Beatrice Goes to Brighton

by M C Beaton

  She looked up at him in surprise. ‘Yes. Do you know him?’

  ‘I met him once when I was visiting friends in Yorkshire. He is about your age and married his bride about the same time as you wed Blackstone. I thought it might be he. Well, I regret to tell you that your lover is a hardened philanderer and causes nothing but grief to his wife and four children.’

  ‘How does he look? Is he as handsome as ever?’ She put a hand on his arm and looked appealingly up at his face.

  He covered her hand with his own and said quietly, ‘He is fat and vulgar. His looks were ruined a long time ago with drinking and womanizing.’

  ‘So,’ said Lady Beatrice in a low voice, ‘I have wasted years in worry and wondering what happened.’

  ‘He probably was in love with you,’ said Lord Alistair. ‘Expert philanderers are usually in love with their victims – that is their charm. So you must not go about breaking hearts any more, Lady Beatrice, if this disappointment is what turned you against men. Or flirt with someone like myself, who has no heart to break.’

  ‘And why is that?’ she teased. ‘Am I not then the only one to have been disappointed in love?’

  ‘No, I have not been disappointed in love, for I have never been in love.’ He raised her hand to his lips and smiled down into her eyes.

  She smiled back automatically, in the mocking, caressing way she had perfected.

  Why he chose that moment to kiss her, he did not know, but one minute he was smiling down at her, quite at his ease, and the next he had jerked her into his arms and crushed his mouth against hers. Her lips caught fire beneath his own and her body was soft and pliant against his, hip against hip, bosom against bosom. Her scent was in his nostrils and he felt quite dizzy.

  He released her abruptly and said in a stifled voice, ‘You witch!’

  ‘I did not mean …’ She looked bewildered. She had meant to say that she had never reacted to any man like that before, but his eyes were as cold as ice. She suddenly shivered and with an odd little duck of her head, walked before him into the ballroom.

  Lord Alistair remembered he was obliged to take Miss Pym in to supper and hurried to that lady’s side.

  All Hannah wanted to talk about was the Prince of Wales, what he had said and how he had looked. Lord Alistair sat with her throughout supper and appeared to listen to her while all the time every part of his body was aware of Lady Beatrice, a little way away from him down the long table. She had put a poison in his blood, he thought savagely, which had bound him to her so that although he was not near her or touching her, he could feel her body and taste her lips. And he had thought himself immune.

  He interrupted Hannah’s paean of praise for the prince by saying abruptly, ‘You should reconsider sharing accommodation with Lady Beatrice.’

  Hannah looked at him in surprise. ‘Why, my lord. I think we suit very well.’

  ‘She is a dangerous and wicked woman. I would like to strangle her.’

  ‘Nonsense, my lord. She is a bitter woman, yes, but surely after the marriage she endured with Blackstone that is understandable. I have found her to have a kind and good heart. Look at her, my lord. All that warmth and beauty to be given away to such an ogre as Sir Geoffrey. Fie! Not if I have anything to say to it!’

  Hannah studied him covertly while she ate her food. Something had disturbed him greatly. And then she saw how his eyes kept straying along the table to where Lady Beatrice sat. She was all at once aware of a little glimmer of hope. Lord Alistair’s reaction to Lady Beatrice before the ball had been one of calm amusement tinged with disdain. He had not felt powerfully about her at all.

  And there was a change in Lady Beatrice. She was partnered at the supper table by an elderly gentleman of staid appearance and yet she was undoubtedly flirting with him, but in a stagy way, as if giving a performance.

  Hannah set herself to amuse Lord Alistair by recounting more of her adventures. She wanted to continue to amuse him so that he would continue to call on her and therefore would have ample opportunity of being in Lady Beatrice’s company. She succeeded so well in entertaining him that the company, covertly watching her, became even more convinced that this Miss Pym was Someone.

  After supper, Lady Beatrice found herself confronted by Sir Geoffrey. Although his eyes sparkled with rage, he appeared to have himself well in check.

  ‘May I suggest,’ he said, ‘that you owe me an explanation.’

  ‘You are not owed an explanation,’ said Lady Beatrice. ‘I have found a way to escape and there is nothing you can do about it.’

  ‘You would have come about,’ he replied, his eyes roving over her body, from the whiteness of her bosom revealed by the low-cut dress down to her feet, as if he could see through her gown. She instinctively shrank back. ‘It is all the fault of that Pym woman,’ he said, pasting a smile on his face as he realized they were attracting attention. ‘Tell her to walk carefully about the streets of Brighton.’

  ‘Do not dare harm her! She has done nothing. I have merely decided to escape from both you and my parents.’

  He moved his face closer to her own. ‘Hark ’ee,’ he said thickly, ‘you will marry me and be glad to by the time I have finished with you.’

  She turned on her heel and walked away, leaving him staring after her.

  Mrs Cambridge was wondering what to do about Miss Pym. Mrs Cambridge had openly snubbed her, nay, threatened her! All Brighton would now be courting Miss Pym and she, Letitia Cambridge, would be left out in the cold.

  Hannah, mindful of her obligations to the dressmaker, was telling all who complimented her on her gown that she bought all her clothes from Monsieur Blanc.

  She looked up in surprise as Mrs Cambridge came up to her. ‘My dear Miss Pym,’ gushed Mrs Cambridge, ‘can you ever forgive me? I was so rude to you, but in faith I thought you were someone else.’

  ‘Indeed!’ Hannah looked at her frostily.

  ‘Such a terrible, clumsy mistake. Can you forgive me?’

  Hannah’s odd eyes looked completely colourless as she said, ‘I do not know who you thought I was, but I take leave to tell you that no lady should have been subjected to such insult.’ She rose quickly from her chair and walked away. Mrs Cambridge stood biting her lip with mortification. Then anger took over. How dare this Miss Pym, if that was her name, snub a leading member of Brighton society! Mrs Cambridge promised herself to get revenge somehow.

  Lady Beatrice sought Hannah out. ‘Is there somewhere we can sit quietly?’ she asked.

  ‘I am surprised you have the time,’ said Hannah. ‘I would have thought the gentlemen would be queuing up to ask you to dance.’

  ‘Well, they were, but the ladies of Brighton have seen fit to broadcast my heartless reputation, and so I am a wallflower again. Look! The prince is taking his leave, and so that means we too can leave whenever we want.’

  ‘I think I would like to go.’ Hannah shook her head ruefully. ‘What on earth would all these grand people say if they knew they were courting a mere housekeeper?’

  ‘Ex-housekeeper,’ corrected Lady Beatrice. Then she turned a delicate shade of pink. ‘Here is Lord Alistair.’

  Lord Alistair Munro bowed before them. ‘Would either of you ladies care to honour me with a dance?’

  ‘We were on the point of seeking you out to ask you to escort us home,’ said Hannah, ‘but I would dearly like to watch you dance with Lady Beatrice.’

  To Hannah’s surprise there was an awkward silence and then Lady Beatrice said quickly, ‘No, let us leave. I am fatigued.’

  It was a silent journey the short distance home. Hannah pressed Lord Alistair to take tea with them, and after a little hesitation, he accepted. Benjamin served them efficiently, Hannah was pleased to notice. She wondered how he was getting on with the other servants. She herself had been relieved to find that the presence of a houseful of servants had not fazed her in the least. When tea was served and they were sitting by the fire, Hannah decided to pretend to fall asleep in the h
ope of dissipating the awkward silence between the couple. She closed her eyes and after a few minutes let out a small snore.

  ‘Poor Miss Pym,’ she heard Lady Beatrice say, ‘she is quite done up.’

  ‘An eventful evening for her,’ came Lord Alistair’s voice. ‘I must try to dispel this air of embarrassment between us, Lady Beatrice. I should not have kissed you. I crave your forgiveness.’

  ‘Granted, my lord. I have forgot it already.’

  There was a long silence. Hannah was about to give up her pretence and open her eyes when she heard Lady Beatrice say, ‘I am concerned for Miss Pym.’

  ‘How so?’

  ‘Sir Geoffrey blames her for my freedom. He threatened to harm her.’

  ‘Then I suggest you and Miss Pym leave Brighton immediately.’

  ‘We shall leave soon. I have not told her, for I do not wish to alarm her by what may well turn out to be a choleric and empty threat. More tea?’

  ‘Thank you.’

  She leaned across the table and he saw the soft roundness of her breasts and shivered. What would it be like to reach out a hand and caress one of those excellent globes? Then he felt himself becoming angry. She probably knew exactly what she was doing.

  ‘I would tell Benjamin to keep a close watch on Sir Geoffrey,’ said Lord Alistair, ‘and make sure he does not plan either of you any harm.’

  ‘That is a good idea.’ She handed the teacup to him. As he took it from her, his hand brushed against her own. She gave a little cry, and in snatching her hand away, she knocked the cup of tea all over the splendour of his ruffled white cambric shirt.

  ‘I am so sorry,’ she said, dabbing furiously at the stain with the edge of the tablecloth.

  ‘It is nothing, nothing at all.’ He caught her wrist and held it. They stared at each other in a dawning awareness.

  ‘I am sorry I fell asleep.’ Hannah’s voice made them both start. Hannah saw the tableau, Lady Beatrice bending over Lord Alistair and he holding her wrist, and wished she had not pretended to wake so soon.

  Lord Alistair released Lady Beatrice and she straightened up. ‘I am just leaving.’ Lord Alistair got to his feet. ‘I will have a word with Benjamin on the road out.’

  ‘Why?’ asked Hannah, as she was not supposed to have heard their conversation.

  ‘We feel it would be a good idea if your footman kept a close watch on Sir Geoffrey in case … in case he plans to make a public scene or something,’ said Lady Beatrice hurriedly.

  ‘That is something I feel sure Benjamin would enjoy,’ said Hannah drily. ‘He is not very domesticated.’

  When Lord Alistair had left, Hannah looked at Lady Beatrice curiously. She longed to ask about that kiss. Instead she said, ‘A fine gentleman, Lord Alistair. How amazing he has not been snatched up.’

  ‘I would say he is enormously unsnatchable.’ Lady Beatrice yawned. ‘I must to bed. I have no doubt you will want to swim in the morning at some unearthly hour.’

  ‘Ten o’clock will do,’ said Hannah.

  ‘That’s what I meant,’ said Lady Beatrice and went off to bed.

  Hannah walked about the room snuffing the candles. She heard someone enter and turned around. Benjamin stood there. ‘Was you wanting anything else, modom?’

  ‘No, Benjamin, that will be all. But stay. How did you come by that splendid livery, not to mention the feathers?’

  Benjamin grinned and rattled the dice in his pocket.

  ‘Benjamin, Benjamin,’ said Hannah severely. ‘One of these days you will go too far and your luck will run out. I fear you will ruin us both, for it is I who will have to bail you out.’

  ‘Won’t happen,’ said Benjamin confidently. ‘The trick to gambling is to know when to stop. Anyways, I’ll be too busy watching Sir Geoffrey to gamble.’

  ‘Yes, Lord Alistair told me he wanted him closely watched.’ Hannah picked up one remaining candle in its stick to light her way to bed. ‘Be careful, Benjamin. He may seem a figure of fun, a blustering noisy idiot, but I fear he is also evil and dangerous.’

  ‘Pooh!’ said Benjamin, and ignoring his mistress’s severe remark that good footmen did not pooh, he left the drawing-room and ran lightly down the stairs.

  6

  A man who is not afraid of the sea will soon be drownded, he said, for he will be going out on a day he shouldn’t. But we do be afraid of the sea, and we do only be drownded now and again.

  J.M. Synge

  Lady Beatrice’s lady’s maid left the very next day. The servants had been told to find new posts as soon as possible, but Lady Beatrice had not expected them to be so quick off the mark. But she quickly consoled herself with the thought that she would soon have to live without a retinue of servants.

  The news of her rapidly dwindling staff reached the interested ears of Sir Geoffrey Handford and his mother. Although Mrs Hanford had done much to caution her son against abducting Lady Beatrice and forcing her to marry him, her only reason was that Miss Pym might call on the Prince of Wales to intercede. She had, however, urged her son to bribe one of the housemaids in Lady Beatrice’s establishment to report on her comings and goings. While she was discussing the matter with Sir Geoffrey, a footman entered to tell them both the interesting news that the Prince of Wales had left Brighton that very day for London and most of society was following him to the metropolis.

  ‘Now we have a different scene,’ said Sir Geoffrey, rubbing his hands.

  ‘But you still must be careful,’ warned his mother. ‘You can hardly drag her out of her house or accost her in the street without occasioning a scandal.’

  ‘Let’s have that housemaid – what’s her name – over here to report,’ said Sir Geoffrey. ‘I’ll send someone to fetch her.’

  Benjamin, leaning against the railings outside Lady Beatrice’s mansion and picking his teeth, saw a footman in Sir Geoffrey’s livery scuttling down the area steps. He waited, interested. After ten minutes the footman emerged followed by Josephine, one of the housemaids, and they made their way off together along the street. Benjamin followed them at a discreet distance.

  He noticed that Josephine was not taken to the servants’ entrance but shown in at the front door.

  He decided to wait.

  ‘Well?’ demanded Sir Geoffrey when Josephine was ushered in.

  Josephine bobbed a curtsy. ‘Her ladyship has been taking walks with that Miss Pym and she bathes in the sea most mornings.’

  ‘Lord Alistair Munro appeared to be paying her particular attention at the ball,’ said Mrs Handford. ‘Has he been calling?’

  ‘Not since the ball, madame,’ said Josephine. ‘No gentleman callers, and no ladies neither. Day after the ball, a lot of people called then, but were told that neither Miss Pym nor my lady were receiving company, and so they were both left quiet.’

  Sir Geoffrey surveyed the housemaid for a long moment. ‘When they go bathing, do they take a servant with them?’

  ‘Just that footman o’ Miss Pym’s.’

  ‘Can he swim?’

  ‘No, sir. He says that folks who go in the sea must be mad. He’s forever trying to stop his mistress from going in, but she will have none o’ it.’

  ‘Very well, Josephine. You are a good girl.’ He took out several coins and passed them over.

  Josephine emerged alone from the house and Benjamin let her go a little way and then caught up with her and fell into step beside her. ‘What are you following me for?’ demanded Josephine.

  ‘I’m not following you, you silly wench,’ said Benjamin. ‘Where were you anyways?’

  ‘Out looking for a new post, if you must know,’ said Josephine pertly. ‘Mistress says as how we could take time off to find new places.’

  Benjamin regarded her thoughtfully. She was a buxom girl with a turned-up nose and a wide mouth and a quantity of copper curls under a jaunty cap. ‘You could say as how you was going to see a new employer and take a walk with me,’ said Benjamin.

  ‘Oh, go on.’

 
‘You’re a pretty lass and it seems a shame you should spend all your time dusting and cleaning.’ Josephine threw him a flirtatious look. ‘What had you in mind?’

  ‘We could take a walk along the shore, see the nobs.’

  ‘Won’t that mistress o’ yourn be in the sea as usual?’

  ‘She don’t really need me,’ said Benjamin, conscious that his instructions were to take as much free time as he wanted so long as he kept an eye on Sir Geoffrey.

  ‘I’ll go,’ said Josephine. ‘But only for a little, mind.’ Benjamin squeezed her around the waist and she shrieked with laughter and pushed him away in mock horror.

  Hannah was therefore told by her footman that the maid Josephine had called at Sir Geoffrey’s and was no doubt being paid to keep an eye on them.

  ‘I’ll turn the hussy off now,’ said Lady Beatrice, who had been listening.

  ‘No, don’t do that,’ said Benjamin. ‘I have persuaded her to go out walking with me tomorrow morning. If we challenge her with it now, she will only say as how she was looking for new employ and Sir Geoffrey would no doubt say so as well. As to the rest of the day, ladies, if I’m to follow Sir Geoffrey, I must ha’ some sort o’ disguise.’

  ‘I have a trunk of my late husband’s clothes which were brought down to Brighton by mistake,’ said Lady Beatrice. ‘In fact, I thought I had given away all his stuff. Tell the butler to show you where it is, and take what you need, Benjamin. Dressed finely as a gentleman and with your hair unpowdered would be a better disguise that creeping about Brighton under a set of false whiskers.’

  The peacock that was Benjamin was delighted. He appeared before them later attired in a blue swallowtail coat, striped waistcoat, canary-yellow pantaloons, and Hessian boots. The coat was padded on the shoulders and chest. Lady Beatrice shuddered. ‘I had forgot how awful my husband’s taste was,’ she said.

  But Benjamin, highly pleased with himself, went off to hunt down Sir Geoffrey. That gentleman emerged late in the afternoon with his mother. They made various calls. In the evening, Sir Geoffrey went out alone. Benjamin followed him to a tavern where Sir Geoffrey sat and drank and bragged with a group of noisy acquaintances, but although Benjamin listened as hard as he could, not once did he hear Lady Beatrice’s name mentioned, or see Sir Geoffrey seek out anyone who might do her harm.