The Regency Romances of Mira Stables: Part One

by Mira Stables

  Riding home, Elizabeth could not help pondering the source of that ‘allowance’. Mally’s unknown father was obviously a man of means and had at least had sufficient humanity to make provision for the child. But she quite forgot Lucy and her problems when she rode into a stable yard all a-bustle with the signs of new arrival. Could it be that Mr Elsford was come, and sooner than was expected? And even as she swung down from the saddle she heard his boyish laughter and turned to discover him paying off the post boys with a liberality indicated by their wide grins. He had not seen her and she did not stay to greet him, but handed over the mare to Jacky, her own particular groom, and slipped away quietly along the covered way that gave access to a side door.

  Her memories of Mr Elsford were warmly grateful, and it was in a mood of happy anticipation that she made her evening toilet. Mr Elsford had never seen her in her new plumage. It would be amusing to watch his reactions to it. She studied her finished reflection in the mirror for so long that Edith grew anxious and asked if she had done aught amiss. Elizabeth reassured the child and dismissed her, then, half ashamed of her own vanity, went back to the mirror.

  The girl who looked back at her no longer went hatless out of doors. Her skin was clear and smooth, while her hair had certainly grown silkier from Edith’s assiduous brushing. The simple arrangement which was all that the girl could manage was quaint but becoming, swept up to show the pure line of brow and cheek, and framing the slim throat between soft ringlets.

  She wished she was not quite so tall—almost as tall as Mr Elsford. It took a man of the Earl’s inches to make her feel fragile and feminine. But her figure, she decided, was good, and her gown of soft rose-coloured gauze wickedly enhanced its attractions. She spanned a slender waist with her hands, pointed one toe and swung her skirts to reveal a delicate ankle, then primmed her lips in reproof of her own posturing. How rapidly one’s character deteriorated when one led a wholly frivolous and fashionable existence, she thought solemnly, recalling Mary’s lectures on the subject, and then laughed at herself, knowing quite well that at the moment she was thoroughly enjoying her own fashionable appearance and looking forward to an evening of pure pleasure.

  And for once—for perhaps the first time in her restricted life—the evening fulfilled every expectation. Even the scene seemed to have been set for her, for thanks to her lingering at the mirror she was a little late, and the rest of the party were already gathered in the hall as she came down the staircase. Lady Hester had donned a gown of stiff green silk with elaborately padded hem and voluminous sleeves in honour of her nephew. The Earl was severely neat as ever. He was not given to extravagance in dress, and Elizabeth had to concede that his tall figure needed no adornment. His cravat was simply tied en cascade while his nephew, mistakenly in her opinion, had adopted the Byronic fashion. Taken in conjunction with a coat of just too bright a blue, cut with exaggeratedly wide lapels, it made him look shorter than his actual inches. Beside his uncle he presented the appearance of a cheerful untidy schoolboy. Nevertheless the open admiration on his good-natured countenance was very sweet, as he came forward to greet her in his easy-going way.

  “By jove, Miss Kirkley, you bloom like the roses themselves. The air of Anderley must suit your constitution. Will you be sorry to leave when the season calls you back to London, or are you pining for the delights of town? Mama is making any number of plans for your entertainment, and I shall certainly claim proprietary rights as your escort. What a score for me to be first in the field with one who is clearly destined to become the rage!”

  These practised and exaggerated gallantries were no more than the common currency of polite small talk, but they were fresh to Elizabeth’s ears and she found them exhilarating. She blushed, laughed and disclaimed, and allowed the gentleman to give her his arm in to dinner, Lady Hester indulgently renouncing her own claim and declaring that the children would do very much better to amuse each other. In this they succeeded to admiration, Timothy keeping his partner in a bubble of laughter with a lively account of his journey north. He had the happy knack of making perfectly commonplace incidents appear amusing, and if, in the telling, truth was twisted out of all recognition, why—it was all perfectly harmless; and the girl was such a stimulating audience, seeming to hang upon his words, that Timothy quite excelled himself. Lady Hester watched contentedly. She had grown sincerely fond of Elizabeth, and Timothy was really a dear boy, perfectly good-natured and generous to a fault. Naturally he was a little bored and impatient with Richard’s solemn notions of responsibility. He was young and gay. Time enough to grow serious when he was married and settled. She beamed approvingly upon the young people, and her brother, deep in discussion with Miss Trenchard on the possibilities of the railways as future carriers of passengers, also spared them an occasional measuring glance.

  If Timothy secretly thought that the projected morning parties sounded insipid to a degree, he put a good face on the matter, promptly soliciting Elizabeth’s hand for the first quadrille. With equal good nature he faced the prospect of the mild excitements of whist, as played by the three ladies—the tyro Elizabeth, the fiercely acquisitive Miss Trenchard, and the absent-minded Lady Hester. Evenings, he decided, swallowing a yawn, were the one disadvantage of a stay at Anderley. There was no denying it—they were damnably dull. A light flirtation might have enlivened the present game, but Elizabeth, who had unfortunately cut Miss Trenchard as her partner, was much too busy trying to remember what she had been taught about leads and discards to respond to his tentative openings. By the time that Lady Hester had twice in one hand enquired what were trumps, he could only be thankful for the early arrival of the tea tray. Tomorrow, he decided, he would suggest teaching Miss Kirkley to play billiards. That would at least provide better scope for gentle dalliance.

  Chapter Nine

  And now time passed swiftly for Elizabeth. Mr Elsford’s companionship seemed to supply just what had previously been lacking—a contemporary to share her pursuits and interests. They were never at a loss for occupation or food for argument. What with looking over the hound puppies who would join the Anderley pack when cubbing began, trying out the horses, both riding and driving, and exploring parts of the countryside hitherto forbidden to Elizabeth because they lay outside the boundaries of the estate, her leisure hours were full of varied interest.

  Thanks to Miss Clara, she was quite unusually knowledgeable about crops and stock, and since she had the instinctive feminine cunning to play intelligent pupil to Mr Elsford’s tutorship, that young man was moved to inform his uncle that never would he have believed that a mere female could have so sound an instinct for the management of land. The Earl, who had been privileged to meet Miss Clara and had a pretty shrewd idea of the source of Elizabeth’s surprising ability, received the confidence without undue emotion, merely raising a sardonic eyebrow.

  Master Timothy’s idle plans for a pleasant flirtation with Miss Kirkley had not met with the easy success that he had anticipated. His most subtle compliments only served to amuse her, and she showed not a trace of that maidenly confusion that it would have been his pleasure to allay. As for his attempts to guide her hands in the proper manipulation of billiard cue or driving reins, she simply moved away from him. Her cool detachment had done her no disservice in the young man’s eyes. Between the mild boredom of country society, the growing attraction of an increasingly vivid and alluring Elizabeth, and her present air of unattainability, Mr Elsford was almost inclined to believe that this time his affections were seriously engaged.

  Only once was their pleasant comradeship disturbed, and that was when Elizabeth suggested that they might visit Lucy Bassett. They had been returning from a long afternoon’s ride by a green track that passed quite close to the cottage. Elizabeth was warm and thirsty. A cool drink would be pleasant. Also, thanks to the inroads that Mr Elsford had made upon her time, it was close upon two weeks since she had ridden this way. She spoke to him of Lucy, reminding him that, though he had probably never set eye
s upon her, yet she had been, at one time, in his mother’s service and would no doubt value a visit from him. She wondered a little whether she ought to mention the existence of Mally, but since it was difficult to explain in such words as a young lady might use with propriety, decided not to make the attempt.

  Even while she hesitated Mr Elsford announced coldly that he had no smallest intention of making such a visit, and indeed wondered very much that Miss Kirkley had chosen to do so. Far from not remembering Lucy Bassett, it seemed that he knew all about her and did not consider her a suitable acquaintance for his companion. His censorious attitude annoyed Elizabeth. He had no right to appoint himself an arbiter of her conduct, and it was with mischievous satisfaction that she told him that the Earl himself had introduced her to Lucy.

  That certainly gave Mr Elsford pause, but only briefly. What might be perfectly proper in a man of his uncle’s years and notorious carelessness of public opinion was not necessarily allowable to an innocent young lady. And while no word of criticism should pass his lips, he could not feel that his uncle had acted with due consideration when he allowed the girl to come back to Anderley. Progressive ideas and Christian charity were all very well, but the girl and her child had been well provided for and she should have been content to hide herself away at a decent distance.

  Remembering the savage isolation of the cottage and Lucy’s desperate loneliness, Elizabeth was fiercely indignant. For the first time in their acquaintance she suddenly recognised in Mr Elsford’s sullen expression a strong resemblance to his haughty Mama. Battle between them was fairly joined, and both participants hotly maintained their respective principles. It was the kind of squabble that is wholly unprofitable. Timothy, hedged about by prejudice, was quite incapable of moderating his attitude, while Elizabeth was arguing from one special case which had touched her sympathies. Long before she had exhausted her passionate defence, Timothy had retreated behind a barrier of silence—sulky or dignified according to one’s point of view. The ride ended in an atmosphere of mutual displeasure, and for the rest of the evening they were meticulously polite to one another.

  It was unfortunate that the next day was the one appointed for the first party. In the nervousness natural to the occasion, Elizabeth would have been very glad of friendly support. A small private joke, a word of praise for her appearance, would have helped to pluck up her courage. But Timothy was still on his high ropes. He had grown accustomed to Elizabeth’s unquestioning acquiescence in all matters of social conduct and could not lightly forgive her defection. Virtuously he assured himself that his duties as host left him no time for paying her any special attention. He was her partner in the first quadrille, in which she performed her part with care and dignity, though her serious expression would not have satisfied M. d’Aubiac.

  Partners came and went, some once-met, some total strangers, until her mind was a whirl of half-caught and half-remembered names and faces, and she fulfilled her part in the dancing more and more mechanically. Conversation was the worst bugbear. By the end of the first hour she was beginning to wonder if an uncommonly dry season had ever been so thoroughly discussed before. By the middle of the second she was thankful for even this outworn topic. All her partners seemed to expect her to be perfectly au fait with all the latest stories of the ‘ton’, and, of course, she had nothing to contribute. When, in desperation, she spoke of the beauty of the surrounding countryside, they could only say that it was sad hunting country, though the moors certainly afforded some good sport in the season. Her timid interest in the country folk and their means of livelihood occasioned only stares of blank stupefaction.

  The morning to which she had looked forward with eager interest was rapidly developing into a kind of mechanical nightmare in which one moved and spoke with a sense of complete unreality, yet was all the time aware of critical watching eyes. Elizabeth could not know that she was the subject of much interested speculation. No one knew the exact truth of her parentage, or the size of her fortune, yet here she was, apparently very much at home, and going about everywhere with that extremely eligible bachelor, Timothy Elsford, for whom at least half of the young ladies present entertained secret ambitions.

  That was not counting Primrose Bentley, for this was the first time that she had swum into Mr Elsford’s ken. Indeed Lady Hester had hesitated long over the vexed problem of issuing an invitation to that young lady. Undoubtedly she was well connected on the maternal side, but no one could deny that her grandfather had been in trade. It was only because she was staying with her Aunt Considine, unencumbered by her plebian and ridiculously wealthy papa, that the scales had tipped in her favour. After all, an invitation to this sort of party was of no particular significance, and in no way committed one for the future. So Miss Bentley’s young heart was gladdened by the coveted invitation, and here she was, looking absurdly like her name flower with her pale golden hair and her soft green gown, her wide gaze lifted in awed admiration to her resplendent partner. And Mr Elsford, for his part, handed her to her place in the set as though she were made of fragile spun glass.

  Elizabeth’s partner had no such delicate notions. She liked Mr Maxton, amiable and fat as he was, but there was no denying that his dancing was compounded largely of energy and goodwill. It was fortunate that they had reached the bottom of the set before he managed to step on the side of her sandal and snap the cord fastening, for she was thus able to withdraw to effect the necessary repairs without breaking up the whole dance.

  Lady Hester had appointed a small saloon behind the ballroom for the convenience of the ladies, and here her own maid, Janet, and young Edith were in eager attendance, thoroughly enjoying the novelty of a change in the day’s routine. The sandal string was beyond repair, and Edith went scampering upstairs to bring down fresh ones, only to check abruptly as the majestic figure of the housekeeper swam into view. Mrs Jessup eyed her forbiddingly, but for once offered no reproof. That stern eye was sufficient. Edith continued on her errand in more subdued style, though once around the corner she wrinkled her snub little nose in a derisive grimace.

  Elizabeth, who was in no hurry to return to the ballroom, made no complaint over the girl’s tardy return, and even asked her to fix a curl which had descended from its proper place in the carefully careless knot on top of her head. Then, with a tiny sigh, she turned away from the mirror, thanked the maids for their help and went slowly back along the corridor. She paused for a moment at the door, listening to the sounds of music and merriment within. There could be no more than two or three remaining dances to be endured. She had at least acquitted herself fairly creditably on the dance floor. And if she had found the morning a sad disappointment it was probably quite her own fault for expecting too much. With an almost defiant little lift of her head she went back into the ballroom.

  From the first turn of the great staircase the Earl had watched her movements with close attention. Something was clearly amiss. What should have been a morning of unclouded pleasure had evidently become an ordeal to be endured. He had not failed to notice the obvious gathering of her courage to face the battery of inquisitive eyes. Where Miss Kirkley was concerned, he decided with cynical detachment, he was becoming quite unnaturally perceptive.

  His intention had been to take refuge in the library until the festivities should be safely over. Now he turned back to his own apartments. Never, even in his military days, when sudden alarms had caused him to don uniform and accoutrements in furious haste, had he dressed with more celerity. The bell that summoned his man had scarcely ceased to quiver before he had discarded his dusty riding clothes and was splashing water over his head and shoulders. To terse, unbelievable commands the valet was helping him into the fawn pantaloons, the olive green cutaway coat of formal day wear, shocked into unwonted silence by the lightning speed with which his master was adjusting his neckcloth, even while admitting that the result was, as ever, impeccable.

  “You may relax, Wilson,” came the cool sardonic voice, as the Earl crossed to
the door in a couple of swift strides. “I believe I have not yet taken leave of my senses.”

  The door closed behind him, and the bewildered valet was left to survey a welter of untidily discarded clothing such as he had never beheld in all the years of his service with his lordship. Sorrowfully he lifted the ill-treated riding coat, only to reveal a far more shocking sight, a sight which caused him to entertain grave doubts as to the truth of his lordship’s parting remarks. In his insensate, his criminal haste, the Earl had actually removed his boots with a jack!

  Chapter Ten

  Only the waltz cotillon now, reckoned Elizabeth thankfully, going down the set with a cheerful youth who had just bidden a final farewell to Oxford and was quite wild with delight at returning to the freedom of his ancestral acres. She could not remember who he was, but found him pleasantly conversable and was quite sorry when her next partner came up to claim the last dance. As luck would have it they made up a set with Mr Elsford and Miss Bentley, dancing together for the third time. Mr Elsford at least ought to know better, thought Elizabeth soberly. He could have little thought for the child, exposing her to the criticism of all the neighbourhood. She directed upon him a glance of serious reproof which he entirely misunderstood, setting it down to the fact that he had not asked her for a second dance. He smiled at her beguilingly, his resentment all forgotten. She was well enough, Miss Kirkley, a good sort of girl, as he had stoutly maintained to his Mama, even if a trifle revolutionary in some of her notions, but beside the adorable Miss Bentley with her faintly flushed cheeks and her huge worshipping eyes, she paled into insignificance, he decided, as he swept his bows to both ladies and swung into the first figure.