Love for Lucinda

by Gayle Buck

  “No, of course not. It would be the perfect thing for her!” exclaimed Lucinda. “I wonder that I did not think of it myself.”

  “I believe that Miss Mays needs a firm and kind guiding hand until she is able to stand on her own,” explained Miss Blythe, once more plying her needle.

  “You do just as you think best, Tibby. You will be the mother that she so desperately needs, whilst I shall be the elder sister,” said Lucinda. “Between us, we must surely do her a world of good.”

  “I hope so, indeed,” said Miss Blythe, smiling. “In view of what I believe, I think also that we should go about introducing her slowly to the ways of society. We should not expect her to attend anything too grand or intimidating at the first.”

  Lucinda sighed. “You do know what you are saying, do you not? We shall have to treat her as though she is the merest babe out of the schoolroom and she is all of nine-and-twenty! Why, I am the younger by seven years; but I feel infinitely older. How does one manage the life of one’s elder without inevitably giving offense? I can foresee all sorts of complications. The very thought is already making me quake with nervousness.”

  Miss Blythe laughed. “I shouldn’t fret too much, Lucinda. Miss Mays is quite used to having someone else order her about.”

  “Order her about! Why, that is the last thing I wish to do!” exclaimed Lucinda.

  “Nevertheless that must be your role, at least for now. Miss Mays will scarcely know how to receive any other sort of treatment,” said Miss Blythe.

  “Better and better!” exclaimed Lucinda.

  “I am confident that as we go on, Miss Mays will begin to try her wings a little,” said Miss Blythe reassuringly. “Of course, you will need to be alert to her emerging character and adapt your manner toward her accordingly so that she will be encouraged to express her own wishes.”

  Lucinda regarded her companion with some dismay. “Oh, Tibby! I do not know that I am at all suited to this. When I contemplate the responsibility, I positively shudder. I am likely to make some awful blunder and then where will we be?”

  Miss Blythe chuckled. “Never mind, my dear. You shall have this chick off your hands before the Season is out, I daresay. Miss Mays is just the sort of shy, retiring young female that most appeals to the chivalry in a male breast.”

  “A husband for Agnes.” Lucinda thought about that for a long moment and hopeful vistas opened up to her imagination. She smiled slowly, almost archly. She dropped into a chair with a careless abandon. “Dear Tibby, you may play the matchmaker for Agnes to your heart’s content.”

  “Thank you, my dear. I intend to, for I believe it to be in that young female’s best interests to establish her as quickly as possible,” said Miss Blythe composedly.

  “You are undoubtedly right again. Agnes is not the sort of female who can ever stand completely on her own. She needs a lord’s strong shoulder to lean on,” said Lucinda musingly, her chin in her hand.

  “And naturally you do not,” said Miss Blythe, twinkling over at her.

  Lucinda laughed and dropped her hand. “You well know my answer to that, Tibby.”

  “Oh yes, so I do,” said Miss Blythe. She wisely left the subject where it lay and adroitly turned the conversation. “I suppose it is too late to meet our engagement?”

  Lucinda glanced swiftly at the clock on the mantel. She was astonished at the lateness of the hour. “I had quite forgotten! I sent the carriage back, but I can as easily have it brought around again. If we rush, we may still put in a respectable appearance.”

  “Would it not be counted as insufferably rude to arrive so late in the evening?” asked Miss Blythe, also glancing at the clock.

  “I am persuaded that Lady Bishop would excuse our tardiness once I had explained the unexpected arrival of my sister-in-law. However, I must admit that I am not at all keen on making such an entrance,” said Lucinda.

  “Surely Lady Bishop would accept our excuses just as readily if we did not go at all,” suggested Miss Blythe.

  “Oh yes.” Lucinda chuckled suddenly, her eyes dancing. “Are you gently hinting that you should like to forgo her ladyship’s soiree altogether, Tibby? And what of our plans for the opera afterward?”

  Miss Blythe also laughed, though somewhat shamefacedly. “Unless you particularly wish to go, Lucinda, I would prefer idling away the remainder of the evening with a good book or my embroidery,” confessed that lady. “As for the opera, it is not at all as entertaining as the theater, I’ve found.”

  “I think that we have had enough of dramatics for one evening, actually,” said Lucinda dryly. “I shall send round a note to Lady Bishop expressing our profuse apologies and an explanation of the circumstances. Her ladyship cannot possibly take offense, I am persuaded, for she places a high emphasis on family connections.”

  “Thank you, Lucinda. I did not believe you when you warned me that I might become jaded, but in truth I am not nearly so eager to go out every evening as I was,” said Miss Blythe.

  “Poor Tibby!” Lucinda laughed. “It will not harm me in the least to remain home at least this one evening, either. Do you know, I cannot recall the last time that I picked up a novel? Certainly not since I left Carbarry!”

  “I have an excellent title that you might enjoy,” offered Miss Blythe. “I shall bring it downstairs for you if you would like.”

  “Wonderful! Let us call for coffee here in the drawing room, shall we? But first, I want Madison to relieve me of all this finery,” said Lucinda, lifting her silk skirt between her fingers.

  Miss Blythe chuckled at Lucinda’s expressive gesture. She neatly snipped her thread and rolled up her piecework. “We do seem to be a trifle overdressed for an evening spent in.”

  Agreeing to meet again in a quarter hour, the ladies went upstairs to change out of their elaborate gowns and to put on attire more appropriate to the sort of evening that they now anticipated.

  When Lucinda and Miss Blythe reentered the drawing room, the coffee was served to them by the butler. Assuring himself that the ladies had no further needs. Church retired and left Lucinda and Miss Blythe to a contented perusal of their respective books.

  An hour later the butler returned to the drawing room. Church apologized for disturbing the ladies. He said that Lord Mays was without in the entry hall, wishing to speak privately to Lady Mays. The butler gave a discreet cough. “And if I may say so, my lady, his lordship seems to be laboring under some agitation.”

  “Pray show Lord Mays in at once,” said Lucinda, laying aside her book and rising.

  “Shall I withdraw, my dear?” asked Miss Blythe, setting down her own novel.

  “No, of course not. I am persuaded that Lord Mays was not thinking of you when he requested privacy, but of anyone else whom we might have been entertaining,” said Lucinda.

  “Very well. I own, I am curious,” said Miss Blythe.

  “Yes, and I also,” said Lucinda.

  The butler showed Lord Mays into the drawing room and closed the door. Lucinda saw that his lordship was attired in a plain coat and buckskins. Her brows contracted, for it was instantly clear that Lord Mays had not been to a formal gathering that evening. That in itself was unusual. “My lord, pray come in. It is only Miss Blythe and myself this evening, as you see.”

  Lord Mays’s normally placid expression was anxious. However, despite the weight of the matter pressing on his mind, he did not forget his manners. He formally greeted Lucinda and bowed to Miss Blythe, before saying, “Forgive me for bothering you at such an hour, Lady Mays. But I have come with bad tidings of your cousin, Mr. Stassart. He has been stabbed, by a cutthroat, and he is at this very moment outside in the hackney, bleeding like a stuck pig!”

  “Goodness gracious!” exclaimed Miss Blythe, her eyes widening behind her spectacles. “Was it footpads, my lord?”

  Lord Mays shook his head. His expression was unhappy. It was obvious that he was reluctant to relate the tale to them.

  “Come, Wilfred. You must not hide it
from us,” said Lucinda.

  “It happened in a hell of particularly low repute. Mr. Stassart was playing at cards with several others. There was a heated argument, then a fellow leaped at Mr. Stassart with a knife,” said Lord Mays briefly.

  Lucinda was shocked. Little as she liked her cousin, it was still an unpleasant jolt to hear that he had been hurt. She started toward the drawing room door. “We must have him in at once.”

  Lord Mays caught Lucinda’s elbow and stayed her. He shook his head. “You shouldn’t see him, Lucinda. Not at all the sight for a gently bred female. He should have a physician to attend him first.”

  Lucinda looked into his worried gold-brown eyes and realized that he wanted to spare her. She was touched by his obvious concern for her sensibilities. “If you think it best, Wilfred, then I shan’t. I shall have Church get two of the footmen to carry him upstairs immediately.”

  Lord Mays nodded and released her. She stepped past him to open the door and call for the butler.

  “I shall go find Mrs. Beeseley and have her see to a room,” said Miss Blythe. Lord Mays nodded and watched as Miss Blythe made a quick exit; she murmured an apology and an explanation as she stepped past Lucinda and the butler in the doorway.

  “Thank you, Tibby,” said Lucinda and swiftly finished outlining the situation for the sharply attentive butler. “Have a physician sent for also, Church,” she concluded. “Lord Mays informs me that it would be best.”

  “At once, my lady!” The butler raced away. He could be heard calling for his subordinates and issuing swift orders.

  Shutting the door, Lucinda turned once more to Lord Mays. She noted the pallor of his complexion, and immediately her concern was aroused. “Are you perfectly all right, Wilfred? Shall I pour you some coffee? But it may be a bit tepid. Perhaps a glass of brandy?” As she had spoken, she had crossed over to the sideboard to lay hand on a decanter of wine.

  Lord Mays ran a slightly shaking hand over his sandy hair. “I shall have the brandy, I think. Peculiar, I had thought the memories safely shut away, but I fear I have been caught off guard by this thing.”

  He laughed half ashamedly at himself, watching her pour the wine. “Having survived Waterloo, it is odd that I could become so rattled at the sight of a bit of blood. But I had not thought to see such stuff again. Stupid of me, I know.”

  “Not at all,” said Lucinda warmly. She pressed a glass into his hand. “I think it speaks quite highly of your sensitivity. I honor you for it, my lord.”

  He flushed. Without responding, he tossed back a measure of the brandy. When he had set down the glass, he said, “I would have taken Mr. Stassart to my own lodgings, but I am in such cramped quarters that there would be no doing anything for him there.”

  “Your lodgings!”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Startled, Lucinda realized that Mays House had not been the closest place of succor. If Lord Mays had bypassed his own lodgings to bring her cousin to her, then he had also passed her cousin’s lodgings as well, for the two gentlemen resided within a mere block of one another.

  “But whyever did you not take him to his own lodgings, pray?”

  Lord Mays coughed delicately behind his hand. “Fellow told me that his pockets are all to let and that the tipsters are looking for him. He daren’t return to his own lodgings until he brings himself about.”

  “That sounds very like Ferdie,” said Lucinda. The thought came to her suddenly. She cast a sharp glance at Lord Mays. “At whose suggestion was it decided to bring my cousin here?”

  “Why, I suppose Mr. Stassart voiced it. Of course, I saw at once it was just the thing to do since he is your father’s heir as well as your cousin,” said Lord Mays.

  Lucinda gave a laugh. “Did he assure you that he was my father’s heir even as he lay bleeding all over the hackney seat? That does indeed sound just like Ferdie!”

  Lord Mays began to look slightly anxious. “Have I not done as I should, then? Should I not have brought your cousin here?”

  Lucinda made haste to reassure him. “No, you did just right, Wilfred. It is just that I am rather suspicious of anything that my cousin has managed to turn to his own benefit. Ferdie has a habit of taking advantage of one’s good nature and compassion. If he was not so seriously wounded as you seem to think, I would be tempted to send him straight back to his lodgings to face the consequences of his folly. He is something of a wastrel, as you know. I have regretted for many years that he is my father’s heir, for he has abused the position any number of times.”

  “I see,” said Lord Mays slowly. He shot a keen look at Lucinda’s face. A frown gathered in his own eyes. “If the fellow gives you trouble, Lucinda, you have only to apply to me. I am responsible, after all, for bringing Stassart to your house.”

  Lucinda placed her hand on his lordship’s arm. “You are very good, Wilfred. I do most highly value your friendship. Be assured, I will not hesitate to call upon you if I should ever find myself in difficulties.”

  Lord Mays grinned in his crooked, attractive fashion. He was relieved that she was not annoyed with him for his unwitting blunder. He reached over to catch hold of her hand and lifted her fingers briefly to his lips. “I shall leave you to it, then. After bringing such unexpected trouble to you, I daren’t take the chance that I shall somehow offend you further!”

  Lucinda smiled. “I can’t think how you could possibly offend me, sir. But nevertheless I shall not hold you with me any longer. No doubt I shall be called upon before many more minutes to go up to my cousin.”

  At that instant the door was impetuously thrown open.

  Miss Mays stood framed on the threshold. She was clutching an embroidered robe tight to her throat. Her hair was tumbled down over her shoulders and her brown eyes were wide and luminous. Altogether she presented quite a different picture from the shivering, mousey-looking female who had arrived not two hours before.

  Lucinda stared, amazed. She glanced at Lord Mays and she saw that he, also, was staring at the young woman.

  There was a look of astonishment and appreciation in his eyes.

  Lucinda was startled by the little leap of envy within her. Surely she was not so self-centered that she could not bear for her friend to regard another female with approbation.

  “Lady Mays!” Miss Mays uttered. “Lady Mays, there is a wounded man in the bedchamber opposite mine and—”

  It was then that Miss Mays saw that Lucinda was not alone. Color surged into her face under the gentleman’s interested gaze. She looked prepared either to flee or to faint, if she could but make up her mind which was the more appropriate.

  Lucinda took the decision out of her hands. “Pray come in, Agnes,” she said calmly.

  Miss Mays gasped and shrank back. “Oh no, no!”

  Lucinda walked over and grasped the young woman’s limp wrist. Without apology she drew Miss Mays into the room. “Do not be afraid. It is only your cousin, Lord Wilfred Mays. Lord Mays has been kind enough to bring my cousin, Mr. Stassart, here after he was hurt. My lord, naturally you will recall my sister-in-law. Miss Agnes Mays?”

  “Of course I do, though it has been years. Good evening, Cousin Agnes.”

  Lord Mays made his bow over Miss Mays’s trembling hand. He smiled at her and commented with unthinking appreciation, “Pretty wrapper, that. It becomes you.”

  “Oh!” Miss Mays flushed brighter. “I should not have ... oh, I am so mortified! Pray ... pray excuse me!” She snatched her hand from Lord Mays and fled.

  Lord Mays gazed after her in the liveliest dismay. “I say, I never meant to put her out of countenance like that. I only meant to compliment her.”

  “It is perfectly all right. Agnes is exceedingly retiring and shy. I imagine it was quite disconcerting to her to be seen abroad with her hair down and en dishabille by her manly cousin,” said Lucinda, chuckling.

  Lord Mays was much struck. It was his turn to flush. “Quite right, too! Not at all the thing. It is not like we have lived in one an
other’s pockets all of our lives. I avoided Mays like the plague when I was on the town, and I never saw his sister, either. Pray convey my apologies, Lucinda. I shall not be able to look her in the face, even though she is my cousin!”

  “I shall do so, of course. However, you shall have to face Agnes again sometime, for I am hoping to bring her out this Season,” said Lucinda.

  Lord Mays looked at her fixedly. “You are? Whatever for? Why, she must surely be past the age of making her bows.”

  “Agnes is nine-and-twenty, and the poor girl has never been presented. Perhaps you do not know, since you were not intimate with that branch of the family, and then later during the war were abroad,” said Lucinda. “Agnes was kept close at home to nurse each of her parents through their last lingering illnesses and no one made the least push to do anything for her on her own account.”

  Lucinda forbore to mention the most glaring omission in Miss Mays’s history, but it was an unnecessary discretion. Her companion was not a fool.

  “Her brother would not have bothered with her, of course, for she isn’t a raving beauty,” said Lord Mays, unerringly cutting to the truth.

  Lucinda shrugged. It would be useless to try to wrap it up in pretty words. “Precisely. Since her parents died, Agnes was employed as companion to an elderly aunt.” She turned out her hands. “So you see—”

  “My Aunt Sophronia, do you mean?” exclaimed Lord Mays in tones of liveliest horror. “What a hellish thing!”

  “Oh, do you know the lady?” asked Lucinda with not a little curiosity. “I do not believe that I ever met her.”

  “You would recall the incident if you had! There never lived such an out-and-out tartar! A tongue that cut like a razor and a meanness that oozed out of her fingertips,” he exclaimed.

  “That sounds quite an accurate description if I may believe all that Agnes related to us,” said Lucinda.

  “She was all that and more,” Lord Mays assured her. “My mother used to take me to see her. I was never more glad in my life when I attained my majority and I was able to tell my mother that I didn’t care whether the old witch left me anything or not, I had seen the last of her!”