Love for Lucinda

by Gayle Buck

  As soon as they had returned to Mays House, Lucinda and Miss Blythe repaired instantly to their respective bedchambers to remove their wet cloaks and finery. Madison gave a distressed cry at sight of her mistress’s wet appearance. “My lady! Oh, you must be frozen!”

  “I am all right, Madison. But I fear that my slippers are ruined,” said Lucinda, wiggling her toes in the sodden footgear. She dropped the heavy wet cloak over a chair.

  “We shall soon have you out of these wet things and into your gown, my lady,” said Madison. Her fingers flew over the many small buttons on the back of the gown. Within minutes Lucinda was cozy in a warm gown and robe.

  The housekeeper had ordered up hot toddies for the ladies. Mrs. Beeseley herself performed the task of warming Lady Mays’s bedsheets. As she energetically moved the warming pan back and forth between the sheets, she scolded her mistress. “Anyone could have seen that it was going to rain. You ought to be more careful, my lady. No doubt you will catch a terrible chill.”

  “Nonsense, I am never ill,” said Lucinda. “A little wetting shan’t harm me in the least.” She tightened the tie on her robe and turned to the fire, spreading her chilled fingers to the warm blaze.

  “Perhaps not, my lady,” said Mrs. Beeseley, a note of doubt in her tone. She straightened, done at last with the warming pan. “Howsomever, I do have my doubts for poor dear Miss Blythe. Why, I left her not three minutes ago sneezing and sniffling something awful. The poor lady looked as miserable as a wet cat.”

  Lucinda looked around, her sympathy immediately aroused. “Poor Tibby! I shall go to her at once.”

  Lucinda went along the hall to her companion’s bedroom. She knocked on the door, and the maid opened it to her. The woman bobbed a curtsy. “Good evening, m’lady.”

  Lucinda entered with a quiet word of greeting. “How is Miss Blythe?” she asked softly.

  The maid shook her head. “Miss is sitting before the fire, feeling as wretched as she can be, m’lady.” She closed the door as Lucinda went to see for herself.

  Miss Blythe was huddled in a wing chair with a rug thrown over her knees. Her hair had been let down from its pins, and it hung in a thick screen over her shoulder. She cupped the hot toddy between her hands and carefully sipped at the hot brew. Her eyes were watery, her nose was red, and when she greeted Lucinda, her voice came out in a rasping croak.

  Lucinda was shocked and concerned. “Tibby, you must instantly get into bed.”

  “It is only a small chill. You must not be anxious on my account,” said Miss Blythe hoarsely.

  The maid leaned quietly toward Lucinda. “Miss refuses to get into bed, my lady, and here I’ve warmed it up proper for her. Miss says that she don’t mean to coddle herself and won’t go to bed earlier than her usual.”

  “Tibby, how can you be so nonsensical? Of course you should go to bed,” said Lucinda.

  “I shan’t coddle myself. It is a very bad habit in which to fall,” said Miss Blythe. Her stern declaration lost most of its effect when she dissolved into a fit of sneezing.

  “Well, I shall coddle you! Here, I shall help you into bed.” Lucinda took the cup from Miss Blythe’s hands and gave it to the maid.

  “But I do not believe in coddling one’s self,” protested Miss Blythe, sniffling.

  “Of course you do not. I am a great bully, however, and I insist that you get into bed. You will be much more comfortable,” said Lucinda. Ruthlessly, she threw the rug off Miss Blythe’s knees. She put her hand under Miss Blythe’s elbow and levered her up out of the chair. “Come along, Tibby. I will not be denied.”

  Miss Blythe gave a dry laugh. “Very well. I see that you are determined to coerce me.”

  With Lucinda’s arm firm about her shoulders, she allowed herself to be guided across the bedroom. She gratefully climbed into the waiting bed. The maid firmly tucked the coverlets over her. From the pillows, Miss Blythe said, “I shall be perfectly all right in the morning.”

  “So I should hope,” said Lucinda. “I shall inquire after you in the morning, Tibby. Good night.”

  Miss Blythe murmured a drowsy reply. The hot toddy had been liberally laced with rum, and it was already beginning to do its work.

  The following morning Lucinda asked about Miss Blythe. She was told that the lady was still abed. Concerned, Lucinda went at once to her companion’s room. She could not recall a single instance when her former governess had not risen with the dawn.

  Lucinda found Miss Blythe heavy-eyed and feverish. The lady was obviously suffering from a headache caused by a stuffy nose. “You must remain in bed and rest today, Tibby.”

  “But I must get up, Lucinda. What will you do without me to chaperone you when gentlemen callers come to visit? There are the errands that I wished to run, too.” Miss Blythe fretfully picked at her coverlet. “I wished to return the books that I had taken from the Lending Library and to buy a length of ribbon and some new embroidery yarns, too.”

  Sitting down on the side of the bed, Lucinda took hold of the older woman’s agitated hands. “Dear Tibby. It is all very easily answered. I shall manage very well, I promise you! I shall not receive anyone whom I know you will not approve. As for these errands, I can very well do them for you. Only, you must give me a sample of the color yarn that you require so that I may match it perfectly.”

  “It is not proper that you should discharge my paltry commissions,” said Miss Blythe, sniffling morosely.

  “I hope that I am not so high in the instep as that! Besides, it will do me a world of good to get out of this house for a while,” said Lucinda. “I will not have you stepping a foot out of doors until you are over this chill, or we will have you taking ill.”

  Miss Blythe agreed to the wisdom in that, but she still protested that Lucinda should not be bothered with her errands. “I do not wish you to put yourself out on my account.”

  “I have a few errands of my own, too, so I shall be going out in any event. Where have you put the books to be exchanged and the yarns?” asked Lucinda, smiling. As Miss Blythe began to form another objection, she threw up her hand. “Now give over, do, Tibby. I shall not take no for an answer.”

  Miss Blythe smiled at last. “Are you still playing the bully, my lady?”

  “I rather enjoy the role,” said Lucinda.

  A watery laugh was raised from Miss Blythe that ended in a coughing spell. She directed the maid to the books and the yarns, and when they had been given into Lucinda’s hands, she said hoarsely, “I do thank you, my dear. I am just sorry that you are putting yourself to so much trouble.”

  “Nonsense. You know that I am entertained by a good novel as well as the next person. I have no doubt whatever that I shall enjoy perusing the shelves. As for these other items, I shall merely add them to my own list. Now I shall leave you to rest, Tibby,” said Lucinda cheerfully, moving away from the bed and carrying the books and the sample of embroidery yam.

  The maid opened the bedroom door. Lucinda paused before exiting, saying quietly, “I wish to be informed at once if she takes a turn for the worse.”

  “Yes, m’lady. I shall watch her very close,” promised the maid.

  Lucinda went on to her own room, intending to change into attire more appropriate to a shopping trip. Her fine brows were drawn in a slight frown. She had never known her former governess to be taken ill, and it came as a surprise to discover that Miss Blythe was not the invulnerable personage that she had always thought her.

  For the first time Lucinda realized that her dear Miss Blythe was becoming older. What did a woman who had been a governess all of her life do once she became too old or too infirm to hold a position? More to the point, what would she do once she no longer needed Miss Blythe as her chaperone and companion? Certainly Lucinda did not want to thrust Miss Blythe into the awkward situation of having to find another post.

  Miss Blythe was enjoying everything about living in London so much. It seemed cruel to think of letting her go back to her former occupation when it
offered so few of the amenities of life. There must be some way of providing indefinitely for Miss Blythe. However, Lucinda had the good sense to know that that lady would reject outright charity. There seemed no perfect or easy solution. It was something to keep at the back of her mind and puzzle over until she could come up with a satisfactory answer.

  Lucinda went into her bedroom. When her dresser learned that Lucinda was intending to go out, she instantly offered to accompany her mistress.

  Lucinda declined her maid’s services. “I have given you the day off, Madison. I would not dream of depriving you of it now.”

  “But my lady, you’ll need someone to carry your parcels,” said Madison as she did up the buttons of her mistress’s walking dress.

  “John Coachman is well able to do that, Madison, for I do not anticipate many purchases. I shan’t be out long, so you mustn’t fret,” said Lucinda, sliding her arms into the sleeves of a warm pelisse and buttoning it. She settled a velvet bonnet on her head and tied the ribbons.

  “It isn’t proper for you to be out alone, my lady,” said Madison disapprovingly, handing a pair of soft kid gloves to her mistress.

  Lucinda laughed, turning away from the mirror and pulling on her gloves. “Now you sound like Miss Blythe. This morning I am a creature of impropriety, it seems.”

  “Miss Blythe is a lady of uncommon sense who knows what is due you, my lady,” said Madison repressively.

  “Are you saying that I want for sense, Madison?” asked Lucinda provokingly. But the dresser only sniffed, refusing to rise to the bait. Lucinda smiled as she left the bedroom.

  Attired in a fashionable bonnet and pelisse, shod in half-kid boots, and carrying a warm muff and her reticule, Lucinda stepped out the front door. She had ordered the carriage brought around, and now she descended the front steps to meet it. A footman followed her, carrying the books and the yarn that she had carried out of Miss Blythe’s bedroom.

  The coachman stood waiting beside the door, waiting to hand her up into the carriage. Lucinda paused to give him the first destination. He nodded, then glanced up at the town house. “Shall I wait for your maid, my lady?”

  Lucinda shook her head. “I will be alone today. I rely upon you to take care of me, John.”

  “Very good, my lady.”

  Lucinda got into the carriage. The footman placed the books and yarn on the opposite seat. The door was latched securely. Lucinda arranged the rug over her knees and set her feet against the hot brick. She felt the jerk of motion as her vehicle pulled away from the curb into the heavy carriage traffic.

  Lucinda emerged from the portals of the Lending Library. She held two bulky parcels of books under her arm while she awkwardly attempted to untangle the strings of her reticule.

  When she had left Mays House, it was with the confident opinion that she could easily dispense with the company of a maid. Her errands were none so onerous that she required anything more than her coachman to take the several small packages from her as she emerged from the shops and place them in the coach. It had been anticipation of the visit to the Lending Library that had actually persuaded her to her course. Of all things she disliked, it was to have someone waiting for her while she was perusing the library’s shelves.

  But now as she juggled the parcel of books that she had chosen for Miss Blythe and the smaller parcel of her own selections, she wished that she had brought a woman with her. She cast a fleeting glance toward the street, hoping to see her carriage. Naturally the coachman had been walking the team so that the horses would not be left standing in the cold while she was inside. She did not immediately perceive her equipage, however, so she realized that her driver had probably taken the horses some distance before he turned around.

  Lucinda felt one of the parcels begin to slip, and she reached up hastily to reposition it. When she did so, the strings of her reticule again twisted and bit into her wrist. “How utterly provoking!”

  As Lucinda descended the library’s outside steps, her entire attention was focused on the annoying reticule strings. She was completely unmindful of her surroundings. A fitful gust of cold wind caught the wide brim of her bonnet. Lucinda instinctively grabbed the brim, and when she did so, the smaller parcel of books slipped from her grasp. Lucinda uttered a cry of annoyance and stopped in her tracks, intent only on retrieving the books.

  In the next instant she was rudely thrust forward from a blow to her shoulder. Everything tumbled out of her hands. Lucinda stumbled and she would have fallen except for the quick strong hand that caught her elbow and steadied her.

  Chapter Nine

  Lucinda turned, both astonished and angered, as she pulled free her elbow. She found herself looking at a wide expanse of buttoned coat and her eyes traveled upward.

  “I beg your pardon!”

  The tall gentleman stared down into her indignant face. Embarrassment and contrition shaped his own expression. His voice was deep. “I am sorry, ma’am! I did not see you stop. I was admiring that team there in the street and— But allow me to help you. I have made you drop everything.”

  “I can manage, thank you,” said Lucinda in frozen accents.

  The gentleman had bent down to help gather her parcels. He cast a shrewd glance upward at her stiff expression. “You have every right to think me a clumsy rudes-body,” he admitted frankly. “Pray scold me just as furiously as you wish.”

  Lucinda had been too angry to take proper notice of the gentleman, but now she did. His was a lean, handsome face, deeply tanned from the sun. He was regarding her with a quizzical amusement that made her uncomfortably aware of how she must appear to him. Faint color rose in her face. “I don’t wish to scold you,” she said.

  “Of course you do. Pray do not allow the fact that we are strangers to inhibit your better instincts. Simply lay in and address me as you would your own recalcitrant brother when he has had the audacity to annoy you,” invited the gentleman. “I promise you, my shoulders are broad enough to weather nearly any storm.”

  Lucinda saw that the gentleman had spoken but the unvarnished truth. He was indeed extremely broad-shouldered, yet it suited his well-proportioned physique. The thought crossed her mind that she had never seen anyone quite so large. She said incongruously, “I haven’t a brother.”

  “I am sorry. Then you have never enjoyed that particular sisterly right,” said the gentleman with ready sympathy. His gray eyes were full of a laughter that invited her to share in it.

  Something within Lucinda uncoiled and responded. “But I do have a scruffy care-for-nobody cousin,” she said somewhat primly. “And even he would know better than to have his eyes fixed someplace beside where his feet were leading him!”

  “Come, this is much better,” said the gentleman encouragingly. “You may pretend that I am this poor hapless cousin and berate me without the least cause for offense or embarrassment.”

  “You are a provoking creature altogether,” said Lucinda, accepting her possessions from the gentleman’s hands.

  “So my mother has told me on more occasions than I can at this moment recall,” he said.

  “She is quite right to have done so,” said Lucinda, preparing to go her way. She held out her hand politely. “Thank you for coming to my assistance. I must beg your pardon as well, for I did stop rather abruptly on the walkway. We would not have collided otherwise, I am persuaded.”

  “That would surely have been a great loss on my part,” said the gentleman. He retained her hand for a moment, looking down into her smiling face. “I hope that we may meet again, though perhaps under less embarrassing circumstances. I am Hector Allanis, Lord Pembroke. You will naturally be wondering who this careless fellow is who so nearly knocked you down. Now you may tell all of your friends my name.”

  Lucinda laughed. “Yes, indeed! The story will be far better now that I can identify you, sir! I am Lady Lucinda Mays.” She gently withdrew her hand, which he seemed to have forgotten that he was holding. “Now I really must go. Here is my coachman co
me to meet me.”

  Lord Pembroke looked round at the carriage that was pulling up to the curb. He took note of the crest and the liveried coachman. Waving the fellow back onto his seat, he said, “Permit me to perform this office, my lady. It is the least courtesy that I can extend after my clumsiness.” He opened the carriage door and held out his large hand to her.

  After the smallest hesitation, Lucinda allowed him to hand her up into the carriage. When she was seated and had put the parcels of books down beside her, he latched the door and stepped back. As the carriage started away, Lord Pembroke touched the brim of his beaver hat. Lucinda instinctively responded, acknowledging his salute with an uplifted hand.

  As the carriage turned away from the curb, Lucinda lost sight of Lord Pembroke. She settled back against the velvet seat squabs, a half smile hovering about her mouth. The unexpected encounter with Lord Pembroke had been diverting, to say the least. The gentleman had been genuinely repentant for colliding with her. But he had not suffered long from any excess of embarrassment.

  Instead, and with the greatest audacity, he had offered to provide himself as a fitting object for the exercise of her ill-temper. As a consequence, he had completely disarmed and charmed her.

  Lucinda recalled how she had had to lift her eyes to his face. Lord Pembroke was a handsome gentleman built on grand proportions. Lucinda was considered to be rather tall by fashionable standards. Rarely had she found herself to be so completely overshadowed.

  It had flattered her that a gentleman of address and polish should put himself to the troublesome task of charming her out of her annoyance.

  Lucinda’s smile slowly dissolved. Of course, the late Lord Mays had also been a man of considerable charm and exquisite manners. It was a pity that Lord Mays had proven to be at heart quite cold and self-centered.

  Lucinda shrugged aside the somber memories. Not everyone that she met in London would be like her departed husband. There were some whose outward manner was a true reflection of their genuine character. One of those was certainly Lord Wilfred Mays. He was as open as a book. Lucinda liked Lord Mays very much for his innate kindness. Another that Lucinda felt that she could trust was Lady Sefton. Her ladyship also had proven herself to be kind.