf?” asked Miss Blythe, dismayed but hoping that her suspicions were not correct.
“Tibby, you cannot put on last year’s gloves with that ravishingly elegant evening gown we have ordered for you. Nor can you wear sensible boots in the drawing room; you must have some slippers! Then there are bonnets to be thought of and shawls and—”
“Stop, I pray you!” cried Miss Blythe. “I am already overcome. Indeed, I shall require a strong sedative if you go on in this vein, Lucinda!”
Lucinda gave her companion’s arm a little shake and said coaxingly, “Give over, do, Tibby. I promise that I shall not force anything upon you should you dislike it. But you must confess that it is imperative that you appear to advantage if you are to be an effective chaperone for me.”
“Yes, I suppose that is true,” agreed Miss Blythe with visible reluctance.
“Then let us be off, for the morning is quickly slipping away from us, and I wish to put behind us the major purchases,” said Lucinda. “Come on, Tibby, into the carriage!”
Thus Miss Blythe succumbed and allowed herself to be borne off upon a shopping spree of proportions that she had never dreamed possible.
Chapter Four
The arrival in London of Lady Lucinda Mays did not go unnoticed. Indeed, curiosity was rife throughout society among those who recalled her come-out. Since she had emerged directly from the schoolroom and had been wed before her first Season was out, there was no one who could claim to have been her intimate friend, and that only added to the speculation.
Miss Lucinda Stassart had been a brief shining star for society to sigh over. She was exceedingly lovely, modest, and of unexceptional birth. She had had no portion, it was true, and the family’s circumstances were well known. Yet she had been assiduously courted and admired.
Those gentlemen too old or too impecunious to wed her had still paid her homage for the sake of her beauty, with the tacit understanding that they did so because it was all the rage. That handful of gentlemen both eligible and wealthy enough to overlook Miss Stassart’s lack of portion had vied hotly with one another over whom would claim the prize.
Lord Mays had thrived on the envy of others who could do no more than wish to possess what he could acquire. As Miss Stassart’s star scaled ever higher in the social stratosphere, she became ever more valuable in his lordship’s eyes. It became almost an obsession with Lord Mays to possess her.
Never before had Lord Mays deigned to look at any of the misses that were entered so hopefully into the marriage mart. He had his houses, his horses, his collections of art, his mistresses. He was the envy of his peers. What need had he of a wife? But a lady of Miss Stassart’s unimpeachable birth could not be acquired and paraded without a license and marriage settlements.
Coldly, calculatedly, Lord Mays put a price tag upon Miss Stassart that he was willing to pay. Without emotion he conveyed to his prospective father-in-law his willingness to relinquish the monies required to settle the Stassart mortgages and all of the family debts, as well as those debts incurred by the heir.
Sir Thomas had been utterly confounded. His wildest dreams had never led him to imagine such good fortune. He was not a stupid man, however, and he recovered sufficiently to demand something for his daughter. So it was that Lord Mays agreed to make over one of his minor estates to his intended wife with an annuity that was to be hers and for her descendents.
Then Lord Mays had unemotionally pledged himself to honor and cherish a girl who meant nothing to him. She was a possession, acquired through his wealth to excite the envy of his peers.
Lucinda had known that it was her duty as the beauty of the family to accept the most obliging offer made for her hand. An advantageous marriage was the only way to bring solvency back to a family that for generations had been plagued with debt.
Lord Mays was polished in his manners and possessed considerable charm of address. His person was set off to advantage by an excellent tailor. Jewels winked and glittered in his snowy cravat and on his fingers. There was nothing about his lordship that was repelling to a young, inexperienced schoolroom miss.
The lines of dissipation in his lordship’s face certainly emphasized the difference in age between him and his intended wife, but
Lucinda put away her romantic yearnings and dutifully accepted the future that her parents had been ever so happy to accept upon her behalf.
Lucinda meant to be a good wife and had hoped that one day Lord Mays’s heart would become captive to her own. She had been told a little about Lord Mays’s reputation, but with the optimism of youth she had anticipated that once she became his lordship’s wife the paramours would no longer be part of his life.
She had had no reason to suspect that it would be otherwise, for Lord Mays was flatteringly attentive. He even seemed jealous when her other admirers had paid her fulsome compliments or had partnered her onto the dance floor. Lord Mays always spoke charming things to her, and his eyes lit up whenever she chanced to come into his view.
And so with the exchange of vows, and the consideration of a princely sum to her parents, Lucinda had embarked upon her new life as Lady Mays, full of optimism and confidence and hope.
By the world’s measurement, Miss Stassart had made a spectacular marriage. Lord Mays was considerably older, and certainly his reputation was regrettable. However, one felt only envy for the young woman’s good fortune. She resided at one of the most prestigious addresses in London. She was coifed and gowned by the most expensive and exclusive dressers in town. Her jewels were spectacular and always in abundance. Her matched team and custom-made carriage were perfection in motion. She played hostess to the most opulent dinners and balls that one could possibly attend.
It was naturally the match of the Season, and it was generally agreed that Lord Mays had pulled off a major coup in winning the loveliest young lady that had graced London in many years.
Lord Mays paraded his new wife about everywhere, deriving much enjoyment from the envious comments. He laughed good-naturedly at the witticisms and innuendoes that touched upon his wife’s desirability. He at once commissioned a well-known artist to do his wife’s portrait, and when it was completed, had it hung in a prominent place in the dining room.
