by Nicola Pryce
Sunday 7th August 1796, 4:00 p.m.
Istood by the sash window, gazing across the forest of masts to the seaport beyond. The house was the fourth in a row of a newly built terrace leading up from the town square. Two large windows stood either side of a painted blue door, another three windows on each of the two floors above. The kitchen and scullery were in the basement, the maids’ rooms in the attic.
Lady Clarissa pulled off her gloves. ‘Most of the other houses have been commissioned by packet captains – I believe the terrace is to stretch right out of town.’
‘It’s such a lovely view. I can see why everyone wants to live here.’
‘We bought it for Frederick and George – somewhere for them to use when they’re in Falmouth. It’s proving very useful – and very comfortable.’
The drawing room had windows at both ends, a huge pianoforte in one corner and a group of delicate mahogany chairs upholstered in yellow stripes by the marble fireplace. A display cabinet held china vases; paintings of ships in full sail adorned the walls. It was bright and airy, despite the grim weather. Amelia came to my side, pointing across the grey water. ‘That’s Flushing and Penryn’s down river – you can just about see the top of the church…and that big building is the Greenbank Hotel. And that’s Fish Strand Quay.’
The journey down river had not been pleasant. Lumpy, Lady Clarissa had called it. A bit too fresh to be pleasurable, but I was already feeling better. Taking the coach had been out of the question: the roads had been impassable. Better to face a bumpy sail than be stuck in a quagmire.
‘Wait till you see it in good weather. The sun sets right over those fields and we catch the last rays through these windows.’ Amelia pressed her face against the glass. ‘Oh, goodness, they’re here already. That was quick.’
Lady Clarissa looked up from sifting through a pile of calling cards. ‘Splendid. Dear me, is everyone in town?’ She put the cards back on the silver tray, smiling broadly as Charity and an elegant lady entered the room. ‘Ah, Mrs Penrose, how lovely you look.’
‘Thank you, and how lovely you look, Lady Clarissa.’ She was tall and slim, dressed in a ruby gown with a cream underskirt, her bonnet trimmed with velvet ribbons. Her thick brown hair was neatly coiled behind each ear, a series of small curls framing her face. She must have been about forty, her complexion flawless, her brown eyes alight with pleasure. ‘You weren’t too blown around on your journey, I hope? Charity tells me it was rather rough.’
‘A good blow never does anyone any harm. It seems everyone’s here. I hope you’ve found good lodgings?’
They embraced and my nervousness left me. Mrs Penrose had been Charity’s governess and I was dreading she might dismiss me as unaccomplished. I had never mastered the piano, I could not sing and I hated Latin – everything Amelia said Mrs Penrose excelled in. Yet just one glance and I saw kindness in her face. ‘I’ve taken a house in Market Street for the last three weeks and thank goodness I did come early – there’s a real scramble for lodgings. I gather people are doubling up on rooms.’
Charity had never looked lovelier, her cheeks aglow with happiness. Her blonde hair curled in soft ringlets beneath her blue bonnet, her travelling coat still buttoned against the rain. She hugged Freddie to her. ‘Your papa’s coming – he’s nearly here. Oh, Freddie, you’re going to love him so much. You’ll adore him.’ She looked up, smiling shyly. ‘Like we all adore him.’
‘When are they expected? I recognize some of the ships in the fleet.’ Amelia stopped. ‘What manners, I’m so sorry. Miss Lilly, may I introduce Mrs Eleanor Penrose. Mrs Penrose, this is my dear friend, Angelica Lilly.’
We both curtseyed, her smile holding such warmth. She had a timid way of holding her head. ‘I’m delighted to meet you. I’ve heard so much about you – all good, I hasten to add.’
She was poised, but not arrogant. I had expected her to be more commanding. I had heard about her, too: the concerts she gave, her virtuoso performances raising vast sums for the new hospital.
Charity squeezed Freddie tighter and Horace wagged his tail at the ensuing squeal. ‘They’re only days away – the storm was in danger of blowing them too far south so they took shelter in Ireland. The fastest ships are here but Circe can’t sail very fast.’
Amelia blanched. ‘Is she damaged?’
‘No, the ship’s perfect. The delay’s because they’re bringing in a French prize – she’s slowing them down.’
Lady Clarissa must have seen Mrs Penrose’s quickly hidden frown. ‘Well, thank heaven it was our gain and not our loss. Sir Alex won’t like the thought of more prisoners but I’m sure they’ve been treated with every respect and afforded every consideration.’ She glanced at the large frigate anchored off the quay. ‘I see Captain Pellew’s here.’
Mrs Penrose nodded. ‘He’s been here for two weeks.’
‘Splendid. And are we to see him at the reception tonight? You have Mrs Fox’s invitation to dine?’
‘Yes, everything’s arranged.’ Their voices held a note of tension, some silent communication that was lost on the rest of us. Amelia lifted Freddie to the window, pointing out the ships in the harbour, while Charity took Horace by the collar, pulling him reluctantly towards a waiting footman. I joined them at the window, but I could hear Mrs Penrose lower her voice. ‘My husband’s not bringing any prisoners, Lady Clarissa,’ she said in almost a whisper.
‘None at all – are you sure? Sir Alex will be grateful, but it seems a little strange.’
Eleanor Penrose shrugged. ‘Mouths clam tightly shut every time I ask – no one’s saying anything. All I can glean is that there are no prisoners left to bring. I cannot believe Admiral Penrose acted cruelly in any way, but there are whispers. They say men change in the heat of battle.’
A footman stood at the door, waiting with a heavy marble vase in his arms, the large arrangement of flowers obscuring his view. He staggered towards the table and we watched in amazement as forty orchids clung doggedly to their single stems. Another footman carried a small velvet cushion and though he bowed to Lady Clarissa, he came towards me. On the cushion, more orchids lay threaded together with tiny pearls, next to them a small leather case with a silver clasp.
Lady Clarissa nodded. ‘Open the case, my dear.’
My fingers fumbled as I undid the clasp. A beautiful pearl necklace lay coiled against blue velvet and my stomach twisted, the room suddenly so hot I thought I might faint. I had never seen such exquisite pearls, each pearl of equal size, each glowing with an iridescence that made them almost luminous. The posy of orchids had been threaded with further, smaller pearls and wound round a silver hair pin. My heart thumped. ‘Am I to wear these tonight?’ I managed to whisper.
‘Why, certainly, my dear. It would be most appropriate to wear Lord Entworth’s corsage – indeed it would be most impolite not to do so.’
My mouth was as dry as dust. Lord Entworth was showing me such consideration yet I felt suddenly so frightened. ‘And the pearl necklace?’
Lady Clarissa raised her eyebrows. ‘He clearly intends you to wear it.’
He was offering me everything – position, wealth, high standing in society. One word from me and people would jump to my command. Plays would be permitted, broken windows shrugged off with a laugh, yet as I stared at the exquisite pearls, I wanted to cry.
Lady Clarissa’s sharp tone cut through my thoughts. ‘But you will not wear them. Wearing them would immediately signify acceptance of his hand. This gift is a sign of control, my dear. He may not like it, but you must start as you mean to go on. He cannot assume you’ll wear them, just like he cannot assume you’ll marry him.’
My heart leapt with relief. ‘But won’t he be angry?’
‘My dear girl, what a lot you have to learn. Whether you accept him or not, it will do Lord Entworth no harm to enter a state of nervous expectancy – you of all people, my dearest, can stand your ground. We are not racehorses to be bought. Women should not fall at the first hurdle – bec
ause those who do never properly pick themselves up – the damage is done and they never have free rein.’ Her tone lightened. ‘Now, I suggest we hurry. The water won’t take long to boil – we’ve got just over three hours to transform ourselves from drowned rats into elegant society.’
Lord Entworth sent us his carriage, a courtesy not lost on Lady Clarissa. Grove Hill House was on higher ground, reached only by a steep lane; in good weather it would have been a pleasant walk but with the rain still persisting we were more than grateful for Lord Entworth’s kind offer. Charity stroked the new leather seat. ‘Are we driving, or flying? This carriage has awfully good suspension.’
The lane narrowed, a pair of fine gates marking the beginning of the drive. Amelia peered through the rain-spattered window. ‘It looks like the Luscombe oaks have taken – and look, they’ve planted a row of elms.’ The spindly trees were blowing in the wind, most of them surrounded by stout wooden frames. ‘I hope it’s not too wet – Mr Maddox avoids summer planting. He insists on late autumn, before the frosts but after the threat of scorching.’ She glanced up at the grey clouds. ‘But, quite honestly, a bit of scorching might not go amiss. I’ve almost forgotten what the sun looks like.’
They were being so kind, their smiles designed to encourage, yet the knot in my stomach was getting tighter. I had dreamed of this, planned for it, lay awake imagining it, yet now it was happening, I felt sick with anxiety. I knew I looked my best, my cream silk gown could not be faulted, Lord Entworth’s orchids entwined among my ringlets, yet I felt I was about to go onstage.
A crest was carved in stone above the front door – not an eagle, but a fox with a bushy tale, his paw resting on a fleurde-lis. A footman came quickly forward holding an open umbrella while another pulled down the steps. The house was newly built, the grand entrance leading us into a spacious hall. ‘This way, if ye please, Mrs Fox is expecting ye in her private sitting room.’
Our cloaks dispensed with, the footman led us up the wide staircase. Below us, maids were scurrying backwards and forwards across the hall, their dishes held high to avoid collision. Footmen were carrying chairs; candles were being lit. Through an open door, I glimpsed a table set with glasses, a huge punch bowl taking pride of place. At the top of the stairs Lady Clarissa lifted my chin with her fan.
‘Now then…it’s just them and us – and Lord Entworth – nothing frightening at all. I believe George Godwin’s coming later. Are we ready, girls?’ She paused, tweaking a feather here, straightening a crease there. Finally she was satisfied. ‘Straight back, Angelica – chin a bit higher. He’s a man – not a lion.’
Chapter Seventeen
Grove Hill House, Falmouth
Sunday 7th August 1796, 5:00 p.m.
Elizabeth Fox stepped forward, welcoming us with gracious kindness. She was so much younger than I expected. Her gown was unadorned, a very plain grey, only a simple arrangement of lace at her throat. She looked demure, yet not severe, her tightly drawn-back hair held in place by a simple white cap. Her eyes were intelligent, kind, her nose rather snubbed, her mouth heart-shaped even when she smiled. ‘How lovely you could come, Miss Lilly. I’ve long wished to meet you.’
‘And I you, Mrs Fox.’
Her plain clothes seemed to suit her. Her smile was mesmerizing, her eyes shining with a light of their own. ‘I believe you have met Lord Entworth?’
My nerves had got the better of me, no chance to hide the sudden fire burning my cheeks. He was so commanding, so elegant, standing head and shoulders above the other men in the room. He had watched me enter and had come straight over. His bow was formal, even stiff, his first glance of pleasure turning to a slight frown. I even caught a glimmer of uncertainty cross his eyes.
‘Miss Lilly, this is an honour. Lady Clarissa, Mrs Carew, Miss Carew.’ He bowed again, a slight bite to his bottom lip. ‘Lord Carew is well, I hope?’
‘Very well, thank you, Lord Entworth – but unable to be prised away from Trenwyn.’ She turned and shook her head. ‘Elizabeth, my dear, Lord Carew sends his apologies but, well, I hope you don’t mind. His pig is to farrow…’
Elizabeth Fox laughed. ‘Of course we don’t mind. We never mind what Lord Carew does – he wouldn’t be Lord Carew if he put a soirée before his animals. He must be very fond of this pig. Is it part of his new breeding programme?’
Charity nodded. ‘Yes, on both accounts – she’s the last of those black pigs from China. Lord Carew’s convinced she’d make the perfect cottage pig. We’re trying to breed ones that are docile yet yield good meat – and Persephone’s certainly very docile. We all adore her.’
Lord Entworth smiled. He was standing so close to me, his blue silk jacket cut to perfection, his cream waistcoat heavily embroidered with gold thread, buttoned with pearls. ‘If the rumours are true, I believe it is you who are behind these stock improvements, Mrs Carew. Lord Carew’s clean sweep of prizes has left us all reeling – best in show for everything, if I’m correct?’
‘Yes, I’m afraid you are.’
He glanced down and our eyes caught. ‘The rest of us must sharpen our game – we can’t possibly let this continue.’
A man was walking towards us, smiling as he took his wife’s arm. ‘How kind of you to come, Miss Lilly – I’m delighted to meet you.’ Robert Fox was short in stature, dressed as soberly as his wife. His black breeches and jacket were of fine quality but held no embellishments. He wore no gold buckles, no tiepin, just a simple gold chain stretching into his waistcoat pocket. His hair was dark, curving into arches as his hair receded. But for the difference in age, I could have been looking at Father. ‘You braved the sea, rather than the roads, I gather? A good decision – surely this must be the last of the storms?’
Lord Entworth nodded. ‘I sincerely hope so. The roads are a quagmire.’ He turned, addressing only me. ‘I often ride across my fields to Falmouth. It’s an easy journey to the water’s edge, and once in Flushing, I take the ferry. Do you ride, Miss Lilly?’ His voice held an echo of shyness, his eyes glancing down as he spoke.
The others were drawing slowly away: Lady Clarissa making her way to the chaises longues by the marble fireplace; Elizabeth Fox linking arms with Charity and Amelia, taking them to the window to point out where she had planted Lord Carew’s saplings. We were suddenly alone, just the two of us. ‘I don’t ride very well at all…I wasn’t brought up with horses. In town, I either walk or take the carriage.’ I was talking too quickly; I would have to slow down.
There was power in his face, a cleft in his square chin; fine lines radiated from his eyes, a crease between his eyebrows. The lines down each side of his mouth made him look stern, even uncompromising; his chin was freshly shaven, a black bow holding back his brown hair. Grey hairs flecked his temples, a set of curls framing his forehead. Not yet forty, he was a man in command – a man in his prime and the heat returned to my cheeks.
‘Thank you for the beautiful orchids…’ I managed to say. ‘And thank you for the pearls – I’ve never seen such beautiful pearls. I hope you don’t mind that…I’m…not…wearing them.’
He glanced up at Lady Clarissa’s sudden laughter. She resumed her conversation by the fireplace and his voice dropped. ‘Not at all, Miss Lilly. You must only wear those pearls if and when you want to – in fact, you need never wear them.’ The kindness in his voice was laced with uncertainty. He grasped his hands together. ‘I’m sorry, Miss Lilly. I believe I acted wrongly in sending them. I should have waited.’
His nervousness surprised me. I had expected him to be self-assured, even arrogant, but his eyes held such sincerity.
‘They are a very generous gift – but not unwelcome.’ I looked up and smiled.
He held my gaze. ‘Dear Miss Lilly, please be patient with me. It was wrong to send those pearls – I should have held back but instead I rush at you like a racehorse bolting from my stable. Please forgive me.’
‘Not at all, Lord Entworth…there’s nothing to forgive.’ A racehorse falling at the first
hurdle, Lady Clarissa was right; I had a lot to learn.
His anxiety seemed to deepen, the emotion in his voice painful and raw. ‘Miss Lilly…we’ve precious time to talk …I’m sixteen years your senior, I have two young daughters and I spend more time than I like away from home – but that I intend to change. I’m still young at heart and I’m young in body – I believe I’m in good health…’
Good health, good shape. I could hardly control my blushes. The gold in his embroidered waistcoat glinted in the candlelight. His eyes were blue, full of hurt. ‘Miss Lilly, I’d like to tell you something that I’d prefer you not to repeat – please keep it to yourself.’
He was not petrifying at all. He was kind, courteous, his manners impeccable. He was treating me with such consideration, not trying to possess me but paving the way for honesty. The pain in his eyes was almost unbearable.
I nodded. ‘I promise. I’ll never speak of it to anyone.’
He drew a sharp breath, glancing to see how much longer we might be left alone. ‘My first marriage was arranged and I accepted the situation. I truly believed love would follow – but I was young and I was naive. Lady Entworth was polite to me in public but we barely spoke in private.’ Talking of such things was clearly distressing him. He breathed deeply, wiping his hand across his mouth. ‘Carrick Hall is a very large house and it can be very lonely – I don’t mean now, I mean if you’re caught in a loveless marriage…Miss Lilly, the moment I saw you, I was drawn to you. It kindled in me such an ache…I have been lonely for a very long time. I want to hold in my arms a woman that I adore and who loves me back, not one who derides me, who barely tolerates me, who locks her door so firmly against me.’
‘Lord Entworth…I—’
‘Please, Miss Lilly, let me finish. I know I shouldn’t speak so plainly and I don’t mean to frighten you…but you must understand I’m a target for ambitious mothers and as such, I’m wearied by it – yet when you entered the room you didn’t even look at me. You were like a breath of fresh air, completely unaware of your beauty – no calculating greed in your eyes, no assumed coyness, no trying to catch my attention. I couldn’t stop looking at you and I still can’t. I’m drawn to you so completely – so utterly, hopelessly, drawn to your joy, your beauty, the kindness in your eyes…’
